Minor Issues
The next two days passed without any major incidents, except for one rather obvious detail. Neville, now with a clearly changed appearance, seemed to be drawing quite a bit of attention. Some female students even seemed to be starting to find him handsome, and several students were left completely stunned when they saw him, unable to believe the makeover he had gone through. He was slightly taller and more muscular, wore his hair short, and had a light tan. Even his attitude seemed different, more confident.
It really was like looking at two completely different people.
Terry, in fact, when he saw him for the first time, let out a startled shout. The shock was so great that for a moment he did not know whether he was actually recognizing him or not, while saying stupid things like, "Where is my Neville?", earning himself a kick from Draco to shut him up and keep him from continuing to be a nuisance.
Another thing that could not go unnoticed was Snape's absolutely foul mood, which seemed to worsen with each passing day. The Gryffindor students were the ones who suffered the most from it, as if the professor were taking it out directly on them. One student even had a nervous breakdown after being forced to gut an entire barrel of horned toads as punishment.
Fortunately for the Ravenclaw students, they did not suffer the same fate, partly because they were more diligent with their work and, perhaps, because Snape looked away every time he saw Harry. It was not fear that made him avoid Harry, but guilt, gnawing at him from the inside. Since those words James had left behind, that had become far more evident.
Words Harry still remembered perfectly.
"Live with regret. I am not the one to order you to do so. But for Lily, and only for her, live your life regretting her death. And in your death, we will surely meet again. That will be your punishment."
Those had been the last words James left him before returning once more to the beyond.
Harry still felt that hatred toward Snape, persistent, like something that never quite settled or disappeared, something he had to keep in check to avoid losing control again.
Not only because he had learned that his parents' deaths had been, in part, his fault, but because it had felt like a betrayal. A betrayal from someone he had come to admire as a professor since he was a child. He always remembered that day in the library, when he had approached him to ask about potions. Changing that past had never truly crossed his mind, but he could not help thinking that, perhaps, if Snape had treated him badly from the very first day at Hogwarts, everything would be very different in the way he now felt about him.
"I am sure seeing Sirius every day is taking its toll on him," Daphne said, interrupting Harry's thoughts.
"What?" Harry asked, confused.
"Snape. Old Snape. Do you remember the stories Sirius used to tell us when we were kids? I am sure the person in those stories was him. That is why he is in such a bad mood every time we see him," she explained.
"Ah. Maybe," Harry replied, though without much interest in a conversation that involved Snape, and even less so Sirius at that moment.
"Are you still angry?" Hermione asked, looking at him carefully.
"At Sirius or at Snape?" Harry asked.
"At both," she replied.
"Well, I am a bit annoyed that he did not tell me all summer that he was going to be the new Headmaster, and that all that secrecy ended up being pointless. And about the other one… yes, I am. And probably forever," Harry said in a tone that sounded indifferent, though it clearly was not.
Neither Daphne nor Hermione, who were walking at his side, could say much regarding the issue with Snape. They did not feel the same way Harry did. Both of them had their parents alive and well with them, so any attempt to change his point of view had only ever ended with a blunt, "It is amazing how well you know how to fix problems you never had." Faced with that, they chose to remain silent.
So it was best to return to the topic of Sirius.
"Well, I still think he just wants to annoy him," Daphne said with a hint of suspicion.
"Oh, yes. That is obvious," Harry replied without trying to hide it. "Where is the fun of having him as Headmaster if he ruined my previous moment of fun? I had so many things planned. I was finally going to use the explosives in his office," he added with an amused smile. "Although now I might still be able to use them anyway," he continued, showing that villainous smile that had already become familiar.
"By the way, where is Draco?" Hermione asked while looking around.
The three of them had been walking through the castle corridors. That day they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with Wanda, and of course none of them planned on missing it. Just as they had not missed the classes they had with Susan and Narcissa, which had been genuinely interesting.
Susan's class had even been fun, especially when she reviewed the books and the bizarre ideas many had about Muggles, ideas that were completely wrong. Several students took it with humor, partly because Susan was quite friendly and calm, and did not behave like a strict professor at all. They ended up chatting in a relaxed manner about Muggle technology.
Narcissa's class, on the other hand, had been something they did not expect… or perhaps they had. It seemed she had simply obtained the title of the position, since she limited herself to sitting behind the desk while Professor Binns continued teaching the class. For a moment, Daphne thought she saw her dozing off, but when she pointed it out to the others, Narcissa returned a cold look that made them shiver. So maybe it had just been her imagination.
"He should be dealing with some minor issues," Harry said calmly, just as they finally arrived at the classroom.
"Minor issues?" Hermione asked, her brow slightly furrowed.
"Minor issues," Daphne repeated, with an amused and slightly malicious smile that only managed to confuse Hermione even more.
…
In an empty hall that had once been filled with all kinds of unused furniture, everything was now completely organized and clean.
The place was wrapped in absolute silence.
It was a wide space, not particularly elegant; after all, it was still an abandoned classroom. The walls were tall, with simple and calm decorations, more fitting for a lounge than for a classroom. Everything carried a strange feeling, as if someone had turned it into a personal refuge, a place to hide from the public eye and from the noise of the castle. Light filtered in through the side windows, illuminating the center of the room, where a blond young man stood.
He was attractive, with fine features and a straight posture, carrying a presence that imposed itself without any effort. His gaze was cold, almost devoid of emotion, while a few drops of a red liquid still slid down his right cheek, faintly gleaming under the light.
To anyone, it looked like blood.
And that was exactly what the two girls in front of him thought the moment they crossed the doorway. Their faces tensed instantly, pale, their breathing held, as if they did not dare to move at all.
The blond young man, better known as Draco Malfoy, observed them in silence for a second. For them, that instant felt eternal. The fear was real, raw, as they felt his eyes fixed on them. Both wanted to run out of that place, and they surely would have, if not for the fact that another young man stood by the door like a guard, his posture straight and almost military. The same one who had brought them there.
Neville Longbottom.
The very same Neville who had changed so much that he now looked like a completely different person.
Draco did not speak at first. He simply brought one hand to the other and removed his gloves, completely stained, with a slow, deliberate motion. Then he tossed them aside as if they were worthless trash. They landed directly inside a small bin, and even though the sound was minimal, it made the girls flinch for a moment.
Draco looked at them again before speaking.
"Pomegranate juice," he said calmly.
The girls blinked, confused. The words did not seem to fit the atmosphere at all.
"That idiot Daphne spilled it on the sofa I brought from home and did not warn me. It stains quite a lot," he continued evenly. "It is the same thing they used on Terry's corpse," he added, gesturing lightly toward a simple sofa that looked recently cleaned. It was surely the one he was referring to.
He slipped a hand into his pocket and took out a napkin. On one of its corners, his initials were embroidered in gold. With it, he wiped his cheek, completely removing the pomegranate juice. Then he put it away again as if nothing had happened, before shifting his posture.
The moment he did, the two girls felt something change.
The air in the hall seemed to grow colder all at once. As if, all of a sudden, they were standing in the presence of someone far more imposing. For a brief instant, they even thought they saw an illusory image, a golden crown floating above Draco's head, which made them rub their eyes, convinced their minds were playing tricks on them.
They could not help thinking that Draco was truly very handsome. And with that atmosphere, with that oppressive air that seemed to crush them, he stirred feelings they perhaps did not fully understand themselves.
Unfortunately for them, Draco was not there to be a spectacle.
"So… I suppose you are wondering why I asked you to come here, right?" he finally said, showing a half smile that did not reach his eyes.
If Hermione had been there, she would have recognized those two girls immediately. One was the same one who had been present before, when they had gotten in her way. The leader. The other was Pansy Parkinson, who was looking at Draco with burning eyes. Rather than fear his cold gaze, she seemed to hold a different kind of emotion in her eyes, something more unhinged, something Draco did not appear to notice.
He, unlike Harry, who tended to be direct when someone messed with his friends, was different. More like a serpent than even the Slytherins themselves. He did not strike head on. He trapped his prey and tightened slowly, until it could no longer breathe.
And it seemed that the first ones to feel that anger were those two girls, now standing in front of him.