average human’s Reviews > Expecto Patronum > Status Update

‘Be patient with Ron,’ Sirius said. ‘He’s hurt real bad pup, he needs a friend.’

So Harry told Draco the address for the Order Headquarters, caring not at all that Dumbledore would be pissed once he found out, and knew that Draco could be Ron’s friend.

But now there really was only so much patience he was willing to extend.

“Ron’s on thin fuckin ice,” Harry said, using one of Snape’s muggle expressions. “I’m not dealing with this forever.”

Harry had much more important things to do. Like quidditch practice, and starting the defense club back up. He also had to coordinate with Susan to remind all the members of the gang about their meeting in mid-March and he was having to keep up his Occlumency shields almost constantly to keep Timmy out of his head.

So, no. He really didn’t have time to deal with Ron’s stupid emotions.



“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKIN MIND?!”

Harry was furious. So mad that his vision had went a bit red and he had to tighten his hands in to fists to keep from cursing Ron.

Ron, who was standing in the middle of the quidditch pitch, glaring at him now.

Harry had started practice at the usual time for Saturday’s, six, and it was eight o’clock now and Ron had finally decided to grace them with his appearance. Then he opened his mouth and sent Harry off in an immediate fury when he said he was resigning from the team.

“Sorry I don’t feel like playing quidditch,” Ron said with a sarcastic sneer. “My dad did just die Harry.”

“And you quitting the team is meant to bring him back?” Harry demanded. “It’s January Ron, how am I supposed to replace you before our game in March?!”

The rest of the team landed quietly, watching the showdown between the captain and assistant captain with wide eyes.

“You don’t get it!” Ron yelled. “I don’t care about games or flying or any of it! It’s pointless! My dad’s never going to be here to see any it!”

Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him.

“Neither’s mine, but you don’t see me crying about it!”

“Well you’ve never really given much of a damn about your parents, have you?”

Fuck it.

Harry lurched forward and used his already conveniently clenched fist to hit Ron right in his mouth. He had a moment of satisfaction when he saw Ron’s eyes widen and his lip split from the impact, right up until Ron grabbed the front of Harry’s robes and hit him back, hard enough to shatter his glasses and send them flying.

Trent screamed, and someone tiny and blonde, either Daphne or Draco, tried to break them apart, but it was well past that.

“You’re- so- selfish- sometimes-“ Ron yelled, emphasizing each word with a hard punch to Harry’s ribs.

“You hit like a first year,” Harry spat, driving his knee up in to Ron’s stomach, causing the other boy to let out an oomph of pain.

“You don’t care about anyone,” Ron hissed, landing an open hand slap to Harry’s ear.

Harry ignored both the muted shouts from their teammates and the ringing in his left ear as he used a good kick to knock Ron on the ground where Harry could hit him much more effectively.

“I cared about you, you fucking dick,” Harry said, driving his fist as hard as he could in to Ron’s stomach. “I sent hot chocolate with Draco for you, didn’t I?”

Ron, who was actually a much better fighter than Harry would have guessed, grabbed Harry by the hair and used the leverage to flip them until he was on top of Harry and able to punch his throat with enough force to knock the air right out of him.

“You thought it was funny, having everyone look for that thing.” Ron jumped to his feet while Harry was still struggling for air and aimed two quick and cheap kicks to Harry’s already burning side. Harry bit back a hiss as he was pretty sure Ron cracked a rib. “And I don’t like hot chocolate!”

Harry glared viciously at the kid he befriended on a train. The same guy who once threw mud at Bulstrode for insulting him and went down in the Chamber with him to fight a basilisk. The friend that had spent an hour picking out an owl with Harry. The person who kept blaming Harry for a death that he didn’t actually cause.

Harry reached out quick as a snake and grabbed Ron’s ankle with a sharp tug, knocking him flat on his back.

“You didn’t complain when we made that decision,” Harry gasped, quickly getting to his feet and putting one boot on Ron’s neck before he had a chance to move. “You didn’t say a fuckin word then. And everyone likes hot chocolate you moron. It’s supposed to make you happy.”

Ron, rather fearlessly, spat a mouthful of bloody saliva up towards Harry. Which was daft, considering it just fell back on his own shoulder. “How was I supposed to know what would happen?”

Harry put some pressure on Ron’s neck, watching as his pupils dilated from the restricting air flow. “How was I?” Harry asked, calm now as he always was when he was in control. “Tell me HOW THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW RON? HOW?”

Ron’s eyes glazed over, either from some emotion Harry couldn’t pinpoint or from the lack of oxygen that was making his face darken. Harry didn’t really care much which it was.

“You know everything,” Ron gasped out, sounding desperate now. “You always do.”

Harry shoved away whichever person was brave enough to grab his shoulder and focused on applying a bit more pressure to Ron’s throat.

“You think I wouldn’t have made a different decision if I’d known?” Harry yelled. “You think I’m some monster who would have sacrificed your family for a joke?” Harry pushed down harder, equally furious and hurt now. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Ron gasped, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple from the lack of air. Harry abruptly took his foot off Ron’s neck and repaid his earlier cheap shots by kicking him once in the side just as hard as he had done to him.

“I’m not a monster,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you think then we’re done. You can quit the team and you’re out of the gang.”

Harry would wipe his memory, erase every word he’d ever even whispered from his head. And if he fucked up and took too much? That also fell in to the category of things that weren’t his problem.

Ron was wheezing, massaging his throat and trying to swallow mouthfuls of air. Tears were pouring from his eyes as he stared up at Harry. “You didn’t know?” he gasped out.

Harry shook his head at Ron’s pathetically weak question. “How could I?” Harry backed away, leaving Ron to get to his feet by himself. “I never would have done that to Fred, or to you. We’re supposed to be friends.”

Ron was shaky, his knees wobbling as he stood and stared at Harry, as if seeing him clearly now.

“I’m a shit friend,” Ron said in a hoarse whisper, wiping the tears off his face. “And you didn’t kill my dad.”

“You finally got a couple things right,” Harry said coolly.

The two of them stared at each other, both bruised and bleeding, until Ron’s upper lip quivered just the slightest amount. “Were you going to suffocate me in front of all these witnesses?”

Harry threw a careless look at the teammates standing behind him and shrugged. “I would have wiped their memory afterwards,” he said.

“That’s a shit plan,” Ron said with a weak chuckle.

“Well you broke my fuckin rib, didn’t you?” Harry said, feeling the sharp sting with every inhale he took.

“Sorry about that,” Ron said airily, “but since you got even by crushing my neck with your boot...” he trailed off with a shrug.

Harry looked over at his team again and rolled his eyes at their huddle and uncertain expressions. “Practice is over,” he called to them. “Go to breakfast or whatever you lot do when you’re not here.”

Trent immediately scrambled away, followed by the others. Although Draco shot Ron and Harry both an odd look that Harry hissed at him for.

It was satisfying sometimes, seeing people still so blatantly scared of Parsletongue. Especially when Harry usually just made up the most ridiculous swears, knowing nobody could understand them.

Ron waited until the others were gone before he took an unsure step towards Harry.

“You didn’t kill my dad,” he repeated again.

As if Harry didn’t already know that, thanks.

“Took you long enough,” Harry sneered. “But I’m going to kill the snake that did kill him, if that helps any.”

Ron seemed to actually have to think that over, which was ridiculous. If he was pissed at Harry for some random decision he’d made months ago, pissed enough to throw punches, then he better be just as angry at the actual snake who killed Arthur.

“Can I help?”

Harry tilted his head and studied Ron carefully through half-hooded eyes.

“Not if you’re out of the gang,” he eventually decided. “It’s a war Ron, you have to pick a side and be loyal.”

Ron took a deep breath, the slight rattle coming from his chest making Harry think he had done a bit more damage than he meant to him, and pulled himself up tall.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I said, and for blaming you. You were right, I didn’t argue about the plan over the summer, and it wasn’t fair for me to do it now. Can—“ Ron looked unsure, chewing on his lip for a moment as he hesitated, “Can we still be friends?”

“You just broke my rib,” Harry said drily. “And now you wanna be friends?”

“I...” Ron trailed off and looked around him before plucking up a bent and broken pair of silver frames and grinning at Harry. “I broke your glasses too.”

Harry stared incredulously at Ron for a long moment before letting out a huff of a laugh. What a prat.

“Are you coming?” he asked Ron, setting off a bit blindly towards the castle.

Ron set off in a jog to catch up, causing him to wince even as he grinned at Harry slyly.

“You throw a mean punch,” he said.

“You don’t do bad yourself,” Harry begrudgingly admitted.

There weren’t a lot of things that could be fixed with a good old fashioned muggle fight, but this apparently seemed to be one of them.

The detention Snape gave them when Harry and Ron arrived in the Great Hall looking like they’d just beaten the hell out of each other was almost worth it too. So was the rapid paling of Ron’s face when Harry informed him that he was on his last chance with the gang.

“Next time you act like a prat you’re out,” Harry said cheerfully. “D’you really not like hot chocolate?”

52%

Before Dolores could work through Severus’ implied insult, Potter entered the classroom with bright eyes and a lazy strut.

“Seems silly to have me here when we both know what I’m doing, yeah?” he grinned, relaxing in the chair across from Severus and blatantly ignoring Dolores’ greeting.

“I am required to record a session of advising with you, and thus,” Severus spread his hands over the pamphlets, “here we are.”

Potter plucked up a few of the colorful brochures that discussed various fields before scoffing. “Is there one for Minister of Magic in here?”

Dolores seemed to actually choke at Potter’s innocent question.

“Minister?” She leaned towards Potter and her beady eyes went wide. “You want to be the next Minister of Magic?”

“I don’t want to be the next Minister, I will be,” Potter said with an arrogant drawl. “Hopefully Cornelius remains Minister until I come of age in 2010, then with 2012 being the next election year, I’d take over.” Potter folded his hands across his abdomen with a smirk.

Severus was incredibly fond of the way that Potter’s cool confidence had Dolores quite shaken.

“Does Minister Fudge know you plan on running against him?” Dolores asked sharply.

Potter chuckled and crossed his legs. “Course he does,” he said. “We talked about it over tea last summer, didn’t we? He said he’d be happy to be Minister well in to his nineties, but that losing to me wouldn’t be a bad loss at all.”

Severus had no doubt that Potter was directly quoting the Minister. No man in office could hope to run against Potter, especially when Potter’s campaign was so neatly planned.

Step one was to vanquish the Dark Lord.

Step two was to remind the Wixen World of Britain that he vanquished the Dark Lord twice.

Severus believed that step three was to simply win in a landslide election.

And he was quite confident that step four was labeled ‘complete chaos’.

Dolores seemed to accept Potter’s words at face value as she coyly lowered her eyes and smiled. “I’m sure that Minister Fudge would be happy to teach you everything he knows,” she said with a juvenile giggle unbecoming of both a professor or any self-respecting adult. “I could write him, if you’d like, and set something up?”

Potter raised a single brow at Dolores. “If I want to meet with Cornelius, I’ll set it up myself. Thanks.” He turned back to Severus and shook his head in blatant exasperation. “All set here?”

“Not quite,” Severus said. “Since you rejected the offer from the Tutshill Tornados, what is your plan for the fourteen years between graduation and your Ministry position?”

“Pft,” Potter scoffed and shrugged. “I’m still sending tryout memories to recruiters, aren’t I? Just because I don’t want to be reserve seeker doesn’t mean someone else won’t offer me a better position.”

“And if that falls through?” Severus asked.

Potter’s cool mask slipped for just a moment, just long enough for Severus to see that the foolish child had never even considered such a scenario.

“It won’t,” Potter said, calm and confident once more. “And if it does then I’ll just hang out with you for fourteen years.” Potter got to his feet with an impudent grin and unrepentant challenge in his eyes. “Here,” he pulled a pain-relieved from his robe pocket and placed it on the table. “Figured you’d want that.”

Potter was nearly to the doorway when Severus recognized the bottle from his own private stores. “Detention Harry,” he called.

“Brill,” Potter laughed and closed the door behind him.

“He is... quite ambitious,” Dolores said. “I presume he gets that from you Severus?”

“Potter was born ambitious,” he said indifferently. “The child will achieve every goal he has set for himself.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dolores giggled once more.

Severus went ahead and ignored decorum for once as he drank the pain reliever. If Dolores insisted on making irksome noises then he would need something to combat the migraine that this evening was causing.

Thankfully, Severus only had two more students.

Weasley wished to enter the Ministry, though he was uncertain as to which career would suit him best.

“You have always been skilled in strategy,” Severus told him, thinking of the boys many recommendations during Potter’s war meetings and his skill in both gambling and chess. “Why not pursue an area of consulting within one of the departments? Perhaps the DMLE?”

Weasley seemed pleased with Severus’ recommendation and accepted the pamphlets he offered him easily.

Zabini, five minutes late for the meeting, did not bother to even sit. He leaned in Severus’ doorway, crossing his arms and smirking at him.

“My life has been planned since I was eleven,” he said with a bored drawl. “I’m going to offer my magical assistance to my allies, my physical assistance to many others. Then when Mother retires from the Italian Counsel, I’ll take her place. Goodnight Professor.”

Severus blinked as Zabini strolled out of his office, his head held high.

Had a child actually just told him that he essentially planned on living some sort of philandering lifestyle?

It was disturbing.

Amusing, certainly. But disturbing nonetheless.

After cleaning his classroom and dismissing Dolores rather curtly, Severus attempted to recall previous years of ‘career advice’ to his other Slytherins. He was quite certain that he had never had such a queer assortment of student career aspirations as he did this year. It was a struggle, but Severus did his best to blame Potter for it.

54%

Draco curled his lip up at the mention of Harry’s muggle relatives. As did Susan, who was apparently shamelessly eavesdropping as she levitated an obstinate banner across the wall above the refreshments table.

“For one, I am very lenient,” Susan called to him in a haughty tone. “For two, what are we doing this summer?”

“Killing Nagini and Bellatrix for sure, maybe Timmy if Barty figured out how to kill him,” Neville answered automatically.

“Can we add the Dursley’s to that list?” Susan asked.

“Yes!” Hermione cried, immediately summoning the to-do list from Susan’s bag by the door. “Ugh, I’ve been dying to add them to the list.”

“That’s the spirit!” Susan turned to give Hermione a rare smile of approval. “If Harry doesn’t want to go, you and I could do it ourselves?”

“Ooh, can I help?” Luna asked.

“The more the merrier,” Hermione muttered distractedly.

”Girls night!” Susan squealed as she put the finishing touches on the banner.

Harry and Theo shared a horrified look.

“You’ve created monsters,” Theo murmured as Hermione scribbled away on the list.

“Me?” Harry was surprised. “It’s your girlfriend plotting a triple homicide mate.”

“Nah, that’s all on you love,” Fred laughed. “You breed psychopaths.”

“Uncle Sev says that Harry ‘fosters feelings of violence and vengeance that overtake all senses of morality’.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at Draco where he was arranging balloons above each table in the quieter section of the room.

“What?” Draco said defensively, noticing the peculiar looks he was getting. “That’s what he said!”

“I like it,” Blaise grinned. “I think that should be the slogan for the gang.”

Harry played with it in his mind for a bit, as everyone got back to work. After thinking on it he decided he liked it too.

Snape definitely had a way with words.



And, after an hour and a half of work in the Hidden Room, and half of hour of Susan, Draco, and Blaise disapproving and approving their outfits, Harry had to admit that Susan was an excellent party planner.

“I still think that the banner’s a bit macabre,” Theo said as the group admired their handiwork.

“I honestly don’t see what’s not to like about it,” Susan said. “I’m keeping it for the party we’ll have when he’s dead too.”

’REST IN PIECES DUMBLEDORE’

“That is exactly what’s so macabre,” Hermione said, smoothing down the pleats in the skirt Susan loaned her. “How long have you had it?”

“I had it made the summer before third year,” Susan shrugged. “It wouldn’t do to not be prepared in case he oh so tragically died.”

“Wouldn’t do at all,” George chuckled. “Are we ready then?”

Harry sent one last look over his group, all dressed in posh party clothes, and looked over the Hidden Room. It was decorated lavishly with black and silver decorations, the food and drinks were set up (Hermione grumpily put up a complicated rune ward to keep any student under fifteen from getting alcohol much to the complaints of Susan), and everything looked a bit like Harry imagined muggle bars and clubs would look.

“Ready,” he told George.



And then, Harry got to experience what was truly the most insanely chaotic night of his life.



It started when it seemed as if the entire student body really had shown up. Including Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan, who Susan gave a whistling and clapping standing ovation to.

“Our heroes!” she cried, amidst loud laughter from the Slytherin’s. “Without your idiocy, none of this would have ever happened!”

Then Harry was bullied in to taking shots with Blaise and Ron. Bullied might be a strong word to use, but his arm had definitely been twisted.

“Here’s to... well,” Blaise twisted his lips in thought before laughing, “anything!” He lifted his tiny glass in the air, clinking Harry and Ron’s before throwing it back like a professional.

Susan and Luna then drug Harry and the twins to the music and flashing lights section of the room, where Susan made short work of finding out how to control the music and turning it to the loudest pop song Harry had ever heard. Harry had attempted to dance with his friends, but he was sweating. He could feel all the bodies of other students pressing up against him, causing his skin to crawl and his stomach to revolt. Thankfully, Fred stomped on Susan’s foot with a pointed look before asking Harry to go with him to get another drink.

“You’re a lifesaver Fred,” Harry said appreciatively.

“Well I’m no Boy-Who-Lived, but I like to think I’d make quite the dashing hero,” Fred winked. “Water or butterbeer?”

Harry eyed the options before rolling his eyes at Fred. “Firewhisky is fine,” he said.

“If you get drunk and pass out again, I’m leaving you on a sofa again,” Fred warned him, passing over the requested drink.

Harry smirked and impulsively leaned up to kiss Fred. “You wouldn’t,” he said confidently.

“Nah, I wouldn’t,” Fred agreed. “But if we get caught by a teacher again, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” Harry laughed.

Despite Harry’s cocky confidence that they wouldn’t be busted by a teacher this time, they were.

It had taken a few hours, as it was well past midnight at that point, and Harry was very drunkenly trying to explain wandless magic to a group of giggling fourth year girls (much to the annoyance of Fred, who was glaring the girls down) when the Hidden Room door was thrown open and the music and conversations abruptly fell immediately silent.

“What is the meaning of this?” Umbridge thundered, looking around at the students with her chest puffed out indignantly.

Nobody said anything, nobody even dared to breathe. Harry was considering how furious Snape was going to be to find out Harry had attended yet another alcohol fueled party on Hogwarts grounds.

Maybe it won’t be so bad since I’m not high and half-dressed, he thought with a hopeful naivety brought on by his drunkenness.

“Surprise!” Susan suddenly yelled, drawing Umbridge’s beady eyes to her.

Harry picked up on Susan’s idea quickly. “Look!” he pointed at the banner on the back wall. “We’re cel’bratin’ your promotion Headmistress!”

“‘Rest in pieces Dumbledore,’” Umbridge looked as if she were torn between fury and glee as she read the banner.

Theo, Hermione, and Luna were hastily asking the room for hidden exits, shuffling as many students out of the tiny dark tunnels as they could while Umbridge was distracted by Harry and Susan. Neville and George subtly tossed Harry’s cloak over the drink table, attempting to hide the alcohol that was not only ‘disallowed’ in school, but was actually illegal.

“So you thought that a party during curfew hours was the best way to honor my position?” Umbridge said, taking a step closer to Harry.

“Is it past curfew?” Susan asked, her eyes going wide in surprise as she placed herself between her best friend and the Headmistress. “We had no idea, ma’am. This silly room doesn’t provide us with a clock.”

Umbridge didn’t look impressed by Susan’s answer, so Harry shrugged carelessly and offered Umbridge a lazy smile. “We got a bit carried away with our cel’bration, suppose we’ll head to bed now. Thanks for bein’ so understanding, ‘m sure Dumbledore would’ve been a dick about it, yeah? Not you though, I’ll tell Cor- Corn- Fudge how brill you’ve been.”

Harry was pleased when Susan and Fred got on either side of him, as he wasn’t actually as steady on his own two feet as he wanted to be. The other students, taking their cue from Harry, began slipping out past the Headmistress in large groups, eager to escape without punishment.

And everything would have been fine. Probably. Since Umbridge looked truly torn on if she was going to punish them or not with the threat of Harry writing her boss hanging over her head, he was pretty sure everyone was about to escape without so much as losing a single point.

But then Umbridge had to go and open her mouth before Harry, Fred, and Susan had made it out the door.

“Lovegood!” she barked at Luna, who was assisting one of the younger Ravenclaw boys to the door. “Get to bed! You stupid girl.”

And even in his fairly inebriated state, Harry knew from the look that he shared with Susan that Umbridge had made her first mistake as Headmistress.

Because no one insulted their friends, especially not Luna. And especially not in an effort to seem in control of a situation that they had already manipulated to suit their current needs.

”Bit uncalled for,” Fred murmured with a frown as they watched Luna run to catch up with Hermione with the younger Ravenclaw boy in tow.

Harry nodded vehemently. “We made her look st-stupid, so she insulted Lue.”

It wasn’t something that Harry himself wouldn’t have done, it was just Umbridge calling Luna a stupid girl was absolutely unforgivable. Especially as Luna’s soft and kind eyes had seemed hurt when the other students still in the room sniggered quietly.

“As soon as you’re sober, we start planning,” Susan hissed as she deposited Harry and Fred at the Slytherin common room entrance.

“Aye, aye, captain.” Fred gave Susan a sloppy salute before sighing down at Harry, who was slowly sliding to the floor. “Don’t suppose you’d help me drag him to his bed?” he asked hopefully.

Susan just laughed as she pranced away, that was 100% Fred’s problem, she had a poltergeist to find.