31 October 1991
As the Slytherin first-years prepared for the day, Harry lay in bed, deep in thought.
Today was Halloween in the Muggle world.
He supposed it was in the wizarding world too, but it was also Victory Day—the anniversary of the day Jim Potter had vanquished You-Know-Who.
Tonight’s feast would likely be particularly lavish, given that it was the Boy-Who-Lived’s first Halloween at Hogwarts.
The “carrot” had apparently worked.
Jim had suffered no major point losses since joining the Gryffindor Quidditch team and appeared to have buckled down on his studies.
Appeared being the operative word, of course.
Now that he knew tantrums would get him nowhere, Jim had become noticeably more… Slytherin in his approach.
He had ingratiated himself with the Weasley Twins (whom the Slytherins had dubbed the Weasley Terrors), and the twins, being good friends, had taken to pranking the Snakes—and Harry in particular—with renewed enthusiasm.
Particularly memorable was the morning Harry had been forced to walk backwards everywhere, and the two days the entire first-year Slytherin class had been compelled to address one another as “Junior Death Eater” in every conversation.
The twins rarely pranked Neville or Hermione out of House loyalty, but a cold war had broken out among the Gryffindor first-years, with Neville and the girls on one side and the rest of the boys on the other.
Dean had even stopped attending the study sessions.
Exacerbating the situation was Neville’s continued lack of progress in wandwork.
He still refused to consult his grandmother about getting a new wand.
He hadn’t quit the study group, but he had all but given up trying in Charms and Transfiguration.
This had naturally resulted in lost points for lack of effort and, eventually, a Howler from his grandmother during lunch the previous week.
All of which had suddenly made Harry’s position in his own House more precarious.
He was doing well academically and still held the advantages of being the Potter Heir (though his solicitor warned that James was still looking for grounds to disinherit him).
But his reputation had shifted from “mysterious eccentric loner” to “loser on the outs with his family whose only friends were other losers.” Largely as a consequence, Daphne and Tracey had coolly informed him they were back on a last-name basis. This story is hosted at g.com.
So it was a somewhat downbeat Harry Potter who walked with his dorm-mates to breakfast.
Up ahead, near the entrance to the Great Hall, he spotted the Weasley Twins waiting and watching.
Then, to his right, he heard a soft hiss from the tapestry depicting St. Patrick purging the snakes from Ireland.
Harry stopped… and then took a running jump to clear the group of floor tiles the snake had warned were hexed.
“Potter, do stop acting like a Muggle fool,” Draco drawled from just behind him.
A crackle of magic followed, accompanied by cries of dismay.
Harry turned.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson now all sported hair the vivid red of Gryffindor, complete with golden eyebrows to match.
“The Weasley Terrors,” Harry said in a bored voice.
“And rather obvious this time. Do try to be more aware of your surroundings, Malfoy. I suggest you head to the infirmary before whatever that stuff is soaks in. Or you can spend the rest of the week looking like lost Weasley cousins.” Draco snarled at him.
Then he, his two bookends, and Pansy stormed off toward the infirmary.
Daphne Greengrass sidled up to Harry and regarded him with open curiosit y.
“How did you know the Weasleys had set a trap there?” Harry shrugged and lied smoothly.
“Just something we losers figured out in our loser study group. I’m sure someone as clever as you would have noticed on your own. If not, you’d look lovely with bright red hair.” She huffed and continued into the Great Hall.
Harry turned and walked boldly toward the Twins, who had been both amazed and annoyed at how casually he had evaded their prank.
They straightened as he approached.
“Oh?
And what might us two…” “Innocent little Gryffies…” “Want to say to…” “A mean little snake like you?”
Part of him wondered whether he and Jim would have developed the same rapid-fire banter if they had grown up together.
Another part was suddenly grateful to the Dursleys for preventing that outcome.
“Well, I’d like to try diplomacy for a start. Have I, in fact, done anything to anger you two or to deserve the rather aggressive level of pranking I’ve endured for the past month? Because if so, I apologise and I’m happy to make amends. If not, I’ll have to assume the worst—that you’ve simply agreed to become Jim’s attack dogs and are coming after me for no reason beyond his pettiness.”
“Gryffindors stick together, little snakey Potter,” one of them replied with surprising coldness.
So it had been Jim.
Harry decided it was time for the stick.
“Well, Slytherins don’t.
So you can go after my housemates to your hearts’ content, but leave me out of it.
Because… well, I do apologise for making threats—it’s really not my style—but so help me, if one more hex, jinx, or prank hits me and I think you two are responsible,” he paused for emphasis as the Twins looked at him smugly, “I’ll tell Snape about the Map.”
That got their attention.
The Twins were excellent at acting innocent, but they were not prepared for a first-year Slytherin threatening their most treasured secret.
After a few seconds of wide-eyed shock, the one with the tiny mole next to his left eye finally stammered, “W-what Map?”
“Oh, do you have more than one? The one I’m talking about is activated by… oh, what were the words? Something like ‘I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.’ That’s how it goes, right?”
The Twins looked even more shocked.
Inwardly, Harry was singing Egbert’s praises for his sharp perception and memory.
“Look, guys. I don’t want to be your enemy. To be honest, I’m a fan of your work… when it’s not directed at me and when you don’t cross the line from playful amusement to cruel bullying.” They actually looked a bit hurt at that, so Harry offered the carrot as well.
“In fact, I think with a bit of… financial support, you could take your work to the next level.”
Their eyebrows shot up.
The one without the mole asked, “Are you offering us a bribe to stop pranking you?”