Chapter Text
Chapter 3: Harry Murders a National Hero
Disclaimer: I own nothing
10:30 A.M.
On a Sunday.
King's Cross Station, London, U.K.
"Why is this place so packed?" complained Dennis. "Doesn't anyone in this lousy country drive? Ugh, and what's that smell?"
"It's all the migrants!" grunted Frank, noshing on his egg.
"That smell has nothing to do with the immigrants, Frank. That's the smell of your pouch filled with hard boiled eggs!" snapped Dee.
Frank chewed slowly, and shrugged. "…That could be it."
Mac was so aghast he almost dropped the bag he was holding. "Is that what that smell was? I thought the hotel had a gas leak! I called the front desk and laid into the guy for a half hour!"
"That's why they came upstairs?" asked Harry angrily. "They busted me when I was stealing all the toiletries!"
"Really? The TV from off the wall is a toiletry now?" asked Dee skeptically.
"I don't know what the setup at this place is gonna be. The TV could be a real piece of-"
"Uh, guys?" Interrupted Charlie, looking down at the ticket. "This ticket doesn't make any sense…"
"It doesn't make any sense because you can't read!" chided Dee, ripping the ticket from Charlie's hands. "See? It says Platform Nine and ThreeQuarters?!Goddamnit!"
Harry poked his head. Sure enough, 9 ¾ was there boldly on the ticket. Brilliant.
"Told you we should've left earlier," muttered Harry.
"Are you kidding? I was the one who said we should've left earlier!" yelled Dee.
"Shut up, bird!" snapped Harry. His owl gave ahootfrom the top of his cart."Oh, sorry, Mike Schmidt,"
"Mike Schmidt? What happened to Nick Foles?" asked Dennis.
"Well I figured since football wasn't really a thing in this backwater country, more people would know Mike Schmidt," explained Harry.
Dennis shook his head. "Baseball isn't a thing here either, kid. You know that, right?"
Harry's face fell. "Are you sh*tting me?! What am I supposed to bet on?!"
"Again, Harry, you are eleven years old. And even then, your gambling record is appalling. You have a ridiculously bad track record for someone who can use magic,"
"My Eagles Super Bowl bet came true!" said Harry defensively. As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes lit up. "Wait, do you think I had something to do with that?"
"Woah, woah, woah woah, woah!" interjected Charlie. "I feel like I have to challenge you on that there,"
"Yeah!" added Frank. "I spent five figures on that game between the box and the flights, and I had to watch half of it in the can with a kidney stone!"
"Hey, I was in there most of the game with Frank, and our dickbag waiter didn't bring us any drinks!" complained Mac. "Also, Pondy had the co*ke and hotdog sh*ts in there, so it smelled atrocious."
"Well, I almost lost a foot! I only have two, I can't afford to lose one, it'd be a disaster!"
"Hate to pile on, here," interjected Dee. "But if we're talking credit for the Super Bowl, I think I deserve some-"
"Oh, would you all stop!" Pleaded Dennis."None of you idiots had anything to do with the Eagles winning the goddamn Super Bowl! AND ESPECIALLY NOT YOU, DEE, YOU BITCH!"
"That's not what Jason Kelce's ghost told me!" yelled back Charlie.
"Jason Kelce's still alive!" screamed Mac. "He's plowing Taylor Swift!"
"We're getting way too off track, we don't have time for this sh*t!" snapped Dennis.
As they all devolved into screaming at each other, a rotund police officer made his way over, twirling his baton.
"What seems to be the problem 'ere?"
Panic swept over the faces of all six. It abated just as quickly.
"Oh," said Dennis flatly. "You're not a real cop."
The officer's face went red. "What was that?"
"You're not allowed to talk!" said Mac accusingly, pointing at the officer. "He's not allowed to talk, Dennis!"
"What the Devil-"
"No, no, he's allowed to talk. That's the guys with the unshaved bushes on their heads," explained Dennis, as a condescending grin grew. "What this guy isn't allowed to do is have a gun, however. Hence… not a real cop,"
"I am so!" said the officer, his voice cracking.
"Let's just try and find some other wizards and go where they're going," suggested Charlie.
"Wuh? Wizards!?" repeated the officer, who the gang promptly ignored.
"Charlie, don't be a moron. These wizards are probably all masters of disguise. They can use magic to turn into whoever and whatever they want," said Dennis.
"M-magic? What are you people-"
"Holy sh*t, you're still here, guy?" asked Harry, waving his hands as if he was shooing away birds or street urchins. "Screw off, we're doing important sh*t here,"
The officer's puffy face got even redder.
"Who's child is this?" he demanded.
"Uh, not yours, dickweed. So, get lost," mouthed off Dee.
The vein in the officer's neck started to bulge. He grabbed a hold of his radio. "Oi, dispatch! Need backup 'tween Platforms 9 an' 10!"
"Yeah, tell 'em to bring more guns! Hehe!" laughed Frank as the officer stormed off.
As he stormed away, past them came a mini parade of a family with crimson hair and luggage carts, the mother loudly complaining "-Same every year, packed with Muggles!"
"Told you we'd find other wizards eventually!" smiled Harry.
"Good thinking, kid!" said Dennis, tousling Harry's hair as they trailed the family.
"Are they serious?" asked Charlie as he followed along with Mac, Dee and Frank. They caught up with the family after the three older boys ran into the column, disappearing before they could crash.
"Heyyo, gingers!" called out Mac.
The woman spun around to face them. Her eyes darted quickly across each member of the Gang. before they landed on Harry. She let out a breath and smiled at him.
"Hello there, dear!" she said cheerily. "Off to Hogwarts?"
"No. I'm just an owl enthusiast," Harry rolled his eyes.
The woman seemed taken aback by that. The two other children giggled until their mother gave them a warning look.
"Harry, don't be a dick," admonished Dee. The woman gasped, but Dee ignored it. "How do you get through the barriers?"
"Well, wizards and witches can just run straight through with enough momentum, but-"
"Okay, cool," said Dee as she sprinted towards the column.
"Wait, miss! Stop!" the red-haired woman cried, but her screams went unheeded as Dee ran straight into the column. There was a sickening crunch as Dee's skull hit full speed into the column, and an equally unpleasant crack as she fell backwards. The red-haired woman went quickly to cover her children's eyes. Mac cringed. Charlie let out a small yelp. Dennis stared in disappointment. Harry averted his gaze, embarrassed to be associated with any of them. Frank finished his egg and looked down.
"She dead?" asked Frank, spewing bits of egg as he spoke.
Dee feebly picked up her head, blood trickling down her face.
"As I was saying…" the witch said slowly, still staring at Dee and her bloody forehead. "Muggles can't... enter the platform… unless their child- are any of you going to help her?!"
"Why?" asked Dennis. It wasn't malicious… at least not by Dennis's standards. He was seriously asking.
The red-haired woman looked aghast, but before she could say anything Dee was making her way up, scaling the column for support.
"N-nah, I-I'm…I-I'll be fine. Ju-just need to get my bearings a… anyone got any stew or nose clams? I need something to make me d-do that, uh, th-that thing with the brain,""
"What's a nose clam?" the girl whispered to her brother, who shrugged.
Charlie rolled his eyes, reaching into his pockets. "Here, I got some smelling salts."
He handed her the salts, which she quickly snapped and snorted as the red-haired woman looked on appalled. Dee jerked her head back and laughed.
"Zoom!Oh yeah, mama's back!" she exclaimed. She noticed the red-haired woman's face and stretched out her hand. "What about you? Need a hit, sister?"
The woman's eyes shifted back and forth between Dee and the salts like she was watching a tennis match between them. Harry wasn't sure if she was considering taking a hit or hitting Dee herself, but instead she just let out a nervous laugh.
"N-no, that's fine," she looked down at her bare wrist "Oh, look at that! We really must be going now. Your turn, Ron!"
The red-haired boy with the cart stepped forward. He stopped and turned to Harry.
"See you at Hogwarts!" said Ron.
"Go, Ron!" his mother commanded.
With that, the red-haired boy went through the column, quickly followed by his mother, who was dragging along the girl. Harry turned to face the gang. His chest felt heavy as he shuffled his feet.
"Well…" said Harry. "I guess… see ya,"
"Hold on, Harry," smiled Dennis. "Mac, give him the bag."
Mac handed it over. Harry looked inside to see a wooden board with three green felt circles, a box, several game pieces, and a hammer and nails.
"Is this…" started Harry.
"CharDee MacDennis 3D: Beyond Thunderdome!" said Mac excitedly.
Harry was still smiling, but his eyebrow raised at that.
"Those are two different threequels," he pointed out.
"Yeah, well, the arbitration process was pretty contentious for the naming," said Dennis. "We went through a lot of different names we narrowed down from. We had CharDee MacDennis and the Last Crusade..."
"CharDee MacDennis with a Vengeance…" added Mac.
"CharDee MacDennis 3 Parabelum," listed off Dee.
"CharDee MacDennis and The Army of Darkness," named Charlie.
"CharDee MacDennis: The Third Reich," mentioned Frank. Harry lowered the bag and his jaw. "Y'know, from Bloodrayne!"
"You keep telling yourself that, Frank." Deadpanned Dennis. "But as you can see, it was an extensive process. We also added a few different rules, challenges, and punishments…"
"And you guys want me to do market research to see if it has any potential on the Wizarding World," finished Harry.
"Well… yeah," admitted Charlie.
Harry looked back down at the bag and smiled at the gang. "Thank you,"
"You're welcome, Harry," said Dee. "But don't thank Frank. He didn't do sh*t."
"That's because I got Harry something else," smiled Frank.
Harry looked around excitedly, hoping to spot his other present. Before he could say anything, Frank stretched his arms around Harry, giving him an awkward sort of hug.
Harry's eyebrows lowered. "Seriously, a hug? You didn't get me sh*t? Not even a fake out? Get off me you cheap old son of a-"
Frank chuckled.
"Check your pocket, Harry," whispered Frank, pulling away and giving a not-so-inconspicuous wink. Harry felt it and let out a small gasp before smiling back at Frank. He'd hug the old man again if he didn't reek of egg.
Dennis seemed to sense something was going on. "Wait, w-what are you two-"
"Thanks for the stuff, Dennis tell Brian Jr. I said hi, see you at Christmas, love you dickbags!" Yelled Harry as he ran through the entryway.
—
"Mind if I sit here?" Harry looked up to see the ginger boy from earlier standing in the doorway of the compartment. "Everywhere else was full,"
Harry shrugged. "I honestly don't give a sh*t,"
The other boy raised an eyebrow, but quickly shrugged and took the seat across from Harry.
"Name's Ron Weasley, by the way,"
Harry perked his head up. "Cool, that's Mac's first name,"
"Who's Mac?" asked Ron.
"He's the gay one that called out 'Hey, gingers!' back at the station," explained Harry.
Ron looked confused again "Huh?"
"Well, he's been pretty gay the last couple years. But ever since that old Scottish lady showed up he's been acting all weird. I just hope he doesn't do another dance."
"I-I thought that guy was your dad?"
Harry made a face like he was about to hurl. "What?Mac?That idiot can't be trusted with a dog unless the dog's some sort of zombie!
Harry's face fell further. "So wait, you thought my mom was…"
"The crude blond one who ran into the wall, yeah," confirmed Ron.
A shiver went down Harry's spine. The thought of either one of Mac or Dee being his parent was offensive enough, but the thought of those two together? That was justsick.
"No, dude, no!" said Harry. "They're all just part of the gang,"
Ron's jaw dropped. "You're in a gang?!"
"Not crimin-" Harry paused, thinking about it for a second. "Well technically, we all have priors, but who doesn't? But it's justthegang, you know? Like,theOhio State ortheBoyz II Men."
"Okay…" said Ron, still sounding unsure. "And your parents are okay with that?"
"Well, they're dead, so it'd be hard for them not to be," shrugged Harry.
Ron's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm so sor- wait, the blond woman called you…you're Harry Potter?! Oh Merlin, I didn't mean to mention your-"
"Dude, just move past it," advised Harry.
Ron seemed a bit surprised by this but quickly calmed down. He quickly looked to change the subject and went to the first thought in his head.
"So, do you have… you know…" he leaned in a bit, lowering his voice to a whisper "The scar?"
Harry brushed his hair back, showing the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.
"Wicked!" exclaimed Ron.
"Funny enough, I always thought it came from an accident with the Ali-Baba sword," said Harry.
"What's an Ali Baba?" asked Ron curiously.
"Dunno. Probably some dago word. But this is nothing. I know this street rat named Cricket. Got his neck sliced open in a wrestling match the guys put on for the troops coming home from Iraq. Now, the thing apparently looks like a dog vagin*."
Ron didn't seem to know how to respond to that, as he sat there looking all grossed out until a woman with a snack trolley came by. Harry didn't recognize any of the candy, so he grabbed a handful of each and placed them on top. "And to drink… you guys have Sour Monkey?"
The woman made a face. "A what?"
"No? Okay, just get me a Brawler,"
"What are you asking for?"
"Okay, a Yuengling will work I guess,"
"Young man, I have no idea what any of that is,"
"Ugh, fine. Just get me a Coors, but make sure the mountains are blue all the way. If not, I'll just have a Miller,"
"What the- mountains?"
Harry and the woman exchanged looks. Harry's eyes widened and he let out a laugh.
"Oh, right, I'm in Britain. Just a Harp, then,"
"Wait, are you asking for beer?" the woman gasped
"Yeah, pay attention. If you don't have Harp, just get me a Smithwick's,"
"We don't have any of that!"
"Well, I don't want a Guinness, it's too early for something that dark,"
"Young man!" the woman sputtered, thinking which of the fifty objections that were flooding her mind that she should start with. "This is a train forchildren. There's no one on this train older than seventeen!"
Harry looked her up and down skeptically. "Really?"
The woman scowled. "Besides myself."
"Look, don't worry. I'm in the biz!"
"The… what?"
"I'm a bartender! I've been working at a bar since I could walk pretty much. So, can you help me out or what?"
She blinked at Harry.
"We have Pumpkin Juice," the woman said plainly.
"What is that, an ale?" asked Harry.
"…Yes?"
Harry handed her the coins and collected the food and the drink. He noticed Ron was still sitting in the same spot, staring at his sandwich, still wrapped in the tinfoil. He could hear the ginger's stomach growl as he eyed Harry putting down his pile.
"You didn't want anything?" asked Harry.
"… Not hungry. I have my sandwich," the boy said glumly.
Harry shrugged. He took a swig of the Pumpkin Juice, and promptly spat it out on the floor.
"Ugh! Even for a pumpkin beer, that's sh*te!" he spat, wiping off his tongue with his sleeve. He was going to ask Ron if he wanted it, when he saw the boy still eyeing the pile of candy. Harry rolled his eyes, split the pile in half, and dumped it on Ron's side. By the time Harry turned around the boy was darting his eyes between the pile next to him and at Harry.
"There, help yourself," Harry shrugged.
Ron looked like he had just been handed a pot of gold. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," said Harry bitterly. "I can't eat that much candy if I'm not drinking. It makes me sick,"
"Wow, thank you!" said Ron gratefully.
Ron ate his half like he hadn't eaten in a week. Harry just hoped he wasn't one of those kids whose family didn't let have sugar that would start bouncing off the walls at any moment. Addicts like that could be so annoying.
Harry shook the box of 'Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.' He wondered…
"Do you think any of these might be beer flavored?" asked Harry hopefully.
Ron shrugged, swallowing the last bite of a Cauldron Cake. "I don't see why there wouldn't be. I should warn you though. When they say every flavor, they meaneveryflavor,"
Ron was right. They wereeveryflavor. Harry didn't even know how he knew what sardines and grass tasted like, but he was quite certain he did not want to try the real thing. The other flavors, such as the toast, coconut, and coffee, at least tasted decent. Even the curry one was surprisingly pleasant. Still, he quickly lost hope of finding a beer-flavored one and turned his attention to the chocolate frog. It tasted good enough, but then he noticed the card at the bottom with the Gandalf-looking guy with twinkly eyes.
"Albus Dumbledore…" he skimmed through the expo dump "…this jabroni's the principal?"
"You got Dumbledore? Nice. I've got about six of him," said Ron, leaning over to look.
"What are these things anyway? Like, baseball cards for wizards?" asked Harry.
Before Ron could answer, a round-faced boy with frantic-looking eyes poked his head into the compartment.
"Have either of you seen a toad?" asked the boy.
Ron quickly shook his head, while Harry was a bit more direct.
"Don't worry, if we see one, we'll kill it straight away," assured Harry.
Ron went into what sounded like a rather nasty coughing fit while the third boy's eyes bulged.
"What the - no, please don't kill it!" the boy begged. "It's me pet!"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You have a toad for a pet?"
"Yeah…" he admitted, averting eye contact. "It was a gift from me Gran,"
"Does she hate you?" asked Harry point blank. Ron went into another coughing fit, this time covering his head behind his robes. Neville's lower lip started to tremble.
"Sometimes… I think she blames me for-"
"Okay, where was the last place you saw your toad?" asked Harry quickly, partly out of sympathy, but mostly out of a strong desire not to deal with some random kid's emotional baggage.
"Well… I was still at King's Cross, and I was checking in my trunk to make sure I still had my wand, and-"
"Well it's pretty obvious to me," interrupted Harry "that thing probably got buried in your trunk somewhere. Probably suffocated by now too by my guess. I'd dump the whole thing out and throw out the corpse. If it's already started to smell, just get some candles and air out the trunk. Then rub it down with some lemon juice and some bleach just to be safe. That should take care of that jam,"
Ron slowly chewed his chocolate frog, looking mildly disturbed. Neville went pale as a ghost. Harry thought the boy was going to collapse before he let out what sounded like a nervous squeak.
"I-I'm gonna go check… someplace else…" he croaked out, shutting the door. Harry and Ron could hear his footsteps running away from their cabin.
Ron looked at Harry and frowned. "Did you have to scare him away like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like… eh, nevermind," waved off Ron. "It's just a toad, anyways. Although, I shouldn't talk, seeing as I have…"
Harry jumped as a gray blur jumped out of Ron's robe.
"What the hell is that?"
"That's my rat, Scabbers. About time he woke up, worthless lump he is,"
Harry rolled up his sleeves, smiling. "Rat, huh? Don't worry, Charlie taught me how to bash 'em!"
"Oh cool, you have a relative named Charlie too? My older brother Charlie works in Romania with - wait, what the hell are you doing with-"
Before Ron could say another word, Harry took the book and slammed it down on the rat's head, crushing its tiny skull to pieces. The rest of the rat, however, inexplicably turned into a fat man with clothing so dirty Harry doubted even Cricket would be caught dead in them. Blood began spritzing out of the neck hole.
Harry simply raised an eyebrow. Ron hopped from the bench and away from the body. The only color that remained on his face were his freckles and the bit of blood that splattered.
"Y-You killed that guy!"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Harry paused. "Check his pulse."
"He doesn't have a head!" snapped Ron.
"Okay, okay… don't worry this isn't my first time dealing with a dead body. The gang taught me exactly what to do in times like this. Just be glad you have me here,"
Ron looked on in horror as Harry reached his hands in the dead man's pockets. He eventually came away with a small burlap bag tied with a ribbon that saidP. Pettigrew.
"Alright Mr. Scabbers P. Pettigrew, let's see what you- Holy sh*t!" Harry exclaimed, almost dropping the bag on the floor. "That's a sh*tload of gold!"
Ron's disgust gave way to curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Harry opened the pouch wide and watched as the shimmer from the gold reflected off Ron's face.
"Merlin's beard, we're rich!"
Harry moved the bag close to his side, giving Ron a once-over.
"Well, I was the one who bashed the head of the rat, I feel like I should keep the money."
"Well, it was my pet. That means whatever cash it has belongs to me," said Ron, crossing his arms.
Harry sighed. "That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about pets to disprove it. Fifty-fifty split?"
Ron grinned, stretching out his hand. "Deal!"
They shook and Harry dumped out half the coins (well, maybe 40%, what with the vig and all) into Ron's hands. A few overflowed from his palms and rolled onto the floor. Ron stared at the glimmering pile in awe. He brought his eyes back up towards Harry.
"You know…" Ron said thoughtfully, stuffing his pockets. "Scabbers or Pettigrew or whoever did spend the last decade sleeping in the same beds as unsuspecting young boys. He probably had this coming to him."
"That's the spirit!" Harry slapped his new friend on the back. "Now, let's get this diddler's corpse out of here before it reeks up the place."
Harry slid open the window. He briefly considered just leaving the corpse outside for the snack cart woman to take care of like the Gang had done with Roxie, but worried that, unlike Frank and Charlie's sh*thole apartment complex, unexplained deaths didn't happen regularly enough here for them to get away with it. For a man who had been living as a rat for an extended period of time, the corpse certainly was heavy. Lifting him by the arms and leg didn't work, so they heaved him up by the armpits, leaning him against the window, and continued to push up by the legs. A few good heaves, and the body went tumbling out the window, rolling off into the countryside below. He and Ron high-fived to their accomplishment, and Harry went back to his seat. Ron remained standing, however.
"Uh… Harry?"
"Yeah, Ron?"
"What are we gonna do about…" the rest went unspoken as Ron stretched his hands out towards the blood-stained seat. Harry got back up to inspect it.
"Hmm… I don't suppose you have any lemon or bleach on you, do you?"
"… What the hell is bleach?"
Harry stroked his chin for a few moments and snapped. "I got it! We punch each other in the face, and use that blood to cover up the blood that's already there!"
Ron looked at him like he grew five heads.
"Wouldn't there be far more blood on the bench still than there should be?"
Harry crossed his arms. "Are you going to ask a million different questions for every plan I come up with?"
"I only asked one question!" said Ron.
Harry rolled his eyes and thought for a moment. "When the time comes, just play along, alright? And for the love of God: act natural,"
Ron slowly nodded. As if on cue, a girl around their age with bushy brown hair came through the door.
"Have any of you seen a toad?"
"What murder?!" Ron blurted out. Harry smacked the back of his head. "Ouch! Er, I mean… uh… what do you want?"
"A boy named Neville lost…" she paused, eyes falling on the blood-soaked bench. "What isthat?!"
"A bench?" said Harry nervously.
"I knowthat,"she said, annoyed. "Why is it covered in blood?!"
"Oh, that," nodded Harry. "Well… Ron's dick went flying off,"
"What?" asked the girl and Ron, with Ron being notably more frantic.
Harry nodded his head solemnly. "It's true. Ron ate one of these weird-looking candies from the snack cart, and he said he felt funny. Next thing you know he's screaming in pain, and his dick's flying out of his trouser leg. At first, I thought it was a hummingbird, but no, it was his penis. Head, staff, even balls, flying around before crashing into the seat and exploding in a bunch of blood. I don't know if he had a blood clot or something because there was far more blood than there should've been considering the size. Luckily, I tossed the candy and Ron got bandaged up, but the seat; well, as you can see, we'd appreciate a little bit of help with that… along with your discretion, of course,"
By the time he was done, both looked shocked. The girl raised her hand in front of her mouth, her face going green. She gave a shiver and looked at Ron apologetically. Ron darted back and forth between Harry and the bushy-haired girl, eyes moving like he was watching a tennis match. Finally, he scowled.
"No!"Ron declared angrily. Harry groaned. "No, no, no! I'm not 'playing along' withthat! Are yousick?!What's wrong with you?! No, what happened was this arsehole here took his book and bashed-"
"You idiots smashed his toad?!" the girl shrieked in horror.
Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged.
"…Yes,"
"Sure!"
The girl looked at them back and forth, almost like she would have preferred to hear them say they had murdered the diddler. For a brief moment, Harry thought she was going to break into tears.Strange, I thought the toad belonged to Neil or whatever? What's she so upset about?She shook her head. She still looked distressed, although not quite like she was about to cry. She ran her hand through her hair frantically, pacing back and forth. "Oh God oh God oh God! What am I going to tell Neville?! He was already so upset! I promised I would help him! He's going to hate me, and we haven't even started classes! Everyone's going to-"
Harry stepped in front of her, clasping her shoulders. "Don't worry. What was your name again?"
"H-Hermione Granger," she stammered.
"Okay, Her…" Harry made a face "Wait,that'syour name?"
"Yes."
"Were your parents-"
"Shakespeare enthusiast? Not particularly. Just Grecophiles,"
"I was going to say donkey-brained, but okay. Look, Hermione," Harry said softly. "The toad… it's dead. That happened. There's nothing we can do to change that. And if we could, let's be honest, there are far better uses of our time. So, let's do what the toad and Nathan would have wanted us to do, and just move past it. Now, we need to focus on us, the survivors of this ordeal,"
Ron nodded eagerly. Hermione, however, blinked a few times before narrowing her eyes in disgust. She looked like she was about to slap him. Harry reflexively flicked his head back, to avoid the blow, but Hermione gave out a gasp.
"You're Harry Potter?!" she declared.
"Oh right, I'm famous!" Harry snapped his fingers.Phew. Guess I didn't need to be afraid about getting caught for murder. Ron, on the other hand…
The girl's earlier fury was replaced by nerdish delight "I've read all about you! 'Modern Magical History,' 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,''Great Wizarding Events of…"
"Oh, so I'm like your hero or something," said Harry, tempted to pat himself on the back. "Tell you what, I'll give you an autograph, free of charge if you help us clean up this blood."
"I-I didn't say you were my hero!" Hermione stammered, cheeks getting red. "And if you're one to go around murdering people's pets so flippantly, you most certainly-"
"And I'll tell Evan or whoever that you had nothing to do with his frog getting smooshed," added Harry with a sly smile. The girl's eyes widened.
"B-but, I-I didn't-" she stuttered. Harry sighed.
"Well, the way I see it, there's three people that know what happened. Two of them are going to tell the same story as the other no matter what. Isn't that right, Ron?" said Harry.
Ron just blinked, staring out into space. Harry raised his eyebrow at the red-haired boy and lightly nudged him. "…Ron?"
"Huh?" Oh… Yes?"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, I can fill him in if necessary. But the question is, Granger, do you want to risk that?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but shut it in frustration before she said a word. The girl looked past Harry and reluctantly raised her wand at the seat and the book.
"Terego,"
In the blink of an eye, the blood was gone.
"Wow, thanks!" exclaimed Ron excitedly. However, her gaze remained fixed on Harry.
"I'm disappointed in you," she declared.
"I… don't see why that would bother me," shrugged Harry.
Hermione sighed, stuck her nose in the air, and exited the cabin. Ron sat back down, but Harry remained standing.
"I don't know why…but that bothered me," seethed Harry. "Who is she to talk to me like that? I'm supposed to be some sort of legend around here!"
"Let it go, mate," urged Ron. "Mark my words, that girl won't be playing any sort of major role in either of our lives anytime soon,"
"Yeah, you're probably right," conceded Harry, sitting down.
"Is it true? They're saying Harry Potter is on the- you?!"
A pale blond boy came storming through the doors with two larger boys that judging by their appearance might have a bit of McPoyle blood in their veins. The blond was making a face like he recognized him… somehow.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" asked Harry.
The blond boy looked taken aback. "Why, in Diagon Alley! No more than a week ago!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Dude, I met a giant, goblins, and a white dude in a turban that day. And I'm supposed to recall some random albino?"
Ron laughed as the blond boy's face fell even further. He stammered awkwardly "I-I'm not an al-al… ugh, remember? At Madam Malkins? The strange man in drag?! You told me how to manipulate my parents!"
"I tell people how to manipulate their parents all the time," responded Harry. Ron's eyes glistened at that tidbit. "And still, I don't remember hearing anyone's name."
"Of course I must have told you my…" started the blond, looking incredibly cross before he trailed off, his face falling deep into thought. "… Huh, okay, maybe I didn't bother telling you my name. But I swear, if I'd known you were famous, I would have!"
"That's understandable," admitted Harry. Ron raised an eyebrow.
"Well, behind me is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Draco Malfoy,"
Harry and Ron couldn't help but laugh.
"You think my name's funny, do you?" asked Malfoy, nostrils flaring. Harry just rolled his eyes.
"No.Police Academyis funny. Making a waiter fall into spaghetti? Also Funny. Tossing a balloon filled with champagne at a bum through the window of a limousine as you yell out 'Hey, how do you like a taste of the good life, ya sack of sh*t?' Funny. Your name is just…Malfoy…hold on, are you the one who was at the broom store when Mac had his accident?"
Malfoy's eyes lit up, all offense seemingly forgotten. "So now you remember me! I'm not sure what a limousine is, but I'm on board with the balloon idea! We can use my father's-wait, you know those… creatures?!"
Harry's eyebrow went up. "What do you mean?"
"The Muggles at the shop. They belonged to you?"
"Yeah, they raised me. Well, not just them. So did Charlie, Frank, and Dennis,"
Draco co*cked his head. "Are any of them wizards?"
"Nope. Well, Charlie's a squib technically. Does that count?"
Draco looked like he had just sucked in a bunch of poison. "They let you be raised by… that… thatfilth?!"
Harry's smile flipped.
"Don't talk about them like that!" snapped Harry, clenching his fists.
"Why not?" asked Draco, sounding more confused than anything. Ron scoffed.
"Apparently we live in a weird universe where you can't call people's family filth and expect them to like you. Did your parents' servants not bother to teach you that?"
Malfoy scowled at Ron. "No need to ask you your name. Red hair... and a hand-me-down robe... you must be a Weasley."
Before Ron could respond, Draco turned around to Harry, making the same face Dennis would when he tried to calm himself.
"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.
"What is this, like, a class thing?" asked Harry.
"Essentially, although it has more of a racial tinge to it. If anything, I'd say it's more of a caste thing," explained Goyle. Both Crabbe and Malfoy jerked their heads to him like they'd never actually heard the other boy speak before. At least not in the form of sentences, anyway.
"Okay then. Well in that case, sorry, Malfoy. But I happen to be in the fringe class!" said Harry with pride.
"Fringe class?" repeated Ron and Draco in unison. They both glared at each other again before turning their attention back to Harry
"Dunno. That's just what Frank calls it," Harry shrugged. "The point is: take your limpdick elitist bullsh*t somewhere else before I spit in your face,"
Malfoy's skin went pink. His hand remained outstretched for a moment longer before he angrily yanked it back. The look in his eyes reminded Harry of when Dennis was talking to a woman who didn't understand the 'implications': angry, frustrated, confused, and perhaps even a little hurt.
"I'd be careful, Potter," seethed Draco. "Things can be dangerous enough for a wizard who doesn't choose his friends carefully. I'd hate to think what would happen to the trashy Muggles who took you in if-"
That was enough. Hurt or not, he was about to be. Harry shot up from his seat, getting right in Draco's face. He saw Ron bolt up too. To the blond's credit, he did not flinch, although his eyes did widen slightly. Crabbe and Goyle took a step closer to Draco's side.
"You look here, dickbreath… Hang on, how loaded is your family, exactly?" asked Harry curiously.
Draco gave a nasty smirk to a disappointed Ron before turning back to Harry with a smile. "Extremely,"
Harry smiled, reaching into his pockets "Well in that case…"
Harry pulled out the gun, co*cking it in Draco's face. "Empty your pockets, sh*tbird!"
Ron skirted over closer to Harry's side of the room, eyes never leaving the gun as he looked on half in admiration and half in horror. While Draco's smile was gone, he was still staring down at the gun with a blank expression.
"What is this thing?"
"You know what it is, bitch,"
"I-I can assure you, I don't," said Draco, confused. "Is it a… what is it called, a hairdryer?"
Harry smirked. "…huh. Well, allow me to demonstrate…"
Harry pointed the gun towards the ceiling, pulling the trigger. The sound was far less of a bang and more of a squirting. Malfoy looked up, and the next thing Harry knew a clear liquid splashed down onto the pale boy's face.
"Agh! What is that?! Itburns!" he spat, rubbing his eyes.
Harry sniffed the air. "Tequila," he looked down at the gun, examining the barrel. "Ugh. God damn it, Frank! This is the Paddy's Shot-Gun pistol! Guess they got the propulsion issue solved at least. You alright?"
"No, you prick,aagh!" Draco gagged, doubling over "I can barely see!"
"Yeah, you do not want that sh*t in your eyes, bro. Just be glad this isn't Fight Milk." Harry shrugged before he turned to Crabbe and Goyle. One wave of the gun, and they were emptying their pockets of gold, silver, and bronze coins. Harry looked at the coins closer. "Huh. Do you two spend a lot of time in the sewer?"
The shorter one - Crabbe, maybe - looked offended by the question. The other - Goyle - raised an arm in the air, gave himself a sniff, and shivered.
"Never mind," Harry shook the gun once more at Draco. "Okay, you too, rich boy,"
Malfoy scowled in Harry's direction, reaching into his robe pocket. He pulled out a brown bag and tossed it wide right of Harry. Harry continued to stare at the boy. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy's shoes, which looked to be some sort of snakeskin, and were engraved with gold and emeralds. They looked absolutely garish, but definitely expensive.
"What size shoe are you?" asked Harry.
Malfoy's very red eyes widened.
"My cobbler custom-made these for me!" He whined.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Your road paver makes your shoes?"
"Huh?" asked Draco, his rage briefly subsiding briefly from the novelty of the question.
Harry quickly shook his head. "Shut up and just give me the shoes,"
Draco went another shade pinker, ripping off his shoes and tossing them, again missing Harry, causing him to chuckle.
"Man, that tequila really did a number on your eyes. Alright, now, put an egg in your shoe and beat it,"
"What bloody shoe?!" screeched Malfoy.
"…Oh yeah, right. Still, begone!"
Harry shooed the three boys out of the compartment. Crabbe and Goyle each grabbed Draco by the shoulders to help drag him away. He continued to yell at Harry on the way out.
"I'll get you for this, Potter! I'll make you pay!" spat Malfoy, cursing as Goyle accidentally dragged him into the side of the door as they exited.
Harry turned to Ron and shrugged. "I really don't think he will."
Ron clasped his shoulder. "Yep, that settles it. You're officially my best friend. So, about manipulating my parents…"
Harry smiled. "Okay, it all starts with H: Heighten sentimentality…"
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