Sarcasm and Slytherin

Book One: Harry Potter and the Den of Snakes

Harry had been running so long he thought his lungs were about to collapse.

Dudley and Piers and the rest had just found his last, best hiding spot in the park, which of course meant that he had to take off running to stay ahead of the gang. He hadn't gotten breakfast because he burned the toast, and his stomach was hollow and angry, and Dudley was hyped up on smoothies and Harry's scrambled eggs and excitement.

They were getting closer.

He saw a street sign he didn't know and went that way, desperate enough to hope unfamiliar ground would confuse his cousin.

Then he saw another sign, this one outside a big ugly gray building: Public Library.

The school library—Harry remembered the school library was very strict about being quiet. It was also a place Dudley's crew never went.

He didn't have to think twice about flying up the steps and through the automatic glass doors.

From just inside, he saw Dudley and Sammy and Piers and Brian go running by, hollering and mad, Dudley and Piers both waving sticks. They didn't even look at the library.

Deciding he might as well hang out for a bit, here where they couldn't kick up a fuss even if they found him, Harry turned around.

It was bigger than the school library. A lot bigger.

He never liked the school library much; the librarian was a friend of Aunt Petunia's from the PA, and she always watched him like she thought he was going to steal the books, or shred them, or possibly make a fire inside of a pentagram. (Harry wasn't supposed to know what pentagrams were, but he'd eavesdropped on some of the older kids talking in gleeful whispers like children do when they come across forbidden knowledge that they don't fully understand, and he knew it had to do with summoning the Devil. Aunt Petunia seemed to hate the Devil, though, so Harry figured vaguely that if he knew how to call on the Devil and the Devil would take his side against his aunt and uncle, he'd pick the devil over them every time. He didn't actually know how to summon the Devil, though, and even if he did he wouldn't do it in the school library.)

This library was different. The front desk didn't have anyone sitting at it, and there were a number of people scattered about at plain beige tables, reading or typing or writing in silence. Harry narrowed his eyes at the kindly woman pushing a cart full of books by; she looked a bit like an old teacher of his, Mrs. Moore, who was plump and had a head full of wild dark curls and a really pretty accent and who slipped him extra corned beef sandwiches sometimes during lunch, except this lady's skin was a little bit closer to copper than medium brown.

"E-excuse me," Harry stammered.

She turned to him and blinked. He knew what she saw; knew his clothes were big and ugly and worn out and that he looked closer to five than seven years old. Harry put on his best innocent face, the one he wore with his teachers, making his eyes wide and vulnerable and his mouth hopeful. He also did his best to dim the unnatural green of his eyes. He knew it made some people uncomfortable and wasn't sure exactly how it worked but he knew he could make them duller for short time periods if he concentrated, although it always gave him a headache afterward.

It seemed to work. The woman's face softened almost immediately into a smile. Harry hid his satisfaction. "How can I help you, dearie?" she said, bending down a little bit.

He gave her his best shy smile in return. "I was wondering if—if you have books here... for kids?"

"Of course," she said, her smile wider. "Want me to show you?"

"Thank you," Harry said, looking bashfully at the ground, a move he'd learned from Piers Polkiss, who for all his rat-faced stupidity was weirdly good at manipulating teachers. Harry was pretty sure Piers only used the look-down-and-away maneuver because it was harder to trust him when you could see all his face.