Alteration (Book 3 of The Corruption Sequence)

Chapter 10. Talk of Slytherins

"Harry, Mate, you okay?" his best friend asked as Harry continued to panic silently about his now very prominent fangs.

"Uh-huh," Harry mumbled around the blood pop in his mouth, not sure how he could get out of this one.

A quick trip to the bathroom seemed like a sensible option, but he couldn't exactly explain with the lolly in his mouth, and he couldn't take it out, so he was rather stuck. The confectionary really did taste rather good, but that was not helping his predicament at all.

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione asked in her usual, slightly concerned manner.

All three were looking at him now and he really didn't know what to do; he couldn't even speak like this. They all appeared so worried, and eventually Harry gave up. He'd lost this round and he had to take the consequences. Very slowly he opened his mouth wide enough to remove the lollipop and in doing so revealed his fangs.

"Um," he said awkwardly, looking anywhere but directly at his friends.

"Well I've never seen anyone react that way to a lollipop," Ron said suddenly, "makes me wonder what reaction we could get with a liquorice wand."

Harry glanced up quickly at his best friend's words and was surprised to find a half smile playing at Ron's mouth. When his eyes flicked to the other two Hermione gave him a supportive smile and Neville shrugged. At that reaction Harry managed a sheepish grin.

"I wouldn't chance it if I were you," he said quietly, matching Ron's tone.

That finally coaxed a laugh out of his friend. As he looked at his three year mates he was very glad for such accepting friends. He only hoped that he would never do anything that would make them regret their faith. Relaxing just a little he sat back in his chair and popped the sweet back in his mouth; he might as well enjoy it now that it had embarrassed him.

The real chat began then, rather than the forced camaraderie, and Harry found himself joining in with the meaningless banter. Ron wanted to talk about Quidditch tactics since, as deputy Gryffindor captain, he now had responsibility for the team, but Hermione and Neville managed to head him off after only a few minutes. There would be plenty of time for that later and Neville, who it had turned out always knew all the gossip, began to give them all the low down on every bit of scandal from around the school.

They were doing really well, laughing and joking about the misdemeanours and indiscretions of their fellow pupils, until an obvious topic came up; one of Ron's favourites, and then things went downhill.

"The Slytherins are as weird as usual," the epitome of Gryffindorish directness said rather spitefully, "half of them are really quiet, and you just know they must be planning something, and the other half of them is pretending that they wanted You Know Who dead all along."

Harry's hackles went up straight away; he knew where this was going.

"They're not all..." he tried to head it off before it went any further.

As usual when winding up into a rant about Slytherin house, Ron was oblivious.

"As if we didn't all know that they're junior Death Eaters," his best friend continued. "I know for a fact that some of their parents are You Know Who's lackeys."

Harry glared at Ron, but it did no good, his friend was not taking any notice.

"Take Draco bloody Malfoy, for a start," Ron was really on a roll. "One of the Hufflepuffs gave him a peace flower and can you believe that he actually wore it. Him, of all people, a peace flower!"

Anger flared in Harry and he balled his hands into fists as his best friend continued to rant.

"Ron," Neville's voice was low and nervous.

"It's like You Know Who himself joining in," Ron was far too into his stride to listen and Harry was becoming tenser and angrier by the second.

"Ron, shut up!" Neville sounded a little desperate.

That finally brought Ron's rant to a halt and he looked over at his dorm mate rather annoyed before looking directly at Harry. Ron's eyes went wide and he sat back, away from Harry, which at another time would probably have hurt, but Harry was far too angry to worry about it. Dark ideas were travelling through his head and the power to carry them out lurked very close to the surface.

"I was almost a Slytherin, Ron," he said, his voice low and dangerously resonant, "would you have said the same of me?"

"Harry, I..." Ron tried to say something, but Harry was not interested.

"Tarring them all with the same brush is a bad as them calling Hermione a Mudblood, or denouncing Muggles as being stupid just because they don't have magic," he continued, angry on several different levels.

Part of him was annoyed that Ron had insulted and tried to denigrate Draco; another part was angry that his best friend was still drawing lines in the sand; and yet another was furious that with attitudes like that, all he had been through would likely end up as nothing.

"Are you your father, Ron?" he asked pointedly. "Do you want to go and work for the Ministry in a little office because you're obsessed with Muggle devices? Do you have a plug collection? They're children, Ron, they're not demons or monsters or murderers. They can be happy he's gone as much as you."

He was working himself up, he knew it, and yet he couldn't stop it. With a snarl he stood up and walked away, leaving a deathly silence behind him. His temper was too high, his anger too hot and he did not trust himself in the vicinity of his friends.

Ron was just blowing off steam, Harry knew this intellectually, but he could not separate his emotions from his response. He did not want to take the risk of staying close to his best friend. He went and stood by the bed post the same way he had with Dumbledore, just in case he needed a target, but wrapping his arms around himself he tried to bring his raging feelings under control without destroying anything.

"Harry," eventually Hermione spoke, "is everything all right?"

He didn't turn, he didn't dare, and he was almost sure he heard slight fear in his friend's voice. It hurt to know he was failing so badly. How could he have let himself frighten Hermione?

"I'm sorry, Mate," Ron sounded genuinely remorseful and Harry wondered just how badly he had frightened his best friend.

Ron was sincere, that much Harry knew, but he was on the verge of asking them all to leave.

"You know Ron, Harry, always running off at the mouth," Neville tried to joke.

"It's just that they're all having fun," Ron tried again when Harry did not respond, "and you're stuck here and it's so bloody unfair."

Harry's anger seeped away, and he slowly looked round; all three of his friends were looking at him worriedly, only they didn't seem worried about what he might do, they were worried about him. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to hug them, or scream at them not to be so stupid, couldn't they tell he was dangerous to them. What to do next seemed like such a difficult thing to decide.

Eventually Hermione leant forward and patted his empty chair.

"Come back and sit down," she said coaxingly and gave him a winning smile, "no more talk of Slytherins, Ron promises, or he'll have me to deal with as well."

Now Ron looked aghast and paled considerable, which Harry found ironically funny. He managed to smile slightly as he realised Ron was more scared of Hermione than his friend was of him. Seeing that, Harry felt just a glimmer of hope breaking through his dark mood; it was not a lot, but it was something to hold on to.