Two days later, Harry’s reminded of the card when he runs into fellow Gryffindors Neville Longbottom and Faye Dunbar. “Hi,” Harry says. “How—er, how have your summers been?”
“Good.” Neville bites his lip. “I got this new plant—it’s called a mimbulus edeltonia, really rare. I’m going to see if I can c-cross it with a dif-different cactus I have…”
“That’s really cool,” Harry says. “How about you, Faye?”
“Not too bad,” Faye says. She seems like she doesn’t know what to do with Harry, and Harry thinks back to what Nott said about Ron and Hermione running off people who’d want to be Harry’s friends. “My parents took me on holiday to South Africa.”
“You look tan,” Harry said.
Faye laughs. “Thanks. How about you?”
“Oh.” Harry shuffles his feet. “I, uh, sort of accidentally blew up my uncle’s sister? So I’ve been staying at the Leaky for about two weeks now.”
“What?” Faye says.
Explaining that—and trying not to tell too many details about the Dursleys—sounds like a lot of work. Harry shrugs. “Accidental magic. I dunno, the Ministry set it right, and I’ve been having a great time here.”
“Well.” Faye shakes her head. “Can’t believe they let you just stay in a hotel by yourself for three weeks, but I guess it works.”
“Y-you got new c-clothes,” Neville says.
Harry blushes.
“Oh, don’t worry, they look nice,” Faye assures him. “Lavender and Parvati kept saying last year they wanted to take you aside and help you sort out your wardrobe, but Hermione nagged them so much they gave up on it.” Then she winces. “I’m… sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“It’s okay.” Nott really wasn’t kidding. Harry had not known Hermione did things like that. Or that his shoddy wardrobe had drawn so much attention. He’s glad he took Nordok’s advice.
“Want to go g-get ice cream?” Neville says. It’s a hot day and Harry enthusiastically agrees.
He stops dead when they get to Fortescue’s and Pansy Parkinson of all people waves at Neville and Faye. She also freezes when she sees Harry with them.
“It’s f-fine,” Neville says, and Harry unsticks his feet.
“Parkinson,” he says stiffly.
“Potter.” She looks warily back.
Faye scowls at them both. “Honestly, this is ridiculous. You don’t even know each other well enough to be this cold.”
Harry tries to relax. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s all right.” Parkinson–Pansy?–sits back down. She’s still eyeing Harry with some caution but no malice. Has he really misjudged all the Slytherins this badly? “Truce, Potter?”
“Sure. Call me Harry,” he says, because if he’s trying this whole making-new-friends thing, he might as well go all the way.
She smiles, and suddenly her upturned nose looks cute instead of puggish. “Pansy, then.”
“Great,” Faye says sarcastically. “I’m getting ice cream. Since we’re, you know, at an ice cream parlor.”
Over ice cream, Harry learns that Pansy and Faye’s mothers met at a wine tasting event when the girls were little and they’ve been best friends ever since. “They still drink way too much wine together,” Pansy says with a wicked grin.
“Yeah, it’s where I learned all the curse words I know,” Faye adds, laughing.
Terry Boot stops to say hi after half an hour or so. Harry can’t help wondering how Pansy will react, but she shakes Terry’s hand without a pause even though he’s a Muggleborn.
When Terry’s gone, Harry can’t stop himself anymore. “Pansy, why are you so… well, kind of difficult at school?”
“Merlin save me from Gryffindor questions,” Pansy says. “It’s complicated.”
“Not really.” Faye gives her friend a scolding look. “Harry, certain kids have parents who want them to act a particular way, and their parents know the parents of other kids at Hogwarts, so they’ll know how their child is acting.”
Harry takes a minute to sort through all that. “Your parents would be mad if you were…”
“Publicly consorting with ‘mudbloods’ and ‘blood traitors’, yes.” Pansy frowns at her ice cream.
“It’s o-okay,” Neville says.
Pansy shrugs. “As long as I have an excuse, it’s acceptable. Usually I just tell them I’m using people for homework. Otherwise I’d catch hell at home.”
“I know what you mean,” Harry says without thinking.
“W-what d’you m-mean?” Neville asks. “Y-you…”
Bollocks. Harry tries to explain. “It’s—my aunt and uncle are Muggles and they—they don’t like magic much. They didn’t tell me I was a wizard but they knew all the weird stuff that happened around me was magic when I was little. I’d… I dunno, come home after school and my cousin would tell them I cheated on a test or stole someone’s lunch money, and they always believed him, and they’d punish me.”
“Merlin,” Faye says. “Why haven’t you told someone?”
“I have.” Harry shrugs again. “No one seems that worried…”
The Weasleys didn’t do anything even after Fred and George had to rip bars off his window. He’d given up hoping for adult help years ago, and when Fudge brushed him off, Harry knew that was it, he was stuck.
“This certainly explains why you’ve got no manners.” Pansy gives him an approving glance. Harry is wearing the yellow summer robe today and a pair of fun brown shoes he bought on a whim from a cobbler near the bookstore. “Much better wardrobe, though.”
“Thanks.”
Eventually the others have to go, but Faye invites Harry to sit with them on the train. Harry says he’ll see but he’ll definitely come say hello. It depends on Ron and Hermione.
He gets the sense Faye and Neville don’t like Ron and Hermione much.
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