Harry-Dementor

6- Remedial Potions

"Oh hell…what's he doing here?" A familiar voice indignantly drawled from the corner of the room, making Harry instinctively go on guard and prepare for a fight.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked in resignation. Of course, Malfoy was a member.

"Shut it Draco, you know the rules," a tall, dark-skinned Slytherin berated the blond before walking over to Harry. Harry recognized the teen as a member of the Slytherin quidditch team. A seventh-year chaser, if he remembered correctly. "I'm Graham Montague, in case you don't remember me without my quidditch robes," the seventh-year smiled as he held out a hand to shake. "We all go by first names in the club, so call me Graham."

"Harry," the dementor said with a shaky smile as he shook the older teen's hand and did his best to forget that this Slytherin was known for his violent fouls on the quidditch pitch.

"HARRY!" an excited male voice called out before the Gryffindor was slammed into and a taller student suddenly was hugging him from behind.

Harry repressed a flinch and wiggled around to see who was trapping him in a bearhug. "Neville?" He asked in surprised disbelief.

"Wow, you're really cold," Neville finally let go of him and continued talking quickly like he was on a sugar high. "Hey, what're you doing here? This is awesome! We needed another fifth year in the club! Oh wait, Professor Lupin didn't bite you, did he?!"

"No! Definitely no!" Harry vehemently assured him, not wanting anyone to get Remus in trouble. "I'm not a werewolf."

"Neville, remember the rules," Graham frowned and kindly grabbed the excited Gryffindor by the shoulders and passed him off to Draco. "No asking what our new member is."

Neville immediately wrapped his arms around a resigned Draco Malfoy who glared at Harry like he was daring him to say something about it. "Sorry, Harry," Neville smiled sheepishly from Malfoy's shoulder.

"This is bloody ridiculous!" Malfoy growled out in frustration and jabbed a finger towards Harry. "You'd better stick to the rules, Potter. We don't take kindly to those who don't take the society seriously here."

"Harry," Ginny reminded him.

"Ergh! Fine, Harry!" Malfoy crossed his arms, ignoring the Gryffindor draped over his shoulders like wasn't even there.

Glancing around the room, no one seemed to think that Neville hanging off Malfoy was surprising or even worth a glance up from their other conversations, books, or chess games they were currently involved in.

It was the most comfortable classroom Harry had ever seen with armchairs, couches, bookshelves filled with books, snacks on a low table, and many boardgame options. A couple people looked up and smiled at Harry, but mostly, he was quietly accepted into the room without much comment. Until… "Well…I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Severus Snape commented dryly as he entered the room and sat in a dark armchair that seemed to be reserved for him in the corner. "Did the wolf bite you over the summer?" He threw on at the end with a sneer.

"No!" Harry ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "Ginny said no one was going to ask me what I am, that's the second time I've been asked if I'm a werewolf! I'm not!"

Snape shrugged at Harry's outburst. "Werewolves are a special case. We have a buddy-system for them. Someone to cover for them in their classes and make sure they get their Wolfsbane at the full moon. So, we do ask about them specifically," he explained in a surprisingly neutral tone.

"He really didn't mean any offense," an auburn-haired, third-year Hufflepuff girl with amber eyes remarked. "My twin brother and I are halfwerewolves," she motioned to a Ravenclaw who was reading a large textbook and taking notes.