Had he not been so blinded by his own greatness, maybe he would have seen the mistake he was making. Maybe if he had looked into the boy's eyes and seen the unnatural and magical green, if he had seen the stillness with which he laid in the blankets...
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The students continued discussing the mysterious defeat of the troll as November rolled around. Harry was quite amused hearing some of the wilder theories. His personal favorite- Snape transformed into a troll and battled the first one to the death. From the gossip he overheard one of the prefects whispering, none of the teachers knew what happened, a fact that concerned even Dumbledore. Let the old man be concerned, it was good for his ego.
The only two students to keep out of dissociations where, unsurprisingly, Hermione and Amare. Hermione spent most of her days glancing at Harry, which became quite bothersome very quickly. He tried speaking to her on many occasions, especially when they both occupied the library, but he usually got a small squeak in return.
Amare on the other hand was acting strange. She avoided Harry during launces at the Great Hall and walked to classes together with Blaise. In fact she did everything with Blaise, which made Harry feel...something. He didn't know what but he knew he disliked it. Each time they spoke it was brief and her eyes where filled with some sort of emotion. Sadness, his mind supplied quite unhelpfully.
But why? He pondered over the matter as he sat at the Gryffindor table next to Neville. He slowly ate his eggs as he watched distractedly Amare and Blaise laughing. She looked so happy. Her beauty glowed in the grayish light of the upcoming winter.
"...arry?"
"Uh?" he missed Neville's question.
"Who do you think will win?" he asked again kindly. Neville was a nice boy, with a good heart. After Harry fought with Ron the morning after the troll incident he made a decision to stick with Neville, for the mean time at least. Talk of the fight was only second to gossips of the troll-Coming to the Great Hall, Harry heard Ron trash talking Hermione once again, but this time the dark haired boy had had enough- 'You don't deserve to talk to anybody like that' 'You need to humble yourself quickly before life does it for you' 'You achieved nothing yet, and you insult those who try and help you' 'You are no better than Malfoy, your prejudice is just aimed at a different group' . They weren't on speaking terms as of yet and Harry wasn't pushing for it.
"Win where?" he asked halfheartedly.
"Wher- the Quidditch match of course!" Neville exclaimed, disbelieve on his face, "Gryffindor against Slythrien?"
"When is it?" A plan was starting to form in Harry's mind.
"Um next week?" Perfect.
On Saturday morning, as the body of students and teachers moved as one to the Quidditch pitch, Harry grabbed Neville-"I will meet you there, okay?"
"You sure mate?" but he was dragged away as well. Truthfully Harry had no intention of going to the game. The now empty castle held more appeal- Specifically a certain corridor on the third floor. He wasn't dumb, of course he knew Dumbledore wanted him to go there. He wouldn't have talked about it otherwise. But curiosity was getting the better out of him.
