Ginny spoke up, then. Harry had to lean to the side to see her, since she was sort of buried at the back of the group. "My brother was a real git," she announced in a tone that made Harry think that she, at least, had heard the worst of Ron's accusations. "I'm sorry about that, Harry. But if we look sort of grim, maybe it's because you aren't being exactly welcoming, yourself."
Harry bit his lip. "I... thought maybe you'd come down here all formally like this to tell me you didn't consider me a Gryffindor any longer."
Ginny stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "No, Harry, of course not! We all love you!"
Someone in the middle of the crowd snickered, which made Ginny's face go approximately the same shade of red as her hair. "Not like that," she growled, turning to elbow the offender.
"I love you guys too," Harry returned, swallowing. He was careful not to look directly at Ginny as he said it. "It really bothered me that I might have to choose between my House and my father."
A few of the Gryffindors stiffened at that. Harry nearly sighed. "Well, he is," he insisted. "Here, look." And with that, he was walking over to the bookcase and standing on tip-toe to retrieve the fancy embossed adoption contract. As he began to unroll it, Colin whipped a camera from inside his robes and snapped a photo. Harry blinked from the bright flash.
He handed the scroll to Dean and Seamus, mostly because they were trying to look over Hermione's shoulder to see it better.
Hermione gave him a contemplative look. "Nobody doubted your word that it was done through official channels, Harry."
"Yeah, I know. But seeing that makes it real," Harry answered. "Right?"
A vague chorus of affirmative answers drifted through the crowd of Gryffindors as the parchment was passed around. Hermione got it last, and handed it back to Harry without so much as looking at it. Instead, she was casting a cautious glance at Professor Snape. "Listen, Harry," she said. "Your... er, father, looked pretty angry over breakfast when he read my letter. And it occurred to me then--probably should have occurred sooner, come to think of it--that getting you mad at us wasn't going to do you any good. If you need somebody to talk to, I want you to feel you can come to us."
Harry yanked his hands from his pocket and stood up a bit straighter. "I have a father to talk to, now. How do you think we started getting on so much better, Hermione? I've been talking to him about everything for months."
"I understand," murmured Hermione, sounding like she actually didn't. "But you might need somebody else, sometime. You know, a more... er, youthful perspective."
Harry knew it was wicked of him to reply as he did, but some part of him really needed to. Was it just that he wanted to shock the Gryffindors? Was he still trying in some measure to get back at Ron, even though Ron wasn't even there to hear it? Maybe, he reflected, his reply had more to do with Snape. His father had asked him ages ago to give Draco a chance, and Harry was willing to, now, but he'd never really said as much to Snape. What better way to admit he had changed his mind than to say so to Snape and the Gryffindors all at once?
"If I need somebody my age to talk to," he lightly said, "it's good to know I have my mates upstairs. But don't forget, I've also got Draco right here to bounce ideas off of."
The ripple of dismay this time was palpable, a low murmur that seemed to soak into the walls before it faded off. Hermione, Harry couldn't help but notice, was gritting her teeth so hard it sounded like they might snap. "If you should happen to need a Gryffindor perspective," she grated, clearly at the end of some sort of tether, "we're here for you."
Harry felt bad, then. He shouldn't have said that bit about Draco; it was almost like throwing down a gauntlet of his own. On the other hand, he didn't want to hide who he was. Not about the adoption, not about his membership in two houses, and not about who his friends were.
All his friends.
Sensing perhaps that Hermione was about to blow steam out both ears, Neville stepped to the front of the group and took both Harry's hands in his. Neville's fingers were cold and trembling, and he still looked horribly nervous, but then again, why wouldn't he, with Snape just five feet away, arms crossed, looking over the whole scene like a hawk about to pounce? Harry had a feeling his father was just waiting for anybody to put one word wrong, and he'd rake them so far over the coals that they'd be charred for weeks.
"Harry," Neville said, his voice sincere for all it was wavering with tension. "We don't understand, all right? Why you would like this idea of... but we don't have to understand, that's the point. You're our friend and housemate and Seeker too, when you're up to flying again, and that's all there is to it."
Ginny pushed her way to the front, then, fishing something out of her robes as she moved. "We made this for you, Harry. All of us."
As she pushed a small bouquet of herbs and flowers into his hands, Harry felt tears rise to his eyes. "A well-wish?" he questioned, though it was hardly necessary to ask, really.
Ginny nodded, her own eyes a bit moist. "We can't be inside your head, you know. We can't know how this all came about unless you tell us, which you really haven't--"
"You haven't bothered to visit," Harry pointed out.
"I've been down here six times," Hermione retorted. "And you never told me what was going on, either."
"I didn't want to fight about it! And besides, you knew I was getting on better with Snape, and with Draco as well. I didn't hide that!"
"What matters," Ginny sternly interrupted, glaring at them both before her gaze softened, "is that no matter how... wrong, all this seems to us, we see that it doesn't strike you that way, and we've realized that we need to support your decision. We wish you well, Harry. And we'll welcome you back as soon as you can get back up to the Tower."
"You tried to get Ron to come say this as well, and he wouldn't come, would he?" Harry asked mournfully. Sighing, he held the well-wish cradled in one hand and said, "Thank you for this. It... it means a lot."
Ginny turned to address Professor Snape, then. "I wish you well too, sir," she said, the declaration clear and honest.
"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Snape murmured, bowing his head slightly.
Hermione cleared her throat, the rasping sound echoing in the dungeons. She looked as though she were grasping for words. Was she trying to make herself wish Snape well, but unable to go through with it? Or did she have something else to say? Whatever her intent, Snape spoke before the burgeoning silence became too oppressive.
"It is past curfew," he pointed out, his head moving slightly as he counted the visiting students. "Thirteen Gryffindors out of their dormitories at such a late hour," He shook his head, making a little tsking sound with his tongue. "I do believe the behavior before me is a matter for the House Counters."
"Please, sir--" Harry protested. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco smirking.
"You must let me handle this, Harry," Snape interrupted, his tone stern.
"But Professor--"
"Enough, Harry," Snape said, his voice level. He stared a moment longer at the boy, and when Harry remained silent, quietly announced, "Twenty points to Gryffindor." He waved his wand to solidify the command.
A stunned silence followed the pronouncement. It was Neville who finally squeaked to Seamus, his voice hushed but still clearly audible, "To? Did he say to?"
"No, you're hallucinating, Longbottom," Draco put in, his tone rather nasty.
"That's quite enough, Draco." Snape then addressed Neville, who was quaking a bit by then. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom, I said to. However, I shall be forced to take back an even greater number of points if you and your friends linger much longer. Much as I laud your efforts here toward Harry, I believe it is well-established that I do not approve of students wandering the halls at night."