Harry Potter:
Ignorance and Apathy
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Chapter Two: No Two Ways
Stalker! Friend…

Hermione was a remarkably rational girl, especially considering her young age. Although raised as a Muggle, she understood from the start that magic was not the be-all and cure-all that some imagined it to be. She understood that the wizarding world was not some fantastic wonderland.

She had understood those things before getting on the Hogwarts Express. And with every day at Hogwarts, she understood them better.

There were problems. Serious problems.

She didn't mind the small things, like how easy it was to get lost in a castle that shifted all the time, or how absolutely everything moved, from the paintings to the suits of armor to chess pieces, or how a Dark Wizard could kill you with one curse.

No, what bothered her was the sense of stagnation that permeated everything old and magic.

Like the Ravenclaw house.

It wasn't that she disliked the Rowena's house. In some ways, things were much better than before. People no longer laughed at her for constantly reading. But maybe that was because they no longer looked at her at all. If the Hufflepuffs were taunted and bullied, the Ravenclaws were simply ignored. Walking in the hallways, she could practically see the other students' eyes slide over her without even noticing her existence.

Even worse, everyone accepted that. The upperclassmen barely spoke to each other outside of "Hello, nice weather, isn't it?" and more often than not couldn't even remember their fellow Ravenclaws' names.

To them, there was no point in even trying to live, to have a normal life. They were Ravenclaw, no two ways about it.

An atmosphere of depression and hopelessness constantly hung over the house, and everyone was so accustomed to it that they no longer noticed…

And worst of all, Hermione found herself quickly joining them.

On Wednesday, she woke up at exactly seven o'clock. It took her ten minutes to dress, run a brush through her hair and pack her bag. To a Ravenclaw, ten minutes wasted. Her morning ritual finished, Hermione pulled out a book.

Walking through the common room, out the hidden entrance, and down the corridors to the Great Hall, she didn't once look up from her reading. Hermione had figured out how to get places without getting lost by the end of the first week, an important step for any Ravenclaw because it meant they no longer had to waste time watching where they were going. The morning crowd of students seemed to slip around her, almost as if they existed in they weren't solid. Almost as if she was a ghost.

Walking to the Ravenclaw table, she sat down and mechanically reached for a slice of toast. The same type of food was always on the same plates, so there was no need to really look at what she was getting. And in any case, food was just a necessary inconvenience.

About five minutes later, someone slid into the seat next to her. Without really looking away, Hermione noted two short braids and a face full of freckles. A girl then, one her yearmates.

"Good morning," she offered mechanically.

The other girl – what was her name? – made a vague sound of agreement and continued to read while reaching for a spoon. After a few more moments, it clicked. Turpin, Lisa. Half and half, Muggle father, Ravenclaw mother. You could always tell the people from wizarding families, especially Ravenclaw ones, because they could eat porridge without looking up, a skill Hermione had not yet mastered.

It was kind of pathetic, really, how long it took her to remember Lisa's name even though they slept in the same dormitory every night…

The thought drifted away quickly, leaving only a vague sense of apathy as Hermione finished her toast and got up from the table. She didn't look up from her book until her first class began.

In fact, she took little notice of much of anything outside of her books (she finished the first one between first and second period and began another) and the classes.

Since it was Wednesday, Ravenclaw first years had Herbology with Slytherins before lunch. Hermione ignored them, and they ignored her. They were repotting violet moonweed that day.

Halfway through the lesson, Hermione reached for another pot only to find that someone else had the same idea. Looking up in surprise, she remembered that they were working with partners. She'd completely forgotten about the Slytherin (which was no surprise because they generally left their Ravenclaw partners do all the work).

It took her a moment to find him. Her partner had somehow faded into the background, partially obscured by a large, leafy plant that matched his eyes quite well. It was Evans. Their eyes met for a moment, then both went back to work.

By the end of the lesson, she'd forgotten about Evans again. Probably, she would've just gone on forgetting and living pointlessly, if she hadn't crashed straight into him as they both tried to exit the greenhouse at the same time.

Around them, the Slytherins snickered while the Ravenclaws simply continued on their way.

Evans was on his feet suddenly, in a single smooth motion. He turned, about to walk away, before suddenly stopping and turning back. Grabbing her arm, he pulled Hemione up as well, gave her a curt nod and walked quickly toward the castle.

The Slytherins sneered at him as he passed.

Hermione paused for a moment (her mind was so blank, like she wasn't thinking, but feeling, and she'd forgotten how that felt), before hitching up her robes and running after him.

Herbology was the last class before lunch, but Evans wasn't headed to the Great Hall. She almost missed the point where he turned off the main corridor, into a side passage. Three turns and four staircases later, Evans stopped in front of a painting of a bowl of fruit and reached out to tickle the pear.

It giggled, but Hermione was beyond being surprised. Then, a handle appeared. Evans pulled on it and the painting swung open like a door. He disappeared inside.

Hermione caught the edge of the painting just as it was about to swing shut and peered into the crack. Blinking in surprise, she pulled the entryway open wider, then cautiously entered.

Instantly, she was swarmed by short, stubby creatures in towels with the Hogwarts crest. House elves, she thought faintly.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts' kitchen," Evans remarked, standing to one side and smirking slightly.

One of the house elves approached him, holding a tray on its head. "Your sandwich, young sir!" it squeaked.

Evans took the offered food and, settling cross-legged on the floor, began to eat. When she sat down next to him, he offered her half.

If asked, Hermione was perfectly willing to blame it on boredom. Classes were hard, she'd say, but there was only so much studying she could do…

Bad excuse maybe, but then again, no one asked.

And that was how Hermione Granger found herself stalking one Harry Evans.

Evans usually ate breakfast in the Great Hall, about half an hour earlier than the rest of the school. Hermione had taken a certain vindictive pleasure in watching him struggled not to fall asleep on his porridge, even as she herself yawned so wide her jaw cracked.

He made himself scarce whenever possible and faded into the background whenever not. Professor Sprout was continually surprised to see him turning in his work because she never noticed him actually being in the class.

In this manner, Evans managed to avoid the Gryffindors, who took almost every opportunity to taunt the Slytherins (who, to be fair, did exactly the same thing). The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws didn't care about some oddball Slytherin to begin with, so the only people who seemed to actually note Evans's existence were Hermione and the Serpents themselves.

And the Serpents did not like what they saw.

True, they did little to show their dislike in public (aside from the constant smirks and sneers), but Evans was in their house, and while he did an admirable job of not using the Slytherin common room (there absolutely no time for him to be in the common room; Hermione would know, since she knew his entire routine), he certainly had to sleep in the dormitory.

Another problem was that, from what she could find out, the Slytherin Head of House was less than sympathetic toward Evans's situation. After a week of poking around, she had shamelessly cornered Neville during Astronomy and dragged the information from him. (He'd stuttered quite a bit. Apparently, the Gryffindor was terrified of the Potions Master.)

The very first Potions class (joint Gryffindor and Slytherin) had started off badly, and then promptly gone from bad to worse.

When Neville had arrived, the Slytherins had already been present, but the teacher had not been in the room. However, Professor Snape had arrived on schedule, in a very impressive manner.

After harassing Neville for a bit and terrorizing the Gryffindors at large, he set them to make a simple potion to cure boils. (Hermione got a headache every time she thought about the way Neville had apparently gone about brewing his potion…) Evans had been paired off with Malfoy, who had sneered but said nothing.

At least, at first he'd said nothing. Then, about half-way through the lesson, Malfoy had started screaming bloody murder. Evans had been about to make a simple, dumb mistake that could have ended in a very large explosion. Professor Snape had looked fit to kill, commit suicide or be committed. He was known for being very biased in the Slytherins' favor and for never taking points from his own house. But, according to Neville, the Potions Master had seemed ready to break that unspoken rule.

Then, after everyone had calmed down and gone back to work, Malfoy had started yelling even louder. Apparently, Evans had been about to make another mistake that could have ended messily.

Then, after everyone had calmed down again, taking a little longer this time, Evans had gone ahead and actually made a mistake. The students had run out of the dungeon screaming.

Evans, Hermione found out after a bit of sneaking and prodding, had detention four nights a week until Halloween. And the school year had just begun.

Frankly, it worried her. His housemates disliked him, his Head of House was distant at best, the other houses were too prejudiced to even notice… Evans was not in a good position at all. But then, he wasn't in her house, she barely knew him, and there was absolutely nothing she could do.

And that was the end of it for quite some time.

Hagrid had worked as Hogwarts gamekeeper for almost forty years. The half-giant took understandable pride in his knowledge of the grounds because, while the castle was the Headmaster's domain, the lake and the forest and the mountainside were his.

There was a particular charm cast on the grounds that alerted him to any student that came too close to places that were dangerous. Like the Forbidden Forest. When it went off, he wasn't particularly surprised. There was always a first year or two that thought they could prove their "coolness" by sneaking into the forest.

Oddly enough, though, the student didn't go in and simply stopped at the edge of the Forest. As he moved steadily toward the would-be offender, Hagrid could see him (her?) sitting calmly on the damp ground and watching the forest motionlessly.

Hagrid had already thought out the warning he would give the student when the boy turned to look at him with piercing green eyes.

Harry. It was Harry.

Instead of the rebuke he had so carefully planned, what came out of the gamekeeper's mouth was:

"How abou' tea?"

Harry blinked, surprised, and continued to stare wordlessly. Hargid shifted, abruptly realizing how strange that must have sounded. He was supposed to be reprimanding the boy, not inviting him for tea and cookies…

But it was Harry… and he had secretly been looking for a reason to talk to Lily and James's son…

"I got some back in my cabin. Much nicer in there than ou' here, and a nice view of the fores' too…"

After a moment, Harry stood abruptly and looked at Hagrid expectantly. The walk to the cabin was silent, and once inside, Harry settled himself in a chair next to the window, though his attention was now fixed on the gamekeeper.

He had his mother's eyes, Hagrid thought not for the first time. Those same strange eyes. Lily had always been able to stare people into submission, even the normally unflappable James and Sir-

That was enough of that.

Harry was still watching him expectantly.

Pouring hot water into two cups, Hagrid heaved a sigh and began.

"I knew yer parents, yeh know." Harry said nothing, even as something shifted in his expression. "Greates' people I knew, Lily 'n James. Yeh look jus' like James, 'cept yer eyes. Yeh got Lily's eyes."

Harry methodically stirred his tea, no longer looking at Hagrid.

"Did Professor Dumbledore tell yeh? About yer parents…" Honestly, Hagrid wasn't entirely sure how much Harry knew about his parents. The entire situation was so complicated. "They're alive."

Harry set his teaspoon down with a sharp 'clink'.

"I know," he said flatly. "I know they're alive, and I know they were tortured to insanity, and I know they're at Saint Mungo's. I know how to get there, too."

His eyes were cold, just as cold as Malfoy's ice-gray, and the expression was clearly expectant. 'What do you want from me? Why can't you just leave me alone?' they said. Oh, but Lily had never had that expression. Not even Remus had ever been like this… No one had ever looked at Hagrid like that, except maybe Sir-

Hagrid winced.

"Yer parents-"

"I don't care about my parents!" Harry hissed, cutting Hagrid off. "I don't care about family!"

Ah. So this was about the Dursleys.

(Hagrid cursed the blasted Muggles in every way he knew and wished them several very painful deaths. Giants could be very creative if "enemies" and "death" were part of the scheme.)

"Yer relatives-"

"My relatives? What about my relatives? They left me at an orphanage because I was a freak-"

"Yeh NOT a freak!"

For a moment, the cabin was silent as both of them stared at each other from across the table. They had both stood up, Hagrid realized, at some point during the impromptu shouting match. It was almost comical, really, seeing how much the half-giant towered over the thin, almost delicate first-year. Not that Harry was delicate, really. His glare, leveled at Hagrid moments before, had been frightening…

But Harry wasn't glaring now. His cold, furious expression had crumpled into that almost blank look that had so many emotions warring for dominance that none were really coming through. Confusion, surprise and something else all together made Harry look very young (his age) and childish (he was a child).

Then, abruptly, he snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm freakin' normal," Harry drawled sarcastically and plopped back into his chair.

Hagrid let our his breath heavily and gingerly sat down again. Reaching for the tea pot, he looked across the table at the boy now drinking his lukewarm tea. Oh yes, he was definitely the Marauders' boy, no two ways about it. It was just like talking to Sirius, all anger and pain and so much craving for acceptance…

A/N:

Ohmygod, whatthefuck, this chapter is so bad. I wanted to establish some basic points (Harry to Hermione, Harry to Hagrid, Harry to the Slytherin house) but it was so freakin' hard… I don't care anymore, please don't hate me. Next chapter is the over-used flying lesson, and it is going to be so much fun.

PS: I can't write Hagrid's accent!