"Remember when he came to school late? His eyes were dilated." Hermione started writing things down in a list. "Also, there is something wrong with his owl!"
"Like it's dead," Ron muttered. "It doesn't go to the owlery, it just sits there all day, dunnit? Have I seen him feed it?" He sighed, watching Hermione's list grow and grow with questions. "I haven't heard of the eye thing, except for Merlin. They say his eyes glowed when he did powerful spells." The three children pondered over things for a while.
"I still think we should just ask him!" Ron finally declared. "I mean he invited us over, didn't he? He doesn't act like someone with something to hide. And he's in Gryffindor, not one of those snakes. Even if he's involved in some shady stuff I reckon he's not a bad bloke."
"I wasn't trying to imply that Harry's a bad person. I'm just worried he's involved in something he doesn't understand. I know it's not really our business, but he's our friend and I'm worried, and I don't know what to do," Hermione admitted, her shoulders slumped in her misery.
"Well I don't think we should push him. Harry will tell us when he's ready," Luna repeated, patting the other girl on the back. As was typical of her, she did not seem particularly bothered by the situation. "For now, we should tell Harry we'll always be there for him if he needs us and try to dissuade any rumors about Harry being a Dark Wizard."
...
"Harry's a parselmouth? Bloody hell!" Ron looked over to Hermione, who had been gripping his arm in worry during the whole duel. Her shell-shocked face was more pensive than that of the other students. Theirs were coated in disgust and fear. Already, whispers started bouncing around the hall, each echo crashing into his ears like he was standing right at the edge of the beach and a tsunami of water was coming right for him. Ron felt his face flush as the sea of harsh looks and words followed his friend. Harry stood calm, but mildly confused as he took in his audience. Either Harry didn't know he was speaking to snakes, or Harry didn't know it was taboo. It was probably the latter. Harry could be pretty dense sometimes.
"That doesn't match with any of my theories," Hermione whispered. She hadn't had much time lately to research the Adams family or Dark Magic with the Chamber of Secrets being a clearly more immediate concern and also Snape's sudden inability to teach left Hermione the unofficial Potions tutor for Gryffindor.
"Welp, there goes Luna's plan to make him friendly and approachable," Ron sighed. "We'd better go rescue him from Snape and Lockhart." He paused, sparing another glance at the very worried girl. "Hey, Hermione, cmon. Everything's going to be fine. The rumors will die down. Let's focus on the Chamber of Secrets, once we find the real Heir, people will leave Harry alone." Ron wasn't sure if he believed his own words, but Hermione relaxed slightly and nodded.
They were pretty sure no one else had really noticed the oddness of Harry. That no one else had looked too hard into his nonchalant attitude towards his own parents' murder and other quick moments here and there that spoke of a worrisome lack of moral judgment. That no one had noticed the way shadows clung to him like a king's robe, that when they snuck down for midnight biscuits in the kitchens, Harry let them take the invisibility cloak, while he would just go. Never seen or heard by a teacher, appearing as though he'd apparated from one spot to the next. That Harry seemed to never sleep and his come-to-life taxidermied owl never seemed to eat. That Snape had hated Harry and now seemed a shadow of his former self, the reasoning behind which was unknown to all.
But they noticed something. Maybe it was his aura, as Luna said. Ginny had asked him, quietly, a couple weeks into term how he put up with the cold and the feeling of eyes on his back. Harry radiated cold, even during the summer he always had a jumper on and it spread out in a halo of frost around him; it made the people around him shiver.
Ron wasn't sure how he got past it all or hadn't noticed until Ginny had brought it up. He did not recall noticing anything when he'd first met Harry, he'd been weird and secretive, but not this weird. He thought it might be getting stronger, building in slow increments such that those used to it don't notice like how a person gets smell-blinded by their own odors. Ron was just used to it now. McGonagall didn't notice, but Lockhart ignored Harry like the plague after only one interaction with his broken arm. Had touching Harry's arm scared him? Had he felt that creeping aura that told him to run?
No, Harry wasn't popular by any means. Being the Boy-Who-Lived didn't help, being bizarrely cold didn't help, being unnerving didn't help, and being a parseltongue sure didn't contribute much either.
Ron squeezed Hermione's arm in comfort as Harry jumped down to greet them, a questioning look in his eyes. Everything would be fine, he insisted to himself. And even if people did start to notice, they'd figure it out together.
.....
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