Harry should have expected something like this.
Honestly, after everything, he really should have seen it coming. But that didn't stop the sheer absurdity of it from catching him off guard—and making him burst into laughter.
It was just after their morning Transfiguration lesson. The hallway outside Professor McGonagall's classroom buzzed with students, all eager to move on to lunch, gossip, or continue whispering behind his back.
Harry had barely made it five steps into the corridor when he saw it.
There was Draco Malfoy, smug as ever, strutting down the hall with Crabbe and Goyle like he was royalty. But what truly caught Harry's eye wasn't Draco—it was the glint of dozens of small metallic badges flashing on students' robes.
Circular badges, pinned proudly to chests. They displayed a moving image of Cedric Diggory beaming with a confident, heroic smile, framed by bold letters that read:
"Support the True Champion – Cedric Diggory!"
But it didn't stop there.
Every few seconds, the badge shimmered—flashed—and Cedric's face dissolved into Harry's. But the image of Harry wasn't flattering. His expression was exaggerated and sneering, and beneath his moving face, the words now read in flickering red:
"Potter Stinks!"
Harry stared at the badge. And laughed.
It wasn't forced or hollow. It wasn't bitter. It was loud, amused, and completely unexpected—even to him.
He bent forward, gripping his knees, letting out a low chuckle as Draco came to a stop right in front of him, his pale eyebrows lifting in surprise.
"Oh, Draco," Harry said between gasps of amusement. "I've got to admit… I didn't think you had this much creativity in you. What is this? Your mother's idea?"
Draco flushed slightly, then narrowed his eyes and held out the badge like a priceless artifact. "Do you like it, Potter?" he asked with smug satisfaction. "Thought I'd let the school know who the real Hogwarts champion is."
The badge flashed again. "Support Cedric Diggory." Then "Potter Stinks!"
Hermione, walking just behind Harry with her arms full of books, let out a groan of exasperation.
"Don't mind him, Harry," she said, stepping forward quickly and tugging lightly at his sleeve. "He's just trying to get a reaction out of you. Let's go before—"
"Before I what?" Harry cut in with a bitter smile, straightening up and meeting Draco's gaze. "Punch him in the nose? Use magic to throw him down the staircase?"
Draco paled a little at that, even as he tried to stand his ground.
Students were gathering now—first a handful, then more—forming a loose circle around the confrontation. Dozens of them wore the badge. Ravenclaws. Slytherins. Even some Gryffindors. But the majority—heartbreakingly—were Hufflepuffs.
Harry turned slowly, looking at them all.
Their eyes weren't curious. They weren't impressed. They were angry.
Hufflepuff was the quiet house. The underdogs. The loyal, hardworking ones who never asked for the spotlight but cherished it when it was finally theirs. And Cedric Diggory was their golden boy—the one who had finally earned them respect and pride.
And then came Harry Potter.
Stealing the fire. The glory. The tournament.
The stares burned into Harry's skin.
And what made it worse—what made his chest tighten—was the realization that no matter how loudly he said he didn't put his name in the Goblet, no matter how many truths he held in his heart…
They didn't believe him.
He turned back to Malfoy, whose grin was now practically carved into his face.
"You must be thrilled," Harry said quietly. "You've got the whole school chanting your little slogan."
Draco shrugged. "I just gave them what they were already thinking. Don't blame me if they prefer Cedric over an arrogant liar."
Harry's smile vanished.
He stepped forward, so close that Malfoy instinctively stepped back. Crabbe and Goyle tensed but didn't move.
"You're right," Harry whispered. "You did give them what they wanted. A reason to hate. A reason to point fingers. You always do."
The tension in the corridor was thick enough to choke on.
Hermione reached out again, this time more firmly. "Harry. Please. Let's go."
But Harry didn't move right away. His eyes swept over the sea of badges once more.
So many students.
So many people he once thought were classmates. Maybe even friends.
The badges flashed again. Cedric's proud face. Then his own twisted one.
Potter Stinks.
Something in his chest cracked a little.
And then he turned.
Without a word, he pushed through the crowd. Hermione followed close behind, furious tears in her eyes.
As they moved down the hall, whispers followed them like shadows.
They found sanctuary in a quiet corridor near the library.
Hermione set her books down on a bench with a thump, her cheeks flushed with anger. "That was disgusting. Honestly, how childish can he be? Badges? It's like we're back in second year with those Potter is the heir of Slytherin—only worse."
Harry leaned against the cold stone wall, silent.
"I'm sorry," she continued, softer now. "I know it hurts, Harry. I saw their faces. Even… even some of the Gryffindors had them. That's not fair. You didn't do anything."
He stared ahead, jaw tight.
"Why won't you just tell them?" she pressed. "Tell the school you're not competing. That you didn't want this. That you won't play their stupid game."
Harry looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"Because I want to know," he said at last. "Who's with me. Who really sees me. Not Harry Potter the Champion. Not the Boy Who Lived. Me."
Hermione's shoulders slumped. "That's… really hard, Harry."
"I know," he said. "But I'm done pretending. I've been doing that since I came to this world. Playing along. Smiling when they want me to. Fighting when they expect me to. No more."
He clenched his hand, feeling the slight crackle of lightning tingle at his fingertips—close, but still out of reach.
"I'm going to find out who my real friends are," he said quietly. "And I'm going to remember every single person who wore that badge."
Hermione reached over and gently touched his wrist.
"I'm your friend," she said.
Harry gave her a small, genuine smile. "I know."
"And I think Neville is too," she added. "He stood up for you."
"I saw that," Harry said. "I'll talk to him. Properly."
The bell rang in the distance.
They both stood still for a moment, neither wanting to move.
Finally, Hermione sighed and picked up her books. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Harry said, his voice steadier now.
As they walked back toward their next class, Harry glanced at the passing students.
Most averted their eyes. Some smirked. A few looked ashamed.
But Harry wasn't looking for their approval anymore.
He was looking for something else.
And he was getting closer to it with every step.
Classes continued as if nothing had changed, though everything had.
Harry still attended lessons, still arrived on time, still took his seat—except now, that seat was not beside Ron Weasley.
It hadn't been, since the night the Goblet flared blue.
Instead, Harry found himself next to Hermione or Neville, both of whom stuck by him without question or accusation. Hermione came armed with her books and logic, always gently nudging Harry not to lash out at every slight. Neville came with quiet loyalty, never prying, never judging. Just there.
Ron, on the other hand… was all smiles and hearty laughter now with Seamus and Dean.
But Harry wasn't stupid.
He saw it.
He saw the way Ron's eyes often flicked toward the seat Neville now occupied. The way Ron's smile would falter every time Harry entered a room. The way his knuckles tightened around his quill when Hermione laughed at something Harry said.
But Harry didn't care.
He couldn't afford to.
Not anymore.
Transfiguration was a quiet affair that day. The usual scraping of chairs and murmur of voices died down faster than usual when Professor McGonagall entered the classroom.
Harry sat beside Hermione, who was scribbling something about human-to-ferret transfiguration in the corner of her parchment. Neville sat two seats down, flipping nervously through his notes.
Harry had no trouble mastering the spell—they were still miles behind what he was doing in the Room of Requirement. But that wasn't what held his attention.
It was McGonagall.
She seemed tense. Not her usual stern-but-fair demeanor. No, this was different.
Every time Harry looked up, he found her stealing glances at him—uncertain, almost… wary.
She's still shaken by what I did, Harry thought, folding his arms. Blasted a room full of professors with a wave of my hand. Can't really blame her.
But it stung nonetheless.
Potions was worse.
As always.
Snape had now graduated from his usual sneering sarcasm to something bordering on open warfare.
The first time Draco "accidentally" knocked over a vial of billywig stings into Harry's cauldron, the potion sizzled violently, turned acid-green, and melted straight through the bottom of the pewter. Smoke filled the dungeon, students coughed, and Hermione flung up a bubblehead charm with a flick of her wand.
Harry hadn't even moved.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for clumsiness, Potter," Snape said coldly, as he wafted the smoke aside with an idle flick.
Malfoy smirked, catching Harry's eye.
That was it.
Harry had had enough.
That evening in the Great Hall, the sun poured golden light through the enchanted ceiling, casting warm shadows across the long tables. Students were busy chatting and eating lunch, the clatter of cutlery and plates echoing off the high stone walls.
Harry sat quietly at the end of the Gryffindor table, his back straight, his expression calm. In his hand, hidden beneath the table, was a small silver badge.
One of those badges.
Support the Real Champion – Cedric Diggory! it flashed proudly.
And then, in a cruel twist, it shimmered to reveal Harry's face with the words Potter Stinks in bold red.
Half of Hogwarts wore them.
Even a few prefects, Harry suspected, silently approved of them.
But what none of them realized, Harry thought as he turned one of the badge over in his hand, is how sloppy the enchantments are.
It had taken him only a few hours of analysis. Every badge was linked to a central runic thread—a spell that synchronized their images and allowed for mass illusion projection.
Sloppy. Predictable. Easy to overwrite.
Harry grinned to himself.
He'd already rewritten the enchantment.
Now… it was time to test it.
Suddenly, a shimmer passed over the entire room.
Every enchanted badge blinked.
One by one, across four house tables and dozens of chests and cloaks, the badges synchronized.
The familiar image of Cedric Diggory appeared first, as expected.
Support Cedric Diggory – The Real Hogwarts Champion!
Malfoy lifted his badge with pride.
Then the image changed.
But instead of Harry's face…
A grinning Draco Malfoy appeared.
The badge image was animated—just like wizard photographs—and right in front of everyone, Draco's nose began to grow. It stretched and twisted, becoming long and hooked, almost cartoonishly so.
Gasps echoed across the hall.
"What the—" Malfoy muttered, staring at his badge.
Then his platinum blonde hair darkened and became oily, lank, and fell over his eyes in greasy strands.
The Hall fell into stunned silence.
"Is that—?" someone whispered.
The next image flickered to life.
And this time, it was Professor Snape.
Snape was clearly seen… kissing Narcissa Malfoy—Draco's mother—on the cheek, then on the lips, with an exaggerated smooching noise added to the enchantment.
The image had a glowing caption beneath it in pink sparkles:
"Draco Snape!"
Then it repeated—looping between Malfoy morphing into Snape and Snape kissing Narcissa.
For a heartbeat, there was dead silence.
Then—
"PFFFFTTT—BAHAHA!"
A roar of laughter tore through the Great Hall like a wave.
From the Ravenclaw table to Hufflepuff's bench, from first-years to seventh-years—even many Slytherins who absolutely hate Harry—couldn't help themselves.
Fred Weasley fell off his bench, howling.
George banged the table, tears in his eyes.
Neville clutched his stomach, gasping for air.
Hermione had to slap her hands over her mouth, her eyes watering.
"Oh my Merlin," Parvati shrieked, "look at his nose! It's exactly like Snape's!"
"And the hair! He looks like a wet bat!" Dean howled.
"And Draco Snape?! I'm dead!" Seamus wheezed.
Draco Malfoy went scarlet.
His jaw dropped. His hands trembled. He grabbed at the badge and tried to rip it off, but it stuck to his robes like it had been permanently fused.
"Stop laughing at me!" he shouted, looking around, furious and humiliated. "Stop it! Make it stop!"
"WHO DID THIS?!" Draco screamed, eyes darting across the hall.
Everyone turned to look at the only person not laughing.
Harry Potter.
Professor Snape stood slowly from the staff table, his face ashen white.
He turned and stared at the badge pinned on Goyle's chest—still playing the image of him kissing Narcissa.
Snape's jaw clenched so hard, his teeth audibly ground together.
He looked at Harry.
Harry met his eyes.
And smiled.
Snape's nostrils flared. He spun around and stormed out of the Great Hall, his robes flapping like furious wings behind him.
Draco, meanwhile, was still struggling to remove the badge.
He yanked.
He hissed.
He tried freezing charms.
Nothing worked.
Every attempt made the badge squeak even louder with each new kiss from Snape to his mother.
Students were doubled over.
Even some professors at the staff table were stifling chuckles.
Professor Flitwick had buried his face in his hands.
Professor Sprout was giggling behind a napkin.
Even Dumbledore allowed himself a very small, very knowing smile.
"Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said at last, stepping down from the dais with her lips twitching. "Perhaps you would like to visit the hospital wing. I suspect Madam Pomfrey might know a way to—"
"Fix it? Yes, please!" Draco cried, bolting from his bench.
The laughter followed him all the way to the doors.
Back at the Gryffindor table, Hermione leaned close and whispered, "Harry… that was evil."
Harry sipped his pumpkin juice.
"I prefer the term 'creative.'"
Neville chuckled beside him. "You've got to teach me how to do that badge enchantment sometime."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe."
He looked up toward the enchanted ceiling, feeling something he hadn't felt in weeks.
Not triumph.
Not revenge.
Relief.
For once, Hogwarts was laughing with him—not at him.
Even if only for a moment.
And for now… that was enough.