Harry was not going to get up the stairs to his dorm without dying, so he sat down where he was standing - in the middle of everyone scurrying around him - and bundled up to sleep right there on the floor. Luna, who was not sure how she'd even gotten to this common room, let alone how to return to hers, sat down next to him. Neville tripped over Harry and did not bother trying to get back up, snoring as he laid down, face buried into the carpet. Ron and Hermione found them after the party had finally dispersed, and shrugged and joined them too. Sleeping on an alcohol-soaked floor was hardly comfortable, but it was a little more so as the friends wiggled around like spaghetti to form a cuddle pile.
And that was how McGonagall found them the next morning. A pile of tangled limbs spread across the floor surrounded by an absolute pigsty and an unholy amount of empty liquor bottles.
"Harry, my boy! Wonderful to see you again. It's been a very stressful couple of weeks indeed. I was pleased to hear the Gryffindors were having a night of fun. How have you been faring?" Dumbledore greeted him with a polite nod, although, in Harry's opinion, the old man could look a little more worried on Harry's behalf. And he could speak a little quieter. Drinking was fun, but hangovers were not.
"As well as I can be," Harry settled into his seat and went for the bowl of sweets. "I'm sorry I'm late. I came as soon as I woke up. Could I trouble you for a coffee or tea, please?" He yawned and straightened his clumsily thrown-on uniform. McGonagall had actually given every student in Gryffindor detention, and it was only because of this meeting that he'd arrived two hours late for that got him out of the intense dressing down McGonagall was blessing his peers with.
"Of course! It's been a good while since I last partied so. Ah, youth!" His eyes twinkled as an elf popped in and set a very black coffee in front of Harry. He nearly wept at the sight of it and chugged it without care of his burning throat until his headache dissipated. It did not mix well with the sour lemon candies.
"Feeling better I hope? Now, how have you been faring with the Triwizard Tournament? I saw that unfortunate article."
"Alright, I guess. Sirius has been a godsend."
"I'm glad to hear you two are getting along."
"Professor Dumbledore, do you think Voldemort orchestrated putting my name in?" He unwrapped several of the sweets and ate them by the handful. It was the perfect breakfast.
"Unfortunately, I do indeed. I assure you, I am looking into the matter. May I ask, what led to you printing your assumptions in the papers?"
Harry shrugged. Grabbing another handful of candy, he said, "I just remember how paranoid Sirius was at the World Cup. He got us to safety the second things went south. I wonder how many other people would have been safe if they'd even considered that we were in danger before it was too late. I just want people to be aware in case another attack happens. But anyways, what are we learning about Voldemort today?"
Dumbledore inclined his head and they were deposited inside another memory, this time of a younger Dumbledore as he introduced Tom Riddle to the magical world. To say it was disconcerting was an understatement to how unsettling it felt to discover he had something so profound in common with his self-imposed nemesis. While the intended output was obviously supposed to be horror at the way the sad, orphan Riddle rose into a manic fervor the second he realized he was special, he was magic - this was the feeling Dumbledore was having in the scene, after all - Harry only felt pity. And understanding. Who was he to judge?
Harry had been so incredibly desperate to get away from the Dursleys that he ran head-first into the arms of the first person to offer anything different. He had been so relieved when he'd discovered he was different, that he was special and magic. It didn't matter what the cost of that freedom was, his innocence and morality. He was much happier as a necromancer than he ever was trapped at that house.
Harry might not have bullied and tormented the Dursleys while under their roof, but he hadn't fled from the idea once he'd been in a position of power. The Freak In The Cupboard existed as a testament to that fact. If he'd gotten control of his magic earlier, would he have acted the same as young Voldemort? Harry had sacrificed what little morals he'd developed for safety, security and power with mama. He wondered what he would have done otherwise to secure his safety. Anything. He would have done anything.
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