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Friends and More | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All Genres: Angst, Fluff, Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 147 Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces. Hitcount: Story Total: 69893; Chapter Total: 4531 |
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Disclaimer: whoops. I totally forgot this for the first two chapters. Never mind, better late than never. Characters, places, various books, foodstuffs etc. are owned by JK Rowling and Warner bros. The plot’s mine, but the only benefit to me is the pleasure of writing it. Thanks go to Ms Rowling for allowing FanFictions to exist, and for creating Harry Potter in the first place. ~*~ Friends and More Chapter Three: Due North It should, Harry reflected as he lay in bed a few days later, listening to Ron’s snores fill the small room, have been the best birthday of his life. It hadn’t been. Oh, everyone- nearly everyone- had smiled at him, wished him a Happy Birthday, and that had never happened before. There had been a large pile of cards waiting for him on the breakfast table, and he had opened them with his family around him, which had been another first. There had been presents. The presents had been nice. All of them very thoughtful. Fred and George had obliged with a variety pack of their own name-brand practical jokes. Charlie had sent a dragon-hide waistcoat designed to keep the chill out when flying in cold weather. Bill gave him a magical watch that spun and whirred in his hand, telling him not only the time but also the date, the phase of the moon, the weather and, apparently, could tell him how long he had before homework was supposed to be handed in. Percy sent a beautiful slate grey quill, which Mrs Weasly told him was a falcon tail-feather. Hagrid obliged with a beautiful figurine of a Gryffindor lion, apparently carved from a hippogriff talon. The Weasly parents themselves gifted him with a cake, a book about dragons and, best of all, a hand for him for the spectacular clock in the Kitchen. He almost cried at this, but couldn’t. The tears wouldn’t come. He was dry. Hermione and Ron had banded together and got him book of advanced defensive and offensive spells, which was truly intriguing: Harry could imagine that it would be very useful for a DA meeting, although there probably wouldn’t be any more of them. Harry had been overwhelmed by such a show of generosity, and had thanked everyone profusely, but caught sight of Ginny staring determinedly away from him as he took everything upstairs. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the party. Harry wasn’t entirely sure he wanted her to, realising he was afraid of what she might say. He still had no idea what he had done, but he knew it must be unforgivable, since Ginny made a point of leaving the room whenever he entered it, except at meal times, and people were beginning to notice the tension rising all the time. He just wished that she didn’t hate him. He could have survived indifference, had even expected it, but this was too much. She was killing him. He lay unmoving, Ron’s gentle snoring filling the room, and gazed at the ceiling. He felt angry, with himself rather than anything else. It was his fault, just like Sirius’ death had been his fault; he had brought this on himself. He finally reached a conclusion: Ginny had somehow discovered how he felt, and had been so repulsed that she could no longer be near him. He sensed himself shrink inside, and suddenly he felt as though he was crowded by Dementors, as wave after wave of despair washed over him, without hope of reprieve. He screwed up his eyes and tried to sleep, to let go of his thoughts as normal, but tonight not even thoughts of Voldemort could distract him. He sighed and merely lay, waiting for the night to pass. And then there was a tapping at the window. Harry swung quietly and quickly off the camp bed, instinctively grabbing is wand and moving in a half crouch towards the window: it could be a trap. Even if it was pitch dark outside, someone opening the window would be clearly visible from the garden. He crept towards the window, still bent almost double, until he was crouching with his back against the wall. Very slowly he reached up and eased the catch down. It was stiff from disuse, since Ron spent so little time at the Burrow, but went eventually, and the window swung open silently. For a second nothing happened. Then, with a rush of scarlet and gold plumage, Fawkes the Phoenix was inside the room, carrying a long, thin package. He dropped it and an envelope on Harry’s bed and glided down to perch on the back of a chair, where he sat, blinking his great eyes at him. Harry stood up slowly, frowning slightly. Why would Fawkes come here? Obviously Dumbledore had a message for him. He gently stroked Fawkes’ tail feathers, and the warmth in them cheered him slightly. Then he sat gently on the camp bed, for fear of it collapsing under him, and opened the letter. ‘Dear Harry, ‘A very happy birthday. I hope that your first away from Privet Drive has been enjoyable. I hope too that the Weaslys and Miss Granger are in good health: I’m sure I will see all of you very soon. ‘However, I would not normally bother you with my ramblings; I have a few private messages, and thought this would be a good time to send them. Firstly, I would like you to consider continuing to run the Defence Association as an official school society. While Defence Against the Dark Arts could be expected to teach such skills as pupils might need for defending themselves, we must remember that there is a curriculum, and it is not completely at the teacher’s discretion as to what they will teach. The DA can make sure students who wish to learn can have a thorough grounding in the fundamentals of combat magic, and I would very much appreciate your cooperation in this venture. It would remain student run, although some staff supervision would be essential. ‘Secondly, I have decided to continue your lessons in Occlumency, but will be instructing you myself. I hope you understand just how critical this process is: if nothing else, I’m sure that it would greatly increase your own peace of mind to know that Voldemort could no longer invade your dreams. Therefore, I will expect you at my office each Saturday evening at seven o’clock. The password at the start of the term will be ‘Sugar quill’. ‘Finally, I send with this letter an item which I have always considered to be yours, ever since I first saw it, and have been, shall we say, keeping in trust for you. Strange, perhaps, since it was you who discovered it, but I feel that now you might appreciate it more. Who knows, you might even want to consider learning to use it, all things considered. ‘Congratulations on your OWL results, and enjoy the rest of the summer. ‘Albus Dumbledore’ Harry frowned at the letter, which he read by the light coming in through the window. The thought of continuing the DA was complex. The need was no longer what it had once been, there was no more Umbridge deliberately quashing all attempts at defensive magic. On the other hand, after the events at the Ministry, people needed to be prepared for a Death Eater attack, and Harry agreed that DADA couldn’t necessarily guarantee all the things people might need to know. He decided to discuss it with Ron and Hermione in the morning. As for Occlumency training, Harry would be very glad to resume the subject, and he hoped that Dumbledore approved of all the practice he had been doing over the holidays. He dropped the letter and frowned at the package. He had a very good idea what it was, and if he was right it was essential that Ginny didn’t see it. He unwrapped the parcel carefully and sure enough the bright, shining length of the sword of Godric Gryffindor gleamed at him from the wrapping. He picked it up reverently, lost in the large rubies set in the hilt. He remembered the feel of it from the events in the Chamber of Secrets. Back then he had been too frightened and worried to realise that it had been much to big for his twelve-year-old hand. Now, however, it fitted snugly into his grip, and when he raised it in front of him, the weight was curiously comforting. Harry knew what Dumbledore was doing, sending him this. They both knew that Harry was going to have to fight Voldemort, and equally they knew that the battle would in all likelihood not be fought totally with wands, since the wands shared common cores and could not be used against each other. Harry glanced at Fawkes affectionately, and the beautiful bird gazed back. Harry wasn’t entirely sure whether he was glad of the connection between the two wands or not, but it had saved his life just over a year ago and he was grateful for that. Fawkes stretched his wings and looked pointedly at the window, which Harry had absentmindedly shut as he returned to the bed. Still grasping the sword, Harry walked over and opened it once more, feeling the cool night breeze soothing him. Fawkes alighted on the sill briefly to allow Harry to pet him again, and then he was gone, a flame diminishing against the dark sky and the shadowy treetops. Harry went back to the bed, leaving the window slightly open, and lay gazing at the silver blade with which he had killed the basilisk. Yes, it really wouldn’t be good if Ginny knew about this. ~*~ “Come on Harry, it’s time for lunch. Everyone will be waiting for us.” Harry looked around from the stand of magazines he had been pretending to examine in Flourish and Blotts while Ron and Hermione were, well, otherwise engaged in an alcove. He was, in all honesty, very pleased that his two best friends had finally made it official, but it didn’t make it any less awkward when the three of them were out and about; and also, it made Harry insanely jealous of the kind of relationship they had. For the first time ever, Ron and Hermione were actually making his life more difficult, although he would never tell them that in a million years. He turned around gratefully, left the shop with the other two behind him, and together they ambled up Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. The day was very grey, as though autumn had decided to come early. Harry closed his eyes as he walked, inhaling the air and enjoying the feeling of the wind through his splayed fingers. He felt very glad to be out of the Burrow, and away from the awful tensions that had built there. He had sighed with relief two days ago when the Hogwarts owls had come, bringing with them booklists and instructions. And, for Harry, a small note telling him that he was now the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. He had been shocked at first, but as the information sank into his consciousness he realised that it made sense. After all, he had been on the team by far the longest time, now that Fred, George, Angelina, Katie and Alicia had all left. In fact, he was pretty sure that no one had been on a team for six years straight for over a century. On the other hand, it meant that he was going to have to supervise the recruitment of three new chasers, not to mention trying to bring Sloper and Kirk, the new beaters, up to scratch. With Quidditch, the DA, N.E.W.T.s, Occlumency practice and the training in swordplay he was planning, it looked like he was going to be very busy this year. Although, of course, that was fine by him. The less he had to think about things, the better. The Leaky Cauldron was as dark and smoky as ever, and Harry was glad that the bustle of human traffic from Muggle London outside to Diagon Alley behind them meant that people were too busy to stop and stare, even if they did recognise him. He walked with his head bowed and his shoulders slightly slumped in an effort not to be noticed. Eventually the three of them reached the door through to the smaller, out-of-the-way dining room where Tom the innkeeper had set lunch for their party. Mr Weasly was breathlessly excited, since that afternoon he and Harry were going to go shopping in Muggle London. Hermione had suggested a couple of books on sword combat from Flourish and Blotts, and they resided now in a shopping bag by his feet, but Harry knew that Muggles had rather greater expertise in this field, having happened to catch some of a series of documentaries on the subject at the Privet Drive, and had therefore asked Mr Weasly if he could go out to one of the larger book shops and find what he was looking for: instruction books, particularly on western fencing and the martial art of kendo. The day after his birthday he had quietly told Ron, Hermione and Mr and Mrs Weasly about the sword he had been sent and his intention to learn how to use it properly. He had not, of course, told them about why in particular he wanted to learn fencing. He just said that Dumbledore had mentioned that it might be a good idea. And so he had changed some of his Galleons, Sickles and Knuts to Muggle currency while at Gringott’s, and now sat feeling rather nervous. He had realised, of course, that he would be very vulnerable in Muggle London, and had been very glad when Mr Weasly had said that he would accompany him, just in case they were attacked. Mrs Weasly had seemed rather reluctant about the whole affair, but she respected Harry’s wishes and remained silent, knowing how much of a treat it would be for her obsessed husband. They had just sat down and started eating a delicious Toad-in-the-Hole when the door opened and three people came in. Harry glanced over, and saw Cho Chang and two people who must be her parents sitting down at a table across the room. Harry looked at Cho. She was just as pretty as ever, but she would never now be as beautiful in his eyes as Ginny. He remembered how they had left things. They had had an argument over Marietta, Cho’s friend, betraying the DA to Umbridge, and hadn’t spoken since. Thinking back, Harry realised that he probably had been too harsh on the girl, and suddenly resolved to ask Cho for a word to clear the air between them. After all, if the DA was continuing officially it would be good to have Cho and, yes, Marietta there as well. And Harry wanted to be friends with Cho, even if neither of them wanted to be anything more. Mumbling something to his companions he stood up and crossed over the room. She looked up as he arrived and gave a brief, rather forced-looking smile. “Oh… hi Harry. How are you? Are you having a good summer?” Harry felt rather awkward in the presence of not only the girl he had fancied for three years but also her parents. He couldn’t quite meet her eye, and suggested rather uncertainly that he was having a wonderful summer, and hoped that she was as well. “This is my Mum and Dad, Harry. This is Harry Potter.” Harry looked into the two faces, smiling broadly at him. “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you.” He reached down and shook hands with both, then summoning up all the vaunted and apparently mythical Gryffindor courage he possessed, looked back at Cho. “I was wondering if I could have a quick word with you. I won’t be long, and I’m sorry for interrupting your meal.” His voice sounded strange to him: almost as if Percy was using his mouth. Cho raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise, but then stood, glancing at her parents, and she and Harry sidled out of the door. Once they were out of sight of the dining room, Harry leant against the wall, looked at Cho, took a deep breath and spoke. “Look, I wanted to apologise for… well for pretty much everything last year. I was a total prat, a lot of the time, and I’m amazed you put up with me for so long. And I’m sorry I was so mean to Marietta as well. I want to say sorry to her, if I see her. I don’t know what kind of pressure she was under, I shouldn’t have judged her.” Harry fell silent, feeling his face reddening and wishing that he hadn’t rambled like that. He risked a glance up at Cho and was surprised to see a sad little smile flickering across her face. “Harry, I should apologise too. I gave you a really hard time, and you put up with me. And I learnt more defence stuff last year than ever before. I… I really hope we can still be friends.” Harry felt relieved. She had managed to come to the same conclusion as him, and neither had mentioned their disastrous attempt at a relationship. He grasped on to her final word with enthusiasm. “Yeah, friends would be great,” he replied smiling. “Also, Dumbledore asked me if I would carry on with the DA. It would be great if you could keep coming.” Cho beamed. “Of course I will! I’d love to. And I’ll talk to Marietta, if you like. I know she wants to apologise to everyone, and you in particular.” Harry was quite happy as he and Cho went back into the dining room and walked to their separate tables. Ron was watching Harry very shrewdly as he sat down, and Hermione leaned towards him. “Are you ok, Harry?” Harry smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just making sure everything’s ok between us, checking we’re still friends. She’s coming back to the DA as well.” Hermione smiled at him, looking almost proud. Harry blushed and looked away, catching sight of Ginny sitting next to her as he did so. He almost flinched at the angry glare she shot him before returning to her food. He sighed to himself. Now Cho was being friendly while Ginny was positively hostile. What had he done? ~*~ The platform was, of course, very crowded, but this year Harry realised that for the most part he was looking over the heads of others, rather than up at them. He gave a rueful chuckle and returned his attention to Mrs Weasly, who was handing him some sandwiches before the journey to Hogwarts began. He smiled as warmly as he could for her, returned her hug slightly awkwardly, and then clambered onto the train. This was going to be a very strange journey. Ron and Hermione were now senior prefects and had to at least start the journey in a particular coach. It had been similar last year, but last year Fred and George had still been around… and last year Ginny didn’t mind being anywhere in close proximity to him. She made a point of entering the train some way up the platform, and Harry doubted that he’d see her again before the feast. He sighed and wandered down the train past many full compartments, until he saw a familiar head of blonde hair, the features hidden behind the latest edition of the Quibbler. He smiled and sat down next to Luna, who looked up at him, smiled and gave him a very small hug. He was surprised, but hugged the younger girl back. It seemed slightly odd that they were now much closer than they had been at the end of last year, but it was nice to sit and talk with someone who understood better than most what he was going through. Soon Neville Longbottom arrived, and the three of them passed the morning agreeably, talking about school, the two boys advising Luna on OWLs. Neville had managed to get Average grades in everything, except for a ‘Poor’ in Potions and, conspicuously, ‘Outstanding’ in Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry was pleased for the boy who had been so nervous during the exams: he had been convinced he would fail everything except Herbology, particularly Transfiguration. This year he was doing mostly the same classes as Harry, except he was taking Herbology and History of Magic instead of Potions and Transfiguration. They deliberately avoided talking about the events at the Department of Mysteries by some unspoken agreement: it was all still too fresh and painful in their memories. Neville in particular looked different from what Harry remembered: the determination that Harry had seen develop last year was plainly present just behind the usual round-faced cheerfulness, his nose looked somehow clearer and more defined although slightly crooked, and Harry realised that the when it had broken at the end of the last year it hadn’t been all that clean. He remembered with a shudder Neville’s distress as he had tried in vain to yell jinxes and curses but had been unable to pronounce them through the blood pouring from his nostrils. He also casually showed them his new wand: Harry remembered him saying that his old one, which had been snapped by a Death Eater, had belonged to his father. The snack trolley rattled past and Harry bought some pumpkin pasties for the three of them, and they were sat eating cheerfully when Cho appeared with Marietta in tow. Harry stood up at once and, seeing Cho’s small smile, looked to Marietta, who was obviously having difficulty meeting his eye. He remembered the poor girl’s humiliation at the meeting which resulted in Dumbledore’s departure, and suddenly he realised just how hard the whole thing must have been on her… after all, she had had her memory modified during that confrontation, and had almost been stunned. Harry thought it might make things easier if he started. “Hi, Marietta. Look, I’ve been meaning to apologise for the way I acted last term. I know it was hard on you, with your Mum pressurising you and everything… so I’m sorry for being harsh. He held out a hand and plastered what he hoped was a friendly but conciliatory smile on his face. Marietta looked up at him, rather startled, but then took his hand. While she shook it, she looked down again. “It’s me who should apologise. I ratted on all of you, and I knew that you were right about the defence… I gave into that stupid, malicious cow.” Harry grinned and Cho chuckled slightly. “Cho says you’re continuing with the DA… would you mind if I came back as well?” She sounded timid. Harry smiled broadly. “Not only do I not mind, I’d really appreciate it. There’ll probably be a lot more members this year, and I thought that I might be able to use members from last year as demonstrators… to show the new people how it’s all done. Would you do that? And all you guys?” he asked, sweeping the compartment with his eyes to include Cho, Luna and Neville, who all smiled brightly and nodded. Cho and Marietta left a short while later, and Luna put down her magazine long enough to give Harry a piercing look. “When did you get so tactful? Last year you wouldn’t have done that.” Damn her for being so shrewd, Harry thought ruefully. “I… I realised over the summer how, er, unpleasant I was at times last year. I pretty much made everyone’s lives miserable. I just… don’t want that to happen again. Plus, practicing Occlumency makes you rather more sensitive to what others might be feeling, since you have to work so hard on controlling what you’re feeling.” She smiled at him, apparently satisfied with his answer. And it was pretty much true, he told himself. Pretty much. The whole truth was that he didn’t know what had come over him, considering just how angry he had been with Marietta last year. Maybe, he thought with a mental groan, it was another side effect of his feelings for Ginny: maybe he wanted life to be as easy as possible in all its other areas. He sat, lost in thought, gazing unseeing out of the window, while Luna watched him carefully. ~*~ The sky outside was darkening towards evening, and Harry was beginning to be slightly concerned. Even if Ron and Hermione weren’t able to sit with them for the whole journey, he thought that they might at least have looked in on them. There was also something else vaguely worrying him. Every other year, on the way to Hogwarts, he had had an encounter with Draco Malfoy. Generally nothing more than a quick slanging match, but he wondered why the Slytherin wasn’t there, tormenting him as usual. Murmuring something to Neville and Luna about finding the rest of the DA, he walked up the train towards the engine. Strangely, the last carriage before the prefects’, which was right behind the engine, seemed almost empty: in fact there was no one there at all, just some baggage in the overhead lockers. Harry felt a wave of apprehension creep over him, and as he stepped over the threshold he drew his wand from the pocket of his robes. Ron and Hermione were lying just inside the door, out of sight of the companionway, obviously stunned. Harry quickly crouched down by them, cold and emotionless, as he checked them both for pulses and breathing. They both seemed fine, if unconscious. Knowing what he had to do, he started towards the next door, to get the prefects’ help, but the door was locked. He waved his wand and murmured “Alohamora.” The unlocking charm was completely ineffective, and now that he was close he could hear people inside, clammering to open the magically locked door. While his back was still turned, he heard a cold, sneering voice say, “Stupefy!” Harry’s Quidditch reflexes kicked into overdrive. His shield charm was in place just fast enough to deflect Malfoy’s curse, causing the gang of sixth and seventh year Slytherins bunched in the doorway to duck to avoid it. Harry used the opportunity to duck behind the cover of a nearby seat, sending an impediment jinx at Malfoy as he did so. Malfoy dodged clumsily, but the jinx hit a smaller boy whom Harry dimly remembered Hermione telling him was called Theodore Nott, blasting him backwards and sending people behind him sprawling. Harry ducked out for a moment and sent a stunner towards the doorway and Gregory Goyle froze in the act of trying to cast a spell, but then Malfoy’s arrogant sneer filled the carriage. “That’s enough, Potter, unless you want the Weasel and the Mudblood here to suffer.” Harry froze. He had no doubt that Malfoy would do just as he threatened, and nothing, he realised, would ever compel him to cause Hermione and Ron pain, even if it meant surrendering to a slimy git like Malfoy. Harry placed his wand carefully where Malfoy could see it, then stood up with his hands raised, near enough to the wand to be able to step on it if Malfoy thought to use a summoning charm on it. Malfoy wore a horrible, triumphant expression on his face. “Oh, won’t my father and all his friends be pleased!” he crowed. “You’re finished, Potter. Soon you’ll be back with the Dark Lord, and he has promised to let me watch him kill you. I look forward to it. Oh, yes.” Harry realised what Draco was going to do: he was raising his wand away from Ron and Hermione towards Harry, planning to bind him on the spot. Without even thinking what he was doing, Harry thrust out one hand and yelled, “Stupefy!” Red light erupted from his hand and caught Malfoy right in the chest. Harry immediately grabbed his wand and stood up again, ready to fight off the rest… but they were all unconscious, except for one boy Harry vaguely recognised as being the fifth Slytherin boy in his year. His mind ran through the names, trying to find this boy’s… Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and… “Hello,” the boy said, grinning in a slightly rueful way at Harry. Harry realised that this boy resembled him in a number of ways. In fact, they were very similar, except for the few oddities of Harry’s appearance: this boy had smooth hair where Harry’s was wild, but it was no less dark. His eyes were green, but not so bright and piercing as Harry’s, nor did he wear glasses. And there was, of course, no lightning shaped scar on this boy’s forehead. He walked forward, putting his wand away and extending a hand. “I don’t think we’ve actually ever spoken. My name’s Blaise. Blaise Zabbini. I’m in a few of your classes.” Harry hesitated for a moment, his automatic distrust of Slytherins getting the better of him for an instant, but then he looked around at the stunned bodies, grinned broadly and shook the boy’s hand. “I’m Harry, though I guess you realised. Er, thanks for your help,” he added, gesturing to Malfoy’s unconscious form. Blaise Zabbini suddenly looked serious. “Yeah, well, I’ve always tried to remain neutral in the past when Malfoy was spouting his rubbish to you. Mostly I agree with you and Dumbledore and everyone about the important stuff, and I’m not one for believing in the purity of blood being of any importance: utterly illogical for one thing. The problem is that I share a room with Malfoy and the others. They can make my life a living hell, possibly more so than they’ve done for you in the past. But… the stakes are higher now, and I want to make sure I’m on the right team.” Harry felt pleasantly surprised. In the past he had always been sceptical about any Slytherins being decent, but Blaise seemed to be honest and sincere, and stealthily stunning most of the top end of his own house pretty much proved his loyalties as far as Harry was concerned. Harry smiled more broadly, and an idea hit him. “Listen, I have a plan that should mean you can stay apparently neutral towards me, or even hostile, but still help me. Want to hear it?” “Sure.” Blaise looked very interested. “Well, you could be a kind of spy for us inside Slytherin, and particularly with this lot,” he said, giving Crabbe’s bulk a small kick. “But you can pretend to be a spy for them by coming to meetings of the Defence Association- Dumbledore’s Army. While you’re there you can tell us what’s going on. What do you think?” Blaise had heard of the DA, and was very keen for this. Harry grinned, told him that the first meeting would probably be announced at the feast that night, and then set about awakening Ron and Hermione. They both seemed very angry about being stunned, but pleased to meet Blaise, once they got past Ron’s initial suspicions. They talked quietly of their plans while Hermione opened the door to the prefects’ carriage and explained what had happened to them. “Look,” Blaise said, once all the unconscious bodies had been hauled into the carriage, “if I’m going to do this I think I need to be locked up with this lot. What should I tell them when they come round?” “Tell them the DA followed me and sneaked up behind them, they should believe that,” Harry said thoughtfully. Blaise chuckled and nodded, then bid a cheery goodbye to Ron and Hermione, telling them he would see them around. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked back along the train, and spent the rest of the journey playing exploding snap with Neville, while Luna used a special lens to read a hidden spell in her magazine. ~*~ The sorting and the feast passed without incident, though it seemed to Harry to drag. Hermione and Ron were chatting quietly together, and the few mumbled words Harry did hear he soon wished he hadn’t. He talked with Seamus for a while about the DA, persuading the Irish boy to join, but when Dean engaged Seamus in conversation Harry didn’t feel able to join in. Neville was sitting a little way down the table with Ginny, Colin Creevy and a few other fifth years, and the only other people around were Parvati and Lavender, who were gossiping happily about their summers. Harry merely pushed his macaroni around his plate, not feeling very hungry. Eventually everyone had finished and Professor Dumbledore stood up. “Right, now that we have all eaten, I think it is time to make our way towards bed,” he said brightly, his eyes twinkling as usual behind the half-moon spectacles. Harry was only too pleased to join the crowd moving towards the doors, but then Dumbledore’s voice rang out again. “Mr Potter, could you please meet me in the room behind the staff table?” Ron and Hermione looked at him in a puzzled sort of way. Harry shrugged, sighed and walked in the other direction, jostled by the crowd of people around him. Finally he reached the small door, and remembered the first time he had been in this room: it had been right after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. He shivered, remembering that event. Dumbledore was sitting in a large chair, looking towards the fire and away from Harry, but turned to look at him as he came in. Harry, remembering his less than positive thoughts towards the headmaster at the end of last year, decided that he needed to start some kind of reconciliation. He smiled as warmly as he could to the old man, sat on a nearby chair, and said gently, “Thanks for the letter on my birthday, Professor. I’ve thought a lot about what you wrote… and sent.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “You are very welcome. I thought it would be wise if I spoke to you immediately: first, I need to update you on the activities of Voldemort and the Death Eaters.” Harry sat up straighter, looking alert. “For the most part they have been quiet. There have been a few attacks on muggle-born wizards, but never concerted efforts and there have been no fatalities: the culprits of all these skirmishes have been apprehended. None of them were senior Death Eaters, but every activist contained is one less to be used against us. I have to take the view that Voldemort’s plans are even further delayed. They were first set back by you surviving his re-birth, and now the whole Wizarding world is aware of his return, far sooner than he wanted. Fudge’s resignation also means that the Ministry is geared towards action at the moment. The governing council has put the aurors on high alert: there are always at least twenty ready to respond to an emergency. We are as prepared as we can be.” Dumbledore shrugged and held out his hands. “I wish I knew more, but even Professor Snape has been unable to determine Voldemort’s plans further. He will try, but in the mean time we must be patient.” He smiled at Harry, and Harry felt as safe and secure as he ever had in Dumbledore’s presence. “Is there anything you feel I should know before you go off to Gryffindor tower, Harry?” Harry paused for a moment, then began. “There are several things, sir. First, I’ve been telling the old members of the DA that the club is continuing and expanding, and I’m asking them to help me manage it. Secondly, as you probably know, there was an attack earlier on the train.” Dumbledore raised one concerned eyebrow. He obviously hadn’t heard yet. “A group of older Slytherins, led by Draco Malfoy, attacked Ron and Hermione, and then me as well. I managed to fight them off with the help of Blaise Zabbini. I hadn’t really spoken to him before, but he seems to be genuinely on our side, and he agreed to be a spy to the DA.” Dumbledore smiled jovially. “I am very glad that you find yourself able to trust Mr Zabbini. People do tend to get the wrong idea about Slytherins. As for Mr Malfoy, I daresay the prefects punished him and the others on the train, at least for locking their carriage… that much I had heard from the Head Boy. Well, anything else?” “Yes sir. I’ve been practicing Occlumency over the summer, and I’ve also started teaching myself some swordplay, using magical and muggle forms. In all honesty I don’t know how much good it will do, but I… enjoy it.” Dumbledore smiled, somewhat mysteriously. “I don’t know. It just feels kind of natural… almost like flying.” It was true, Harry had found himself thinking it when he began to practice the fencing methods he had discovered. He could lose himself in the patterns and sequences and dances almost as much as he could while playing Quidditch, being so concentrated on the single task of finding and catching the snitch that all other thoughts left him. He had also found that his Occlumency training was easier after fencing: maybe it really did help to lose yourself a bit. Dumbledore was smiling very broadly. “I am delighted Harry. When you come for Occlumency practice, we will start training in protecting you mind when Voldemort is actively trying to penetrate it. Now, if that is all, I think it is time for bed.” Harry rose and started to leave, but at the door he paused. “There was just one more thing, Professor. During the attack on the train, I… I managed to stun Malfoy without my wand. The spell kind of… came out of my hand. What was that all about?” Dumbledore blinked and then smiled more broadly. “It is proof of something I have speculated over for a long time, Harry. You are capable of wandless magic, at least at certain times.” He was silent for a while, the flickering flames reflected twice in his half-moon spectacles, and then returned abruptly to the present. “We’ll talk about it more on Saturday evening, Harry. Goodnight now.” Harry left the office, wondering what it meant that he could do wandless magic, before his thoughts returned, as they always did, to the fiery redhead who hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. AN: phew. Well, that’s the third chapter done… I’ll start on the fourth soon, I promise! Anyway, all reviews welcome, they are what motivate me! -Tom |
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