29. Flight
Harry and Ginny stood in the hallway for a while after Ron left. Ginny didn’t move, she simply laid her hand over Harry’s heart as if feeling its beat, and lowered her head back down to rest next to it on his chest. Harry dropped their bags on the floor with a loud thump and circled both arms around her, his hands splayed across her lower back.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said eventually into the stillness.
“What for?” asked Ginny, her voice rumbling gently against his chest.
“Making bad jokes, making you worry, just ... I don’t know,” Harry finished lamely. Ginny laughed softly and lifted her head off Harry’s chest to look up at him.
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I should have put my wand down when you stepped between us ľ I was just so mad at Ron. I thought he was angry at me for being out with you. I worked myself up all morning. I sent a raving letter to Mum …” Ginny stopped and thumped her head lightly on Harry’s chest.
“I had no idea what was going on,” murmured Harry. “Every time I tried to find out something would get in the way! Why would Hermione sit next to you in Potions? Not only could I not ask you why you were fighting with Ron, but I had to sit with Malfoy. Now I’m stuck with him for two months!” Ginny looked up at him apologetically.
“I’m sorry,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “I pulled her to sit with me so I could rant to her about Ron. I’ll swap if you like.”
“No way,” grimaced Harry. “I won’t let you work with Malfoy!”
“Really?” Ginny arched one eyebrow and pulled away slightly. Harry didn’t falter.
“Really,” he said firmly.
“You won’t let me?”
“Nope.” Harry shook his head firmly. Ginny eyed him speculatively for a moment.
“Do you realise I don’t need your permission?” she asked. Harry just nodded. “And you’re going to forbid me anyway?” Ginny frowned and drew her eyebrows together. Harry pressed her a little closer and ran a hand over her hip and down her thigh. He felt her shudder a little and mould her body into his.
“It’s not really about forbidding,” he said quietly as he lowered his mouth over hers. Ginny did not protest and Harry kissed her leisurely and when he pulled away her eyes remained closed, her lips still parted and her face tilted up towards his. “It’s about protection.”
“I don’t need protecting,” Ginny protested weakly.
“I know.” And because she didn’t protest when he pushed her backwards into the wall as he kissed her, running his hands possessively over her hips and waist, Harry took that to mean that she would allow his protection; perhaps just this once.
Harry was just about to insist they get some lunch before it was over when a loud caterwauling started up and Peeves swooped along the corridor cackling loudly and screeching.
Potter and Weasley are snogging each other’s
brains out on the third floor!
Snog, snog, snog, snog, snoggity,
snog-snog!
Blushing, Harry broke off the kiss and glared at Peeves malevolently as the poltergeist saluted him and glided through the corridor, still screeching his little ditty. Ginny giggled nervously and Harry looked down at her and grimaced.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” he said, not at all sure he was sorry about getting carried away, only about getting caught. Ginny shrugged.
“Well, at least now we know how my brothers will probably find out,” she said mischievously and ducked under his arm to skip away. Harry laughed and scooped up their bags once again before following her.
“I think I would rather at least get the free liquor out of it,” he called after her as they both made their carefree way down to the Great Hall, where Peeves was hovering in the middle of the room, dancing a jig mid air. Harry pretended to ignore the sniggers coming from the other students as he and Ginny seated themselves at the Gryffindor table opposite Dean and Seamus.
“Honestly,” said Dean as he selected a ham sandwich. “Everyone knows Peeves haunts that corridor outside the Hospital Wing looking for public snogging all the time. What on earth possessed you guys?”
“Well, no one told me,” mumbled Harry reaching for his goblet. Dean smirked at him.
“Ginny knows,” he said and suddenly winced. Harry suspected Ginny had delivered a well aimed kick under the table and he smiled into his pumpkin juice.
“Where’s Hermione?” asked Ginny suddenly. Neville looked up from his plate.
“Ron was just here. I think she went to say goodbye,” he replied. “She said to tell you she’d be back for Defence, Harry. I’m not sure why she wanted me to tell you that though. I mean I could just tell the Professor if she’s not back before we start.” Neville shrugged and continued eating. Harry faltered with a sandwich halfway to his mouth. He’d utterly forgotten that his classmates, with the exception of Hermione and Ginny, had no idea that he was to supervise their Defence class.
His mouth went dry and he looked up at the head table to see the teacher with the cat hat staring at him. The man, catching Harry’s eye, narrowed his eyes at him and turned his mouth up in a smile at the same time. Anyone who was looking would have thought the man was being pleasant but Harry could see the expression in his eyes as the man held his gaze. He couldn’t decide if Cat Hat was looking at him with disgust or loathing but then decided that it amounted to the same thing.
Feeling rather off-kilter by the exchange, Harry discarded his half-eaten sandwich and tried to drink the rest of his pumpkin juice. When it was time for the first class period after lunch and his Housemates all arose and gathered their bags, Harry just sat there. He was no longer disturbed by the strange teacher but overwhelmed by the notion that he was to supervise his classmates.
What if they didn’t listen to him? He’d seen what they could get up to. That room could be deconstructed in minutes. He had only two objectives: to make sure they turned up and that the classroom remained intact. He suddenly doubted his ability to accomplish either.
“Harry!” called Neville. “Are you coming?” Harry looked up, feeling distinctly unwell.
“Um … yeah, just give me a sec, Neville,” he replied. He felt clammy all over. He took a deep breath and gathered his bag, checking for the scroll of parchment that contained the class roll. As he stood up he felt a small, warm hand slip into his and squeeze. Harry squeezed back reflexively and then looked down at Ginny.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered and smiled. Harry held onto her hand like a lifeline as she led the way the way up to the Defence classroom. He wanted nothing more than to run the other way and the only thing that kept him moving towards the classroom was Ginny. Her warm, soft fingers were hooked around his cold, clammy ones ľ tethering him to her. He followed her blindly until they reached the doorway of the classroom, still fighting the urge to turn and run. As Ginny took a step over the threshold, Harry faltered.
He could see inside the classroom. In seventh year all four Houses had this class together and he saw Seamus balancing on the back legs of his chair while Dean leaned on the desk in front of him, gesturing wildly with his hands, telling a story Harry couldn’t hear. Neville was sitting next to Luna at a nearby desk, his chin in his hands as he listened to Dean. Ernie Macmillan, Padma Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchley were conversing in hushed tones. Anthony Goldstein looked like he was trying to chat up Susan Bones; who looked decidedly uninterested. A number of students from Ginny’s year were also in the class.
Harry recognised the blonde Ravenclaw from Muggle Studies examining her face in a small mirror and nodding rather absently to her female companion who was writing on some parchment. This girl suddenly folded the parchment into a paper plane and spelled it to fly across the room to a rather large boy who was idly blowing bubbles while he tilted backwards dangerously on his chair. The paper plane hit the boy on the nose and he fell flat on his back, groaning. The surrounding students tittered and giggled before he was helped up by another boy who Harry recognised as a Gryffindor in Ginny’s year. He wondered if this was the Puddlemere-worshipping git in Ron’s bed or the one with the garishly lettered trunk. Harry was still unaccountably terrified of the class but he smiled at the carefree nature of the students, swapping notes, chewing bubble gum and leaning haphazardly on the furniture. Half the class had been in the DA, most of the rest were sitting amongst them writing notes or gossiping.
It was clear they were all comfortable with one another in spite of their different Houses and ages; except for the small knot of students sitting at the back of the classroom under the window. Draco Malfoy was surrounded by several Slytherin students including Blaise Zabini and a small stringy boy who looked as though he might be related somehow to Theodore Nott. Daphne Greengrass was perched uncomfortably on the edge of a chair while a sleazy-looking, pimply-faced boy leaned over her, talking intently.
Ginny looked back at Harry expectantly, still holding his hand. Harry looked at her helplessly and she just smiled and tugged on his hand. But Harry did not move; he felt as if he were rooted to the spot, his feet anchored to the flagstones in the corridor. He shook his head slightly.
“I can’t go in there,” he whispered. Ginny’s brow furrowed and she studied him for a moment.
“They’re your friends,” she said, stepping back towards him and squeezing his hand. “They will be thrilled to have you for a teacher.”
“I’m not a teacher,” growled Harry softly. Ginny shrugged. If she had been about to say something it was cut off by the sudden arrival of Hermione who came to a halt behind Harry, breathing heavily.
“Oh good, I’m not late then,” she puffed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “Ron was being such a sook about leaving I had to practically shove him through the gates. Isn’t it great we get to see him every fortnight? Professor McGonagall really is being such a sport. I mean I could probably live with seeing him just on Hogsmeade weekends but, between you and me, he just isn’t doing so well. I had a hard time getting him to admit it, but he’s a bit lost. I mean he is right, isn’t he? We still have each other and he’s all alone.
“Oh I can’t wait for next Saturday! I wonder if I can get all my homework done during the week so I can have Saturday free? Well at least there won’t be any Defence homework will there? Unless you set some of course … although why I think you’d set any homework in a class you refuse to actually teach anything in, I don’t know! You could at least make sure we all know how to cast the NEWT spells and we could practice doing them non-verbally. It’d be a shame to waste the time, don’t you think?”
Harry just listened to Hermione as she giggled and fluttered her way girlishly through her monologue. It appeared that the end of the war was slowly changing everyone. They were a bit more cheerful, a little more frivolous and just a trifle more carefree than before. Harry peered into the room again and watched as Seamus leaned over to chat up the girl who’d blown him off at the train station the night before. Dean was now sitting with Justin and Ernie and they were smirking at Seamus. The girl turned her nose up and her back on the Irishman and the other three boys laughed uproariously. Seamus flipped them the bird and Neville spared them a glance but was nervously watching Luna slide a hand up his arm as she spoke absently, staring at the ceiling and waving her other hand randomly in the air.
“Harry?” prodded Hermione. “Aren’t we going in?”
“What about them?” Harry hissed, indicating the Slytherins. “You said they were all my friends. They’re not my friends.”
“Who cares?” answered Ginny. “They’re Slytherins. Half of them have Death Eater parents anyway, they don’t matter.”
“Ginny!” Hermione whispered disapprovingly. “You’re as bad as Ron! Really Harry, Professor McGonagall put you in charge. You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know what on earth possessed her to do that,” muttered Harry as Ginny tugged on his hand once more and finally pulled him into the room.
“Oh don’t be silly, Harry,” admonished Hermione. “Come on Ginny, we’ll go sit near Luna and Neville.” She grabbed Ginny’s other hand and poked Harry in the back and towards the front of the room with the other. Harry sighed heavily and gathered what little of his courage had not fled and tried to look confident as he made his way to the front of the class. He had a feeling his stride probably looked more like a nervous shuffle. Dropping his bag on the desk at the front of the room he turned around and leaned on the desk, hoping he looked a lot more casual than he actually felt. The room gradually fell silent as his classmates noticed him and began eyeing him speculatively.
“Isn’t that desk for the teacher, Potter?” Malfoy suddenly drawled. “Or are you so far up yourself you think none of the rules apply to you?”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” said Seamus belligerently. “What’s goin’ on Harry?” Harry cleared his throat, nervously.
“Basically,” he began, “there’s no teacher for this class. So … um … McGonagall has asked me to sort of, supervise. So, uh … don’t blow anything up all right?”
“What do you mean there’s no teacher?” asked a tall, thin Ravenclaw boy with a thatch of blond hair that he ruffled as he looked at Harry in confusion. “There’s a teacher, that new bloke with the cat hat.” Harry shifted uncomfortably and figured he’d better tell them all it was his fault they didn’t have a proper Defence teacher.
“Um … well … he sort of isn’t going to teach seventh year,” Harry sighed, “because of me.” The Ravenclaw boy wrinkled his nose.
“Because of you?” he asked. “He isn’t teaching us because of you? What’d you do to him?” There was a burst of scattered laughter and Harry grimaced.
“Nothing,” he said rather plaintively. “It’s just, well he sort of refused to teach me and McGonagall couldn’t get anyone else because the Board says the Defence teacher has to be an Auror now and-”
“We never had an Auror before,” interjected a Hufflepuff from the back row.
“Yeah we did,” replied a girl Harry remembered as one of Ginny’s dorm mates. “That Moody guy – in third year; he was good. Hey why can’t we have him?” Harry sighed heavily and looked out the window.
“Because he wasn’t an Auror, he was a Death Eater,” he said softly. “And the real Auror Moody is dead.” No one said anything for a long moment.
“So how come you didn’t just drop Defence?” asked the haughty girl Seamus had been trying to win over. “Then at least we’d have a proper teacher.” She sat back and folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him, her resemblance to Umbridge made Harry shudder involuntarily.
“Hey!” Seamus interjected. “Harry’s probably a better teacher than old Cat Hat anyway!” A chorus of ‘yeahs’ from Dean, Neville, Ginny and Luna echoed his sentiment. Harry wondered if Seamus had just blown his chances with the girl because she sniffed haughtily and looked pointedly out the window.
“It’s tied up in politics,” Harry explained. “There are people on the School Board who insist that the teacher be an Auror. There’s not a lot of Aurors about at the moment and finding a teacher was hard-”
“Well it’s not like you’re an Auror either, Potter,” said Blaise Zabini suddenly. Malfoy made a sound like he was choking.
“Actually I do have a position in the Auror department,” said Harry uncomfortably. “Erm … it’s a sort of provisional thing.” The class studied him intently.
“Cool,” said Dean eventually. The rest of the non Slytherin students echoed his sentiments by smiling or nodding. It felt like approval. Draco Malfoy was scowling and his Housemates either followed his lead or, in the case of Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, schooled their thoughts to look carefully neutral.
“McGonagall and the Minister felt it best that I continue to take NEWT-level Defence Against the Dark Arts. However, Professor … um … whatsisname, he refused to teach me,” Harry shrugged.
“So we all suffer,” the haughty girl narrowed her eyes at him as if by doing so she could pin him to the wall.
“How come you have to do Defence anyway?” asked Neville suddenly. “I mean it’s not like you aren’t already good at it.”
“I think it’s a bit daft forcing an Auror to sit around at school if there’s not enough of ‘em as it is,” asserted one of the Hufflepuffs.
“That’s why Harry has to do Defence then, isn’t it?” Dean said decisively. “They need more Aurors and you can’t be an Auror without your Defence NEWT.” The cacophony of voices grew louder.
“Oh honestly! Who expects Harry Potter to have his Defence NEWT?”
“The Minister obviously.”
“That’s daft.”
“Not really. How’d you feel if you heard Harry Potter wasn’t doing Defence? I mean he’s going to be an Auror, right? He needs a Defence NEWT.”
“But he’s not a teacher.”
“Brilliant, it’s like a free period!”
“I still don’t see why we have to suffer, how shall we pass our own NEWTS without proper instruction?”
“Reckon if we made it through the war alive we know enough Defence to pass our NEWT, anyway.”
“Yeah, this’ll be a cinch.”
“Harry’s actually a pretty good teacher.”
Harry rubbed his temples as the students argued back and forth. He hadn’t even marked the roll yet and the haughty Ravenclaw, still glaring daggers at him, was continually proclaiming rather loudly that she was being severely disadvantaged in her education.
“Well, maybe Harry’ll teach us something,” Dean snarled at her suddenly. The girl looked taken aback and Seamus shot him a baleful look.
“Like what?” asked the small stringy Slytherin suddenly. “My dad reckons all he knows how to do is Expelliarmus.” The boy laughed raucously. Malfoy, Zabini and Daphne sat silently while the other Slytherins joined in the laughter. The sleazy-looking, pimply-faced boy took out his wand.
“I could totally take him in a duel,” he proclaimed loudly. Seamus stood up, tipping his chair over and pulling out his wand.
“Oh really? You think so; do you, you little runt?” he asked angrily. “I’d like to see you try!”
“You-Know-Who couldn’t even take him in a duel!” called out Ernie Macmillan suddenly.
“There was this little thing you missed, Salbadar Limuson!” called one of the other Hufflepuffs from near the front. “Since your House sort of left instead of staying to fight last year!”
“Yeah you don’t know anything!” proclaimed Ashton Grant. Limuson raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, smirking shamelessly. Harry had no desire to pull a wand on anyone and just stared at him.
“Well, come on then Potter,” said the Slytherin boy. “Prove yourself!”
“Put that down, you idiot,” said Malfoy lazily. “None of you can beat Potter in a duel … except maybe if his girlfriend and Granger team up.” Harry heard Hermione groan and Seamus snort. He had a very good idea that Ginny’s face was bright red but he kept his eyes on the wand pointed at his face.
“Well you beat him once, didn’t you Draco?” demanded Limuson. “In second year?”
“I hardly think Potter controlling the snake I sent after him constitutes a defeat,” said Malfoy quietly.
“You always said you totally beat him, Draco,” piped up the stringy boy. He looked puzzled.
“Well then you were an idiot for believing me, weren’t you?” replied Malfoy scathingly. “I mean you were there.”
“But you said …”
“Yeah well, I said a lot of things,” muttered Malfoy, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the table. Harry watched him with interest but Dean suddenly exploded.
“Harry beat Malfoy last time they duelled, you little toe rag!”
“Yeah, you’d know all about getting beaten by Potter, wouldn’t you, Thomas?” smirked Malfoy, glancing in Ginny’s direction rather obviously.
“I was talking about when we were guests in your home,” spat Dean. Harry took his eyes off Limuson and his wand and looked at Dean and then Luna. Luna was sitting up a little straighter, extremely pale. Hermione, sitting behind her, twisted her hands nervously and images of Ron screaming her name while Bellatrix Lestrange held a knife to Hermione’s throat flashed though Harry’s mind. His hands shook and he gripped the table, glancing at Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his face as pale as his hair. The rest of the class were looking from Dean, to Harry to Malfoy questioningly. Malfoy suddenly spoke in a measured, even tone.
“Potter has beaten me every time we have duelled,” he said. “If you have received any other impression, you need to listen more carefully.” Harry shook his head mentally at the way Malfoy indicated that others were fools for believing him. As if it was their fault and not his for bragging. But Salbadar Limuson hadn’t finished. Harry fixed his attention back on him when he heard the boy snort.
“Well, clearly he doesn’t play fair does he?” Limuson shouted, his wand never wavering. “I didn’t imagine you gloating over his detention for nearly killing you that day. Snape was pretty clear about how dangerous Potter is when riled. I mean you were a Prefect and he slashed you open in cold blood-”
“Malfoy was about to Crucio him!” shouted Ginny suddenly, her eyes blazing. “Probably your favourite spell, isn’t it, you slimy little piece of pond scum!” Limuson turned his wand on Ginny and shouted a spell Harry didn’t even hear. He had his wand out and bellowed Protego before Limuson’s spell had even left the tip of his wand.
Limuson was clearly enraged that his spell had been thwarted and turned his wand on Harry. As he ducked a purple spell, Harry had a grim realisation. The Slytherin knew that by threatening Ginny Weasley he would get exactly what he wanted – a duel with Harry Potter.
Unable to get a clear shot at Limuson through the desks, chairs and other students Harry dodged a streak of silver light that went sailing into a group of Hufflepuffs who scattered, squawking indignantly. Immediately Neville cast a Shield Charm around his classmates and Harry dived behind a chair as a streak of red light sailed past his left ear.
“Sit down, you idiot!” bellowed Malfoy suddenly. Limuson turned to give him a contemptuous look and Harry took his chance. Scrambling up onto the teacher’s desk to get a height advantage, Harry aimed his wand over the heads of the other Slytherins.
“Expelliarmus!” he cried and then thinking quickly followed it by a nonverbal Levicorpus. Salbadar Limuson was soon wandless and hanging by one ankle, high above the rest of the class, the blood rushing slowly to his head and turning his face a lovely shade of puce. With his wand still trained on Limuson, Harry hopped lightly off the desk and bent to pick up the discarded wand. He walked slowly over to Malfoy and handed him the other boy’s wand.
“Useful little spell, Expelliarmus,” he said nonchalantly as he levitated Limuson closer to Malfoy and the ground. “It leaves you just a little bit helpless.” Then Harry flicked his wand to dump Limuson unceremoniously on the floor before stalking back to the teacher’s desk.
An uneasy silence settled over the classroom. Limuson staggered to his feet and snatched his wand from Malfoy before throwing himself into a seat as far away from Harry as he could get. Harry, who was still shaking from the encounter, hid his hands by searching in his bag for a quill. He unrolled the scroll containing the class list and spread it on the table, still trying to regain his equilibrium.
“Attendance is an integral part of obtaining a NEWT,” he explained quietly. “McGonagall has asked me to mark the roll. After that we are free to occupy our own time without destroying the classroom.” He began to read out the list of names.
“Harry?” questioned Neville hesitantly when Harry got to him. He looked up at Neville expectantly and nodded to him to go on but Neville glanced at Hermione nervously and fell silent. Dean and Seamus were glaring belligerently at Malfoy and the carefree attitude had fled the classroom. A thick, nervous cloud hung over the students, who were fiddling with quills or parchment. Feet shuffled softly and Harry could hear at least one person tapping nervously on a desk in the oppressive stillness. Harry finished marking the roll and started rolling it carefully and deliberately because he knew as soon as he finished that he would have nothing else to do with his hands. He was tying the tartan ribbon back around it with a great deal more care than he would usually exert when the oppressive silence was finally broken.
“D’you think you could show us that non verbal stuff again?” asked Ernie Macmillan suddenly. “It’s just, well; you were pretty good at teaching us back in the DA and …”
“It would be very helpful,” Blaise Zabini added quietly as Ernie trailed off.
“I’m not very good at nonverbal spells,” Harry said.
“You did one just then!”
“Yeah well, that was a bit of a fluke,” Harry said desperately, scratching the back of his neck.
“Rubbish,” proclaimed Seamus. “I’ve seen you do that before!”
“C’mon Harry,” pleaded Justin Finch-Fletchley. Susan Bones was looking at Harry as though she could convince him with her eyes and the rest of Ginny’s year just looked up at him expectantly. It was as if they thought he could teach them to fly without a broomstick. He let out a loud sigh.
“All right, well, its concentration really,” he began. “It’s mostly just practice, so start with the spells you are really good at.”
The lesson period was spent productively after all, although Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini were the only Slytherins to participate. Hermione had actually managed to levitate a feather wordlessly but Seamus only set fire to it and that sent Dean into a round of helpless laughter that Neville, Harry and Hermione joined in.
“Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa,” muttered Seamus in a perfect imitation of Ron as he cleaned up the ashes. The lesson finished and the older Gryffindors were still laughing helplessly. Ginny looked at them bemused.
“I’m almost scared to ask why you are all laughing so hard,” she said, picking her bag up off the floor. Seamus grinned at her.
“Once upon a time, oh fair lassie, there were a wee young prince called Ronald,” he winked at her. “And he pined for a fair princess who corrected him all the time. The court jester tried to impress her with his prowess but all he did was set fire to his feather.”
“Oh, right,” said Ginny smirking. “So who eventually won the heart of the princess?”
“The prince did,” said Hermione dreamily. “Because even though he thought she was mental he still saved her from the troll using the very spell with which she had tortured him. He’s actually a very smart prince and the jester is apparently still turning feathers into ashes.”
“He hopes to win a girl soon though,” said Seamus. “There she goes!” Seamus took off after the girl he had been pursuing since the night before.
“He is never going to win her over,” said Neville.
“Oh he will,” Dean assured him.
“I cannot see Audrey Harrison-Smythe willingly going out with Seamus Finnegan,” laughed Ginny. “The only person more fond of rules is Percy!”
“I bet you a galleon he has won her over by the end of September,” said Dean. Ginny regarded him carefully for a moment.
“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand and they shook on it before heading out of the Defence classroom. Harry caught up to her at the last row of desks and slid an arm around her shoulders.
“Hey there Professor Potter,” said Ginny, looking up at him. Harry grimaced.
“That just sounds stupid,” he said and Ginny laughed.
“It wasn’t so bad was it?”
“No, not at all, not once I subdued a random Slytherin,” Harry snorted. “I mean I could have let him hex me, but I’ve already tried that today.” Ginny blushed and Hermione turned in the doorway.
“Well I think it went very well, Harry. I think we could get quite a lot done this year,” she said earnestly. Harry just nodded at her enthusiasm as she began to list all the things they should make a note of to practice. Harry tuned her out a little and was trying to figure out a way to get past her when he heard a series of short, sharp footsteps. Their owner had a gargantuan shadow that looked like it moved of its own accord. As the tall, thin man with the Cat Hat came around the corner his shadow loomed seemingly large, at odds with his actual profile.
He wore voluminous robes of a deep green that seemed to shimmer as he moved and a pair of dragon-hide boots with shiny tips. His cat was curled around his head. Up close it looked quite ludicrous and Harry unsuccessfully fought the urge to laugh. He managed to contain it as a sort of half snort; half cough and stepped into the corridor. Professor Fiesche looked at him with barely concealed disgust.
“Are you quite finished with my classroom?” he asked. Harry just nodded and had to jump quickly out of the way as the professor swept imperiously into his classroom and shut the door with a snap.
“I thought McGonagall said he was intimidated by you?” asked Ginny as they stared at the closed door. Harry shrugged.
“I’m beginning to think she was mistaken or he was pretending,” he answered.
“He doesn’t seem to like you much at all,” said Hermione as they headed to the Gryffindor common room.
“He’s the Defence professor,” said Harry. “I think it’s in their contract.”
********************
Hermione, Ginny and Harry were studying in the Gryffindor common room when the rest of the house trooped in after the final lesson period of the day. Strictly speaking, Hermione was studying and Harry and Ginny were playing footsies under the table and with quills on top of it. Hermione was either too absorbed to notice or too busy to care because she didn’t admonish them for it. Harry had written two sentences of his Herbology report and Ginny had done even less of her Muggle Studies quiz.
“Hey, Hermione,” asked Ginny suddenly. “How do you turn on an ekeltrick light?”
“I know how to do that!” protested Harry indignantly. “Why are you asking her?”
“Oh! I forgot!” Ginny said. “I’ll find you a question; I already know the answer to the football ones. Dean’s got a one track mind …” Harry frowned and scribbled another line in his Herbology homework.
“I don’t think you are supposed to get other people to answer the questions for you, Ginny,” said Hermione disapprovingly. Ginny’s retort was cut off by a loud argument coming from the portrait hole.
“Don’t say that!” screamed Gilbert Chumley. He was red in the face and his fists were clenched as he glared at his brother.
“You know it’s true as well as I do,” answered Gerald calmly. Gilbert went white.
“No! No it isn’t! Don’t say it,” he whispered before turning and dashing up the dormitory stairs, tears flowing down his cheeks.
“Oi!” called Seamus. “What’d you say to the kid?” Dexter and Hamish hurried up the stairs after Gilbert while Othello shook his head slowly at Gerald.
“I think it’s time he faced the facts,” said Gerald sullenly.
“But you don’t know the facts do you?” asked Othello quietly. “Gilbert told us what happened in Transfiguration. Just because your dad went to work and never came home doesn’t mean he’s dead.”
“Oh and really, where else would he be then?” asked Gerald scathingly. “It’s been a year! Why wouldn’t he come home all this time? The war’s been over for months and he hasn’t come home!”
“He’s probably still in hiding,” said Othello desperately, Gerald looked to be on the verge of hysteria.
“Well why didn’t he take us with him?” he said brokenly. “Why didn’t he just come home first?”
“Maybe he couldn’t, mate,” said Dean quietly. “People who went on the run last year … had to just duck out pretty quick mostly. Not everyone was able to send word to their families either.”
“Well he’s probably dead now anyway,” said Gerald harshly, as if breaking down would ruin his image. “Can’t imagine hiding would be easy; bound to get caught in the end aren’t you? I read that Anne Frank story when I was still in primary school.”
“Not everyone who went on the run got caught and … killed,” said Dean, glancing at Harry and Hermione. Harry looked at Hermione out the corner of his eye. She was deathly pale as she stared at Gerald and bit her lip. Gerald glared at Dean.
“Oh and you’d be the expert at it,” he said sarcastically. “Spent a good bit of time on the run then, have you?”
“As a matter of fact I spent most of last year on the run,” said Dean quietly, “until I got caught.”
“Better than being stuck in some ancient house full of
decrepit wizards and stuck up Muggles,” muttered Gerald. “At least you were
free to roam about the place instead of listening to some fat, Muggle dunderhead argue with his parents the entire time. If I
never see
“I spent weeks on the streets of
“I cast some bluebell flames in desperation one night, halfway through autumn, and they found me quicker than you can say Jack Robinson. I Apparated wildly; nearly Splinched myself, it was not pleasant. Then I spent the next few months living in forests and fields with a couple old-timers and some ancient goblins. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO CATCH FISH WHEN THE RIVERS AND LAKES ARE FROZEN OVER?”
“Dean, go easy -” began Seamus, but he was cut off. Dean turned on him rapidly.
“Don’t you even start!” he said. “This little upstart spent his time in some safe house – and you! You were here! All right for the purebloods and the half bloods isn’t it? Nice and safe at school; Warm beds, food on the table; it’s all right for some. What have you got if you’re Muggle-born? A price on your head, that’s what!” Neville held out a hand.
“Dean-”
“You don’t even know, Neville!” Dean cut him off. “You don’t know what it’s like; isolated, fighting for your life when you don’t know where your enemy is or even who it is. And you can’t use magic in case they can find you. I spent months camping on frozen ground and hiding in Muggle barns, just waiting; hoping and waiting for something good to happen. And this little … the little smart aleck has the gall to question if I know what it is like to be forced into hiding!”
“It wasn’t all that safe here,” Seamus shot back.
“But you knew what was going on,” said Dean. He was running out of steam. “No relying on some dodgy old bloke on the run from the Ministry to tell you if your friends are okay. Then wondering just how badly they got punished. And your mum knew where you were. You didn’t have to run away without even telling her where you’d gone; if you were okay.”
“People went missing from Hogwarts too,” said Neville quietly.
“Being here was like being isolated too,” said Ginny quietly. “It’s no easier being the person who didn’t get to say goodbye.” Harry felt his heart clench.
“But he can’t stand there and tell me that he had it so much worse,” said Dean, stabbing a finger in Gerald’s direction before turning to stare out the window.
“I didn’t choose to live locked up in a house for months on end,” said Gerald. “I didn’t choose to be stuck in a house with a fat pig who brainwashed my brother! I didn’t choose never to be allowed outside and to try and keep my mother from drowning in her own grief... He never came home. He never sent word.”
“The fact you were sent to a safe house means your dad got word to someone,” Seamus said quietly. “Almost no one went to safe houses after the Muggle-born breakout at the Ministry. Me mam said going into hiding was more dangerous than staying in your house with wards cast.”
“Well it’s been exactly a year since Dad went to work and never came home,” said Gerald. “And Gilbert didn’t even remember it was today. He still thinks dad’s alive.”
“He might be,” said Harry. He distantly heard his own voice, sounding calmer than he felt. His heart was hammering in his chest and his hands were clammy. He looked at Hermione. Her eyes were wide and her hand shook as it covered her mouth.
“How would you know?” asked Gerald harshly.
“Because I told them to go,” whispered Harry. “I told them to go, get out; go overseas.”The faces of the scared Muggle-borns in the Ministry swam before him. He almost didn’t hear Neville.
“What do you mean you told them?” he asked. “Who did you tell? What did you tell them?”
“The Muggle-borns,” Harry said agitatedly, “in the Ministry on September second last year. I told them to hide overseas if they had to.”
“Then it’s your fault,” said Gerald accusingly. “Mr Dursley was right. You are a troublemaker.”
Harry stood abruptly. Images of that day at the Ministry ran through his mind. The frightened faces tumbled through his head, mingling with Dean’s face the night they were snatched and taken to Malfoy Manor. He could see Luna’s protuberant eyes, glowing in the dark cellar; Aberforth’s twinkling blue eye staring at him, so like Dumbledore’s; Dobby’s green tennis ball eyes glowing in the dim light of the cellar. He could hear Ron screaming Hermione’s name and Mary Cattermole crying for her children.
He left his belongings on the table and stumbled to the portrait hole, desperate to escape the images and sounds that only he could see and hear. He spilled out into the seventh floor corridor and started running, trying to get away. He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t really care but he found himself staring at the blackened wall opposite the tapestry where Barnabas the Barmy was teaching ballet. Thinking feverishly he paced back in front of the wall, willing the Room of Requirement to appear to give him somewhere to think.
The blackened wall remained unmoving and impossibly impenetrable. Harry kicked it in frustration and sank to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. The tender spot on the back of his skull was throbbing and it felt almost as if his head was about to explode. Gilbert and Gerald’s father had been at the Ministry that day and never come home. Gerald, Gilbert and their mother had gone into hiding with Dedulus Diggle and stayed with his aunt, uncle and cousin in a safe house.
The cheerful, carefree façade of Hogwarts was cracking. There were too many stories, too many traumas and no one could keep the front up for long. It took only a word, a phrase to chip away at carefully constructed walls and barriers to expose deep wounds. With each word about his year on the run Dean had hammered another wedge into Harry’s own self control. He had wanted to shout at them all that if it was a contest about who had it worst, then he had them all beat. He wanted to tell them he’d spent the year on the run, hiding and eating fungus because the biggest price was on his head.
He wanted to yell that he’d lost more parents than any of them and he’d had to run without saying goodbye, too. But he didn’t. He just ran. A part of him whispered that it wasn’t his problem anymore and he could just keep running, but Harry knew that wasn’t true. He’d been wrapped up in this war since before he was born and now he was such an integral part of it that he couldn’t extricate himself. It wasn’t over yet. He had to find out what happened to all those people at the Ministry that day. He couldn’t ignore the Dursley’s any longer.
But Harry Potter was having a very bad day and instead of turning around and facing his responsibilities, he kept them at bay for a little while longer. Harry Potter turned and ran.
*********************
Harry traced the lines on the
Harry had been examining the repairs to the
As he trailed his fingers along a gouge in the floor Harry wondered who had fought up here. There was a new tapestry hanging on one wall and Harry thought he could see splashes of blood on the floor underneath it. He couldn’t bear to look under the tapestry to see what it was hiding on the wall underneath. Someone’s blood had been spilled here, they may have even died and the thought made him shiver. He hadn’t remembered that the Astronomy Tower had been damaged but the evidence was all around him. There were no unclaimed cloaks hanging on the pegs by the door; no abandoned quills or half empty inkpots on the shelves where bags were stored. It should have smelt like parchment and ink, mouldy socks and sweat, from generations of students who came up here to study or to … relax. Instead it smelt like brass polish and varnish.
Hogwarts was just like the students: it looked fine. The wood gleamed, the brass work was shiny and no dust rose in little puffs from the carpets when you walked. The tapestries were hung with care and the stonework was clean. But if you looked a little closer you could see that the walls had cracks, that the fixtures were new and untested and that some things were simply covered up. Harry thought if he started chipping away at the patch under his hands that the old Tower might start crumbling away. It was too new and too fresh to hold if he put it under any pressure and it wasn’t hard enough to resist the scratches that he couldn’t help putting in it.
When the first drop of blood from his torn and bleeding fingertips fell onto the new mortar and sank into the porous stone he stopped his scratching suddenly and stared at his fingers, uncomprehending. He watched the blood beading and slowly dripping into his palm before hesitantly wrapping his hand in the hem of his robes and leaning his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.
He was surprised to find himself still alone. He thought
someone would have come looking for him a long time ago. Maybe they had, he
mused, they’d just not found him yet. He didn’t know why he’d come here, he was
just running and this was as far as he could go. He knew he had to go back but
he didn’t know if he was done thinking yet. The problem was he couldn’t
remember what he’d been thinking anymore. He knew he needed to write a letter
to
“Alone, Potter?” he asked, smirking. Harry gave him a withering look, as he stepped over the threshold and onto the landing.
“I don’t see your company, Malfoy,” he said as the other man ignored him and pushed past into the Tower room.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding suspicious. Harry saw no reason to evade the truth.
“Thinking,” he shrugged. “There’s a lot to think about these days.”
“Yeah,” said Malfoy quietly. He turned to stare out of the window and Harry almost felt compelled to stay and ask him what was wrong. He may have done it too, if there had not been a sudden thundering of footsteps on the stone steps below.
“HARRY!”
“Can’t a man get peace and quiet around here?” complained Malfoy at the sound of Ron’s voice.
“I had a couple hours of it,” smirked Harry. Malfoy just turned his back on him.
“What’s Weasley still doing here anyway?” he asked pointedly. Harry groaned. He had not even registered that Ron shouldn’t be there.
“Ron?” he called down the stairwell.
“Shut up, Potter,” said Malfoy, sounding rather irritated. Harry ignored him and took a step towards the stairs when Ron came around the corner of the spiral staircase.
“Harry! Where have you been?” he panted, gripping Harry by the arms tightly.
“I’ve been up here,” Harry replied, “thinking.” Ron let him go and slumped against the wall.
“The whole time?” he asked. Harry nodded. Ron pushed himself off the wall and grabbed Harry’s arm again, pulling him down the stairwell. “Merlin, can you teach those girls to use the ruddy map?”
“What are you doing here, Ron?” asked Harry as he stumbled down the steps after his best friend.
“Looking for you,” retorted Ron. “Hermione Floos me in tears again – I mean what is going on with all the crying? As far as I can tell, you had a fight with a Slytherin and Dean loses his marbles and then you run off - and all after lunch! Is that about right?” Harry pulled his arm out of Ron’s grasp.
“Yeah, about right,” he agreed. “Still don’t see what you’re doing here.”
“Hermione called me,” said Ron, “in a right state. Not sure where you were, Dean gone off his rocker and some midget called Galbraith or something having a crisis.”
“So she Fire-called you to talk?” asked Harry. Ron stopped abruptly and he groaned as comprehension flooded over his face.
“She just called me to talk, didn’t she?” he asked. Harry nodded. “And I rushed over, didn’t I?”
“Apparently so,” reflected Harry.
“McGonagall is going to kill me,” said Ron morosely.
“Not today, Mr Weasley,” McGonagall’s firm voice came from behind them. “I suggest however, that you return immediately to the place from whence you came and stay there until a week from Saturday.” By the time Harry and Ron turned around the Headmistress was gone. They could hear her swishing around the corner.
“Creepy,” commented Ron. “She can do that disappearing thing just like Dumbledore.” They headed straight for the Gryffindor common room and had an argument with the Fat Lady about whether Ron could go in.
“He’s not exactly a resident, is he?” she sniffed.
“I am and I said the blasted password,” said Harry in exasperation. “Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter!”
“How do I know he’s not up to no good?”
“Has the war addled your brains, woman?” asked Ron. Harry groaned.
“Ron!” he hissed, but it was too late. The Fat Lady turned her back on them and walked out of her frame.
“Oi! What sort of guardian do you call yourself then?” Ron called after her.
“Shut up, Ron.”
They waited only moments before the portrait hole opened and Dean spilled out in the corridor, Seamus on his heels.
“No, I want to!” Dean was saying angrily. “Let me just take the scrawny little git and-”
“No,” said Seamus firmly. “I know he’s being a git but the kid lost his dad. Give him a break.”
“He’s not the only one, is he?” argued Dean. “Little tosser thinks he’s more hard done by than anyone else!”
“Well you’re not the worst off either!” Seamus retorted. “What about Harry! He lost both his parents years ago, had You-Know-Who after him for years and went on the run before you did! Show a little tact and sensitivity, man!”
“Yeah, some tact …” said Ron. Seamus and Dean jumped and turned to face them.
“I … er … well … oh bollocks,” said Seamus turning a fetching shade of red.
“Sorry, Harry,” said Dean quietly. “You all right? You’ve been gone a while.” Harry nodded.
“Yeah I’ve been thinking,” he said. Dean nodded silently. No one spoke. Seamus shuffled his feet nervously and Harry leaned against the wall his hands in his pockets.
“You reckon she’ll come back?” asked Ron eventually, gesturing at the empty portrait. Seamus shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter, time to go down and eat anyway,” he said.
“For you maybe,” grumbled Ron. “McGonagall will have kittens if I turn up in the Great Hall. I wanna say good bye to Hermione before I go though.”
“She’s talking to that Chumley kid,” said Seamus.
“The git?” asked Ron with a scowl on his face.
“Nah, the little one,” Seamus replied. “He came back down after you ran out of the common room and practically launched himself at his brother, something about how he’d know if their dad was dead.”
“Neville had to separate them,” added Dean. “He hauled Gerald off and left Gilbert to Hermione.”
“What’s going on with them?” asked Ron.
“Remember how their mum said her husband never came home from the Ministry one day?” Harry said. Ron nodded. “It was the day we were there.” Ron straightened up abruptly.
“What happened to all those Muggle-borns?” asked Ron quietly. Harry shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ve gotta find out,” said Ron urgently. Harry nodded. Seamus and Dean looked at the two of them questioningly.
“Why would you go into the Ministry, Harry?” asked Seamus. “They were looking for you. They had Ministry officials swarming all over Platform nine and three quarters the day we left for school. Dunno why they thought you’d turn up to go to school with a price on your head.”
“I was Undesirable Number One by then,” muttered Harry as he leant against the wall next to the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“So what was so important that you went to the Ministry?” Dean asked curiously. “And how’d you possibly get in and out without getting caught?” Harry glanced at Ron.
“We nearly did,” said Ron.
“Polyjuice Potion,” said Harry. He was about to say more when the portrait swung open again and Neville clambered out.
“Oh there you are, Harry,” he said when he spotted the other man. “Ginny’s mumbling something about castration under her breath in there.” Harry grimaced and reached over to shut the portrait hole with a click.
“Damn shame the Fat Lady’s gone and I’m stuck out here then, isn’t it?” he muttered. Ron snorted loudly and Dean let out a bark of laughter.
“So what was so important you had to go to the Ministry a year ago?” continued Seamus. “Not exactly safe was it?” Harry glanced at Ron who nodded slightly and at his best mate’s agreement Harry told them about disguising themselves to go in and find the Horcrux, Umbridge presiding over the Muggle-born Commission and the way in which they’d been uncovered and almost caught.
“So we only just barely got away,” finished Ron after Harry stopped speaking. “I’m still missing a chunk of my arm. Not the last time I got Splinched.”
“Mr Chumley was there that day; it was the day he never came home,” Harry added. “He might still be alive, a lot of people got away that day. Who knows where he went.”
“Well then we have to find him,” said Ron, “and bring him home. Those boys need him.”
“Why us?” shrugged Dean. Seamus looked at Ron questioningly.
“Percy says the Ministry’s got their hands full with trials, fixing up the prison, keeping people like Malfoy in line,” said Ron.
“What’s Malfoy doing?” asked Harry sharply.
“Nothing yet,” replied Ron, “but you wouldn’t want him to start would you? There’s no time or manpower to track down missing persons.”
“Those boys are Gryffindors,” said Neville quietly. “We look after them and no one should be without a parent.” Harry looked at Neville; the round-faced, chubby boy had vanished a long time ago. This man was someone new, someone with drive and determination.
“War orphans …” murmured Harry. He saw Dean and Seamus shift uncomfortably. Ron examined his feet carefully. “It’s not just Gryffindors. I bet there are kids in the other Houses with missing parents too.” Neville nodded.
“No one deserves that if it can be helped,” he said.
“So that’s why us,” said Harry. “Why not us? You don’t have to lose your parents or your family to know how important it is to find these people and bring them home. They’ve got to be out there, some of them had to have gotten away.”
“I’ll talk to Percy,” said Ron. “He must have some sort of idea about where people went while they were in hiding.” Harry nodded.
“We’ll find out who we are looking for, too,” said Seamus. “Can’t find ‘em unless we know who they are.”
“How’re we going to do anything stuck at school?” asked Neville.
“Well, I never let that stop me before,” said Harry resolutely, pushing away from the wall. “I’m going to find their dad and bring him home, one way or another. They’re hurting; they need him … or closure. Right now … I need a way to get back into this common room. I think I might have some explaining to do.”