Content Harry Potter Miscellaneous
  • Previous
  • Next

Chapter 14: Understanding

Draco let his fingers trace along the shapes of the runes carved into the glass globe as he stared into the center. He’d owned this strange object for two days now, and still he didn’t understand what was so mesmerizing about it. The liquid redness within it seemed to beckon to him, calling him to it, until his eyes and mind were filled with nothing but red, and the smoothness of the lines under his fingertips...

"Draco?"

He jumped and hastily covered the globe with its black wrapper. "In here!"

Harry opened the door and squinted in. "Why are you sitting in the dark?"

Draco shrugged. "Just am, I guess. What’s up?"

"We’re going out to have a fly. Want to come?"

"Can I have a go on the Firebolt when you’re done?"

"After Ginny and Ron."

Draco scowled, getting up to find his coat. "Sure, favor your friends over your own brother."

"They asked first."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

xXxXx

After everyone who wanted to try out the Firebolt had done so, the group walked down to visit Hagrid. He was outside throwing snowballs for Fang to chase. Harry showed off the Firebolt’s amazing acceleration by chasing down a snowball and catching it before it could hit the ground. Hagrid was duly impressed.

"Yeh know who’d really like ter see yeh all," he said. "Would yeh believe, Buckbeak’s gone an’ got a taste fer humans?"

"Hope you don’t mean that like it sounds," said Ron, looking alarmed.

"No, no, nothin’ like that," said Hagrid, chuckling. "No, he jus’ likes a bit o’ company now and again. D’yeh have a minute ter come and see him?"

"I think so," said Harry. "We’re not due back at the castle until dinner, and that’s hours yet."

"Come on, then." Hagrid led them to the paddock, and sure enough, there was Buckbeak, rolling in the snow. He sprang upright at Hagrid’s whistle, though, and trotted over to the fence, peering eagerly at the little group.

"What do we do again?" whispered Ginny.

"Bow," Draco reminded her. "Bow and hold it until he bows back."

The four of them bowed, and after a moment, Buckbeak bent his neck to them. Ginny climbed over the paddock wall and stroked the hippogriff’s feathered face, making him croon deep in his throat. Then he gently nudged her away and fixed his eye on Draco. Draco swallowed nervously and reached out a hand. "Hello, Buckbeak," he said politely.

Buckbeak extended his neck past Draco’s hand, towards his head — Draco held very still — and took a small piece of Draco’s hair in his beak, tugging on it before he let it go.

"He preened you," said Ron, laughing. "I think he likes you. Luna’s going to get jealous."

Draco bent over, picked up a handful of snow, and threw it into Ron’s face without bothering to pack it first. Ron retaliated with a handful down Draco’s back. Buckbeak fanned his wings, screeched, and cantered away in what looked very much like a hippogriff huff.

Ginny sighed and shook her head in a very motherish way. "What are we going to do with them?" she asked Harry as their brothers rolled in the snow, wrestling.

"Take bets?" Harry suggested.

"Enough o’ that, now," said Hagrid, bending over and separating Draco and Ron easily. "Come on inside an’ have some tea, an’ tell me what’s bin goin’ on up at the castle."

"Well, you know about the Longbottoms, right?" asked Harry as they started for Hagrid’s house.

Hagrid nodded. "Haven’t seen ‘em yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough."

"Mrs. Letha says some of the Healers aren’t very happy about what happened to them," said Ginny, trotting to keep up with Hagrid’s long strides. Draco and Ron were hanging back, probably hoping to have an excuse to pummel each other again. Harry looked over his shoulder, then dropped back to join in.

"Not happy?" Hagrid looked confused. "Why wouldn’ they be happy? They’re Healers, aren’t they? They want ter Heal people, make ‘em better. Why wouldn’ they be happy Frank an’ Alice are better?"

Ginny shrugged. "I think they feel like Mrs. Letha is kind of taking over where they belong. Because she quit the Healer’s program so long ago, so she’s still only a trainee, really. I guess they’re mad because a trainee did what they couldn’t do." She grinned. "Except she didn’t, and she can’t tell them who really did."

Hagrid chuckled, watching what appeared to be three undersized yeti beating each other up. "They’d really be up in arms over that, wouldn’ they? Little bitty girl like Meghan, not even Hogwarts age yet, an’ she kin do somethin’ all the best Healers can’t..."

xXxXx

"What do you mean, you refuse to tell me?"

"I mean, Healer Young, that this is a matter of Healer-patient confidentiality. The patients have asked me not to divulge information about their treatment, and therefore I will not."

"You’re being deliberately obstructionist, Trainee Freeman-Black."

"No, sir, I’m merely respecting my patients’ wishes."

"It is the duty of every Healer to disseminate information, to facilitate the treatment of other cases like these the world over!"

"Sir, I’ve investigated. There are no other cases like these, at least not living ones."

Healer Young deflated abruptly. "Yes, and that’s what makes this attitude of yours so very remarkable — I would have thought you’d want your name in lights for this miracle you’ve seemingly worked, and instead, you refuse even to take proper credit for it, you don’t want anything exposed about it at all — one would think you hadn’t done anything!"

Aletha set her jaw against laughter and made a gracious, non-committal gesture.

"Well, they certainly do seem recovered." Healer Young heaved himself out of his seat. "I’m sure you’ll give them all the usual instructions, check-ups and taking care of their health and such, so here are their papers." He handed her a sheaf of parchment.

"Thank you, sir. And if any other cases like this ever do come along, I’ll be more than happy to do what I can to help."

"That’s very generous of you, Trainee." Aletha could hear rather heavy sarcasm in the voice, but also a measure of true meaning. "No need to get up, I’ll see myself out."

xXxXx

"He’s not a bad old windbag at that," Aletha told Sirius later that day. "Pompous, but well-meaning. And he really cares about his patients, and about healing in general."

"I suppose a certain amount of snobbery’s inevitable as you get higher in the ranks," mused Sirius. "Looking down at the young, eager, new faces and wondering, was I ever like that?"

"And not having the courage to say, yes, I was." Aletha smiled reminiscently. "Even though you know perfectly well that you were."

"And oh, I was." Sirius rubbed his forehead ruefully. "Frank and Alice are the two best cures for my ego I’ve ever met. They remember me as a wide-eyed apprentice, and then as a snot-nosed first year Auror, and all the stupid things I did — and they have no compunction whatsoever about telling these stories to anyone who will listen to them."

"And since several of the people who listen to them happen to live in our house..."

"Exactly."

"Personally, I thought the one about the peanut butter was very sweet."

Sirius made a face. "You would. That’s just one of those things I really didn’t want people to know about me."

"Of course, I know things you want people to know even less."

"Things like what I’ve been working on for the past four or five months."

"Yes, things like that."

"And you’re mentioning this, why?"

"Just to keep things in perspective, love. Frank and Alice can embarrass you with stories about the boy you used to be. I can embarrass you with stories about the man you are right now."

"Somehow I don’t think it’s my manhood you’re having issues with here."

"And how would you know if I have issues with your manhood?"

"Well, I don’t think you’d agree with me quite so vigorously if you did."

"Agree with you?"

"Yeah, you agree with me all the time at night. I could ask you just about anything I wanted to, and I think I know what the answer would be."

Aletha scowled at him. "Is there some school men go to where they all learn to be disgusting?"

Sirius shook his head, beaming. "Pure instinct."

"Well, instinctualize this." She got up, came around the table, leaned down, and gave him a definite biological cue.

Instead of answering verbally, Sirius reached up and pulled her down into his arms.

xXxXx

Elsewhere in the castle, a different couple sat together, talking about the same basic topic, but a very different part of it.

"So that’s the truth," said Danger, staring at the floor. "I’ll show you if you really want to see..."

"No need." Remus slid two fingers under her chin and lifted it up, meeting her eyes, then moved in for a brief kiss. "I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt me some to hear this," he said when they broke apart. "But you warned me about that. And I know it hurts you just as much to have these feelings. So neither of us can play the martyr here."

"Neither of us should, you mean." Danger sighed. "I was far too close to doing it myself."

"No, you were honestly expressing your feelings. You can’t be a martyr unless you have an audience."

"And I did my best to dissuade my audience."

"True, most people would have left pretty quickly after having fire shot at their heads."

"Of course, with Sirius’ thick skull, I don’t know if even a direct hit would have hurt him."

They both laughed.

"We’re going to have to find some way to deal with this," said Remus. "Something other than you trying to deny it, because it’s real, and a part of you. But this is probably not the best time to get into a problem this complicated."

Danger shook her head. "Not with everything else we have going. How about the end of this school year? We’ll have the summer off. Two months to talk it to death, get other opinions if we need them, find out if anything can be done. And if it can’t, I’ll just have to get my head straightened out and accept the fact that I can’t get my own way all the time."

"If I had my own way, you would," Remus told her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

Danger smiled. "I know. That’s what makes this a small problem instead of a big one." She put an arm around his neck and made further conversation aloud momentarily impossible.

Maybe love couldn’t solve everything, but it was awfully good at helping with most things.

xXxXx

The rest of the holidays passed quickly.

Frank Longbottom and Peeves had an encounter shortly before New Year’s, in which Peeves definitely came off worst. The entire Pride howled with laughter as Frank demonstrated the Peeves-in-a-box he’d made. It played "Pop Goes the Poltergeist" when you wound the crank, and the lid sprang open to display a very sullen Peeves, in his jester’s cap and bowtie, bobbing up and down at the end of a magical spring.

The next day, Frank and Alice took Neville to Diagon Alley to go shopping for all sorts of things, most especially a new wand for Neville, since he’d been using Frank’s.

"Mr. Ollivander looked kind of funny when it was this one," said Neville to the Pride, showing around eleven inches of cherry wood with a unicorn tail hair inside. "Said something about it being early days. I didn’t quite understand."

"I don’t think anyone understands him," said Harry. "He’s a bit creepy."

Neville had his own guitar as well now, and was spending an hour every day working on his chords and fingering. Meghan made up a salve to help his fingers develop calluses more quickly.

But the largest item the Longbottoms were interested in buying wasn’t sold at Diagon Alley. Not directly, at least.

xXxXx

"We’re not trying to snub you, Mum," said Frank patiently, having been over this ground at least three times already. "But you have your own life now, your own friends, your own routine. It would be rude of us to barge in and take it away from you."

"We’re not trying to stay away from you," Alice added. "Trust me, we’ll be over all the time. You’ll get tired of us and be glad you have somewhere to tell us to go."

Finally, Augusta Longbottom lost her rather dour expression and smiled. "I don’t think I could ever get tired of hearing your voice again, Alice dear," she said. "I can’t tell you how wonderful it is... well, of course, I have told you, many times. You’re sure about this?"

"Positive, Mum," said Frank. "It’ll be easier for everyone this way. Trust us."

"Very well, then." Augusta embraced her son and daughter-in-law. "You’ll let me know as soon as you’ve found something?"

"The very minute we make a decision, we’ll owl," Alice promised.

After Augusta was gone, the Longbottoms looked at each other and sighed in relief.

"That went better than I thought it would," Frank said, sitting down and patting the spot beside him.

"It took a while, but she came around," Alice agreed, sitting where he indicated and leaning into him. "So what do we do next?"

"Next, we look for possibilities. We can ask the Blacks, or the Lupins, they should both be aware of what’s going on in that neighborhood."

"Do you think we should tell Neville?"

"Not until we have a firm idea of what’s going on. Term starts again in about a week, and he’ll be here for three months, so it won’t matter much to him, anyway."

"I beg your pardon?" Alice sat up, looking indignant. "It won’t matter much to him? It will matter a great deal! A boy deserves to know where he’s going to call home, even if nothing’s been settled yet!"

"All right, all right." Frank raised his hands in surrender. "We’ll tell him. We’ll tell him."

Alice settled back down with an air of having been just barely mollified. "Won’t matter much to him, indeed," she grumbled.

"Your maternal side is showing, dear."

"Do you have a problem with that, Frank?"

"No, not at all. I just felt you ought to know about it."

"Is there anything else you feel I ought to know about?"

"I adore you and love you utterly?"

"I knew that already."

"So you don’t want me to tell you again?"

"Well, if you put it that way..."

xXxXx

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his desk chair and sighed. "I should have known," he said quietly. "It was too easy. He was too cooperative. I should have known."

Fawkes made a brief series of sounds in a scolding tone. Perhaps you should have, he seemed to say, but berating yourself does no good.

Dumbledore smiled at his friend. "It is true, no harm is done by this," he agreed. "And I have begun upon this project now, rather than later, so that setbacks like this one can be corrected without any great losses."

So, now I must think. How to go about obtaining what I truly want, without resorting to underhanded tricks or brute force?

The task would not be easy. But he had never really enjoyed easy tasks. The hard ones were what made life interesting.

xXxXx

The Pride, minus Hermione and Neville, sat in the Gryffindor common room, boys at one table, girls at another. The rest of the students would be back in two days, so they were taking advantage of this, their last quiet time, to get some homework done.

Harry wished Hermione was there, as his Arithmancy text seemed to be making less sense, not more, as he read through it. He almost wished he’d taken Divination instead — at least then, if he didn’t understand the assignment, he could make something up and get away with it.

"No, you don’t," said Ron when he voiced this wish aloud. "Trust me. Trelawney spends every lesson sighing over you as it is. If you were in the class, she’d never leave you alone. She thinks you’re going to die. You, too," he said to Draco, who was poring over a chart in his Ancient Runes textbook.

Draco grunted absently and went back to his work. Harry frowned. Even upside down and from across the table, the runes didn’t look like the ones Draco’d shown him earlier in the year. "Have you moved on in Ancient Runes?" he asked curiously.

"What? Oh — no, not really. I was just wondering if I could find out what the ones on my globe mean. They’re really high-level, though, complicated and all, and the more complex they get, the more meanings they have. So they could mean loads of different things..." He sighed, flipping more towards the front of the book. "Never mind. I’ll find out when I find out, and I’ve got homework."

The portrait hole opened. "Hullo, Neville," said Ron, looking up.

"Hi." Neville looked breathless and happy, Harry noticed.

"What’s going on?" asked Ginny, shutting her own textbook over at the girls’ table. "You look like something really good just happened."

"It did." Neville looked at the two groups, a grin breaking out on his face. "Dad just told me he and Mum are looking into buying a house. When I was a baby, they lived where Gran and I live now, but they don’t want her to feel like she has to leave, so they’re getting a different house."

"That’s nice," said Draco, looking a bit puzzled. "Do you not like your old house, then?"

Neville shook his head, his grin widening. "It’s where it is. The new house. It’s in Devon. Only about a mile from your village. We’re going to be neighbors!"

Cheers and glad whoops erupted from the tables.

xXxXx

Hermione sat alone in an empty classroom, staring out the window.

Behind her, the door creaked. She didn’t look around.

"I’ve been looking for you," said Danger’s voice. "May I come in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to be alone."

"What time is it?"

Automatically, Hermione checked her watch. "3:39."

"All right. I’m coming in, and I’m staying until 3:45. That’s only six minutes. Then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day, if that’s what you want. All right?"

"Fine." Hermione threw as much sullenness into the word as she could. She didn’t care what Danger thought of her right now.

The door closed. A chair grated on the stone floor as Danger sat down. "What’s wrong, Neenie love?"

"Nothing." Hermione bit the word off savagely. "And don’t call me that."

"What? Neenie, or love?"

"Either. Both. I’m sick of everyone thinking they can just do what they want! I’m sick of everyone ignoring me, and thinking life is just grand the way they like it! I hate stupid people, and I hate people who don’t understand!"

"Don’t understand what?"

"Everything!"

"Any stupid people in particular?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Yes, but I’m not telling."

"I wasn’t asking. Boys?"

Hermione snorted. "Yes. And no."

"Let me see. Yes and no. Not boys — a boy? One in particular?"

Hermione didn’t answer. Danger was too close.

"Yes. So which boy has been getting on your nerves? Not the one you keep nagging at, by any chance?"

Hermione’s hands tightened into fists. I hate her, I hate her, I hate when she does this — it’s like she can read my mind —

"The only reason I know is because I used to be just like this..."

"I don’t care!" Hermione shouted the word towards the ceiling. "You weren’t like this — nobody was — you don’t understand!"

"Oh, I see. Nobody else has ever been a teenager, or in love..."

"I am not in love!"

"Oh?"

"Love is stupid! It makes you do stupid things! I’m not in love, and I never will be!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Sure that you’re not even a tiny, itty-bitty, little bit—"

"YES!"

The shout echoed around the classroom for a moment. Then there was silence. It grew and thickened, pressing on Hermione, until she opened her mouth and let a small sound out, just to make it go away.

"No," said the small sound.

Danger sighed. Hermione heard the scraping of her chair again, and footsteps as her sister crossed the room to stand beside her. "Love is seldom comfortable at first," she said. "Especially if you don’t know if the other person returns it, or if he even knows you exist."

"He knows I exist. He just doesn’t care."

"You’re young yet. Give it time."

"I don’t want to!"

"I know. But I think you have to."

Hermione growled in frustration and pounded her fist against the stone windowsill. "He’s so stupid! And disgusting — I hate him sometimes. But it doesn’t change how I feel about him! I just wish..."

"You just wish he didn’t have all these annoying habits. That he was different. Don’t you?"

"Yes."

"Don’t." Surprised by Danger’s tone, Hermione looked up. For once, there was no humor in her sister’s face. "Don’t ever wish for someone you love to be different. If you do — if you say, ‘Oh, I’ll love him when he stops doing such and so that bothers me’ — then you don’t love a real person. You love somebody you’ve made up. That can be very nice, but it’s not what life is about."

"What life is about?" Hermione frowned. "I thought nobody knew that."

"No, we know. We just don’t want to admit it, because the answer’s so hard to take. Life is about other people, Hermione. About meeting them, and really getting to know them, and then liking them in spite of themselves, and in spite of yourself. A really good life is based around friendship and love, or around doing things so other people can have friendship and love. Everything else is either commentary or working for the other side." Danger shook her head, smiling. "And aren’t I philosophical today. I should write an inspirational book and make a million Galleons."

"Maybe you and Padfoot can write one together," Hermione suggested, feeling her bad mood beginning to depart. "And then it would be worth two million."

Danger laughed. "Maybe. Feeling better?"

"Yes. Some."

"Good. Will you please go a little easier on that boy, then? He’ll survive the occasional stomachache, and just maybe it’ll bring him to see that you’re trying to help him, not drive him up a wall."

"Yes, Danger."

"Now go do something silly and have some fun."

"Yes, Danger."

"And wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you."

"Yes, Danger." Hermione planted a very serious expression on her face and strutted out the door, nose in the air.

She was going to find the other girls. And they were going to prank the boys to within an inch of their lives.

xXxXx

Danger sat down on the windowsill. What have we done?

Are you asking in the strict sense, or metaphorically?

Actually, I was asking rhetorically.

Then you shouldn’t have asked at all.

Probably not. But I’m still amazed.

About what?

I’m not even sure. I suppose I never expected Hermione to turn out the way she has.

You mean moody?

Well, yes.

I think that’s a passing thing. Hormones and such.

Possibly. But I just never expected her to be so...

Human?

No... well, yes. Danger sighed. I guess I was secretly expecting her to be a good little angel who never gets angry or upset about anything. But I shouldn’t be. She’s a person. She’s as entitled to her own feelings as anyone.

I’m so glad you agree.

What — are you laughing at me?

Now would I do a thing like that?

Yes.

You’re right. I am.

Fine. You just stay right where you are, Remus Lupin, and I’ll come and find you and teach you why it’s a very bad idea to laugh at a Granger woman.

I’m so scared.

I’m bringing my dishtowel with me.

All right, now I am scared. Give me a head start?

I am, right now. Get running, I’ll find you.

Is that a threat or a promise?

Yes.

Oh, goody...

xXxXx

Hermione was lying on her bed reading when the door of her dorm opened. She looked up. "Colleen! Welcome back!"

"Thanks," said Colleen Lamb. "How was your holiday?"

"It was fine, how was yours?"

"All right. But something strange happened to me. I got a present I wasn’t expecting, and I don’t know what to think about it. Can I show it to you?"

Hermione nodded, sliding off her bed to come to Colleen’s side. Colleen pulled back her sleeve to display a bracelet she was wearing.

"Oh," breathed Hermione, her hand moving without her conscious decision to stroke the carved stone. "It’s lovely!"

"I know. But it’s strange, too. Look at it." Colleen slipped the bracelet off and handed it to Hermione.

"It’s — it’s a snake," said Hermione in confusion, turning it over in her hands. "No, it’s two snakes, look — this one’s a lighter green than that one. And they’re biting each other’s tails..." She frowned. "That’s a symbol of something. Stability, I think. Or balance, like a yin-yang. This is really beautiful, Colleen. Who sent it to you?"

"That’s the problem. I don’t know."

"You don’t know?"

"The card that came with it just said, ‘From a friend.’"

Hermione shook her head. "That is strange. But as long as there’s nothing wrong with it..."

"My parents checked it. There’s no curses on it, or anything like that. Who would want to hurt me, anyway?"

"Good question. So I guess it’s just someone trying to be mysterious."

"I guess so." Colleen replaced the bracelet on her wrist. "Has there been a lot of snow here?"

xXxXx

"Harry!"

Harry looked up from the final sentences of a Potions essay. "Hello, Wood."

"Just got in," said Wood, shaking snow off his cloak. "How was your holiday?"

"Fine, thanks." Harry chose to omit the part about all the furniture in the boys’ dorm suddenly starting to sing Christmas carols loudly and off key two nights ago at midnight. "Yours?"

"Great, just great — Harry, listen. I don’t want to be pushy, but have you found any way to keep the dementors off your back? I mean, you’re the best Seeker I’ve ever seen, I really don’t want to replace you, but if you’re going to.. well..."

"I think I should be all right," said Harry, crossing his fingers under the table. "Professor Lupin’s going to start teaching me how to repel them as soon as he has time. Our first lesson is this week." It wasn’t, but Harry was sure it would be as soon as he reminded Moony about his promise.

"Well, that’s good." Wood looked very relieved. "Now, about your broomstick — have you ordered one yet?"

Harry shook his head.

Wood looked puzzled. "Why not?"

Harry gave in to his impulse to tease his captain. "Do you have a second?"

"Of course, why?"

"Come up to my dorm," said Harry, putting his book aside. "I’ve got something to show you."

xXxXx

About a minute after Harry and Wood had disappeared up the stairs, there was a loud shout from the direction of the third year boys’ dormitory, followed by a great deal of jubilant whooping.

Ron coughed into his hand, making a sound very like "Show-off."

"Give him a break," said Draco. "He doesn’t do it often."

xXxXx

"Oh, that’s right, I did say I’d teach you that." Moony looked momentarily flummoxed, then shook it off. "I’ll find the time. How about eight o’clock Thursday evening, or is Wood taking all your time with Quidditch practice yet?"

"I’ll be there," said Harry. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just your wand, and yourself. The History of Magic classroom, I think, you’ll need some room to do this." Moony frowned. "But how we’re going to get good test conditions is another thing. We can’t exactly bring a dementor into the castle."

"Can’t I learn it without one?" asked Harry, a little dismayed to hear that dementors would be part of the learning, though he shouldn’t have been, he told himself. If it was an anti-dementor charm, then the only way to see if it was effective was to test it against a dementor.

"You can learn it, of course, but you can’t see if it will really work. And a false sense of security won’t help you any. I wonder..." Moony drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. "Harry, I know you don’t like dementors. Would you say they scare you?"

"Yes."

"Quite a lot?"

"Yes."

"Then I think I may have an answer. I assumed you couldn’t face the boggart in class because it would turn into Voldemort — but do you think it might have turned into a dementor instead?"

Struck, Harry thought about this. "It might," he said. "Both times I faced Voldemort that I can remember, I had something I had to do, or someone I had to protect. I didn’t have a lot of time to be scared. But when I was near the dementors, I didn’t know what to do, or if I even could do anything. I hated it. I think I even hated it worse than facing Voldemort."

"That settles it." Moony nodded firmly. "I’ll find a boggart. A boggart-dementor ought to have the same effect that a real one would, but I’ll be able to face it down if it gets out of hand. History of Magic classroom, eight o’clock Thursday."

"I’ll be there." Harry got up to leave, then thought of a question he’d wanted to ask. "Moony?"

"Yes?"

"What’s your boggart?"

"Harry, I thought I heard voices," said Danger, coming through the door of the private quarters into the office. "How long have you been here?"

Moony looked at her, then at Harry, and gave him a slight nod.

"Er, I was just leaving," said Harry, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Oh, well, sure, run away on my account," said Danger, sounding confused. "Did I say something?"

"No." On impulse, Harry went over and gave her a hug. "I just have to get back to the Tower before curfew."

"If Filch makes trouble for you, send him to us," Danger called after him.

"I will. Good night." Harry made tracks up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t believe how idiotic he’d been.

I should have known that. Nothing could possibly scare Moony more than seeing Danger hurt. He even hates it when she’s sick. I guess, because they’re connected like they are, he can feel it too, so it actually hurts him when she’s hurt...

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Ear defenders," said Harry, and climbed through into a noisy common room.

xXxXx

As Hagrid had promised, he had salamanders for them to study in the new term, and the Care of Magical Creatures class took turns collecting dry wood from the edges of the Forest and looking at the fire-dwelling lizards. Danger was there as well, because, as Hagrid told the class with a straight face, "she does a better fire-protection charm than I do." Harry, Hermione, and Draco took their turns stroking the salamander Danger held out to them without cracking a smile, though it was a near thing in Hermione’s case.

Snape seemed just a trifle less hostile than usual in the term’s first Potions class, making it all the way through the lesson without deducting more than five points from Gryffindor. Harry was puzzled by this, but let it slide. It wasn’t as if he was eager for Snape to return to form, after all.

Neville got some interesting results with his new wand in Charms and Transfiguration, but Professor Flitwick was able to get the warts off Seamus, and Professor McGonagall turned the wall back into stone from strawberry ice cream, as Ron complained, "before I could even get a decent taste."

And on Thursday, at eight o’clock, Harry arrived at the History of Magic classroom, wand in hand and heart in throat, making it hard to breathe or swallow. Moony was already there, with a large packing case. "One boggart," he said. "I found it in Filch’s filing cabinet. He was quite happy to be rid of it."

"I’m sure." Harry coughed into his hand, praying Moony hadn’t noticed how close his voice had just come to cracking.

"It’s all right to be frightened, Harry," Moony said quietly. "That’s what this is about, is moving past fear. You have to acknowledge it’s there before you can move on."

There are days I wish they weren’t so bloody understanding. Harry nodded.

"All right. This is the incantation. Expecto patronum."

"Expecto patronum," Harry repeated.

"Good. But just the incantation doesn’t do anything. You have to be thinking very hard about a happy memory, a time and place and moment when you were extremely happy. That memory conjures the Patronus, the protector. It’s made of all the things dementors take from us — hope and happiness and the like — so it makes a target of itself, drawing the dementors away from you. Understand?"

"I think so. I have to pick out a happy memory and think about it hard, and then say the incantation, and that makes the Patronus?"

"Basically. There’s a lot more to it, but you’re not much for magical theory."

Harry shook his head emphatically. "No."

"Let’s get to it, then. Think of a good memory, one of the best moments of your life."

Harry scowled. "I hate it when you do this."

"Do what?"

"Put me on the spot like this. Now I can’t think of anything."

"Nothing at all?" Moony’s tone was teasing.

"Stop it." Harry closed his eyes and thought back. His life had been happy enough — surely he shouldn’t have trouble finding a really good memory to use?

Flying the Firebolt for the first time, he decided. That should work.

"Got one," he said, opening his eyes.

"All right. Let’s have a dry run first. Think about your memory, and say the incantation."

Harry shut his eyes again and concentrated hard on the feeling of absolute freedom the Firebolt gave him. The ability to go as fast as he wanted, spin and roll and dive, shoot back and forth through obstacles without a halt...

"Expecto patronum," he said quietly, still on the Firebolt in his mind. "Expecto patronum... expecto patronum..."

A quiet exclamation from Moony made him open his eyes. A wavering silver shape hung in the air, but dissipated before Harry could see what it was. "Did you see..." he began to ask.

Moony shook his head regretfully. "I’m sorry, I didn’t. Maybe next time. Now that you know you can, shall we give it a try with our friend here?" He tapped the packing case.

Harry wanted to say no, but remembering the Firebolt, and that if he didn’t get his dementor problem under control he might not be able to play in the next match, he nodded.

"Get ready, then." Moony flipped open the latches of the packing case.

Harry tried to think about his Firebolt, but another set of thoughts was creeping in. What had he heard, that night on the train? And that day at the Quidditch match? What was the worst memory of his life, the moment the dementors made him relive? Or was it just one moment? Draco had said he’d heard different things. Did there necessarily have to be just one worst moment of a person’s life?

Moony lifted the lid of the packing case. A hooded, black figure rose from within, shrouded face pointed towards Harry. The classroom was suddenly much darker as the lamps all went out. Harry felt a momentary surge of panic — should a boggart-dementor have that effect? — but he forced it down and thought about his broom. "Expecto patronum!"

Nothing happened. He was starting to shake from the cold, the dementor was gliding toward him, one decayed hand outstretched...

"Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"

Still nothing, and now darkness was creeping over his vision, and he was beginning to hear voices, two voices, one shrill and despairing, and the other cold and unfeeling...

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry..."

"Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead..."

A cruel laugh, and a woman screaming, screaming, and Harry felt himself begin to fall...

"Harry!"

He jerked awake. He was lying on the floor of the classroom, the lamps once more alight, the packing case closed. Moony was leaning over him, looking concerned. "Are you all right?"

"It was my mum," he whispered.

"I’m sorry?"

"I know what I heard." Harry tried to push himself up, but his wrists were still wobbly. Moony slid an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up. "I know what I hear when they get too close. It’s my mum — and him — Voldemort..."

To his horror, a tear leaked out of his eye and started making its way down his cheek. Moony handed him a Chocolate Frog and a tissue. "Eat this," he said. "Not the tissue, that’s not good for you... though you did go through a stage as a baby where you thought paper was delicious, all your old books have teethmarks at the corners..."

Harry managed a shaky laugh, and took a bite of the Frog while wiping his cheeks as best he could with his left hand. "I want to try again," he said as soon as he’d swallowed. "I know I can do it, I just have to try harder."

"May I make a suggestion?"

Harry nodded, taking another bite of Frog.

"You might want to try another memory. Something happier. If I may ask, what were you using?"

"Riding my Firebolt."

"Not bad — especially considering how I know you feel about flying — but, it seems, not good enough. Can you think of anything else?"

Harry considered for a moment or two. "I think so."

"And you’re sure you want to go on?"

"I’m not a quitter," said Harry indignantly, stuffing the rest of the Frog into his mouth.

"I didn’t say you were — there’s no shame in refusing to fight an opponent who has you outmatched, Harry..."

Harry snorted. "No raggedy-arsed dementor has me outmatched."

Moony’s eyebrows flew up. "I won’t insult your intelligence by asking you where you learned that phrase," he said. "But I will ask you not to use it in front of either Danger or Letha, unless you want to see your godfather hung out to dry on a broomstick."

"Now that could be a memory I could use..." Harry said thoughtfully.

Moony groaned. "I knew it was a mistake to raise Marauders," he said to the ceiling. He paused, as he often did when Danger was making a comment, then shook his head. "Never mind. Are you ready?"

Harry scrambled to his feet, bringing up the memory of the end of last year, of seeing Padfoot and Hermione awake again, of making friends with Sangre and defeating Tom Riddle’s diary with her help and Ginny’s... "Ready."

Moony pulled the lid open. The boggart-dementor rose from within, its breath rattling in its throat — the room went dark and icy cold again —

"Expecto patronum!" Harry yelled. "Expecto patronum! Expecto—"

Darkness crept across his eyes, then a white fog, with huge, blurry shapes moving all around him — and a voice, a new one, a man’s this time —

"Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off—"

A sudden lurch, and the darkness was back, with two voices screaming in it, a child and a woman —

"Dayger, Dayger!"

"Shut up, you miserable brat, shut up! She’s not coming back, now be quiet! No one here has time for you—"

"Harry, wake up..."

Harry’s eyes shot open. He was shaking all over. "I heard my dad," he whispered. "And — something else..."

"Something else?" Moony asked quietly, handing him another Chocolate Frog.

"I think... I think it was me." Harry stared at the Frog before tearing the wrapper off. "Moony, is Danger busy?"

"Not terribly. Why?"

"Can she come down for a second?"

"Of course."

Harry stiffened in shock. Danger’s voice had just come out of Moony’s mouth.

Moony was controlling himself well, but Harry could tell he wanted to laugh. "I’m sorry," he said. "That wasn’t nice of her at all. She’s on her way."

Harry muttered another phrase he’d learned from Padfoot and crammed half the Chocolate Frog into his mouth.

About a minute later, someone knocked at the door, and Moony opened it with his wand to admit Danger. She crossed the room and sat down beside Harry, hugging him without waiting to be asked. Harry hugged her back, hard and without shame. No one was here to see him.

The voice rang in his head again. "No one here has time for you..."

"I think I heard my aunt," he said very quietly, as Moony moved to sit behind him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "When she shut me up in the cupboard, before you came to get me from her house, when I was a baby. I think I heard what she said to me, and what I said." He pulled away a little to look at Danger. "I wanted you."

Danger smiled a little at him. "I suppose I should be obscurely flattered that I figure in your worst memory," she said. "Though I think it’s an honor I’d be happier to refuse. Just remember, Harry, the dementors are telling you the beginning of the story, but you know the ending. Bad things have happened in your life, but so have good ones."

"What were you using that time?" Moony asked. "Which memory?"

"Last year, after everything came out all right."

"Better, but still not enough. You need something life-changing, something as good as your worst memory is bad."

Harry looked at the floor. "Is there anything like that?" he asked quietly.

"There must be," said Danger with quiet confidence. "Or if there isn’t, we’ll have to get to work right away on making sure there is."

Harry bit the rest of his Frog in half and put both halves in his mouth at once, feeling his confidence rise again.

Of course I have good enough memories. My whole life has been good. And it’s because of Moony and Danger that it’s that way — and because of Padfoot and Letha, and Neenie and Meghan and Draco — and Ron and Ginny, and Luna and Neville —

I have a million good memories. I just need to pick the best one.

And suddenly he knew which one it would be.

"Ready for another go," he said, standing up.

"You’re sure?" Moony looked doubtful.

Harry nodded. "I’ll just get nervous if I wait."

Danger kissed him on the head. "Good luck, Greeneyes. Pardon me." She transformed into the wolf and loped over to the back wall, where she sat down to watch. Moony muttered something which Harry pretended not to hear, but which sounded a lot like "Sirius will kill me for this," then went over to the packing case.

"Wand ready?"

Harry lifted it.

"Memory ready?"

He nodded.

Moony hoisted up the lid of the case. The black figure loomed out of it, the lamps died —

Harry summoned the memory of the day of Padfoot’s trial, the moment Dumbledore had told the Pack-parents they were free to go, that their years-long charade was over. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he shouted. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The dementor’s approach to him slowed, then stopped — Harry concentrated harder on the joy of that moment, on seeing Padfoot’s face as he leapt out of the chained chair to run to the cubs and pull them all into a hug — he could hear the screaming in his head, but he was trying to ignore it, and funnily enough, the more he ignored it, the quieter it got —

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

His legs were starting to shake, his breath to come quicker, but he was still upright — and then, without warning, a cloud of silver mist billowed from his wand and hung in the air between him and the dementor —

"Riddikulus!" shouted Moony, interposing himself between Harry and the boggart, which fell to the floor in two pieces — Harry winced as he saw it was Danger, her body and her head lying nearly a foot apart —

"Oh, that’s an easy one," said a scornful voice from behind him. Danger had returned to human form, and was standing with her hands on her hips. "Show him, Remus."

"Riddikulus," Moony repeated, and Danger’s severed head began to sing.

"I ain’t got nobo-o-o-dy..."

Harry fell into a chair, laughing, as the boggart turned into a sort of mist and vanished into the packing case, which slammed shut behind it. "That’s disgusting," he said, still laughing.

"Don’t criticize what works," said Danger as Moony handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ chocolate with walnuts, his favorite kind. "Got any peanut butter in there?"

Moony made a face. "I wanted that one."

"Can we share?"

"If you insist." Moony took out the peanut butter bar, snapped a tiny corner off, and handed it to Danger. "The rest is for me."

"Just remember, I know where you live."

"You live where I live."

"Oh. Right."

Moony shook his head as he broke the peanut butter bar in half. "Do you understand her?" he asked Harry.

"Not my job," said Harry with his mouth full.

Danger grinned. "Truer words were never spoken."

xXxXx

In the dorm, Draco sat on his bed, reading his Charms text.

His right hand stroked the runes on the glass globe set on the nightstand.

  • Previous
  • Next