Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7303978.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Harry_Potter, Ron_Weasley/Blaise_Zabini, Sirius_Black/Remus
      Lupin, Oliver_Wood/_George_Weasley
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Draco_Malfoy, James_Potter, Remus_Lupin, Sirius_Black,
      Blaise_Zabini, Ron_Weasley, Oliver_Wood, George_Weasley, Fred_Weasley,
      Hermione_Granger
  Additional Tags:
      Post_Mpreg, Mpreg, Bottom_Harry, Top_Draco_Malfoy, Masturbation, Coming
      Out, Cute_Harry, Feel-good, Multiple_Orgasms, Third_Year_sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-26 Completed: 2016-09-25 Chapters: 18/18 Words: 102830
****** The Shattered Family ******
by Madriddler
Summary
     James Potter survives the night Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow.
     Mourning over Lily's death, James raises Harry to be the best he can
     be, setting goals that Harry must meet. At 13, Harry Potter starts to
     stray from his father's goals as he struggles with his sexuality. How
     will his father react to the news his own son is gay? Will it bring
     them closer or tear them apart? And will it bring back feelings
     locked inside long ago? DM/HP BZ/RW SB/RL OW/GW
Notes
     Hello! This fic is my first one on this site, and is originally from
     FanFiction! Both are works in progress, and will be updated
     simultaneously. Hope you all have a great day, and thanks for
     reading!
***** Fated Night *****
                             The Shattered Family
                                   Chapter 1
                                  Fated Night
James Potter relaxed in his armchair. Lily relaxed in the sofa and both watched
as their one year old baby Harry sitting up on his toy broomstick his godfather
Sirius gave him. James laughed as he watched Harry starting to chase their cat,
the broomstick only a foot above the ground as he did so. Harry babbled and
squealed as he chase the cat, Lily watch intently while James chuckled.
“He’s going to be a great Quidditch player one day, I just know it,” James
said.
“Just make sure he doesn’t hurt himself,” Lily said as she stood up to follow
Harry and their cat. “Last time he rode that he destroyed my sister’s ugly
vase.”
James just laughed more. “Don’t worry, Lily, he’ll be fine.” He stood up and
pocketed his wand. They have been at Godric’s Hollow for almost six days by
now. With the Dark Lord apparently looking for them, the Potters needed a place
to hide. Dumbledore had found the small house for them and placed the Fidelius
Charm that protected the house. Lily and James wanted at first to make their
best friend Sirius Black their secret keeper, but Sirius told James that the
move would be obvious, so James and Lily chose their friend Peter Pettigrew
instead.
James looked around and had to admit to himself that he was growing to like the
small house, it had a comforting, cozy feeling that he found comforting. “I got
it Lily! When he’s older, I’m going to teach Harry how to be an Animagus like
his old man,” he said as he stood next to his wife. He smiled at her, “James
and Harry! The father-son unregistered Animagi who will roam all over the
place!”
Lily just rolled her eyes and shook her head. “A Quidditch player, an Auror,
and an Animagus? Boy James, you have a lot planned for our Harry,” she
chuckled.
“Well, he is going to be the best at everything he tries, I can feel it! And
that’s what we want yeah? The best for Harry?” James asked.
Lily nodded and rested her head on his shoulders. “I just want him to be happy.
…Think Dumbledore will defeat him?”
“Who?”
“You-Know-Who,” Lily said.
“Of course he will Lily, we have nothing to worry about,” James said. Lily
chuckled and shook her head. “Guess you’re right.”
There was a loud screeching sound and Lily’s head immediately snapped towards
Harry, who almost ran over the cat. “Harry!” she said, rushing towards their
baby and picking him up. “That’s the second time Harry,” she scolded him. Harry
just looked up at her. Lily sighed and shook her head. “Just be careful Harry,
alright?”
Harry just smiled up at his mother before babbling again. Lily and James both
laughed. “We should bring you to bed soon mister,” she said as she started
towards the stairs.
“Alright, I’ll be down here,” James said. He took out his wand and started to
twirl it. He sat down back in his armchair and waited for his wife. He barely
sat down when there was a deafening blasting sound, like a cannon going off,
and the front door blasted open, destroyed.
“LILY!” James yelled, jumping to his feet and running towards the front door,
his wand out. There stood a hooded man in the doorway. In his hand was a wand
as he stood calmly there. “Lilly! It’s him! Grab Harry and run!” James asked.
“Avada Kedavra!” The Dark Lord said, his wand pointed at James Potter. James
casted a Shield Charm and moved out of the way at the same time. The Killing
Curse easily broke through the Shield Charm, but missed James, instead causing
a force that pushed James away, his body landing limp on the ground, his head
hitting the table.
Satisfied that the man is dead, Lord Voldemort slowly moved towards the stairs
and climbed them. He could hear the boy, who was crying behind a locked door,
and the hushed whisperings of the girl trying to comfort him. He stood in front
of the door and pointed his wand at it. The door blasted off if its handles and
the girl screamed. She stood in front of the boy, sitting in his crib. “Move
aside girl,” Lord Voldemort said.
“Never,” the girl said. “You’ll never take my baby.”
“Move aside you silly girl, you don’t need to die…” Voldemort said.
“You will never get Harry!”
“Stupid girl.” Voldemort said. He pointed his wand at Lily and said, “Avada
Kedavra!”
“Harry!” the girl yelled as she died, her body falling in front of the crib,
Voldemort’s wand following.
Satisfied he can now destroy the only thing able to kill him, Voldemort
silently stepped towards the babe, taking great pleasure with every step he
took. The babe did not cry or scream, instead he just stared up at Voldemort as
the Dark Lord pointed his wand at him. “Avada Kedavra!” he yelled. The Killing
Curse barely erupted from his wand when something happened, instead of killing
the child, the Curse seemed to reflect from the baby and hit the caster
instead. The spell caused the room to be destroyed as the Dark Lord’s corporal
form obliterated.
Harry started to cry, great pain on his forehead as the lightning bolt scar
appeared on his forehead. The baby looked up, tears in his eyes as he watched
as a phantom seem to rise from the body. “Harry!” a familiar voice yelled.
Harry just watched the phantom which seemed to be disappearing before him as
his father ran up the stairs. James Potter appeared, alive and bruised, his
wand in his hand. “Harry!” he screamed again. “Harry—oh thank god Harry you’re
safe!” He cried when he saw that his son was safe. He looked around for
Voldemort. The destroyed room was empty, the only bodies being in there being
the alive Harry Potter and James Potter, and the corpse of Lily Potter. When
his eyes fell upon Lily, James felt as if his heart was pulled out of him.
“Lily—oh god Lily! Please don’t be dead! Lily! Lily! Lily!” James yelled as he
ran towards Lily’s body. He fell to his knees and pulled up Lily’s body. “Lily!
Oh god!” he cried, bending over his dead wife’s body as tears fell from his
eyes. He cradled the body as he grieved, not able to comprehend that his best
friend is gone.
A second cry startled his attention, and James looked around to see Harry
crying as well. “Harry…” he said softly as he gently laid his wife’s body on
the ground and stood up. He picked up his son and held him in his arms, hushing
him as he bounced on the soles of his feet gently. “Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh,
it’s okay Harry,” he said, tears still in his eyes. “Everything is going to be
okay. We’re going to be okay. You’re going to grow up and be the best man you
will be. You’ll go to Hogwarts… get into the best house, make great friends…
join the Quidditch team and be the star player… it’ll be the best Harry.”
“’Ello! Is anyone alive!” Hagrid’s booming voice yelled from downstairs. James
held Harry close as he yelled, “Hagrid! Is that you?”
“Professor Dumbledore! James’ is safe!” Hagrid yelled. James started to move
from the nursery, but stopped at the doorway, looking back at the body of his
wife.
“James? Lily?” Dumbledore’s voice asked calmly. “James are you there?”
“I’m here Professor Dumbledore,” James said, unable to move. “Harry’s safe but
Lily—oh god Lily…”
Footsteps could be heard as Dumbledore hurried up the stairs, followed by
Hagrid. Dumbledore turned the corner and walked up to James. “What happened?”
he asked. “The alarms went off in my office, are you two okay? Where is Lily?”
James could not talk. He shook his head and finally moved away from the
doorframe, allowing Dumbledore to see Lily’s body. Dumbledore frowned and
walked to examine the body. Hagrid bounded up the stairs and caught up.
“There’s no one around Professor,” he said. Dumbledore, who was bent over
Lily’s body, just nodded as he waved his wand over her. Hagrid’s eyes fell upon
Lily’s corpse and he gave a wailing, harsh sound.
“Hagrid—hey Hagrid, it’s okay…” James said, trying to believe what he was
saying. “Stop crying, you’re going to wake Harry.”
Hagrid looked down and noticed Harry in James’s arms. “Sorry…” he sniffed.
Dumbledore closed Lily’s eyes and stood up. He walked to James and asked, “Do
you remember what happened?”
James nodded. “Yeah… I think so…”
“Can you tell me?” Dumbledore asked. “I know it is hard, but please, I need to
know what has happened tonight.”
“You-Know-Who… he came, he came in and attacked me. He tried to kill me, but I
casted a Shield Charm and moved me out of the way. I was knocked unconscious
and next thing I knew my wife is dead, my son scarred and he is gone!”
Dumbledore nodded. “May I…” he said, indicating to Harry. “I just want to look
at him.”
James nodded and held out Harry for Dumbledore. Dumbledore examined the boy,
his eyes fixed on the lightning-bolt scar. He nodded grimly. “I see… James, I
have a theory, if you would like to hear it.”
“Yes! Please, I need to know why that madman killed my wife!” James said
roughly. Dumbledore nodded.
“To begin, we must remember the prophecy I have told you about, the one that
states the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord is coming. Voldemort was
not after you or your wife, but rather your son,” Dumbledore said in a calm,
grandfatherly voice.
“Harry? But he couldn’t be the one—“
“The evidence is there,” Dumbledore said. “One must simply look at his
forehead. The scar. Voldemort has marked Harry here as his equal.”
“But why is my wife dead and son not?” James demanded.
“Lily must have sacrificed herself to save Harry, just as you were ready to,”
Dumbledore said. James nodded, knowing that he would gladly sacrifice himself
for his son. “Her sacrificed has given Harry a powerful protection that
Voldemort never knew. He has never felt or knew what love is. Lily’s love for
Harry, a special love between mother and son, must have protected Harry from
Voldemort’s killing curse. I suspect that the effect caused Voldemort to simply
be… obliterated.”
“So you mean… Voldemort is gone?” James asked.
“It appears so,” Dumbledore said. “But right now, what is important is getting
Harry safe… and finding out how Voldemort learned of this place.”
James nodded. “Peter… he is the only one who knew! Oh god… please don’t tell
me—“
“It appears so,” Dumbledore said grimly. “Peter Pettigrew must have told Lord
Voldemort of Godric Hollow. … I am sorry James.”
“That bastard!” James yelled, waking Harry. “I’ll kill him! That slimy fucking
bastard—“
“James Potter!” Dumbledore said sternly. “Calm yourself! You have woken Harry.”
James looked down and frowned. He started rocking him. “We will deal with Peter
later, right now we need to move you and Harry out of here. Do you have
anywhere to go?”
“Yeah… we’ll go live at my old house, it’s not a manor… but it’ll do,” James
said.
Dumbledore nodded, “Then that is where you’ll go. Hagrid will take you there, I
will inform Sirius about what has happened.”
“Thank you Professor… but what about Lily’s body?” he asked.
“She will have a proper burial, don’t you worry. Now, let us get Harry safe.”
Dumbledore said. James nodded and followed Dumbledore out of the cottage that
has been Harry’s only home. He frowned when he noticed that Harry’s toy
broomstick was broken, and Lily’s cat has gone missing. Outside the destroyed
cottage he looked down at Harry and smiled sadly. “You’re going to have a
wonderful life,” he whispered to his sleeping son. “You’ll become a Gryffindor…
have great friends… join the Quidditch team… find a nice girl and fall in love…
everything will be wonderful Harry. I’ll make sure of it.”
HARRY POTTER THE BOY WHO LIVED!
You-Know-Who has been defeated! And it is all thanks to a small child, Harry
Potter! Reports has stated that Harry Potter, barely nineteen months old, has
survived a direct attack from He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named! The babe, who lives
with his father who was knocked unconscious by You-Know-Who, has miraculously
survived being hit by the Unforgivable Curse. All that is left from the
encounter is a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, an image this reporter was
not able to photograph. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was nowhere to be seen,
presumed dead under the rubble. His father, James Potter, refuses any meetings
with his son, moving him to an unknown location. While James Potter can be seen
in public, only to do his job as an Auror, his son is never seen with him.
Potter refuses to respond to our questions why, but he assures us that The Boy
Who Lived is still alive, and that he wants to live in peace with his son. The
Daily Prophet has chosen to respect his wishes.
PETER PETTIGREW DISAPPEARED!
Peter Pettigrew, wanted for the accomplice of the murder of Lily Potter, has
disappeared. Nothing is known about the disappearance only that his small
cottage has been left empty, as if it was never there. Aurors reported to be
able to find one piece of evidence though, an index finger that has been
identified as Peter Pettigrew’s finger. More will come if new information
arise.
CURSED POSITION AT HOGWARTS?
For the second time in a row, Hogwarts is without a Defense Against the Dark
Arts teacher! It all began when Quirinus Quirrell was found dead two years ago
at the end of term. No one quite knows how had died, Aurors and School
officials stating that his heart had just quit. Next was the famous and lovable
author, Gilderoy Lockhart. Lockhart had taught for a full year until somehow
severely losing his memory and ending up in St. Mungo’s.
The School and School board puts down any claims to the cursed rumor. Lucius
Malfoy stating, “The only people who believe the position is cursed are clearly
mad. These are just two tragic coincidences that happened. Nothing more,
nothing less. To even spend time debating about it is ludicrous.” Is it
ludicrous for two teachers to become unable to teach the same subject back to
back? Only time will see as Hogwarts enters a new year soon, and I am sure
everyone’s best wishes are to the man who takes the job.
Harry Potter was thirteen years old. He had lived with his dad in their cottage
for all he can remember. His father had told him what happened to his mother,
and why wizards and witches will treat him like a celebrity. Despite the
celebrity idolization, Harry’s father had tried his best to make sure his son
never grew up in the spotlight, never letting anyone see him. It was just his
father and him until he turned eleven and got his letter to Hogwarts. From
there, his world opened up. He made friends, Hermione who is the brightest
witch he had ever known, and Ron, his best friend; got into Gryffindor, which
his father was very ecstatic about. When he learned about it, his father had
sent a long letter congratulating Harry and telling him that he knew Harry
would be a Gryffindor just like his mother and father. He even joined the
Quidditch team in his first year! A feat that has never been done before, but
made James all the prouder. “You’re growing right,” he told Harry countless
times. “You’re doing great Harry, I’m so proud of you.”
Harry smiled whenever James praised him. He worked hard to make his father
happy; everything he did was for his father. Even if he didn’t like some things
as much as he should. If he wanted to be honest with himself, Harry would admit
that though he liked Quidditch, he liked watching it more than actually playing
it. It wasn’t that he hated the sport… he just did not like the pressure
everybody puts on him to do well. Sometimes he felt that he doesn’t live up to
his father’s image simply by his body.
Where his father is tall and strong looking, Harry is short and delicate. His
knees are knobby and his limbs are skinny. No matter how much he eats or runs
or do anything, he always had a petite body size that girls called cute, but
some boys snicker at. His father says that he has the perfect Seeker body, but
that only made Harry frown. His eyes are large and doe-like, the exact image of
his mother’s eyes his father told him, but with everything else he looks
exactly like his father. They both have the same types of glasses, both have
unkempt, messy black hair, they both walked the same, talked the same. Harry
was in image, a miniature James Potter. Except… there were obvious differences
that Harry had, that he was scared to bring up, him not liking Quidditch being
one. The other… was that if he had to again be honest with himself, he doesn’t
mind snakes. Both the Slytherin kind and animal kind. His father told him to
hate snakes, as he said the man who murdered his mother was a Slytherin, so
Harry tried and made a rival ship with Draco Malfoy, which only made James even
happier.
“My son going up against Lucius’ spawn!” he wrote in one letter. “I love it!
Bout time someone teach those dirty Malfoys a lesson!”
Harry did not want to hate Draco Malfoy, he didn’t seem at all bad when they
first met. In fact, he reminded Harry a lot of himself as they both led
sheltered lives. He didn’t like Pansy Parkinson though, she kept calling
Hermione a “Mudblood” which only caused him to get angry. Draco also used that
word, but Harry figured a lot less.
“Harry, there you are! Why are you reading that Potions book?” James Potter
asked as he walked into his son’s room. Harry was buried in the book, quill in
one hand as he wrote his essay for Snape. He genuinely hated Snape.
“Homework dad,” Harry said. “Snape gave us an assignment, essay about Shrinking
Solutions. I’m almost done…”
“Alright, well I’ll be in my study if you need me,” James said. “Kingsley
wanted me to do the report about that guy we got two days ago. You know, the
one who tried to break into that witch’s house?” James sighed and shook his
head, “You’re going to hate the paperwork when you become an Auror, Harry, I
swear.” James chuckled to himself. Harry just nodded, focused on his work for
once. He enjoys potions, it calms him down when he can concentrate on what he
is doing, which is normally impossible with Snape breathing down his neck
looking for mistakes. “Well… you know where to find me,” James said.
“Yeah dad—hey dad, can you look over my Transfiguration essay?” Harry asked,
looking up from his essay. He massaged his cramped hand as he turned to his
father.
“Course I will,” James smiled. “You know I’m the best at Transfiguration! Just
don’t let Professor McGonagall hear that,” he chuckled. “Where is it?”
“Right there,” Harry said, pointing to a rolled up parchment on his bed. James
took it and left. Harry hoped that his father saw the permission slip to
Hogsmeade in there. During the entire summer vacation, Harry has tried to get
his father to sign it, but James kept refusing to. Tomorrow Harry is leaving
for Hogwarts, so really this is his last chance to get James to sign it or else
he cannot go to Hogsmeade with his friends.
Harry kept the permission slip in the back of his mind. If he needed to, he
could easily just steal his father’s Invisibility Cloak again. It was funny,
Harry’s dad still believes that it is always locked in a chest that is almost
impossible to get, but with a couple of Wingardium Leviosa’s and an Alohomora,
Harry can easily get the cloak out of the chest.
It took Harry almost an hour, but he finished Snape’s essay to satisfactory, he
had to write slow so Snape could not deduct points for his sloppy handwriting.
With the essay done, he set it on his desk for the ink to dry and left his room
to search for his dad.
The Potter’s house was moderate size, Two stories, the house resides on a side
of a hill in the countryside. The two bedrooms were on the second floor,
Harry’s filled with memorabilia from his friends and a couple of posters of his
favorite Quidditch team. Down the stairs was an open air flow between the
rooms, as no doors stood in the way from kitchen, to living room, to the small
laundry room in the corner, and dining room, which was a considered an
extension of the kitchen. James Potter’s study was right next to his bedroom,
and where he hides the chest containing the Invisibility Cloak.
Harry knocked on the door and opened it slowly. He walked in to find his dad
sitting at his desk. His Transfiguration essay was rolled up, and in his hand
was the permission form for Hogsmeade. “Trying to trick me Harry?” James asked
when Harry walked in. “I told you once, I’ve told you many times… I will not
allow you to go to Hogsmeade.”
“But all my friends will be able to go there!” Harry said, getting frustrated
with his father. “Why can’t I?”
“Because Harry, it is dangerous!” James said.
“That is what you always say!” Harry yelled.
“Do not yell at me Harry, I am your father!”
“Then tell me why I can’t go to Hogsmeade!” Harry yelled back.
“Because you’ll be attacked! At Hogwarts you are safe, even though you are
surrounded by Death Eater spawn! Dumbledore is there and he makes sure nothing
happens. But there—Hogsmeade—you are defenseless!” James yelled.
“I am not defenseless! I am not a little child!” Harry yelled, both men’s anger
and frustration increasing as the argument went on. “And they will not attack
me! Just because they are Slytherins doesn’t mean that—“ Harry stopped, not
wanting to finish his thought.
“That what Harry?” James demanded.
“Nevermind,” Harry said, turning to leave. James flicked his wand and the door
closed and locked itself.
“Finish your thought Harry,” James said. Harry said nothing, instead staring
stubbornly at his father’s desk. “Harry,” James warned.
“Just because they’re Slytherins…” Harry said slowly, never adverting his eyes
from the desk, “doesn’t mean that they’ll try to kill me.”
“Kill you!” James roared, completely outraged. “Listen to yourself Harry, you
are showing how nieve you are!” James moved from his desk and quickly stepped
in front of his son. He placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and took several
deep breaths, calming himself down. “Harry… remember what I told you,” he said
in a more calming voice. “The world is cruel, the world is wicked. It’s I alone
who you can trust! I am your father. … I’ve kept you, taught you, fed you,
dressed you. I protected you from every type of evil there is in this world.
How can I protect you Harry unless you stay where it is safe?”
Harry said nothing, he just stared down at his shoes. James sighed and shook
his head. “Harry please… listen to reason. Death Eaters are still out there,
and they’ll always will. I will not lose you Harry.” Harry continued to stay
silent. Somewhere inside him, he wondered why he was acting the way he was. He
never once yelled or acted against his father. He knew that James was always
worried for his wellbeing and safety, especially since the Dark Lord killed his
mother and tried to kill him. James had tried his best to keep Harry safe by
limiting his interaction with the Wizarding World, but now… now Harry wants to
explore the world, explore himself, and going to Hogsmeade was the first step
of doing so.
James sighed in frustration and returned to his desk. He picked up the
permission form and shook his head. “Sorry Harry,” he said as he ripped it up.
“This is for your own good.”
Harry just watched as his father ripped the permission form up, powerless to
stop him. James looked very saddened when he threw the pieces of the form in
the trash. It broke his heart to destroy Harry’s wish, but it will be for the
better. James picked up Harry’s essay, “Hey Harry… your essay was great by the
way, Professor McGonagall will love it,” he smiled. “How about after you pack
your things, we go out and play some one-on-one huh?”
“No thanks,” Harry said, taking the essay from his father. “I’m… a little
tired.”
“Oh, alright,” James said frowning slightly. “Well… that’s fine…”
Harry just left his father’s study and returned to his room. Why was he so
angry? His father just wanted to protect him but… he did not have to rip the
permission form. Harry rolled his essay up and started packing. Twelve years
his father had protected him, at least that is what James have told him. The
world is filled with Death Eaters still angry that he killed The Dark Lord, and
his dad is just trying his best to make sure Harry is never harmed. But, there
are no Death Eaters in Hogwarts, and there certainly isn’t any in Hogsmeade.
The Slytherins are nothing to worry about, sure some of them are children of
accused Death Eaters like Draco Malfoy, but the only harm Draco has given him
were nothing more than bumps and bruises during Quidditch matches. He didn’t
outright seek to kill him!
Harry did not leave him room for the rest of the day. He waited until his
father was fast asleep and crept into his father’s study. He stole the
Invisibility Cloak and turned to leave. But as he walked past his father’s
desk, his eyes fell upon a picture of his mother. The picture was taken the day
Peter Pettigrew became their Secret-Keeper. James told Harry the story multiple
times, of how they had trusted a map they thought was their friend, but he
seemed to betray them the second he could. He remembered when he was young, his
father used to spend countless nights searching for the traitor. He couldn’t
find him no matter how hard he looked. Every night James would come back sad,
and Harry did his best to cheer his father up, and before he went to bed, James
would tell Harry a story about his mother. “I wish you were here…” Harry said
to the picture. “You would have understood.”
***** Family Reunion *****
                                   Chapter 2
                                Family Reunion
Both Potters were silent as they traveled to Platform nine and three quarters.
James decided to floo there directly, and asked if Harry wanted him to hold
onto any of his belongings. Harry just nodded and dropped the trunk in front of
James as he went out and search for their cat to say goodbye. His mother loved
cats, so James decided to get Harry a cat for his fifth birthday. Harry loved
it, and James as well as the cat kept him company at home when Harry was at
Hogwarts.
Harry went first after he said his goodbyes to his cat, making sure he had
Hedwig nicely locked in her cage. She was a gift from Hagrid who accompanied
James and Harry on Harry’s first trip to Diagon Alley. He threw the powder into
the fire, which blazed a light green, and said clearly, “Platform Nine and
Three Quarters!” as he stepped through it. He stepped again and found himself
in a room filled with active fireplaces. He stepped out of the fireplace and
watched as witches and wizards strolled out of the other fireplaces, their
children following them pulling similar trunks like Harry’s He waited for his
dad to step through the fireplace. He looked around and smiled when he saw his
friend. “Hi Seamus!” He said, waving at the Irish Gryffindor.
“Hiya Harry,” Seamus Finnigan said as he walked up to Harry. He seemed
different then the last time Harry has seen him. Seamus seemed to have grown by
half a foot between summers, as he towered over Harry. The Irish Gryffindor’s
voice had also started to become deeper, his brogue becoming more apparent than
before. Harry also noticed, somehow, that the boy’s shoulders broadened, and
faint hints of muscles appeared.
“How was your summer?” Harry asked. The fireplace came alive behind him and
James Potter stepped through.
“It was fine, didn’t go anywhere. You?”
“Same,” Harry said.
“There you are Harry,” James said. He looked at Seamus and nodded, “Hello
Seamus.”
“Hello Mr. Potter,” Seamus said. He turned to Harry and said, “Listen, I got to
go, looking for Dean. But I’ll catch ya later, right?”
“Yeah, alright,” Harry said waving Seamus goodbye.
His smile went with Seamus and he silently picked up his trunk and walked out
of the small room, onto the station with a familiar scarlet train. James looked
around and pointed, “Harry, there’s Molly and Arthur,” he smiled. Harry just
nodded and walked towards his best friend’s parents, the smile reappearing when
he saw Ron and Hermione.
“Harry!” they both screamed when they saw Harry, running towards him. Harry ran
towards them and they hugged. “How are you guys?” Harry smiled. “I’ve read
about your family winning that lottery!”
“Egypt was fantastic Harry, you should have seen it! Though Scabbers didn’t
agree with Egypt,” Ron said as he pulled out his pet rat. Scabbers was looking
thinner than usual, and there was a definite droop to his whiskers. James
Walked up and smiled at Ron and Hermione. Scabbers made a soft sound and
scurried back into Ron’s pocket. “How are you two doing?” he smiled.
“Fine Mr. Potter, how are you?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, James there you are. Molly and I were wondering where you and Harry were,”
Mr. Weasley said as he and his wife walked up to them.
“Just had to make sure the cat was fed before we left,” James said. “So how was
Egypt? I’ve read about it in the Prophet. Seven hundred Galleons, must have
been a surprise.”
“It was nice,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Bill showed us the tombs he was working
with. You would not believe the things the wizards did to muggles back then,
nasty stuff. I wouldn’t let Ginny go into the last one Bill showed us,
everything was so nasty and dangerous.”
“And where is Ginny?” James asked looking around. “I’m sure she is growing up
to be a beauty like her mother.”
Mrs. Weasley laughed with a slight blush and said, “James, really. She is with
the twins at the back of the train loading the trunks. Harry should do that too
I think, it’s almost eleven!”
James nodded and looked at his watch. “By god you’re right! Harry! Grab your
things and follow me!” Harry sighed and picked up his luggage, promising
Hermione and Ron to meet them on the train. James waited till they were a way
from the Weasley family then said, “So, I see that you and Hermione are close.”
“What.”
“Nothing, it’s just that… well your hug with Hermione seemed a bit long. … Do
you like her?” James smiled. “Come on Harry, you can tell me, I’m your dad!”
“She’s my friend, of course I like her,” Harry said, not understanding his
father’s question.
James chuckled. “So innocent,” he said. “Harry, I meant do you like her more
than a friend? You’re thirteen now my boy, now’s the time you start seeing the
world in a new light.”
“What… god no!” Harry said, slightly revolted. “Dad! She’s my friend I don’t
want her like—like—“ Harry was lost of words as he tried to describe his
disgust.
“Like your mother and me?” James asked, trying to help Harry. Harry nodded.
“Yeah, I don’t want to be that with her!”
James chuckled, “I understand, she’s your friend. Would be weird right? Then…
how about Ginny? Or any other girl in your school?”
“What—no dad, can please just—I don’t want to do that with any of the girls,”
Harry said irritably. He didn’t know why his father was being so… persistent in
this matter.
“Alright, alright I understand. You’re still growing. But give it time Harry,
and I’m sure you’ll start to feel differently. Then you’ll find a nice girl, a
girl who wants you for more than your handsome looks you’ve inherited from your
dad. Ahh—here we are,” James said when they reached the back of the train.
Harry said nothing as he lifted his trunk onto the train. James secured
Hedwig’s cage near Harry’s trunk and the two walked back to the Weasleys and
Hermione. “Ah, James… wanted to talk to you about something,” Mr. Weasley said.
Harry watched as Mr. Weasley and his dad stepped away from the group. “Are you
sure that Kingsley can’t talk sense to the Minister? It just seems
mad—dementors patrolling England!” Mr. Weasley said.
“I agree Arthur, as does Kingsley, but Fudge just won’t budge,” Harry’s dad
whispered, thinking that the others couldn’t hear them. Harry looked back and
saw Mrs. Weasley hugging and saying her goodbyes to the others. “We know it is
a bad idea, but he has been working on it for the past ten years. Having the
dementors at Hogwarts first however is simply ludicrous! There is no warning
for anyone at all.”
“You mean you haven’t told Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“No, I hoped that Dumbledore or Shaklebolt might have talked some sense into
Fudge,” Mr. Potter said glancing around. “I honestly don’t know what Fudge is
looking for with this project.”
“All I heard was that it is supposed to find Dark Wizards,” Mr. Weasley said.
Harry’s dad shook his head and said, “Still, this all is excessive.”
“Harry dear, hurry up the train is starting to leave,” Mrs. Weasley said,
shocking Harry back to reality. She gave Harry a hug and waved him goodbye.
“See you Harry!” James yelled out as Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express. “Don’t
forget to write!”
“I won’t dad!” Harry yelled out before the compartment door closed. He frowned
and turned to Ron and Hermione. “We need to talk privately,” he said.
“Go away, Ginny,” Ron said.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Ginny said huffily, and she stalked off.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty
compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.
This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was
usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before,
except for the witch who pushed the food cart.
The stranger was wearing a shabby set of wizards’s robes that had been darned
in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, around
Harry’s dad’s age, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.
“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut,
taking the seats farthest away from the window.
“Professor R. J. Lupin-Black,” whispered Hermione at once.
How do you know that?”
“It’s on his case,” Hermione replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the
man’s head, where there was a small, battered case. The name Professor R. J.
Lupin-Black was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
“Wonder what he teaches?” Ron said, frowning at Professor Lupin-Black’s pallid
profile.
“That’s obvious, Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry said. “Just hope he’s
better than Lockhart.”
Ron snickered and nodded. “What do you want to tell us, Harry?” Hermione asked.
Harry looked at her and said, “I’ve just heard my dad and Mr. Weasley talking
about it. The Minister is trying something new at Hogwarts.”
“What is it?” Ron interrupted.
“He’s having dementors stationed at Hogwarts,” Harry breathed.
“What? Why!?!” Hermione demanded, her hands covering her hands in shock.
“That doesn’t make any sense mate,” Ron said. “You sure you heard right?”
Harry nodded and said, “Positive. Dad said that he tried talking to Mr.
Shaklebolt to convince the Minister to not do it, but it didn’t work.”
“But… why dementors?” Ron asked. “Aren’t they supposed to stay in Azkaban?”
Harry and Hermione nodded. “Yeah,” Harry said. “But your dad said that it’s
supposed to help find Dark Wizards or something.”
“Isn’t that your dad’s job though?” Ron asked.
“Yeah,” Harry said.
“Oh well… at least they won’t be at Hogsmeade right?” Ron said. “Can’t wait to
go there… Fred and George told me loads about it.”
“Do you know much about Hogsmeade?” Hermione asked keenly. “I’ve read it’s the
only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain—“
“Yeah, I think it is,” Ron said in an offhand sort of way, “but that’s not why
I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!”
“What’s that?”
“It’s this sweetshop,” Ron said, a dreamy look coming over his face, “where
they’ve got everything. …Pepper Imps—they make you smoke at the mouth—and great
fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really
excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you’re
thinking what to write next—“
“But Hogsmeade’s a very interesting place, isn’t it?” Hermione pressed on
eagerly. “In Sites of Historical Sorcery it says the inn was the headquarters
for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack’s supposed to be the
most severely haunted building in Britain—“
“—and massive sherbet balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground
while you’re sucking them,” Ron said, who was plainly not listening to a word
Hermione was saying.
Hermione looked at Harry. “Won’t it be nice to get out of school for a bit and
explore Hogsmeade?”
“’Spect it will,” Harry said heavily. “You’ll have to tell me when you’ve found
out.”
“What d’you mean?” Ron said.
“I can’t go,” Harry said. “I tried to get dad to sign the permission
form—multiple times but he just wouldn’t! Yesterday the man torn it up!” Harry
said a bit too loudly. Professor Lupin-Black made a noise and moved in his
seat, but stayed sleeping.
“What? That’s insane! Who in their right mind wouldn’t allow their kid to go?”
Ron complained.
“He can’t do that! Can he?” Hermione said.
Harry frowned and shook his head. “He kept saying that it was to protect me,”
he said.
“Protect you!? From what?” Ron gasped. “Nothing happened our first two years,
what makes your dad think something’ll happen our third?”
“I don’t know!” Harry groaned. “It’s just so annoying at times! He kept telling
me of all the times he and mum went to Hogsmeade and had fun at Hogwarts, but
he won’t let me go! It’s like he is expecting Malfoy or any the Slytherins to
just Curse me on the spot!”
“Well… considering Malfoy…” Ron said slowly.
“That’s not the point,” Harry said. “The point is that Dad’s being too
protective with me. I mean, I’m thirteen yeah? I should be able to go to
Hogsmeade with you guys.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, agreeing with Harry.
“Well… with the dementors around now,” Hermione said. “I don’t know… it could
be that they are looking for someone.”
“Looking for someone?” Harry asked.
“Well it’s just a thought,” Hermione said.
“Don’t worry Harry,” Ron said. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to get you to
Hogsmeade! We can ask Fred and George, they know every secret passage out of
the castle—“
“Ron!” Hermione said sharply. “I don’t think Harry should be sneaking out of
school with the dementors out—what will happen if his dad hears about this!?”
“But we’re students,” Ron said. “I’m sure the dementors are smart enough to
distinguish students and whoever they’re looking for.”
The Hogwarts express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window
became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened. People were
chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment. Hermione had
unlocked her cat Crookshanks, much to Ron’s aggression as the cat tried to once
eat Scabbers, and the cat had now settled in an empty seat, his squashed face
turned toward Ron, his yellow eyes on Ron’s top pocket.
The witch who pushed the food cart appeared, and they brought lunch. When Harry
was done with his Cauldron Cakes, Draco Malfoy appeared at the door, flanked by
his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Harry looked at Malfoy as the
Slytherin glared at him. Malfoy seemed to change too. He, like Seamus, seemed
to have grown half a foot and towered over Harry. Harry was sure that if they
stood in front of each other, his head could only reach Malfoy’s chest. His
face seemed to become handsomer, his aristocratic features showing off. Harry
wanted to frown at Malfoy’s but couldn’t. He was confused on why he noticed the
features, but right now he pushed that to the back of his mind. “What do you
want?” he said.
“Well, look who it is… Potty and the Weasel,” Draco smirked. Crabbe and Goyle
chuckled trollishly. “I heard your father got his hands on some gold this
summer, Weasley,” Malfoy said. “Did your mother die of shock?”
“Watch it,” Ron threatened. Harry stood up in case he needed to hold Ron back.
Professor Lupin-Black gave a snort.
“Who’s that?” Malfoy asked, taking an automatic step backward as he spotted
Lupin.
“New teacher,” Harry said.
Malfoy’s silver eyes narrowed; he wasn’t foolish enough to pick a fight right
under a teacher’s nose.
“C’mon,” he muttered resentfully to Crabbe and Goyle, and they disappeared.
Harry and Ron sat down, Harry’s hand still on Ron’s arm as he frowned. That
could have gone better, he thought as he realized he was still holding Ron. He
let go immediately.
The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a
solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into
life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the
rain hammered, the wind roared, but still Professor Lupin-Black slept.
“Couldn’t your dad arrest Malfoy’s dad?” Ron asked Harry.
“What? No,” Harry said. “I’m sure dad would love to do it, but he can’t just
arrest someone and call them a Death Eater!”
“But he’s a prick, the same as his son!” Ron said.
Harry frowned and said, “Yeah Malfoy’s a prick, but I can’t just owl my dad and
ask him to arrest Malfoy’s dad.”
The train started to slow down and Hermione looked around confused. “There is
no way we can be there yet,” she said, checking her watch.
“So why’re we stopping?”
The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away,
the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.
Harry, who was nearest the door, got up and look into the corridor. All along
the carriage, heads were sticking out of their compartments.
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them
that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps
went out and they were plunged into total darkness.
“What’s going on?” Ron’s voice said from behind Harry.
“Ouch!” Hermione gasped. “Ron, that was my foot!”
Harry felt his way back to his seat.
“Do you think we’ve broken down?”
“Dunno…”
There was a squeaking sound, and Harry saw the dim black outline of Ron, wiping
a patch clean on the window and peering out. “There’s something moving out
there,” he said. “I think people are coming aboard. …”
The door slowly slid open and a cloaked figure appeared. It seemed to tower to
the ceiling, it’s face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry’s eyes
darted downward, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand
protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and
scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.
An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his
chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his
very heart. Harry’s eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn’t see. He was
drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. He tried
calling for his dad, but he voice couldn’t escape his mouth. And then, from far
away, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified pleading screams. The last thing
he remembered was a thick white fog swirling around him, and a woman’s voice
yelling “HARRY!!”
“Harry! Harry! Are you all right?”
Someone was slapping his face.
“W—what?”
Harry opened his eyes; there were lanterns above him, and the floor was
shaking—the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the light had come back on.
Professor Lupin-Black was now awake and standing over him, as well as Ron and
Hermione.
“Are you okay?” Ron asked nervously.
“Yeah,” Harry said, looking towards the door. The hooded creature had vanished.
“Was that… was that a dementor? What happened? Who screamed?”
“No one screamed, Harry,” Hermione said.
“But I heard screaming—“
A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin-Black was breaking an enormous
slab of chocolate into pieces.
“Here,” he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. “Eat it.
It’ll help. I need to speak to the driver. Excuse me…”
Harry took the chocolate and took a bite out of it. To his surprise he felt
great warmth spread suddenly to the tips of his fingers and toes. Professor
Lupin-Black left and Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. “What happened?” he
asked again.
“I don’t know. The thing… it just came in here and… it felt like I would never
be happy again,” Hermione said. “You collapsed and the thing went for you, but
then Professor Lupin-Black sprang up and this white… force repelled the thing
back. I can’t really describe it well.”
Ron nodded, “Yeah, that is basically what happened.” Harry looked at the two of
them and continued to eat his chocolate. “Then he gave us chocolate and those
unhappy feelings went away.”
Harry nodded and looked at the sliding door. “Why did they get on the train?”
He wondered out loud. “Surely they know that there wouldn’t be any Dark Wizards
here.” He felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout
of flu; he also felt the beginnings of shame. Why had he gone to pieces like
that, when no one else had? What would his father have to say about this?
Professor Lupin-Black had come back. He paused as he entered, looked around,
and said with a small smile, “We’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all
right, Harry?”
Harry didn’t ask how Professor Lupin-Black knew his name.
“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.
They didn’t talk much during the remainder of the journey. At long last, the
train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get
outside; owls hooted, cats meowed. It was freezing on the tiny platform; rain
was driving down in icy sheets. Harry was glad that Malfoy didn’t hear about
what happened with the dementor. He really did not want to embarrass himself in
front of the Slytherin. The trio got onto one of the horseless carriage and
relaxed as it drove itself up the path to Hogwarts. “Well, it seems that at
least we’ll have a professor who knows his stuff,” Ron said.
Harry nodded and looked at Ron. He was sitting close to Ron and it was here
that he again noticed the differences Ron had. Harry saw faint muscles on Ron’s
arms, but unlike Seamus’ they were a bit more defined, it was obvious that Ron
will take after the twins as he grows. Harry kept noticing small details that
started to appear on Ron and turned to look at Hermione. Hermione was…
Hermione. There wasn’t any difference that he could see, not like he could see
in Ron and Seamus. Confused he simply smiled at them and joked, “Hope my dad
doesn’t hear about it. I wouldn’t get the end of it.”
Ron laughed, “Yeah, he’ll probably try to come to Hogwarts to teach you Defense
Against the Dark Arts himself.” Harry and Hermione laughed at the idea, and the
mood in the carriage lightened up considerably as they relaxed and fell into
easy conversation. Harry just placed his confusion on a fact that maybe
differences in boys are easier to spot than differences in girls.
An hour later found Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Great Hall. The Sorting Hat
has sung its song and sorted the new First Years. During the song and sorting,
Harry kept glancing around, his eyes always falling on Malfoy for some reason.
He noticed that Malfoy’s hair seemed to shimmer in the firelight, and his eyes,
when they weren’t glaring at him, seemed like silver orbs that can expression a
variety of emotions. Malfoy was currently talking to a dark-skinned Slytherin
whose name Harry had forgotten. His mouth opened wide as he laughed, showing
his perfect straight teeth.
Dumbledore stood up and smiled at all his students, silently calling for their
attention and silence. “Welcome!” Dumbledore called out. “Welcome to another
year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is
very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become
befuddled by our excellent feast. …”
Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, “As you will all be aware after
their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host of
the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business.”
He paused, and Harry remembered his father’s talk with Mr. Weasley. “They are
stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continued, “and while
they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without
permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises. It is not in
the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn
each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you.
“On a happier note, I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this
year. First, Professor Lupin-Black, who has kindly consented to fill the post
of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had
been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin-Black clapped hard.
“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continued. “Well, I am sorry to
tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher,
retired at the end of last year. However, I am delighted to say that his place
will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who had agreed to take on this
teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at one another stunned. Then they joined in
with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffindor table in particular.
Dumbledore began the feast and everyone started to eat their fill. Harry smiled
the entire way, happy for Hagrid that he had gotten the teaching job. He
decided that, even though he was still slightly mad at his father, he should
still write to him and tell him about Hagrid.
When they entered the common room, Harry was not paying attention to where he
was going and bumped into someone. He started to fall, only to stop and feel
arms wrapping around him. He looked up and saw Oliver Wood smiling down at him.
“Hey Harry… you okay?” Wood asked.
A blush for some reason appeared on Harry’s cheek. He just nodded and muttered,
“Yeah… I’m fine Wood.”
Oliver Wood chuckled, and Harry noticed how deep Wood’s voice sounded up close.
“You better be careful Harry, wouldn’t want to lose our Seeker due to falling
now would we?”
“N-No, we would not,” Harry said. Wood helped him to his feet and Harry
immediately made his way to the third year’s dormitory, his head and mind
filled with confusion. He focused enough to write a short letter telling his
dad the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Hagrid teaching Care of
Magical Creatures. He tied it to Hedwig’s leg and watched as she flew away.
Wanting this eventful and confusing day to end, Harry quickly changed into his
pajamas and climbed in his bed, making sure to close all of his curtains.
***** First Signs *****
                                   Chapter 3
                                  First Signs
When Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next
day, Harry saw Malfoy entertaining the Slytherins with a story. Harry kept his
head down as they passed, and went to sit at the Gryffindor Table next to
George Weasley.
“New third-year course schedules,” George said, passing them over. “What’s up
with you, Harry?”
“Malfoy,” Ron said, sitting down on George’s other side and glaring over the
Slytherin table. George looked up to see Malfoy still talking.
“Don’t worry about it Harry,” George said. “Dad had to go out to Azkaban one
time, remember Fred? And he said it was the worst place he’d ever been, he came
back all weak and shaking. …They suck the happiness out of a place, dementors.
Most of the prisoners go mad in there.”
“Anyway, we’ll see how happy Malfoy looks after our first Quidditch match,”
Fred said. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?”
Harry just nodded and helped himself to sausages and fried tomatoes. He did not
know why he was letting Malfoy affect him so, he never paid this much attention
to the Slytherin before.
Hermione was examining her new schedule. “Ooh, good, we’re starting some new
subjects today,” she said happily.
“Hermione,” Ron said, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, “they’ve messed
up your schedule. Look—they’ve got you down for about ten subjects a day. There
isn’t enough time!”
“I’ll manage. I’ve fixed it all with Professor McGonagall”
“But look,” Ron said laughing, “see this morning? Nine o’clock, Divination And
underneath, nine o’clock, Muggles Studies. And”—Ron leaned closer to the
schedule, disbelieving—“ look—underneath that, Arithmancy, nine o’clock. I
mean, I know you’re good, Hermione, but no one’s that good. How’re you supposed
to be in three classes at once?”
“Don’t be silly,” Hermione said shortly. “Of course I won’t be in three classes
at once.”
“Well, then—“
“Pass the marmalade, “Hermione said.
The owls started to arrive as Hermione and Ron bickered. Harry stopped paying
attention and looked up to the soaring owls, searching for Hedwig. He found her
and watched as she flew down to Harry, landing right in front of his plate, leg
out. He untied his father’s letter and placed it to the side. Harry picked up
some bacon bits and fed Hedwig before she nuzzled his finger and flapped her
wings, leaving the table.
Harry turned his attention to his dad’s letter, opening it with a knife.
Harry,
I’m glad Hagrid got the job, he deserves it after taking care of the lot in the
forest. Thanks for telling me that. But I am worried about what you have told
me about this Professor Lupin-Black? Listen Harry, be careful around him. He
and his husband … friend are not to be trusted. Trust me Harry, I’ve known
them, both of them, and they have betrayed my trust worst than Pettigrew is.
Nasty little creatures. Stay safe Harry, and please keep me updated about the
dementor situation. Both Kingsley and I are livid.
Love,
Dad
Harry frowned. Professor Lupin-Black dangerous? How can he be dangerous when he
saved him on the train? There was a large part of Harry that wanted to obey his
father, and try to limit communications with Professor Lupin-Black. But there
was an equal large part, a part that his father told him comes from his own
stubbornness and mischief, that wanted to tell his father “sod off” and that
he’ll make his own opinion about the man. Harry nibbled on his lip as the two
sides faced off inside him, each yelling their defense at him. Harry did not
know which side to choose, on one hand he is his father and he seems to be just
looking out for him, on the other his father ripped up his permission form and
basically dictated his entire life. For once Harry wanted to live his life his
own way, and looking down at the letter, staring at the crossed out “husband,”
he decided that if he was going to live his own life… the first step would be
to ignore his father. He will talk with Professor Lupin-Black, and decide on
his own if he is a man to avoid.
“Harry… we better go,” Ron said. “Look, Divination’s at the top of North Tower.
It’ll take us ten minutes to get there. …”
Harry snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, letting Ron lead as they left the
Great Hall. The journey through the castle to North Tower was a long one. Two
years at Hogwarts hadn’t taught them everything about the castle, and they had
never been inside North Tower before.
“There’s—got—to—be—a—shortcut,” Ron panted as they climbed their seventh long
staircase, and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a
large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall.
“I think it’s this way,” Hermione said, peering down the empty passage to the
right. They had to ask a portrait of a stount knight for help. The knight was
more than happy to lead them, going through the paintings on the walls as
Harry, Ron, and Hermione chased after him. When they reached a spiral
staircase, the knight yelled his “farewells” as the three began climbing the
staircase. They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing,
where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors off this
landing, but Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a
circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it.
“Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher,” Harry read. “How’re we supposed to get
up there?”
As though in answer to his question, the trapdoor suddenly opened, and a
silvery ladder descended right at Harry’s feet. Everyone got quiet.
“After you,” Ron said, grinning as Harry climbed the ladder, following him.
He emerged into the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. It was a
cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty
small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz
armchairs and fat little poufs.
Ron appeared at Harry’s shoulder as the class assembled around them, all
talking in whispers Harry distinctively felt Ron placing his hand on his
shoulder as he said, “Where is she?”
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.
“Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”
Harry’s immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor
Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her
large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she
was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around
her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.
She told them to sit down, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat themselves around
the same table. Harry looked at Ron, and himself and noticed the small distance
that was between them. Harry supposed that it would awkward to sit so close to
Ron, but he did not want to move.
“Welcome, to Divination,” Professor Trelawney said, as she seated herself in a
winged armchair in front of the fire. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may
not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and
bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.”
Nobody said anything to the extraordinary pronouncement. She began talking
again, but Harry’s mind wandered. He looked around the room, and saw shelves
that ran around the circular walls that were crammed with dusty-looking
feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless
silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups. His eyes then next noticed
the people in the room. There were a mixture of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws with
only two Hufflepuffs. Harry noted, with a small relief, that there were no
Slytherins in this classroom. He did not want to imagine the torture Malfoy
would give him in this class.
“You boy!” Professor Trelawney said suddenly pointing at Neville. She snapped
Harry out of his thoughts, and almost cause Neville to fall out of his pouf.
“Is your grandmother well?”
“I think so,” Neville said tremulously. Harry couldn’t help but noticed that
Neville’s face, while still round, started to develop an attractive quality
about it. If he wanted to put a word to it, Harry would describe it as cute.
The girls will go wild, Harry thought to himself.
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you, dear,” Professor Trelawney said, the
firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor
Trelawney continued placidly. “We will be covering the basic methods of
Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves.
Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear,” she shot
suddenly at Parvati Patil, “beware a red-haired man.”
Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her
chair away from her. Harry looked at them confused, and somehow just started
staring at Ron as Professor Trelawney continued. Harry was noticing and
counting the freckles on Ron’s cheeks, ignoring their teacher’s speech again.
This seemed more productive, and to Harry’s luck, Ron seemingly did not notice
his counting at all.
“—And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever,” Professor
Trelawney said. She seemed unaware of the tense silence as she turned to
Lavender Brown, “I wonder, dear, if you could pass me the largest silver
teapot?”
Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf,
and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.
“Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading—it will happen
on Friday the sixteenth of October.”
Lavender trembled. Professor Trelawney told them to break off into pairs,
collect a teacup, and come to her so she would fill it. “Drink until only the
dregs remain,” she instructed her students. “Swill these around the cup three
times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for
the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read.
You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the
Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh and dear”—she
caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up—“after you’ve broken your
first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones?
I’m rather attached to the pink.”
Harry moved his seat virtually next to Ron’s, who didn’t seem to mind as they
went to collect their cups. True to her word, Neville had no sooner reached the
shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney
had him clean it up and get a blue cup. When Harry and Ron had had their
teacups filled, they went back to their table and tried to drink the scalding
tea quickly. It was too hot that Harry could barely taste it as the liquid
invaded his throat. They swilled the dreg around as Professor Trelawney had
instructed, then drained the cups and swapped over.
“Right,” Ron said as they both opened their books at pages five and six. “What
can you see in mine?”
“A load of soggy brown stuff,” Harry said, smiling when Ron laughed.
“Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!”
Professor Trelawney cried through the gloom. Harry tried to pull himself
together and took a deep breath. A strange scent invaded his nose, and he
breathed in again, looking for the source.
It was a nice, hot scent that was hard to describe. Harry closed his eyes and
silently breathed it in and turned towards the scent, only to see it was Ron,
who was busy looking at Harry’s teacup. Grossed and confused, Harry turned to
look at Ron’s trying to forget that he was basically sniffing his best friend.
Why would he even do such a thing! He wondered as he looked at the teacup.
“Right, you’ve got a crooked sort of cross …” he consulted his textbook. “That
means you’re going to have ‘trials and suffering’—sorry Ron—but there’s a thing
that could be the sun… hang on… that means ‘great happiness’… and there’s a…
head thing… and that means ‘confusion’ … so you’re going to suffer but be very
happy… and confused about something…?”
“You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me,” Ron said, and they both had to
stifle their laughs as Professor Trelawney gazed in their direction.
“My turn…” Ron said as he peered into Harry’s teacup, his forehead wrinkled
with effort. “I think I see the head you’re talking about… so you’re confused.
There’s a blob a bit like a bowler hat. Maybe you’re going to work for the
Ministry,” he chuckled. He turned the teacup the other way up. “But this way it
looks more like an acorn. …What’s that?” He scanned his copy of Unfogging the
Future. “’A windfall, unexpected gold.’ Excellent, you can lend me some… and
there’s a thing here,” he turned the cup again, “that looks like an animal…
yeah, if that’s was its head…looks like a hippo—no a sheep…”
Professor Trelawney whirled around as Harry let out a snort of laughter. She
took the cup and stared into it. “The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly
enemy.”
Harry stared at her confused. “But everyone knows that,” Hermione said in a
loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her. “They do, everyone knows about
You-Know-Who and Harry.”
Harry frowned at Hermione. He hadn’t heard or thought about You-Know-Who for a
long time. He was dead, why would Hermione have to remind him about a dead man?
“The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…”
“I thought that was a bowler hat,” Ron said sheepishly.
“The head… yes, there will be confusion in your life my dear,” Professor
Trelawney said, nodding. “The skull… danger in your path, my dear…”
Everyone was staring, transfixed at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a
final turn, gasped, and then screamed. She sank into a vacant armchair, her
glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.
“My dear boy… my poor, dear boy…no…it’s kinder not to say…no… don’t ask me!”
“What is it Professor?” Dean Thomas asked at once. Everyone had got to their
feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron.
“My dear,” Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, “you have the
Grim.”
“The what?”
“The Grim, my dear, the Grim!” Professor Trelawney cried. “The giant, spectral
dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen—the worst omen—of
death!”
Harry’s stomach lurched. Death? Lavender Brown clapped her hands to her mouth
too. Everyone was looking at Harry, everyone except Hermione, who had gotten up
and moved around to the back of Professor Trelawney’s chair.
“I don’t think it looks like a Grim,” she said flatly. “That is clearly just a
small dog, which the book says stand for confusion in love.”
Professor Trelawney surveyed Hermione with mounting dislike. “You’ll forgive me
for saying so, my dear, but I perceive very little aura around you. Very little
receptivity to the resonance of the future.”
Trelawney ended the class there, and they silently left and headed towards
Transfiguration. The Gryffindors whispered among themselves, some looking at
Harry as they walked. Harry chose a seat right at the back of the room, feeling
as though he were sitting in a very bright spotlight; the rest of the class
kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at
any moment. He hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about
Animagi, and wasn’t even watching when she transformed herself in front of
their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.
“Really, what has got into you all today?” she said, turning back into herself
with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. “Not that it matters, but
that’s the first time my transformation’s not got applause from a class.”
Everybody’s heads turned to Harry again, but nobody spoke. Hermione rose her
hand and said, “Please, Professor, we’ve just had our first Divination class—“
“Ah, of course,” Professor McGonagall said, suddenly frowning. “There is no
need to say any more. Tell me, which one of you will be dying this year?”
“I am… Professor,” Harry said as everyone stared at her.
“Ah, Potter. Then you should know, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the
death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has
died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it
were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues—“
She broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more
calmly, “Divination is one of the more imprecise branches of magic. I shall not
conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very
rare, and Profesor Trelawney—“
She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “You look in
excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off
homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in.”
Hermione laughed. Harry felt a bit better. It was harder to feel scared of a
lump of tea leaves away from the dim red light and befuddling perfume of
Professor Trelawney’s classroom. Not everyone was convinced, however. Ron still
looked worried as he glanced at his friend.
Harry spent their lunch break looking around the Gryffindor Table as Ron and
Hermione bickered. He looked down and saw Fred and George Weasley talking with
their friend Lee Jordan. Harry watched as Fred and Lee laughed and George
blushed. He shook his head and looked towards the other tables. Harry tried to
follow George’s gaze but couldn’t. So instead, he just watched George as he
smiled at someone and offered a small wave. Harry watched as George’s smile
widened. It seemed to Harry that George and whoever he was talking to were
having a private, silent conversation. Harry felt like he shouldn’t watch, as
if watching was intruding on George’s privacy but for some reason he was
transfixed on George, watching every small movement the Weasley makes. George
smiled and winked at whoever he was talking too. He blushed and stuck his
tongue out.
Fred noticed what his twin was doing and laughed, slapping George’s back and
getting his twin’s attention again. George laughed with him and sent one last
smile before turning his attention back on Fred and Lee. Harry continued to
watch as he ate, and only snapped back to Ron and Hermione when Hermione
snatched up her bag and stalked away. Ron frowned after her.
“What’s she talking about?” he said to Harry. “She hasn’t been to an Arithmancy
class yet.”
Harry looked at Ron confused by didn’t ask. He was pleased to get out of the
castle after lunch. Yesterday’s rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale
gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as they set off for their
first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.
Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to each other. Harry walked beside them in
silence as they went down to Hagrid’s hut. It was only when he spotted three
only-too familiar backs ahead of them that he realized they must be having
these lessons with the Slytherins. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and
Goyle, who were chortling. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking
about. A ways from them stood another Slytherin that Harry barely ever noticed.
He was tall with chocolate skin and hazel eyes. If Harry wanted to guess the
Slytherin had an Italian air around him as he leaned against the fencepost to
Hagrid’s garden. When he noticed that Harry was staring at him, he just
smirked, causing Harry to look away quickly.
Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. “C’mon, now, get a
move on!” he called as the class approached. “Got a real treat for yeh today!
Great lesson comin’ up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!”
For one nasty moment, Harry thought that Hagrid was going to lead them into the
forest; Harry had never been in the Forbidden Forest, but heard of the
dangerous creatures that are said to be living in it. However, Hagrid strolled
off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves
outside a kind of padlock. There was nothing there.
“Everyone gather ‘round the fence here!” he called. “That’s it—make sure yeh
can see—now, firs’ thing yeh’ll want ter do is open yer books—“
“How?” Malfoy said in a drawling voice.
“Eh?”
“How do we open the books?” Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of The
Monster Book of Monsters, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.
“Just got ter stroke the spine,” Hagrid said. The Slytherin Harry was staring
at smirked and looked up at Harry, as if trying to share a joke he did not get.
Hagrid took Hermione’s copy and ripped the Spellotape that bound it. The book
tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book
shivered, and then fell open and lay quiet in his hand.
“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Malfoy sneered. “We should have stroked them!
Why didn’t we guess!”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly. Hagrid looked downcast and Harry wanted
Hagrid’s first lesson to be a success. Harry watched as the Slytherin who was
staring at him walked up to Malfoy and whispered something in his ear. Harry
paid it no mind as he stroke his book, feeling suddenly conscience of the
people around him.
“Righ’ then,” Hagrid said, who seemed to have lost his thread, “so—so yeh’ve
got yer books an’—an’ now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I’ll go an’
get ‘em. Hang on…”
He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. The Slytherin kept
Malfoy busy as the two talked, the Slytherin having a smirk as Malfoy just
rolled his eyes.
Lavander Brown made a noise and everyone looked around to see Hagrid coming
back with three creatures that looked a mixture of an eagles and horse.
“Hippogriffs!” Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. “Beau’iful aren’
they?”
Harry could sort of see what Hagrid meant. Once you got over the first shock of
seeing something that was half horse, half bird, you started to appreciate the
hippogriffs’ gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feathers to hair.
“So,” Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, “if yeh wan’
ter come a bit nearer—“
No one seemed to want to. Ron, Hermione, and Harry, however, approached the
fence cautiously.
“Now, firs’ thing yeh gotta know abou’ hippogriffs is, they’re proud,” Hagrid
said. “Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don’t never insult one, ‘cause it
might be the last thing yeh do.”
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren’t listening; they were talking in an undertone
and Harry had a nasty feeling they were plotting how best to disrupt the
lesson. The Slytherin who was talking to Malfoy just shook his head but did not
stop them.
Hagrid continued to tell the class about the hippogriffs, instructing and
showing how to bow to one before approaching. Afterwards, Hagrid volunteered
Harry to go first and approach a hippogriff. “Right then—let’s see how yeh get
on with Buckbeak.”
Hagrid pulled the grey hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its
leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding
its breath. Malfoy’s eyes were narrowed.
“Easy now, Harry,” Hagrid said quietly. “Yeh’ve got eye contact, now try not
ter blink. …Hippogriffs don’ trust yeh if yeh blink too much.”
Harry’s eyes immediately began to water, but he didn’t shut them. He wanted to
glance at the class, at the curious Slytherin, but didn’t. Buckbeak had turned
his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye.
“That’s it,” Hagrid said. “That’s it Harry… now bow…”
Harry didn’t feel much like exposing the back of his neck to Buckbeak, but he
did as he was told. He have a short bow and then looked up. The hippogriff was
still staring haughtily at him. It didn’t move.
“Ah,” Hagrid said, sounding worried. “Right—back away, now, Harry, easy does
it—“
But then, to Harry’s enormous surprise, the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly
front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.
“Well done, Harry!” Hagrid said ecstatic. “Right—yeh can touch him! Pat his
beak, go on!”
Feeling that a better reward would have been to back away, Harry moved slowly
toward the hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several
times and the hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.
The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who
were looking deeply disappointed. The strange Slytherin just spared them a
glance before returning to his applause. Hagrid clapped loudly and awarded
Harry ten points. He then reckoned that Buckbeak would let Harry ride him. This
was more than Harry bargained for as Hagrid helped him up. Buckbeak stood up
and started to gallop, its wings expanding as it pushed off of the ground.
Buckbeak flew him once around the paddock and then headed back to the ground.
Harry felt adrenaline rush through him as he barely was able to get off of the
hippogriff, thankful he was on solid ground again. He would have rather play
three games of Quidditch back to back then ride Buckbeak again.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak as Harry walked back with
Hagrid. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking
disdainful.”This is very easy,” Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to hear
him. “I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it. …I bet you’re not
dangerous at all, are you?” he said to the hippogriff. “Are you, you great ugly
brute?”
It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream
and the next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he
strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over
his robes.
“I’m dying!” Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. “I’m dying, look at me! It’s
killed me!”
“Yer not dyin’! Hagrid said, who had gone very white. “Someone help me—gotta
get him outta here—“
Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they
passed, Harry saw that there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy’s arm; blood
splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle.
Harry felt an intense feeling of guilt. He wanted to check on Malfoy, make sure
that he was alright.
Very shaken, the class followed at a walk. The Slytherins were all shouting
about Hagrid.
“They should fire him straight away!” Pansy Parkinson said, who was in tears.
“It was Malfoy’s fault!” Dean Thomas snapped. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their
muscles threateningly.
They all climbed the stone steps into the deserted entrance hall. “I’m going to
see if he’s okay!” Pansy said, and they all watched her run up the marble
staircase. Harry stayed back as the rest of the class returned to their common
rooms. Then, alone, Harry started to follow Parkinson. He quickly made it to
the hospital wing and slowed down as he heard Parkinson’s crying voice, “That
damn oaf! They should fire him! No—send him to Azkaban! All for hurting my poor
Draco!”
“Stop that Parkinson, I am not your Draco,” Malfoy’s irritated voice said. “And
go away! I don’t want your stupid tears ruining my robes.”
“Draco,” Pansy said, shocked.
“Go away Parkinson,” Malfoy ordered. Harry heard Parkinson’s loud cries as she
walked away from Malfoy’s bed. Harry hid in the shadows as he watched Parkinson
leave the hospital wing, crying. For some weird reason, Harry did not feel any
sorry for her. When he was sure she was gone, he stepped out of the shadows and
steeled himself as he walked into the hospital wing.
Malfoy was laying down in a bed closest to an open window. He was propped up
and glared at Harry when he saw him. “What do you want Potter? Came to gloat at
me?” he spat.
Harry frowned, his eyes staring at his newly bandaged arm. It was held by a
sling that went around his elbow, and Harry could see blood staining it. “No…”
he said softly as he took a step towards Malfoy, his eyes never leaving the
bandaged arm.
“Then what? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for me Potter?” Malfoy spat.
“I… I… I don’t know,” Harry said.
“I don’t want your pity Potter,” Malfoy said. “So if that is why you are here,
sod off.”
Harry frowned and shook his head. He continued walking to Malfoy’s bed until he
reached the chair beside it. Malfoy glared at him the entire way. Harry
hesitated as he started to reach for the bandaged arm. Malfoy turned his glare
to Harry’s hand as he gently and slowly placed it on the bandage, feeling the
heat coming from the arm. “You’re bleeding…” he said more to himself.
“Really? I haven’t noticed!” Malfoy drawled sarcastically. “What are you doing
Potter!” Malfoy said as Harry reached for the sling.
“I… I was going to clean it…” Harry said. “One time when I was six, my dad got
a cut on his leg. A wizard he was chasing transfigured a candle to a knife and
it flew at him. Dad did not want to go to St. Mungo’s so he just came home when
he caught the outlaw. When I saw him, I was petrified. I never saw my dad look
so hurt before. I’ve never saw my dad hurt, period. He tried to calm me down,
and taught me how to dress his wound. I did, and afterwards I noticed that I
stopped crying. Dad congratulated me and told me to remember how to dress a
wound. After that, whenever Dad got hurt on the job, he just came home and
helped me as I dressed his wounds. He did the spells of course, but I did the
muggle work. He called me his personal Healer, and after we finished he always
rewarded me by going to his muggle ice cream shop I loved.”
Harry did not know why he told Malfoy this. Malfoy just stared at him as Harry
reached again for the bandages. Malfoy glared at him as Harry removed the sling
and looked at the bandage. It was holding, though Harry thought it could use a
second layer. He grabbed a roll of bandages off of the table near Malfoy’s bed
and went to work. Both boys were silent as Harry worked, Malfoy glaring at
Harry, and Harry remembering all the times he did this for his dad. He missed
those times.
When he was done, Malfoy just looked at Potter. “Well, are you going to leave
or what?”
“Oh, err…” Harry said, surprised by his reaction. He thought Malfoy could be at
least a little thankful. “Well… alright,” he said standing up. “See ya…
Malfoy.”
Malfoy remained silent as Harry turned to leave. Harry did not know why, but he
felt a great air of disappointment as he walked away from Malfoy, as if he was
expecting something different from the prat.
“That was a nice story, you know,” a voice said. Harry turned around and saw
the same Slytherin who was smirking at him at Care for Magical Creatures. “Of
course a prat like Draco didn’t get it,” he chuckled.
“W-Who are you?” Harry demanded.
“You forgot my name? Harry, I’m disappointed,” the Slytherin said. “I was the
last one to be sorted in our year, I thought that would make me somewhat
memorable.” Harry just stared at the Slytherin. He sighed and presented his
hand. “Zabini. Blaise Zabini,” he said.
“What do you want Zabini?” Harry asked, giving the Slytherin a sharp look as he
edged away from him.
Zabini chuckled and said, “First, I just wanted to remark on how cute you look.
Not bad, for a Gryffindor,” he chuckled. Harry’s cheeks reddened as he glared
angrily at the Slytherin. Why is he calling him cute!? He isn’t cute! “Second,
I would like to apologize for Draco’s behavior. You see, Draco is a lot like
me, and you of course, but unfortunately he can be a bit of a prat at times.”
“What do you mean by ‘like you and me?’” Harry asked, watching the Slytherin
suspiciously.
Zabini smiled and said, “Well Harry, I’m sure that if for you to figure out by
yourself. However… can you tell me one thing?”
“What?”
“Do you hate Slytherins?”
“What?” Harry said, confused. “Well… no I guess. You’re all prats but why do
you care?”
Zabini just shrugged, “No reason, it’s just that you are cute, and I like cute
things.” Harry glared at him, so he added, “I just want to see if we can be
friends. No suspicious acts or other motives.”
Harry just stared at him. He did not know what the Slytherin was talking about.
Slytherins were all evil right? That is what his father had told him… thinking
of his father reminded Harry of the letter this morning, and his mission to
rebel from his father and make his own opinion about Professor Lupin-Black.
Could befriending Zabini cause the same, or would it be too much? Confused,
Harry just looked at Zabini and said, “I’ll think about it.”
“Alright Harry,” Zabini said. He stood a step closer and shook Harry’s hand.
“It was nice seeing you up close Harry, you are much more cuter this way.”
Zabini chuckled as he walked into the hospital wing, leaving Harry to his
confusion. Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room and tried to work on
Professor McGonagall’s homework, but he and everyone else were worried about
Hagrid. During dinner, Harry kept glancing at the Slytherin Table in the Great
Hall. A large group including Crabbe and Goyle was huddled together, deep in
conversation. Marry was sure they were cooking up their own version of how
Malfoy had been injured. He also noticed, to his surprise, that Zabini was not
part of the group, instead busying himself with his food.
“The cut was deep but he’ll be alright, it won’t scar or anything,” Harry said
frowning.
“What?” Hermione asked.
“Malfoy’s wounds. I saw them in the hospital wing. They’re not that bad… I
mean, I’m sure they hurt a lot but dad got worst during his job,” Harry said.
“What were you doing visiting Malfoy?” Ron asked, shocked that Harry would
think to do such a thing.
“I wanted to see if he was alright,” Harry said. “It was his fault for not
listening but still… I help somewhat guilty.”
“But… it’s Malfoy! The git deserves to be slashed at like that,” Ron argued.
“Anyway, you gonna tell your dad?”
“Tell him what? About the incident? He’ll probably be happy that Mr. Malfoy’s
son got hurt, then both scold me for fixing him up, and congratulate me for
doing such a good job,” Harry shrugged.
“Where did you learn to do that anyway?” Hermione asked.
“Dad,” Harry said. “Though I don’t know any spells, just muggle stuff.”
“Malfoy’s probably faking it,” Ron said at once. “Madam Pomfrey can fix
anything. Remember when you got hit by that bludger last year? And Lockhart
tried to fix it, but instead he removed your bones?” Ron laughed.
“Don’t remind me that was the most painful night I had!” Harry said,
remembering the incident. Somehow last year, a bludger hit Harry just as he
caught the Golden Snitch. It broke his arm, and Lockhart tried to fix it. Madam
Pomfrey had him drink this vile liquid and he could barely sleep as his bones
painfully regrew.
“Well, trust me, Malfoy’s trying to milk it for all it’s worth. You probably
got him before Madam Pomfrey could fix him up,” Ron said.
Harry nodded and looked at the Slytherin Table again. The large crowd has
disperse and returned to eating their dinner. Harry’s eyes fell onto Zabini,
who was talking to Parkinson, though it looked more like the two were arguing,
as the Slytherin turned and noticed Harry’s stare. He smiled and winked at
Harry before returning to Parkinson. Harry bit his lip and continued to stare
at the table. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what Zabini said. That he and
Harry were the same… and so were he and Malfoy? As if! Harry did not want to be
the same as Malfoy. Sure, he wanted a chance to know Malfoy more, but that
chance seemed to have left. Once a git always a git. But yet… Harry could not
knock those words out of his mind. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know
why Zabini believed that the three of them were the same. On the same line of
thinking, he wanted to know more about Zabini, what he is playing at. He also
wanted to know why his father had warned him to stay away from Professor Lupin-
Black. He seemed to be a nice man, and a knowledgeable wizard, knowing how to
deal with dementors. All this and more swam through Harry’s head as he
wordlessly went through dinner. There was so many things he wanted to know, and
only time can tell if he can learn them.
***** The Boggart *****
                                   Chapter 4
                                  The Boggart
Malfoy didn’t reappear in class until late on Thursday morning, when the
Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. Harry was deep
in concentration making today’s potion, a Shrinking Solution, when the doors
opened. He turned to see Malfoy swagger into the dungeon, his right arm covered
in bandages and bound up in a sling, acting, in Harry’s opinion, as though he
were the heroic survivor of some dreadful battle.
“How is it Draco?” Pansy simpered. “Does it hurt much?”
Malfoy did not answer her, just giving her a look as he walked past her. Harry
guessed he had not forgiven Parkinson yet for visiting him in the hospital
wing.
“Settle down, settle down,” Professor Snape said idly.
Harry and Ron scowled at each other; Snape wouldn’t have said “settle down” if
they’d walk in late, he’d have given them detention. But Malfoy had always been
able to get away with anything Snape’s class.
Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Harry and Ron, so that they were
preparing their ingredients on the same table. Harry spared him a passing glare
before returning to his ingredients. He had almost everything ready, he just
needed to skin his shrivelfig and then he could add them to his cauldron, the
potion inside starting to turn into the needed acidic green.
“Sir,” Malfoy called, “sir, I’ll need help cutting up these daisy roots,
because my arm—“
“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him,” Snape said without looking up.
Ron went brick red. “There’s nothing wrong with your arm,” he hissed at Malfoy.
Malfoy smirked across the table.
“Weasley, you heard Professor Snape, cut up these roots.”
Ron seized his knife, pulled Malfoy’s roots toward him, and began to chop them
roughly, so that they were all different sizes.
“Professor,” drawled Malfoy, “Weasley’s mutilating my roots, sir.”
Snape approached their table, stared down his hooked nose at the roots, then
gave Ron an unpleasant smile from beneath his long, greasy black hair.
“Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley.”
“But sir—“
“Now,” Snape said in his most dangerous voice.
Ron shoved his own beautifully cut roots across the table at Malfoy, then took
up the knife again.
“And sir, I’ll need this shrivelfig skinned,” Malfoy said, his voice full of
malicious laughter.
“Potter, give your shrivelfig to Malfoy,” Snape said, giving Harry the look of
loathing he always reserved just for him.
Malfoy smirked as Harry took his shrivelfig. He regrettably gave Malfoy his,
throwing it at Malfoy as he began work skinning the shrivelfig again. “I should
never have cleaned your wounds,” he muttered.
“Sorry Potter, can’t listen to muttering,” Malfoy smirked.
Harry glared at him and spat, “Prick,” at him.
Malfoy returned the glare. “Father’s not very happy about my injury—“
“Keep talking, Malfoy, and I’ll give you a real injury,” Ron snarled. Harry
looked between the two and added, “I’ve seen your injuries Malfoy, stop faking
it.”
“—he’s complained to the school governors. And to the Ministry of Magic.
Father’s got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this”—he
gave a hug, fake sigh—“who knows if my arm’ll ever be the same again?”
“Shut up Malfoy,” Harry said. “My dad’s influential to the Ministry as well.
One of the best Auror in the Ministry. I’m sure the Minister will most likely
listen to him then that slimly prat you call a father.”
“Watch it Potter,” Malfoy threatened.
Harry looked up at him, pure anger in his eyes as he whispered, “I should have
jinxed you in the hospital wing. Your wound would have lasted longer if I did
not clean and dress it for you. You want to know pain? I can give that to you.”
Both boys glared at each other before the taller looked down at his cauldron.
“Thank you,” he said harshly. “For dressing my cut.”
“You’re welcome,” Harry said coldly. He turned his attention to the dead
caterpillars he was cutting. He was supposed to cut them in half, and he looked
over at Ron, who was still struggling to repair the damage to the roots he now
had to use. Harry felt pity for his friend, so he took Ron’s dead caterpillars
and began cutting them for him.
“Thanks mate,” Ron said, offering Harry a smile.
A few cauldrons away, Neville was in trouble. Neville regularly went to pieces
in Potions lessons; it was his worst subject, and his great fear of Professor
Snape made things ten times worse. His potion, which was supposed to be a
bright, acid green, had turned—
“Orange, Longbottom,” Snape said, ladling some up and allowing it to splash
back into the cauldron, so that everyone could see. “Orange. Tell me, boy, does
anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite
clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a
dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand,
Longbottom?”
Neville was pink and trembling. He looked as though he was on the verge of
tears.
“Please sir,” Hermione said, “please, I could help Neville put it right—“
“I don’t remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger,” Snape said coldly, and
Hermione went as pink as Neville. Malfoy smirked and Harry turned to glare at
the taller teen. “Longbottom, at the end of this lesson we will feed a few
drops of this potion to your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will
encourage you to do it properly.”
Snape moved away, leaving Neville breathless with fear. “Help me!” he moaned to
Hermione.
Malfoy smirked and chuckled. “What you laughing about?” Harry asked, turning
his full attention on Malfoy.
“Longbottom, the boy’s hopeless,” Malfoy said. “I’d swear he was a Squib with
him screwing up everything.”
“Watch it Malfoy,” Ron warned. “Or I’ll feed you to the Dementors.”
“Just ignore him Ron,” Harry said. “He’s just a glory-seeking prat.”
Malfoy glared at Harry, his eyes shining malevolently. Harry ignored him and
focused on his task, helping Ron cut his remaining ingredients. Harry turned
his entire focus again on his potion. This is how he is able to brew, his
entire concentration needed to be on the potion he is working on, ignoring his
hatred for Professor Snape and his irritability with Draco Malfoy, the boy he
tried to befriend. Only his potion and Ron’s matter. When he finished cutting
Ron’s ingredients he turned his focus to his cauldron for the rest of the
class, letting it simmer when it needed to and mixing when it needed mixing. At
the end of the lesson, his potion was the precise acid-green Professor Snape
asked for, who only awarded Harry one measly point for Gryffindor.
Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron.
“Everyone, gather ‘round,” Snape said, his black eyes glittering, “and watch
what happens to Longbottom’s toad. If he had managed to produce a Shrinking
Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don’t doubt, he has done it
wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned.”
The Gryffindors watched fearfully, the Slytherins, excited. Snape picked up
Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville’s
potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor’s throat.
There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a
small pop, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape’s palm.
The Gryffindors burst into applause, Snape looking sour, pulled a small bottle
from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on the top of Trevor, and he
reappeared suddenly, fully grown.
“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape said, which wiped the smiles from every
face. “I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione climbed the steps to the entrance hall. Harry was
still thinking about what Malfoy said about the school governors while Ron
seethed about Snape. At the Great Hall, Harry spent half of lunch glaring at
Malfoy, trying to figure out what his father was planning to do, and debating
if he should talk to his own dad. His eyes somehow fell on Zabini, who was
talking with Malfoy as Crabbe and Goyle flanked them. There was something about
the boy that made Harry feel… weird.
He didn’t know how to describe the feeling. Just watching the Slytherin just
made his heart start to race, as if it was anticipating something. Harry
assumed that that was just him being suspicious and returned to his food.
Professor Lupin-Black wasn’t there when they arrived at his first Defense
Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills,
and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. He smiled
vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher’s desk. He was as
shabby as ever but looked healthier than he had on the train, as though he had
a few square meals.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “Would you please put all your books in your bags.
Today’s will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands.”
As they did so, Lavander Brown raised her hand and asked, “Professor? Why do
you have two last names?” She looked as if she wanted to ask that question ever
since the Opening Feast. Everyone looked at her, then back at Professor Lupin-
Black, wondering how he will react.
Professor Lupin-Black just chuckled. “It’s okay, would seem odd for a Professor
to have two last names wouldn’t it? My last name was Lupin, while my husband’s
name was Black. To make a long story short, we couldn’t decide whose last name
we should use, so I just hyphened them together. Though, it is a bit of a
mouthful isn’t it? ‘Lupin-Black,’” he chuckled again and looked around at the
classroom. “Why don’t you all just call me Professor Lupin? That way, we can
all save a second that can be used for class.”
The class seemed to agree, their talking now switched to Professor Lupin’s
husband. Another hand shot up and asked, “Where’s your husband!?”
“Home with our ten year old son,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “Now, let us
hurry up and grab our things.”
“Black… huh,” Ron said.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“Nothing, the name just sounds familiar that’s all,” Ron shrugged. Harry nodded
and got his things together, puzzled and excited to see what Professor Lupin
had planned. He couldn’t help but stare at Professor Lupin… Lupin-Black. He had
never in his life met someone like him, a man who has a husband? Harry never
thought that was a possibility, his father never talked about it, and neither
did everyone he knew. Harry didn’t even know if there was a word for it. There
should be.
He led them along the deserted corridor, around a corner, and down the second
corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.
“Inside, please,” Professor Lupin-Black said, opening it and standing back.
The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty
except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he
looked around as the class filled in. His eyes were glittering and there was a
nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin-Black came in and made
to close the door behind him, Snape said, “Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not
witness this.”
He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind
him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, “Possibly no one’s warned
you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not
to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing
instructions in her ear.”
Neville went scarlet. Harry glared at Snape; it was bad enough that he bullied
Neville in his own classes, let alone doing it in front of other teachers.
Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping that Neville would
assist me with the first stage of the operation,” he said, “and I am sure he
will perform it admirably.”
Neville’s face went, if possible, even redder. Snape’s lip curled, but he left,
shutting the door with a snap.
“Now then,” Professor Lupin said, beckoning the class towards the end of the
room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their
spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a
sudden wobble, banging off the wall.
“Nothing to worry about,” Professor Lupin said calmly because a few people had
jumped backward in alarm. “There’s a boggart in there.”
Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Harry
remembered briefly a story his father had told him about boggarts when he was
young. This was during James’ first year as an Auror, and someone called about
a robbery. James arrived, only to see that several boggarts had made themselves
at home in the witch’s closets and dressers. James was laughing when he told
Harry that was the most snakes he had ever seen in one day. “Then! With one
wave of my wand, all the snakes became balloons! And they all went
phhhhhhhhhhfffff” Harry chuckled as he remembered his father imitating a
deflating balloon, which caused the five year old Harry to burst out laughing.
“—and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years
some practice. So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a
boggart?”
Hermione’s hand shot up. “It’s a shape-shifter,” she said. “It can take the
shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Professor Lupin said, and Hermione
glowed. “So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a
form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of
the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I
let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.
“This mean,” Professor Lupin said, choosing to ignore Neville’s small sputter
of terror, “that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin.
Have you spotted it Harry?”
“Err— ‘cause there’s so many of us,” Harry said, “it won’t know what shape it
should be.”
“Precisely!” Professor Lupin said. “It’s always best to have company when
you’re dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. The charm that repels a
boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. Now, does anyone know what
really finishes a boggart?”
Harry found his hand in the air. “Harry?” Professor Lupin said.
“Laughter,” Harry said, his mind going back to the snakes-turned-balloons.
“Correct Harry,” Professor Lupin said. “Laughter! What you need to do is force
the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing. We will practice the charm
without wands first. After me, please … riddikulus!”
“Riddikulus!” the class said together.
“Good, very good. But that was the easy part, I’m afraid. You see, the word
alone is not enough. And this is where you come in Neville.”
The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as
though he were heading for the gallows. Harry watched as Professor Lupin asked
Neville what scared him most. Neville admitted it was Professor Snape and
everyone laughed. During that laughter, Harry felt a body brush up behind him,
and a familiar male voice whispered, “After class… room next to this one. We
need to talk Harry.”
Harry turned his head around, but only saw the crowd of students behind him,
all of whom were focusing on Neville. Harry looked for Zabini, who was standing
with Malfoy. Zabini smirked at Harry and gave a small nod. Malfoy looked at
Zabini confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention back to Longbottom,
a malicious smirk appearing on his face.
Harry turned his attention back to Neville as well. There was more laughter as
Professor Lupin-Black said that if Neville was successful, the boggart
Professor Snape will be forced into Neville’s grandmother’s clothing.
“If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each
of us in turn,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “I would like all of you to take a
moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you
might force it to look comical. …”
The room went quiet. Harry thought about what feared him most. His first
thought was You-Know-Who—a Voldemort returned to full strength. But before he
had even started to plan a possible counterattack, a horrible image came
floating to the surface of his mind. …
A rotting, glistening hand, slithering back beneath a black cloak… a long,
rattling breath from an unseen mouth…then a cold so penetrating it felt like
drowning. …
Harry shivered, then looked around, hoping no one had noticed. Many people had
their eyes shut tight.
“Ready Everyone? Neville… on the count of three. One…two…three!”
A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin-Black’s wand and hit the
doorknob. The wardrobe bust open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape
stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville’s arms shook as he aimed his
wand at the boggart. “R—r—riddikulus!” Neville squeaked.
There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he wsa wearing a long,
lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he
was swinging a huge crimson handbag. There was a roar of laughter as Professor
Black-Lupin called for the next student to step up. Parvati stepped forward and
there was another crack. Snape turned into a bloodied mummy. “Riddikulus!”
Parvati yelled. The bandage unraveled at the mummy’s feet; it became entangled
and fell face forward.
Seamus came next, and the mummy turned into a woman with floor-length black
hair, and a skeletal, green-tinged face—a banshee. Seamus yelled “Riddikulus!”
and the banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was
gone. Crack! The banshee turned into a rat which chased its tail; a snake which
slithered and withered before becoming a single, bloody eyeball. Dean stepped
up and the eyeball turned into a severed hand, who crept around the floor. Dean
casted the spell, and the hand became trapped in a mousetrap.
Harry was next. The boggart rolled towards him before another loud crack! sound
and the hand became the dementor. Harry immediately felt the drowning coldness
gripping his heart. His wand was aimed at the dementor but he could not give
voice to the spell. There was a shallow sucking sound, and once again Harry
heard the female voice yelling his name.
“HERE!” Lupin yelled, jumping in front of Harry. The dementor immediately
turned into a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin-Black.
“Riddikulus!” he said almost lazily. The orb exploded, burst into a thousand
tiny whips of smoke, and was gone.
“Excellent, everyone,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “Well done everyone. … Let’s
see … five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart—ten for
Neville for going first, and ten points to Harry and five for Hermione.”
Harry still felt the remains of the coldness as Lupin gave them their homework
assignment. The icy feeling had subsided significantly as Harry left the
staffroom. He was near the back with Ron and Hermione and said, “I think I left
something back in there. I’ll meet up with you guys later.”
“Alright, see you Harry,” Ron said. Harry nodded and waited till Ron and
Hermione were nearly out of sight before he went to the room next to the
staffroom, which turned out to be a small, abandoned classroom.
As he suspected, Zabini was already there, sitting on the teacher’s desk
waiting for Harry. “Close the door please?” Zabini asked.
Harry did as he was told, and turned towards Zabini. “What do you want Zabini?”
he asked the Slytherin.
He smirked and hopped off the desk. “Did you know, that you smell like apples
and cinnamon? Is it a special shampoo you use? Or is it natural, Harry?”
Harry didn’t know how to respond. “What?” he said.
Blaise just chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so cute Harry,” Zabini said,
irritating Harry.
“Stop calling me that Zabini,” Harry said, taking a step back as Zabini walked
up to him. “What do you want?” he demanded again.
“Told you Harry, I want to be your friend, but that can’t happen if you keep
glaring at me like that,” Zabini said softly.
Harry sighed and debated if Zabini was telling the truth. Zabini stayed where
he was, waiting quietly as he did so. Then, finally, Harry opened his mouth and
softly said, “Sorry.”
Zabini smiled a genuine smile and said, “That’s fine Harry. … Shall we start
this all over? I’m Blaise Zabini.”
Zabini offered his hand, and Harry stared at if for a short moment before
taking it. “Harry Potter,” he said.
Blaise smiled and gripped Harry’s hand tightly. “So Harry, did you figure out
what I was talking about last time?”
“…about how you, me, and Malfoy are the same?” Harry asked. Blaise nodded. “No.
I can’t think of anything how I’m similar to that prat! Not that I want to be,
after what happened. I mean, I cleaned his wound, I tried to be his friend and
he spat it all in my face!”
Blaise sighed and shook his head, “Listen Harry, I know Draco can be a huge
prat… but if you want to be friends with him, you have to stick to it.”
“Why?” Harry demanded, asking a bit too roughly. When he realized his tone he
flinched a little and muttered another sorry.
Blaise just laughed and smiled. “It’s alright Harry, it’s alright. And well…
Draco’s under a lot of pressure from his father, Lucius Malfoy. As the sole
heir of the Malfoy fortune, Draco has a lot to live up to, and his father is
breathing down his neck to keep him on the straight and narrow.”
“Let me guess, Malfoy has a plan for Draco that he has to follow, even if he
doesn’t tell him?” Harry asked, frowning when he realized their similarity.
Blaise nodded, “Exactly. How’d you know?”
“My dad has the same thing for me,” Harry admitted. “Get into Gryffindors, make
best friends, join the Quidditch team and marry a nice girl. Never said it
explicitly, but I can feel his pressure. It’s like I have this pain inside me
when I don’t do something my dad wants.”
“That’s a bit how Draco explained it,” Blaise said. “Expect it was obvious he
was going to be a Slytherin.”
“Did you know… that the Sorting Hat considered me to be in Slytherin?” Harry
asked, not knowing why he felt like sharing this fact.
“Really?” Blaise smirked. “So, not only do you smell lovely, but you were going
to be a snake as well?”
“Yeah… scared me when it said it. Begged the hat to put me in anything else,”
Harry chuckled. “So… Gryffindor.”
“Gryffindor,” Blaise nodded.
“Funny thing though, I can’t bring myself to hate my dad,” Harry said. “I mean,
it’s just me and him. Has been ever since… you know,”—Blaise nodded and Harry
continued—“Dad’s not a bad guy! He really isn’t. I mean, he taught me how to
play Quidditch, and everything I needed to know. He even taught me how to clean
wounds and was always there to comfort me when I was sad or angry or lonely.
…He was always there for me… I love him, but now… it’s too much yeah? I mean,
he told me that all Slytherins were all slimly evil gits—“
Blaise snickered.
“—but you don’t seem that way. And he told me to stay away from Professor
Lupin-Black, but so far he seems the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher
we ever had!” Harry said.
Blaise nodded and said, “So you want to rebel against Daddy dearest… is that
the only reason why you’re talking to me Harry?” He frowned with mock hurt in
his eyes.
“What—no! I’m talking to you because you just seem so…” Harry didn’t know how
to finish that sentence so he asked, “What about you Blaise? Eh? Any family
problems like me and Malfoy?”
“Nope, mother loves me, I love mother, mother tells me to do whatever I want
with myself and I agree,” Blaise said. “Seems to be working so far… But Draco,
that’s a different story. His dad, and I know it’s not my place to say here,
but his dad seems a bit distant from Draco. I mean, it’s always his mum sending
letters and sweets to him. The last time I saw Draco talking with his father
was a very short ‘goodbye’ on the platform. Beside from that, nothing.” Blaise
shrugged, “So I can’t tell you how he feels ‘bout his dad. But I know that he
feels pressured by him. I mean, he talks about the bloke so much, he just got
to. Father this, father that, Father will be mad... I’m sure you can get the
picture.”
“So how will this help me befriend Dr—Malfoy?” Harry asked. Blaise smiled and
said, “You were supposed to be in Slytherin? I bet he would love to hear that.
As for what else… I’m sure you can think of a few things to talk about. Oh, and
don’t worry about his venom? When he warms up to you, he’s practically
harmless.”
“Err… thanks Blaise… I guess… I’ll try ‘em next time Malfoy gets scratched and
ends up in the hospital wing,” Harry said. Blaise laughed.
“But seriously Harry, if you want to befriend Draco, just… tough out his
insults. I promise you there is a softie underneath the ‘Ice Prince of
Slytherin’ persona,” Blaise smiled.
“Thanks Blaise… I think I’ll do that,” Harry said.
“Awesome! Then we should be going,” Blaise said. “I’m sure you told a horrible
lie to Weasley and Granger that could only account for a short time. Come on
Harry, let’s go.”
Harry nodded and followed Blaise out of the classroom. They walked down the
corridor together, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how close he was to the
Slytherin. He could feel a warm glow from the boy, and he liked it. A smile
graced his face as he unconsciously inched closer to the Slytherin as they
walked in comfortable silence. They parted ways near Professor Lupin-Black’s
classroom, Harry heading towards Gryffindor Tower and Blaise heading towards
the Slytherin Dungeon.
Harry was still smiling lazily when he turned a corner and stopped suddenly.
There, in front of him, was George Weasley and another boy. Harry couldn’t see
the boy’s features, but Harry was positive that it was a boy, from his wide
frames and muscles. George was the same height as the boy, and Harry watched,
shocked and excited as George’s hand moved towards the boy’s face and pulled
him closer until—they were kissing!
Harry gasped softly as he watched George and the boy. George seemed to be
enjoying it as his hands moved around the other boy’s body, wrapping around
chest as the boy’s hand lowered to his waist, grazing the top of his butt.
Harry’s face turned scarlet red, he knew he was invading in something private,
yet he couldn’t look away as George and the unknown boy kissed. It was
enchanting, almost hypnotic to Harry as he watched. For some reason his body
started to tense up and his pants seemed all too tight. That never happened
before, and Harry started to panic and give away his position when George made
a high-pitched squeak. Harry focused and saw that the boy was now kissing
George’s neck. George made a weird sound, like a yawn but it was higher, as the
boy kept kissing his neck.
“Ahh—not too rough,” George said. The boy just chuckled before kissing him
again. They spun in a half circle, and George’s eyes widened when he saw Harry.
Harry, tight-pants and red-faced finally seemed to have gained the use of his
legs again as he turned and ran, which seemed to become immensely harder with
his private part grown.
He ran back towards the Gryffindor Tower and said the password to the Fat Lady,
who only raised an eyebrow at his appearance. Harry tried to walk calmly inside
the common room and looked around, relieved that Hermione and Ron weren’t
there.
“Harry!” George said, entering just behind Harry. “Harry—don’t run,” George
said. Harry turned around and stared at him. “We need to talk,” George said.
Harry just nodded and followed George as they went to the boy’s dormitories.
They entered the fifth year dormitories, and Harry followed George as they
apparently headed towards his bed. “Harry… what did you see?”
“I saw you and another boy kissing,” Harry said, looking up at George. “And it
made me feel… weird.”
“How weird?”
“My heart started to race and my pants… my pants—“ Harry’s face became red
again, thinking about that.
“It’s okay, I get the picture. I guess you know what I am now?” George said.
“Like Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked.
George chuckled and nodded, “Yeah. Though, we’re called gay. It’s when a person
of one sex falls in love with a person of the same sex, or at least is
attracted to them.”
“So you… and that guy…?”
“Are gay, yes. Does that matter to you Harry?” George asked softly. Harry
looked up at him and frowned. “I don’t know… I didn’t know that was—was
possible till today.”
“That’s okay,” George said. “Take all the time you need to make an opinion. Do
you have any questions?”
Harry looked at him, his head suddenly filled with all sorts of questions he
wanted to ask. He did not know which one to ask first. So instead he asked,
“Umm how did… how did you know that umm…”
“I was gay?” George asked. Harry nodded.
“Well, around when I was your age, I started to look more at the guys than
girls,” George said. “And when I jerk off, it was guys I was picturing.”
“Jerk off?” Harry asked confused.
George looked at him and laughed lightly, “You are too innocent!” he said.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll discover that on your own. Anyway, I was noticing
more things about boys than girls.”
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“Well, the way they looks, the way they stood, small details that other guys
would never notice,” George said. Harry felt a knot in his stomach, realizing
that George was describing exactly what he was noticing. Could it be that he
was gay like George? Harry was afraid to ask about that, he was afraid to even
think about that.
“Why? Is that what you are noticing?” George asked softly. Harry looked up
shocked, wondering if George was reading his mind. Slowly, Harry blushed and
nodded. George smiled and said, “Don’t say anything. Just take your time yeah?
Don’t need to make any commitment now. Alright?”
“Yeah… thanks,” Harry said, feeling relieved. George nodded and a familiar
playful smirk appeared on his face. “Excellent. Now, how bout we head down to
dinner? I’m starving! And Harry, you know that you can come to me for anything
right?”
“Yeah,” Harry said.
“Good,” George said. “Now let’s go.”
George and Harry went down to the Great Hall, their conversation thankfully
being turned from their serious talk to Quidditch. George was telling Harry how
much Wood is pumped for their first match. “We’re going up against Hufflepuff
first,” George said. “Got to say, I’m a bit more excited for this match too.”
“Why?”
“Got a bet going,” George said smirking at Harry. “If we win, I also win three
Galleons.”
Harry laughed and George joined him. “Then I’ll make sure to get the Snitch in
record time.”
George laughed and agreed. Harry smiled again and started to feel excited about
the Quidditch match as well. It was true that he liked watching Quidditch more
than playing it, but if it was with his friends… he couldn’t resist a friendly
game of Quidditch. And listening to George’s excitement for the game made him
excited. He wondered if Blaise would be on the Slytherin team, then it would
feel exactly like a friendly game, and not at all like a professional game like
it had during the past two years.
When they reached the Great Hall, students were still filtering in with them.
Ron and Hermione were already there, and when Harry sat with them, Ron asked
“What took you so long? Hermione and I were waiting in the common room.”
“Ran into George,” Harry said, lying easily. “We had a talk.”
Ron accepted the response and began spewing about Professor Lupin-Black’s
lesson. “Did you see the spider fall? It just had roller skates and then it
just fell!” he laughed. Harry laughed with him. “Strange though that he jumped
in front of yours,” Ron continued.
“But it makes sense,” Hermione said. “I mean, it was a dementor. Hard to make a
dementor funny.” Harry nodded, frowning when he remembered hearing the woman’s
screams again. He couldn’t help but wonder why the dementor affected him so
much more than the others. He looked up at the staff table, where Professor
Lupin-Black sat eating. His eyes turned again towards the Slytherin Table,
first to his new friend Blaise, who was talking to Malfoy. When his eyes fell
on Malfoy, a weird feeling occurred in his gut. He couldn’t understand the
feeling at all, it wasn’t hatred, or anger. It was something that Harry never
experienced before. It was as if a thousand butterflies decided to take wing in
his body, upsetting every organ and inch of him, and yet his heart seemed to be
immune. His heart, though at first felt like it skipped a beat, felt extremely
warm as he stared at the Ice Prince. It felt almost calm, Harry couldn’t quite
explain it, but just looking at Malfoy, when he is not glaring nor sneering at
Harry, he could see how handsome the boy is.
As if on cue, Blaise looked over at the Gryffindor table and smiled at Harry.
Harry gave a smile and small wave back before the Slytherin returned his
attention Malfoy. Maybe having a Slytherin for a friend wouldn’t be as horrible
as his father told him. Maybe he was wrong, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder
if his father was wrong about Slytherins, could he be wrong about Professor
Lupin-Black? Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find out by himself.
For now though… Harry thought about what to write about in his letter to his
father at the end of the week. He knew he would definitely include the boggart,
and maybe a sentence or two about Blaise, avoiding the fact he is a Slytherin,
naturally.
***** Getting Closer *****
                                   Chapter 5
                                Getting Closer
The next morning, Harry woke up to a long letter from his dad.
Harry,
You must know how hard I am fighting to come to Hogwarts immediately. A
dementor!? Your boggart is the most dangerous dark creature in the world! I
cannot see how you can make a dementor funny, maybe making its robes white with
red polka-dots but still. I am happy that your professor jumped in front of you
when the dementor-boggart came, believe me I know how much a dementor can
affect you. Sorry bout that, seems you got that from me. But, I know that the
next time, if there is one, you can take care of that boggart! After all, you
are the best son in the world! (Whose dad is the best Auror in the world
Haha!!) I’m happy that you finally have a professor who knows his stuff, I
really am, it’s just I wish that it was someone different from him. But hey,
enough about that!
So, you must tell me all about this Blaise guy. He sounds like a great guy, and
I say go for that friendship! By the way you describe him, it seems like you
already like him so why not? Though, it doesn’t matter I would like to know his
last name… Not that it matters, just would like to know your new friend’s name.
And what house is he in? Sounds like a Ravenclaw if you ask me, but again I
just want to know. Man… can’t believe I’m getting excited for you getting a new
friend. It’s like that time when you were five and I took you to that muggle
shop to get Snuffles here! Remember?
Miss you Harry, but I’m really happy everything’s seem to be working out.
Love,
Dad
Harry smiled at the letter. At least his he has his father’s approval with
Blaise, even if he doesn’t know that Blaise is a Slytherin. “What are you
grinning about Harry?” Ron asked as he and Hermione sat down on either side of
him at the Gryffindor Table.
“Letter from dad,” Harry said. “He’s happy with Professor Lupin-Black, I think.
Says that he’s glad we finally have someone who knows their stuff.”
“Me too,” Ron agreed, and it seemed to be the popular opinion in the school.
In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people’s
favorite class. Only Draco Malfoy and his gang of Slytherins had anything bad
to say about Professor Lupin-Black. But Harry noticed that Malfoy’s insults
were less hurtful than the others, his comments getting either a glare or nudge
in the shoulders by Blaise.
No one cared about the insults the Slytherins could think of, however. His next
few lessons were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied
Red Caps, nasty little goblinlike creatures that lurked wherever there had been
bloodshed. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that
looked like scaly monkeys, with webbed hands itching to strangle unwitting
wades in their ponds.
Harry wished that his other classes would be as good as Professor Lupin-
Black’s. He was growing to dread the hours he spent in Professor Trelawney’s
stifling tower room, deciphering lopsided shapes and symbols, trying to ignore
the way Professor Trelawney’s enormous eyes filled with tears every time she
looked at him. He couldn’t like the professor, even though she was treated with
respect bordering on reverence by many of the class. Parvati Patil and Lavender
Brown had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney’s tower room at lunchtimes, and
always returned with annoyingly superior looks on their faces, as though they
knew things the others didn’t. They had also started using hushed voices
whenever they spoke to Harry, as though he were on his deathbed.
One of the only good things about Care of Magical Creatures, Harry thought, was
that it gave him and Blaise a chance to talk to each other without anyone
noticing. The class had become extremely dull after the first action-packed
class, and though it hurt Harry’s heart to take advantage of Hagrid’s lost of
confidence, he and Blaise barely had any time to speak at all.
At the start of October, Quidditch season was approaching again. Oliver Wood
called a meeting one Thursday evening to discuss tactics for the new season.
Oliver Wood was a burly sixteen year old, and Harry’s Captain of the Gryffindor
Quidditch Team. He was in his next to last year, and had been captain ever
since Harry joined the Quidditch team in his first year. There was a sort of
desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the
chilly locker rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field. Harry noticed
that his eyes kept on lingering towards the Weasley Twins, who were both
leaning against the lockers.
“This is our last chance to win the Quidditch Cup,” he told them, striding up
and down in front of them. “Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. Okay, so
we’ve had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting
called off last year. …” Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a
lump in his throat. Harry couldn’t help but stare at him, noting his muscles
and the way his neck moved when he swallowed. “But we also know we’ve got the
best—ruddy—team—in—the—school,” he said, punching a fist into his other hand,
the old manic glint back in his eye. Harry’s cheeks became rosy.
“We’ve got three superb Chasers.”
Wood pointed at Alicia Spinner, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.
“We’ve got two unbeatable Beaters.”
“Stop it Oliver, you’re embarrassing us,” Fred and George said together,
pretending to blush. Harry could have sworn he saw Wood wink at them.
“And we’ve got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!” Wood rumbled,
glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride. “And me,” he added as an
afterthought.
“And we think you’re very good too, Oliver,” George said.
“Spanking good Keeper,” Fred said.
“The point is,” Wood went on, resuming his pacing, “the Quidditch Cup should
have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team,
I’ve thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven’t got it, and this year’s
the last chance we’ll get to finally see our name on the thing…”
Wood spoke so dejectedly that even Fred and George looked sympathetic.
“Oliver, this year’s our year!” George said.
“We’ll do it Oliver!” Angelina said.
“Definitely,” Harry said.
Filled with determination, the team started training sessions, three evenings a
week. During these sessions, Harry noticed that Wood would stay near the twins,
barking orders at them, and making sure that they do everything perfect. Wood
seems to be extra hard on George, Harry seemed to notice, as he always talked
to George personally or had his eyes on the twin when addressing them both.
During the weeks that followed, Harry and Blaise continued to become closer,
starting to share childhood stories whenever they met in the empty classrooms.
One evening, Blaise walked in with a smirk. “What would you say if I can make
you and Draco some personal time?”
Harry looked at him shocked. “Me and Draco alone in a room?” he asked. Ever
since the Buckbeak incident, he wanted to talk to Malfoy alone, but never had
the chance. Whenever he would try to even suggest it, Crabbe and Goyle would
block his way and Malfoy would softly glare at him. “How did you even get him
away from Crabbe and Goyle?”
“Easy, Draco and I are best friends,” Blaise shrugged. He smiled at Harry and
moved the next he was sitting on next to Harry’s. Harry became suddenly aware
of how close his body was to Blaise’s. Blaise smiled and took in a deep breath.
“What do you do Harry? You always smell like apples and cinnamon.”
“Stop it!” Harry blushed, pushing Blaise away from him. Blaise laughed and
smiled at him. “So Potter, did you figure it out yet?”
“Figure what out?” Harry asked, confused.
Blaise smiled and took a step closer to Harry. “How we’re all the same, Harry,”
he said. “You… me and Draco. There is just one special thing that we all have
in common. Even if all of us haven’t figured it out yet.”
Harry frowned at Blaise. He tried thinking about what they all had in common,
but school work and now Quidditch Practice distracted him. He quickly tried to
think of something, anything, so he said, “After our first err meeting, I ran
into something.”
“What was it Harry?” Blaise asked.
“Well… will you promise me that you won’t tell anyone?” Harry asked. Blaise
nodded, so Harry said, “I ran into George, err George Weasley, and he was
kissing a guy.”
“Really?” Blaise smiled, looking at Harry with great interest. “Did it make you
feel any different?”
Harry blushed and looked down. “I don’t know how to describe it. My heart
started pounding, my head started swimming and my—you know, it umm started to
grow.”
Blaise chuckled and said, “You are so cute Harry. So innocent. What you
described was perfectly normal. It’s called an erection.”
“What!” Harry said, his cheeks going red. “Blaise, I don’t want this
conversation.”
“But it’ll be better to hear it from me, trust me,” Blaise said.
“How do you know all this stuff anyway?” Harry demanded.
Blaise shrugged and smirked at Harry. “Draco taught me.”
“Malfoy…” Harry said softly. He stood up from his desk and walked towards the
teacher’s desk. He breathed deeply and looked at Blaise. “Alright… what’s an
erection?”
“It’s when your penis gets hard,” Blaise said. “It shows that you’re very happy
in a… special way.”
“Special?” Harry asked, frowning slightly. “But it happened when I saw George
and a boy kissing. It make me feel… weird-like. George saw me and talked with
me afterwards. He said he was gay. He asked me if I thought I was gay as well
after that and…”
“And what?”
“I didn’t know how to answer it,” Harry admitted. Blaise nodded and strolled
towards Harry. He leaned against the teacher’s desk, but kept a respectable
distance. “And now?” he asked.
Harry frowned. He did not know how to answer. It was true that he noticed more
about guys then girls, and just remembering George’s and the boy’s kiss stirred
his penis. “I don’t know…” he said honestly.
“Well, how about this?” Blaise asked, moving to sit down next to Harry. He
gently took Harry’s hand in his and brought it up between their heads. Harry
watched uncertain as Blaise brought his hand closer to his head. “How does it
feel?” Blaise breathed, his breath hitting Harry’s cold white skin. Harry
gasped as he watched Blaise bend down and kiss his hand. His stomach turned,
his head started to feel light again as his body reacted positively to the
kiss. A smile graced his face as Blaise looked up at Harry, a small smile.
“I… I like it,” Harry admitted, his hand curling around Blaise’s. Blaise smiled
and said, “Good. So my cute Gryffindor, have you found out?”
“How we’re all the same?” Harry asked. Blaise nodded. “I think so… we’re all
gay. You, me and Malfoy… we all like boys.”
“Exactly Harry!” Blaise grinned. His arm moved to wrap around Harry’s
shoulders. “I’m gay. Knew ever since I was ten. Draco’s gay as well, and now
you figured it out.”
Harry blushed and nodded. “I’m gay,” he said more confidently. “I am gay.”
Repeating it, it was as if the world suddenly made sense to Harry. He likes
boys, he is gay, just as Blaise, George and Malfoy. He smiled at Blaise and
said, “Thanks…”
“No problem Harry,” Blaise said. He led the Gryffindor away from the teacher’s
desk and towards the closed door. “Harry… now I think I can ask you this.”
“W-What is it Blaise?” Harry asked.
“I want to be with you,” Blaise said. “Outside the classrooms. I want your
friendship to be out in the open. … Can it be?”
“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I want that too.”
“Great!” Blaise smiled. He opened the door for Harry and the two walked
through. The corridor was empty and Harry turned to Blaise as the Slytherin’s
arm moved from his shoulders. “I have to talk to George,” Harry said seriously.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Right, see you Harry,” Blaise smiled. He watched as Harry turned and ran down
the corridor. Blaise smirked, feeling really good about himself as he casually
walked back towards the Slytherin Dungeons. When he entered the Slytherin
Common room, he saw Draco in his personal seat by the fireplace, Crabbe and
Goyle flanking him as he worked through his homework. “Hey Draco!” Blaise said
as he walked towards him.
Crabbe and Goyle stood up and blocked his view of Draco, their arms crossed.
Blaise rolled his eyes and said, “Can you get the squibs out of the way?”
“Move,” Draco said lazily, not looking up from his homework. The two looked at
each other, before moving out of the way, allowing Blaise to approach his best
friend. “Want to talk with you alone Draco,” he said, sitting down next to
Draco.
Draco looked up from his assignment and looked at Crabbe and Goyle. “Leave us,”
he said. The two waited till Crabbe and Goyle left through the stairs and he
turned to Blaise. “What is it?” he asked.
Blaise smirked and said, “Did you know that Harry Potter smells of apples and
cinnamon? And when he blushes, his ears turn a bright red?”
Draco stopped writing and glared at his friend. “Why are you telling me this?
Why are you even near Potter? Haven’t I told you he is mine?”
Blaise shrugged and said, “You weren’t making a move. Besides, he’s free game.
He just came out to himself today. In front of me. His friend.”
Draco continued to glare at his friend. “Blaise,” he said his voice deep and
icy. “What are you trying to do?”
Blaise just smirked and laughed. “Well, since you’re too busy being a prick to
the poor boy, I decided to show him how nice we can be. And besides, I’m
starting to like the boy. He is really cute, you know.” Draco continued to
glare at his friend, anger and jealousy clear in his eyes. “Well Draco … if you
want a shot at Harry, I guess I could take a step back.”
“You better Zabini,” Draco said. Blaise just smiled at his friend and said, “Of
course Draco. We’re going to meet the day before Hogsmeade in the classroom on
the second floor. You go in my stead, and try and have a civil conversation
with him. He really does want to be your friend.”
“Friend,” Draco said. “Potter wants to be my friend?” He couldn’t help but
laugh at that.
“Harry isn’t his father, Draco. You should know plenty about that,” Blaise
frowned. That earned Blaise a sharp look from his friend. “Look, just give the
boy a chance alright? He deserves it.”
“Whatever,” Draco shrugged. Blaise took that in a positive light and looked
down at what Draco was writing. “So, working on McGonagall’s essay?”
Draco just glanced at his friend for the abrupt topic change and nodded. “Yeah,
been working on it for an hour.”
“Going to let the squibs copy off of you?” Blaise smirked.
“Of course not!” Draco said. “They’re stupid enough to suffer through this.”
Blaise chuckled and relaxed into his seat. “So, ready for Quidditch?”
Harry found George and Fred with their friend Lee Jordon in a small courtyard,
talking in hushed tones. “George… I need to tell you something. It’s…
important,” he said when he walked up to them.
The three of them looked up and Fred said, “Hiya Harry, what you need?”
“Umm I need to tell George something… but maybe it’ll be better if I tell you
too,” Harry said, looking at Fred and Lee. George nodded understandingly and
said with a knowing smile, “What you want to say Harry?”
Harry took a deep breath and looked at the twins. “Fred… George… I’m gay,”
Harry said, his confidence slowly growing in himself. He let out a smile and
said, “I’m gay.”
George gave a smile while Fred held a playful smirk. Lee just looked at him and
said, “Congrats mate.”
“Thanks Harry, I know how difficult this could be,” George said.
“Yeah! Now I have two gay guys to tease,” Fred said lightheartedly. “We the
first ones you told?”
“Umm yeah…” Harry admitted. “You guys are the first ones… except for the guy
who helped me realize.”
Fred smirked and opened his mouth, but George covered it with his hand. “So
Harry, are you ready to tell Ron and Hermione? Or you think it’s too soon?”
“I think I’ll wait… I’m still processing it myself. I just wanted you to know,”
Harry said, looking a bit bashful. “Where are they anyway?”
“Back in the Common Room,” George said. Harry nodded and waved them goodbye,
feeling excellent about himself. He just came out for the second time in front
of four people in total, and he and Blaise agreed to be open about their
friendship! The day couldn’t have gone any better if he planned it. On his way
back to Gryffindor Tower, he decided that yes, he will wait to tell Ron and
Hermione. Until then, he’ll just have to act like nothing changed, because
honestly nothing has.
Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room one evening after training, cold
and stiff but pleased with the way practice had gone, to find the room buzzing
excitedly. “What’s happened?” he asked Ron and Hermione, who were sitting in
two of the best chairs by the fireside and completing some star charts for
Astronomy.
“First Hogsmeade weekend,” Ron said, pointing at a notice that had appeared on
the battered old bulletin board. “End of October. Halloween.”
Harry threw himself into a chair beside Ron, his high spirits ebbing away.
Hermione seemed to read his mind.
“Harry, I’m sure you’ll be able to go next time,” she said. “I’m sure your dad
will change your mind once the dementors are gone.”
“Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry,” Ron said. “The next one might
not be for ages—“
“Ron!” Hermione said. “Harry’s supposed to stay in school—“
“He can’t be the only third year left behind,” Ron said. “Ask McGonagall, go
on, Harry—“
“Yeah, I think I will,” Harry said, making up his mind.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but at that moment Crookshanks leapt
lightly onto her lap. A large, dead spider was dangling from his mouth.
“Does he have to eat that in front of us?” Ron said, scowling.
“Clever Crookshanks, did you catch that all by yourself?” Hermione said.
Crookshanks slowly chewed up the spider, his yellow eyes fixed insolently on
Ron.
“Just keep him over there, that’s all,” Ron said irritably, turning back to his
star chart. “I’ve got Scabbers asleep in my bag.”
“You know,” Harry yawned. “Snuffles used to catch spiders and insects like that
too.” He really wanted to go to bed, but he still had his own star chart to
complete. He pulled his bag toward him, took out parchment, ink, and quill, and
started work.
Ron offered Harry his work to copy, which Hermione disapproved of but didn’t
say anything, instead just pursing her lips. Crookshanks was still staring
unblinkingly at Ron, flicking the end of his bushy tail. Then, without warning,
he pounced.
“Oy!” Ron roared, seizing his bag as Crookshanks sank four sets of claws deep
inside it and began tearing ferociously. “Get off, you stupid animal!”
Ron tried to pull the bag away from Crookshanks, but Crookshanks clung on,
spitting and slashing.
“Ron, don’t hurt him!” Hermione squealed; the whole common room was watching;
Ron shirled the bag around, Crookshanks still clinging to it, and Scabbers came
flying out of the top. Ron yelled as Crookshanks freed himself from the
remnants of the bag, sprang over the table, and chased after the terrified
Scabbers.
Scabbers streaked through twenty pairs of legs and shot beneath an old chest of
drawers. Crookshanks skidded to a half, crouched low on his bandy legs, and
started making furious swipes beneath it with his front paw. Ron and Hermione
hurried over, Hermione grabbed Crookshanks around the middle and heaved him
away; Ron threw himself onto his stomach and, with great difficulty, pulled
Scabbers out by the tail.
“Look at him!” he said furiously to Hermione, dangling Scabbers in front of
her. “He’s skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!”
“Crookshanks doesn’t understand it’s wrong!” Hermione said, her voice shaking.
“All cats cases rats, Ron!”
“True!” Harry called in, looking up from his stars chart. “Dad calls Snuffles
our big rat killer. Though he finally taught him to stop presenting the dead
rats to us when he…” He looked at Ron’s horrified face and stopped talking.
Ron just glared at Crookshanks and said, “That cat’s got it in for Scabbers!”
He ignored the people around him, who were starting to giggle. “And Scabbers
was here first, and he’s ill!”
Ron marched through the common room and out of sight up the stairs to the boys’
dormitories. He was still angry at Hermione the next day, barely talking to her
throughout Herbology even though he, Hermione, and Harry were standing at the
same table. They had Transfiguration next. Harry, who had resolved to ask
Professor McGonagall after the lesson whether he could go into Hogsmeade with
the rest, joined the line outside the class trying to decide how he was going
to argue his case.
There was a disturbance, but he paid it no mind as Lavender Brown mourned for
her dead rabbit. To make his case look best, Harry tried extra hard during
Transfiguration, trying to be as a perceptive and attentive as Hermione. Harry
still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Professor McGonagall when the
bell rang at the end of the lesson, but it was she who brought up the subject
of Hogsmeade first.
“One moment please!” she called as the class made to leave. “As you’re all in
my House, you should hand Hogsmeade permission forms to me before Halloween. No
form, no visiting the village, so don’t forget!”
Neville put his hand. “Please, Professor, I—I think I’ve lost—“
“Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Longbottom,” Professor McGonagall
said. “She seemed to think it was safer. Well, that’s all, you may leave.”
“Ask her now,” Ron hissed at Harry.
“Oh, but—“ Hermione began.
Harry waited for the rest of the class to disappear, then headed nervously for
Professor McGonagall’s desk.
“Yes, Potter?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Professor, my dad—er—forgot to sign my form,” he
said.
Professor McGonagall looked over her square spectacles at him but didn’t say
anything.
“So—er—d’you think it would be all right—I mean, will it be okay if I—if I go
to Hogsmeade?”
Professor McGonagall looked down and began shuffling papers on her desk. “I’m
afraid not, Potter,” she said. “You heard what I said. No form, no visiting the
village. That’s the rule.” She stood up and piled her papers neatly into a
drawer. “The form clearly states that the parent or guardian must give
permission.” She turned to look at him, with an odd expression on her face. Was
it pity? “I’m sorry, Potter, but that’s my final word. You had better hurry, or
you’ll be late for your next lesson.”
 There was nothing to be done. Ron called Professor McGonagall a lot of names
that greatly annoyed Hermione; Hermione assumed an “all-for-the-best”
expression that made Ron even angrier, and Harry had to endure everyone in the
class talking loudly and happily about what they were going to do first, once
they get into Hogsmeade.
Harry and Blaise did not get any chance to hang out in public, the only time
the two talked was for Blaise to tell Harry about his and Malfoy’s meeting on
the day before Halloween. So, Harry’s mood was only slightly lifted as he
thought about their eventual meeting. At least he had one thing to look forward
to.
On the day of their meeting, Harry waited inside the classroom on the second
floor. He was feeling nervous as he waited, pacing back and forth. He was both
anticipating and dreading the door opening. His heart was pounding, a blush
graced his face for the last ten minutes, and felt a gigantic lump in his
throat.
Then, quite suddenly, the door opened and Harry jumped in surprise. Draco
Malfoy stood in the doorway, without his usual followers Crabbe and Goyle. This
was the first time Harry had a clear look at the Malfoy heir and the lump in
his throat softened slightly. Somehow he felt calmer as Malfoy walked in, as if
the temperature of the room cooled down immediately as Malfoy closed the door
behind him.
The Ice Prince was tall, Harry was certain that the top of his head could only
brush Malfoy’s chin. Harry watched as Malfoy strutted toward him, stopping only
five feet away. “Potter,” Malfoy said.
“Malfoy,” Harry replied, the knot in his voice making it uncharacteristically
high. Malfoy looked around, his silver eyes trying to look anywhere but Harry.
“Err,” Harry said, not knowing what to say. “I guess Blaise told you about our
meeting…”
“Yes, he did,” Malfoy said shortly. “He also told me many other things.”
“W-What?” Harry said, worried about what his friend might have told Malfoy.
“What things?”
“For one,” Malfoy said, walking forward towards Harry. He grabbed Harry’s arm
and pulled the boy closer to him. He was right, his head barely touched
Malfoy’s chin. “Blaise told me that you smell of apples and cinnamon. … And it
seems he’s right,” Malfoy smirked, taking in a deep breath next to Harry’s ear.
Harry breathed sharply and stepped back from Malfoy. Malfoy just smirked and
crossed his arms. “Why am I here Potter?”
“I just… wanted us to talk,” Harry said.
“Talk?” Malfoy asked. “And why should we talk, Potter?”
“I… I just wanted to know you,” Harry said.
“Potter, we’ve known each other for two full years.”
“I know but I want to know you… like how Blaise knows you… I don’t know how to
say it,” Harry said in irritation. “It’s just my mind is a jumbled mess and in
the center is just you. You’re everything my dad hates. A Slytherin, a Malfoy,
a pompous ass, and yet… I… don’t… hate … you. …Even though you’re a massive
prat.”
Malfoy smirked at Harry. “A pompous ass? Is that how you think of me Potter?”
“No! … Yes… I don’t know!” Harry said. “I know what my dad says about your
family, and I know your reputation of the school, and I definitely know how you
act in front of others but…” Harry stopped, trying to pick his words carefully.
Malfoy simply leaned against the nearest desk, crossing his arms and raising an
eyebrow. “But…” Harry said again, “but I don’t think any of those are the real
you.”
“And what is the real me Potter?” Malfoy asked.
“That’s who I want to know,” Harry said, remembering something that Blaise had
told him. “You’re a softie… under the ‘Ice Prince of Slytherin’ persona…”
“Excuse me!?” Malfoy said, looking insulted.
“That’s what Blaise said!” Harry said quickly. “He said that I should tough out
your insults and you’ll warm up to me… and that your venom is umm harmless.”
“Blaise said that?” Malfoy chuckled. He smirked at Harry and sat on a desk.
“Alright Potter, what do you want to talk about?”
Harry stared at Malfoy shocked. He never even imagined that he and Malfoy would
actually be talking civilly “What! Well umm Blaise said that we all have
something in common…”
“We’re all gay, yes,” Malfoy said. “Don’t be shocked Potter, I knew it ever
since I first saw you. Don’t take it the wrong way, but you are too petite to
be anything but gay.”
“What and you aren’t?” Harry argued. Malfoy laughed a genuine laugh that
shocked Harry, and he said, “Potter, I was joking. You do know what joking is
right? Yes you are petite, but I knew through other ways.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like how you couldn’t stop staring at me in the Great Hall,” Malfoy
stated. That caused Harry to blush, and Malfoy’s lips curled in satisfaction.
“Don’t blush Potter, though you look very nice heated. There are other reasons,
though I think I will keep them to myself.”
“Umm okay,” Harry said, trying to control his blush. “Umm how long have you
know that you were… uhh gay?”
“Eleven,” Malfoy stated.
“H-How did you know?” Harry asked.
Malfoy smirked and said, “I think I will tell you later.” He chuckled at the
small glare Harry threw him. “Anyway, I have to say that I am surprise it took
you this long to figure out. Oh well,” he shrugged. Harry refused to comment on
that.
“Yeah well…” Harry said, trying to stir the conversation into something safer.
“… Are you going to Hogsmeade?”
“Of course,” Malfoy said. “What a stupid question to ask Potter, everyone is
going to Hogsmeade.”
“I’m not,” Harry said, trying his best to hold back his jealousy.
“Oh? Why not?” Malfoy asked, “Scared of a few dementors Potter?”
Harry glared at him. “No. It’s because my dad refused to sign the permission
form.”
“Why not?” Malfoy asked curiously.
“He just wouldn’t!” Harry said, forgetting who he was talking to as he let his
frustration flow. “He is always so damn protective about me! He wouldn’t let me
have friends, I barely left our house before Hogwarts, and when I do, he’s
always looking around like You-Know-Who’s just going to jump out and attack us
even though he’s gone! And he’s just so damn… overprotective I can’t handle it!
He’s always saying of our plan, even though it’s his and even though he doesn’t
push me I just know that if I don’t do what he wants, he’ll be disappointed,
which I don’t want, and yet there’s no way that I can even live up to his plans
because now I realize that I’m fricking gay!”
Harry’s chest moved with his rapid breaths as he tried to calm down. Malfoy
just watched him, interested and silent. When Harry calmed down his entire face
turned red and muttered “Sorry.”
Malfoy smirked and said, “Don’t worry about it Potter. After all, isn’t this
what friends do? Rant to each other about their fathers?”
Harry looked up at Malfoy. “Friends?” he asked.
“Maybe. I’ve decided that I don’t totally hate you,” Malfoy said. “Besides, you
are much better company than Crabbe and Goyle can ever be. So yes, friends.”
Harry couldn’t help the smile on his face. He and Malfoy were friends… kind of.
“Anyway, I have a few things to do, so I will be seeing you Potter.”
Malfoy moved from his desk and smirked at Harry before leaving through the
door. Harry barely had time to say “Goodbye” when Draco closed the door behind
him. He couldn’t help but keep the smile as he walked out afterwards. He and
Malfoy are now friends, at least that is what Malfoy had said. A sense of
rebellion stirred in him when he thought of telling his father this. James
would be so angry, it excited Harry to know that he had a forbidden friendship
with Malfoy. He wondered what his father would do if he knew his son was now
associating himself with not one, but two Slytherins. The excitement grew, and
Harry couldn’t hold it in. He was grinning like an idiot when he returned to
the Gryffindor common room.
“What made you so happy?” Ron asked, looking at Harry like he was a weird
specimen.
“Nothing,” Harry shrugged sitting next to his friend. Maybe one day he would
tell Ron and Hermione everything, but for now, he decided that he would keep
his secrets.
***** Quidditch Match *****
                                   Chapter 6
                                Quidditch Match
“Don’t worry about me,” Harry said, in what he hoped was an offhand voice,
“I’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.”
It was Halloween and Ron, Hermione, and Harry were finishing breakfast. He
accompanied them to the entrance hall, where Filch, the caretaker, was standing
inside the front doors, checking off names against a long list, peering
suspiciously into every face, and making sure that no one was sneaking out who
shouldn’t be going.
Malfoy walked passed Harry, and they both shared a look as the Slytherin walked
by, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The two trolls glared at Harry as they passed,
but Harry was sure he saw Malfoy give him a friendly smirk. When the three was
gone, Harry made his solitary way up the marble staircase, through the deserted
corridors, and back to Gryffindor Tower.
“Password?” the Fat Lady said, jerking out of a doze.
“Fortuna Major,” Harry said listlessly.
The portrait swung open and he climbed thorugh the hole into the common room.
It was full of chattering first and second years, and a few older students, who
had obviously visited Hogsmeade so often the novelty had worn off.
“Harry! Harry! Hi, Harry!”
It was Colin Creevey, a second year who was deeply in awe of Harry and never
missed an opportunity to speak to him.
“Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade Harry? Why not? Hey”—Colin looked eagerly around
at his friends—“you can come and sit with us, if you like, Harry!”
“Er—no, thanks, Colin,” Harry said, who wasn’t in the mood to have a lot of
people staring avidly at the scar on his forehead. He made an excuse and turned
right around and headed back out of the portrait hole again.
“What was the point waking me up?” the Fat Lady called grumpily after him as he
walked away.
Harry wandered dispiritedly towards the library, but halfway there he changed
his mind; he didn’t feel like working. He turned around and came face-to-face
with Filch, who had obviously just seen off the last of the Hogsmeade visitors.
“What are you doing?” Filch snarled suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Harry said truthfully.
“Nothing!” Filch spat, his jowls quivering unpleasantly. “A likely story!
Sneaking around on your own—why aren’t you in Hogsmeade buying Stink Pellets
and Belch Powder and Whizzing Worms like the rest of your nasty little
friends?”
Harry shrugged.
“Well, get back to your common room where you belong!” Filch snapped, and he
stood glaring until Harry had passed out of sight.
But Harry didn’t go back to the common room; he climbed a staircase, thinking
vaguely of visiting the Owlery to see Hedwig, and was walking along another
corridor when a voice from inside one of the rooms said, “Harry?”
Harry doubled back to see to see who had spoken and met Professor Lupin-Black,
looking around his office door.
“What are you doing?” Lupin-Black said, though in a very different voice from
Filch. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”
“Hogsmeade,” Harry said, in a would-be casual voice.
“Ah,” Lupin-Black said. He considered Harry for a moment. “Why don’t you come
in? I’ve just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson.”
“A what?” Harry asked.
He followed Lupin-Black into his office. In the corner stood a very large tank
of water. A sickly green creature with sharp little horns had its face pressed
against the glass, pulling faces and flexing its long spindly fingers.
“Water demon,” Lupin-Black said, surveying the grindylow thoughtfully. “We
shouldn’t have much difficulty with him, not after the kappas. The trick is to
break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers? Strong, but very
brittle.”
The grindylow bared its green teeth and then buried itself in a tangle of weeds
in a corner.
“Cup of tea?” Lupin-Black said, looking around for his kettle. “I was just
thinking of making one.”
“All right,” Harry said awkwardly. His father’s warning came to mind and he
became curious for the reason. Lupin-Black tapped the kettle with his wand, and
a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.
“Sit down,” Lupin-Black said, taking the lid off of a dusty tin. “I’ve only got
teabags, I’m afraid—but I daresay you’ve had enough of tea leaves?”
Harry looked at him. Lupin-Black’s eyes were twinkling.
“How did you know about that?” Harry asked.
“Professor McGonagall told me,” Lupin-Black said, passing Harry a chipped mug
of tea. “You’re not worried, are you?”
“No,” Harry said.
He thought of telling Lupin-Black of his father’s letters, but decided not to.
He did not even know how to even introduce the subject. For all he knew, his
father and Professor Lupin-Black barely knew each other when they were younger.
Something of Harry’s thoughts seemed to have shown on his face, because Lupin-
Black said, “Anything worrying you, Harry?”
“No,” Harry lied. He drank a bit of tea and watched the grindylow brandishing a
fist at him. “Yes,” he said suddenly, putting his tea down on Lupin-Black’s
desk. “Few things…My dad… he told me some things in his letters.”
“I could guess so,” Professor Lupin-Black sighed, looking at Harry. “I’m
guessing he was not happy of my appointment as your Professor?”
“Err—kind of, but how did you know?” Harry asked.
“Your dad and I were friends once,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “While we were
students here. We were all in the same year and all sorted into Gryffindor. It
was your dad, me, and my husband, as well as one other boy.”
“Wait, my dad was friends with you and your husband?” Harry asked, frowning
slightly. “He never mentioned anyone of you. He only talked about him and my
mum during Hogwarts.”
“Well,” Professor Lupin-Black said. “That is understandable. I really do not
know how to describe this, and even if I should be the one to say this, but
your father and us… we had a falling out.”
“What? Why?” Harry asked.
 Lupin frowned, and tried to pick his words carefully. “It happened… a few
weeks after your mother… died. Sirius, my husband, and I tried to bring your
dad’s mood up. We helped him find the home you two are living in now, and
afterwards we announced our engagement. James was… angry, and we never spoke
again.”
“But why would my dad be angry?” Harry asked, trying to think of any reason his
father would be angry at Professor Lupin-Black. Sure, his dad does get mad, but
it was usually at co-workers who messed up paperwork that caused him extra
work. Harry couldn’t remember a time his dad was mad at him though.
“That is something you should ask your father, Harry,” Professor Lupin-Black
said in a serious tone.
“Oh…” Harry said, frowning slightly. He looked around a bit more then said,
“Professor, about the boggart… why didn’t you let me fight it?”
“Why I jumped in front of you?” Professor Lupin-Black nodded. “Well Harry, to
be perfectly honest, I thought that the boggart would turn into Voldemort. I
didn’t think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom.
I imagined that people would panic.”
“I didn’t think of Voldemort,” Harry said honestly. “I—I remembered those
dementors.”
“And for that, I am impressed,” Lupin-Black said thoughtfully. He smiled
slightly at the look of surprise on Harry’s face. “That suggests that what you
fear most of all is—fear. Very wise, Harry.”
Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he drank some more tea. “So you’ve
been thinking that I didn’t believe you capable of fighting the boggart?”
Lupin-Black said shrewdly.
“Well… yeah,” Harry said. He was suddenly feeling a lot happier. “Professor
Lupin-Black, you know the dementors—“
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Lupin-Black called.
The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblin which was smoking
faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.
“Ah, Severus,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. “Thanks very much. Could you leave it
here on the desk for me?”
Snape set down the smoking goblet, his eyes wandering between Harry and Lupin-
Black.
“I was showing Harry my grindlylow,” Lupin-Black said pleasantly, pointing to
the tank.
“Fascinating,” Snape said, without looking at it. “You should drink that
directly, Lupin.”
“Yes, yes, I will,” Lupin-Black said.
“I made an entire cauldronful,” Snape continued. “If you need more.”
“I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.”
“Not at all,” Snape said, but there was a look in his eye Harry didn’t like. He
backed out of the room, unsmiling and watchful. Harry looked curiously at the
goblet. Lupin smiled.
“Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me,” he said. “I have
never been much of a potion-brewer, as is my husband, and this one is
particularly complex.” He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. “Pity sugar
makes it useless,” he added, taking a sip and shuttering.
“Why—?” Harry began. Lupin looked at him and answered the unfinished question.
“I’ve been feeling a bit off-color,” he said. “This potion is the only thing
that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there
aren’t many wizards who are up to making it, and those who do charge a small
fortune.”
Professor Lupin-Black took another sip and Harry had a crazy urge to knock the
goblet out of his hands.
“Professor Snape’s very interested in the Dark Arts,” he blurted out.
“Really?” Lupin-Black said, looking only mildly interested as he took another
gulp of potion.
“Some people reckon—“ Harry hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, “some people
reckon he’d do anything to get the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.”
Lupin-Black drained the goblet and pulled a face. “Disgusting,” he said. “Well,
Harry, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you at the feast later.”
“Right,” Harry said, putting down his empty teacup. The empty goblet was still
smoking.
“Potter, hey Potter,” a voice whispered down the hall. Harry looked around.
Students were starting to come back from Hogsmeade, groups chatting happily of
what they saw and brought. Harry looked up and saw Malfoy standing by himself a
little aways. Malfoy was alone, and when they made eye contact, the Slytherin
smirked and walked into an empty corridor. Harry, curious, and somehow knowing
Malfoy wanted him to follow, doubled-back down the corridor and turned the
corner that Malfoy did.
The Slytherin was waiting by an open door, leaning against the stone wall next
to it. “Hurry up Potter, before anyone sees us,” Malfoy said.
Harry obeyed and followed Malfoy into the empty classroom, closing the door
behind him. “Malfoy, what do you want?” Harry asked curiously.
Malfoy turned around to Harry and pulled a small bag from an inside pocket.
“Since you were whining about not going to Hogsmeade,” he began, “I decided to
treat you with something.”
Malfoy tossed the bag into the air, and Harry caught it easily. He looked
confused as he opened it, chocolate bars and other sweets hidden inside it.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Sweets, from Honeydukes,” Malfoy said. “I decided to get you some chocolates,
but Blaise was determined to fill it.” His pale face had a hint of red as he
mentioned Blaise’s involvement, as if he was ruining Malfoy’s plan.
“Ohh… well, thanks Draco,” Harry smiled at Malfoy. He took out a chocolate bar
and unwrapped it, taking a huge bite of it and savoring the flavor. “Mmm, this
is good,” he said with his mouth full.
“Honestly Potter, were you raised in a farm or something?” Malfoy sneered.
“Don’t talk to me with your mouth full like that.”
Harry chewed and swallowed quickly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Sorry Malfoy,” he said.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever Potter, just make sure not to do it
again.”
Harry couldn’t help but chuckle as he continued to eat the chocolate. Malfoy
just shook his head and watched silently as Harry ate his first chocolate bar
from Honeydukes. When he was done, Harry looked up at Malfoy and asked, “Did
you have any?”
“Of course I did,” Malfoy shrugged. “But my bar was half the one you just ate
Potter.”
Harry dug into the bag and pulled out another bar of chocolate. He walked up to
Malfoy, who just watched him curiously. When he reached the boy, Harry
unwrapped the chocolate and gave it to him. “It’s only fair yeah? I mean, you
technically own all of this,” he said.
Malfoy looked at Harry for a moment, studying the small boy carefully before
taking it. “You’re right, I guess. This is mine,” he said. He took the
chocolate bar and broke it in half. He took his half and shoved the second half
in Harry’s still open hand. “So it’s mine to do with as I wish,” Malfoy
continued. “Eat Potter.
Harry looked down at his half of the chocolate and nibbled on it. Draco took a
bite, chewed carefully, and swallowed before saying, “I have to return to
Blaise. I will see you at the feast… Potter.”
Harry nodded, “See you… Malfoy.”
Harry watched as Malfoy left the classroom. Something strange happened inside
him as he stared at the open door. He finished his half of the chocolate bar
and wiped his hands together. After pocketing the bag of sweets, Harry left the
empty classroom and headed back towards Gryffindor Tower.
Ron and Hermione returned around dusk, Ron dumping a shower of brilliantly
colored sweets into Harry’s lap. Their faces were pink-faced from the cold wind
and looking as though they’d had the time of their lives.
“Thanks,” Harry said, picking up a packet of tiny black Pepper Imps. He was
already feeling full from the sweets Malfoy gave him. “What’s Hogsmeade like?
Where did you go?”
By the sound of it—everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment
shop, Zonko’s Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot
butterbeer, and many places besides. “The post office, Harry! About two hundred
owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want
your letter to get there!”
“Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples,
there’s a bit, look—“
“We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three
Broomsticks—“
“Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up—“
“What did you do?” Hermione said, looking anxious. “Did you get any work done?”
“No,” Harry said. “Lupin-Black made me a cup of tea in his office. And then
Snape came in. …”
He told Ron and Hermione all about the goblet as they started headed out of the
portrait hole, following the crowd. The two were shocked that Lupin-Black
actually drank the potion, the three of them suspicious of Snape’s intention.
Throughout the feast, Harry kept looking at the staff table. Professor Lupin-
Black looked cheerful and as well as he ever did; he was talking animatedly to
tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. Harry moved his eyes along
the table, to the place where Snape sat. Was he imagining it, or were Snape’s
eyes flickering toward Lupin-Black more often than was natural?
The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They
popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly
Headless Nick had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched
beheading.
It had been a wonderful evening for Harry, he had obtaining enough sweets to
last him the rest of the month from both Ron and Malfoy. The next day, life
continued as normal for Harry. He attended classes, went to Quidditch practice,
and before he knew it the days started to pass by quickly. He tried his best to
spend some time with Blaise and Malfoy, but Crabbe and Goyle made it next to
impossible for him to even approach Malfoy. Harry was able to reach Blaise
though, during the Friday afternoon before the first Quidditch match of the
season the next day.
“So, are you ready for the match?” Blaise asked. They were sitting in an empty
corridor near a small quad. It was dark inside the castle, so dark that extra
lanterns and torches were lit, so many of the students were sticking to inside
the castle. Outside the winds were howling and the rain fell harder than ever.
Harry and Blaise were sitting close together to stay warm.
“Yeah, I think I am. Wood’s been training us relentlessly,” Harry said. “You
should have seen Fred and George yesterday, they looked like they were about to
fall off their brooms they were so tired!”
Blaise laughed. “I can imagine,” he said. “I watched it without you know.”
“Y-you did?” Harry stuttered.
“Yeah,” Blaise smirked. “You know, you look very good on a broom Harry.”
Harry’s face grew hot and he sputtered as he tried to say something. “W-W-Well,
umm thanks?”
Blaise just smiled and crooked his head a bit. “I’m serious Harry, you have
some serious moves on that broom. It’s no wonder you always catch the Snitch.”
Harry’s face grew hotter, and he somehow knew that it was getting closer to the
shade of red of Ron’s hair. “No, don’t blush like that Harry. I’m just
complimenting you.”
“Sorry,” Harry apologized.
“Don’t be, I like it when you blush,” Blaise smiled. “It means I’m saying the
right things.”
“Wha—“
“Hey, Harry! How about a friendly bet?” Blaise smiled.
“A bet?” Harry asked, feeling lost in their conversation.
“Yeah, let’s bet on the Quidditch match tomorrow,” Blaise said. “If Gryffindor
wins, then I’ll do something for you, but if you lose, then you’ll have to do
something for me.” Blaise smiled at Harry, who nodded.
“Umm alright,” he said. “If we win tomorrow… how about you do my charms
homework for a week?”
Blaise laughed and shook his head, “Too easy Harry, but alright. Let’s see, how
about if Gryffindor Team somehow lose… I’ll take you out and cheer you up.”
“Take me out?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, just the two of us,” Blaise nodded. “We could go for a walk down the
lake, or find somewhere private… anything to cheer you up.” Blaise gave Harry
an honest smile, which Harry returned.
“Alright,” Harry agreed. “If we win, you’ll do my Charms homework, and if we
lose you’ll cheer me up… wait a minute, doesn’t both ways only benefit me?”
“Don’t think about it Harry,” Blaise said. “I’m just being a good friend. And
besides, spending more time with you benefits me as well.”
Harry nodded, understandingly, and said, “Alright then, it’s a bet.”
They shook hands and Blaise grinned. “Awesome! Good luck Harry.”
“Thanks,” Harry said. “Hopefully Hufflepuff would be easy.”
“I don’t know Diggory’s an excellent Seeker… though, he doesn’t look as
seamless as you do on a broom,” Blaise said. Harry laughed, and a flash of
lightning illuminated the wall in front of them. “I think we should continue
this elsewhere, come on Harry,” Blaise said. He stood up and led Harry away
from the howling winds in the quad. They walked close together, Harry still
feeling the chilling effects of the wind, as they turned a corner and walked
down a corridor, passing several students who did not glance back. “So, as I
was saying…” Blaise continued. “Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, should be
exciting to watch. Though… I could do without the rain.”
“Yeah,” Harry frowned. “It looks like it’ll never stop.”
“I’m sure you’ll still do great Harry, after all you are the best Seeker
around,” Blaise chuckled. “Just don’t tell Draco that.”
“I won’t,” Harry said.
They continued to walk down several corridors, their talks turning to more safe
topics. Harry did not care that they passed by several students as they walked,
nor did he notice or think about the way some of them looked back to make sure
they were seeing things right. He was just enjoying time with his friend, and
that was all that mattered to him at that time. They continued to talk and
wander until they found themselves in the entrance hall. “I’ll see you tomorrow
Harry,” Blaise said, taking a step towards the dungeons. “It was great talking
to you.”
“I had a great time too, see ya,” Harry said. They both turned towards their
respected staircases and climbed them, Blaise heading towards the dungeons, and
Harry making the long trek towards Gryffindor Tower.
The next day, Harry woke up extremely early; so early that it was still dark.
For a moment he thought the roaring of the wind had woken him. Then he felt a
cold breeze on the back of his neck and sat bolt upright—Peeves the Poltergeist
had been floating next to him, blowing hard in his ear.
“What did you do that for?” Harry said furiously.
Peeves puffed out his cheeks, blew hard, and zoomed backward out of the room,
cackling.
Harry fumbled for his alarm clock and looked at it. It as half past four.
Cursing Peeves, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but it was very
difficult, now that he was awake, to ignore the sounds of the thunder rumbling
overhead, the pounding of the wind against the castle walls, and the distant
creaking of the trees in the Forbidden Forest. In a few hours he would be out
on the Quidditch field, battling through that gale. Finally, he gave up any
thought of more sleep, got up, dressed, picked up his Nimbus Two Thousand, and
walked quietly out of the dormitory.
As Harry opened the door, something brushed against his leg. He bent down just
in time to grab Crookshanks by the end of his bushy tail and drag him outside.
“You know, I reckon Ron was right about you,” Harry told the cat suspiciously.
“There are plenty of mice around the place—go and chase them. Go on,” he added,
nudging the cat down the spiral staircase with his foot.
The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. He was starting to
feel very apprehensive about the match. Wood had pointed out Cedric Diggory to
him in the corridor; Diggory was a sixth year and a lot bigger than Harry.
Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory’s weight would be an
advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course.
Harry’s thoughts then drifted to his bet with Blaise. Even though it was just a
small friendly bet, Harry did not want to lose, and worried of not only the
consequences of losing Gryffindor’s first match, but of what the other students
will think of him and Blaise alone together.
Harry whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every
now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys’ staircase again. At
long last Harry thought it must be time for breakfast, so he headed through the
portrait hole alone.
He was one of the first few who arrived for breakfast, and he was nibbling on a
piece of toast when the rest of the team arrived. Oliver tried to psych Harry
and the rest of the team up, but Harry wasn’t having it that morning. He felt
weird, like he something deep inside him was telling him that something
terrible will happen.
Soon, Harry found himself in the locker room of the Quidditch field, fully
dressed in his scarlet robe and listening to Wood’s pre-game speech. If the
crowd was cheering, they couldn’t hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Rain
was spattering over Harry’s glasses as they walked out. How was he supposed to
find the Snitch in this weather!?
Madam Hooch called for them to mount their brooms, and with her whistle they
were off! Within five minutes Harry was soaked to his skin and frozen, hardly
able to see his teammates, let alone the tiny Snitch. He flew backward and
forward across the field past blurred red and yellow shapes, with no idea of
what was happening in the rest of the game. A golden glint flew past him, and
he tried his best to follow it. He couldn’t hear the commentary over the wind.
There was a clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. The
lightning illuminated the stands, and Harry saw the silhouette of an enormous
shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost,
empty row of seats. This was quickly getting dangerous, Harry had to find the
Snitch quickly or else—
An eerie silence was fell around him. The wind was forgetting to roar. It was
as though someone had turned off the sound, as though Harry had gone suddenly
deaf—what was going on?
And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over him, inside him, just as
he became aware of something moving on the field below. …
Before he’d had time to think, Harry had taken his eyes off the golden glint
and looked down. At least a hundred dementors, their hidden faces pointing up
at him, were standing beneath him. It was as though freezing water were rising
in his chest, cutting at his insides. And then he heard it again …Someone was
screaming, screaming inside his head…a woman…
“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”
“Stand aside, you silly girl … stand aside, now. ….”
“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—“
Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry’s brain. …What was he doing? Why
was he flying? He needed to help her. …She was going to die. …She was going to
be murdered…
He was falling, falling through the icy mist.
“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy…”
A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming and Harry knew no more.
“Lucky the ground was so soft.”
“I thought he was dead for sure.”
“But he didn’t even break his glasses.”
Harry could hear the voices whispering but they made no sense whatsoever. He
didn’t have a clue where he was, or how he’d got there, or what he’d been doing
before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as
though it had been beaten.
“That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open. He was laying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor
Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his
bed. Ron and Hermione were there also, looking as though they’d just climbed
out of a swimming pool.
“Harry!” Fred said, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. “How’re you
feeling?”
It was as though Harry’s memory was on fast forward. The lightning—the Grim—the
Snitch—and the dementors …
“What happened?” he asked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.
“You fell off,” Fred said. “Must’ve been what, fifty feet?”
“We thought you’d died,” Alicia, who was shaking, said.
The doors to the Hospital Wing banged open, and Harry turned his head to see
his father, pale-faced and worried sick running towards his bed. “Harry!” he
called out. “Harry! Oh Harry—move aside please—Oh Harry, what happened?
McGonagall sent me an owl—you fell—I—“ James Potter was now sitting on Harry’s
bed, touching and holding his son as if looking for any broken or missing
pieces. “I knew this was a horrible idea, I just bloody knew it,” he muttered
to himself. “Dementors in Hogwarts!”
Harry let his father check him out, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he
knew that his dad was with him. When his dad finished making sure that he was
still whole, he grabbed Harry’s shoulders gently and asked, “What happened
Harry?”
“I don’t remember,” Harry said.
“Mr. Potter?” Wood said cautiously.
James turned around and looked at Wood. “Yes… Oliver Wood?”
“Harry was trying to get the Snitch, but the dementors came… They went to Harry
and Diggory… Diggory got the Snitch,” Wood said, as if losing the match was the
most devastating thing.
“Dementors came to the Quidditch field!?” James roared. Harry flinched as his
dad’s hands tightened quickly around his shoulders. James noticed this and
immediately let go. “Sorry,” he said softly.
He sat up and looked around, frowning. “Where is Madam Pomfrey?” he demanded.
As if waiting to be called upon, Madam Pomfrey came in to tell the team to
leave Harry in peace. She noticed James and said, “Your son’s going to be fine
James. Boy’s just like you. Study and rock-headed.”
“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice, bringing
Harry’s attention back to her. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran
onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before
you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver
stuff at them. They left the stadium right away. …He was furious they’d come
onto the grounds. We heard him—“
“Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” Ron said. “And walked up to school
with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…”
His voice faded, but Harry hardly noticed. He was thinking about what the
dementors had done to him…about the screaming voice. He looked up and saw Ron
and Hermione looking at him so anxiously that he quickly cast around for
something matter-of-fact to say.
“Harry,” his dad asked, “Harry where is your broom?”
Harry looked around and frowned. He couldn’t find his Nimbus Two Thousand
anywhere. “Where is my Nimbus?” he asked Ron and Hermione.
The two looked quickly at each other. “Er—“
“What?” Harry said, looking from one to the other.
“Well …when you fell off, it got blown away,” Hermione said hesitantly.
“And?”
“And it hit—it hit—oh Harry—it hit the Whomping Willow.”
Harry’s insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood
alone in the middle of the grounds.
“And?” he said, dreading the answer.
“Well, you know the Whomping Willow,” Ron said. “It—it doesn’t like being hit.”
“Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around,” Hermione said
in a very small voice.
Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and
tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains
of Harry’s faithful, finally beaten broomstick.
James looked at the lost look on his son’s face and sat down on the bed again,
putting his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay son,” he said. He
looked down at the remains of his gift to Harry for joining the team and said,
“How about… I get you a new broomstick eh? I bet that will cheer you up—or
maybe I can try and get another Nimbus Two Thousand. I’m sure that there must
still be one at—“
“No thanks,” Harry said shaking his head. He couldn’t believe that his
broomstick was gone. And the thought of replacing it… he couldn’t bear it.
“Please don’t replace it,” he whispered.
“Alright,” James said. “I won’t. But what will you do for a broom?”
“I’ll think of something… thanks dad.”
“You’re welcome son,” James said. He ruffled Harry’s hair and kissed the top of
his head. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah… I love you too,” Harry said, his eyes never leaving the destroyed
broomstick. He heard his dad sigh and felt his weight leaving the bed as he
stood up.
“Right, I have to go and talk to Dumbledore,” James said seriously. “Ron,
Hermione, it was good seeing you again. I’ll see you during break Harry.” And
with that James Potter left the hospital wing. Harry only looked up for a
moment, before looking back at his faithful, broken broomstick.
***** Snape's Lesson *****
                                   Chapter 7
                                Snape’s Lesson
“I told you the dementors were a horrible idea,” James said to the Minister.
They were both in the Minister’s Office, along with Lucius Malfoy, who was
watching intently in a corner, as well as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister
of Magic, Dolores Umbridge. James was standing, his fists on the table as he
leaned towards the sitting Fudge, whose eyes were glancing around.
“Yes, well—it was to be expected that there would be a few hiccups. …”
“Hiccups!?” James roared, slamming the desk with his fists again. “My son
almost died Cornelius!”
“Yes, well Hogwarts can sometimes be a er dangerous place—why, why, just last
month Lucius’ son here was assaulted by a hippogriff, isn’t that correct
Lucius?” Fudge asked.
“Yes, Minister, and we are having the paperwork to deal with it done as we
speak,” Lucius nodded. “Though, I must admit there is a difference between
hippogriffs and dementors.”
“A difference in that one of them is a dark creature, Fudge,” James said,
gritting his teeth. “And it attacked my son during a Quidditch Match.”
“Yes, well—“
“He was at least a hundred feet from the air, if Dumbledore did not intervene
he would not have survived the crash!” James said.
“Yes, it is a fortunate thing that your son survived,” Fudge said. “But one
little incident should not ruin months of planning and preparations.”
“Planning and preparation!? For what?” James yelled. “The dementors are only
causing trouble at Hogwarts, and I want them gone before some dementors gives a
student the Dementor’s Kiss!”
“Hmm-hmm,” a sickening sweet voice said, as she cleared her throat. The three
men turned their attention to the sole woman in the room. She gave them a sweet
smile, her toadish face stretching as her eyes landed on James. “I believe,
that only the Ministry can order the Dementors to give the Dementor’s Kiss, Mr.
Potter. And if the Ministry does not give the order, than the Dementors would
never give the Dementor’s Kiss. We hold a tight leash on these creatures Mr.
Potter, and lack of faith in that leash shows lack of faith in the Minister,
and the Ministry as a whole. A quality that I believe is undesirable in one of
our best Aurors.”
James glared at Umbridge. “Have you dealt with dementors, Dolores?” he asked.
She remained silent, so he continued. “Because I have, and let me tell you, the
Ministry does not have complete control over these creatures. These are Dark
Creatures, and they will only respond to having people to feed off of.”
“It is, though I hate to admit it,” Lucius said, “only logical that the
dementors would go to where the most excitement is.”
“Yes, yes, I have heard all of this from Dumbledore,” Fudge said. He looked at
James and said, “I cannot deal with this now, I have too much to deal with
right now, including that rogue hippogriff that has assaulted Mr. Malfoy’s son.
I will deal with this situation later, so please go back to your office.”
“Fudge—“
“Go back Mr. Potter!” Fudge roared. James gave one final huff and glare at both
Umbridge and Fudge before leaving the office. He barely heard the door open and
close behind him as Lucius followed him.
“That was a show you’ve played in there, Potter,” Lucius said.
James just glared at Lucius. “What do you want, Malfoy?” he asked.
Lucius chuckled. “A simple talk Potter, surely you are educated enough for
that. I just want to commend you on bringing the situation to the Minister.
Though, it could use some certain tact.” James just gave Lucius a sharp look.
“You know that the Minister have been working on this little project for more
than a year. Hogwarts will prove that he is wrong, though shoving it in his
face like that… well, it will only make the bull more stubborn.”
“So, why you telling me this Malfoy?” James asked, walking briskly. Lucius kept
with the pace, his strides matching James’s.
“You said that dementors are dark creatures, and I believe you are correct,” he
said.
“Yeah, you’ll know a lot about dark creatures, don’t you Malfoy?”
Lucius chuckled and said, “I have been freed of those charges, and you really
should be more considerate to people trying to help you.”
“Help me?”
“Yes,” Lucius said. “I have agreed that the dementors at Hogwarts is a
situation that needs addressing. But, Cornelius currently have other things to
occupy himself as he ignores the problem.”
“Really?” James asked in disbelief, suspiciously staring at Lucius. Lucius
ignored the look and said, “Yes. Now, if you excuse me I am terribly busy. Good
day Potter.”
James watched as Lucius Malfoy turned a corner and walked away from him. James
waited until Malfoy was gone before he softened his face, the glare going away.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, he decided to go back to his office.
Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping Harry in the hospital wing for the rest of
the weekend. He didn’t argue or complain, but he wouldn’t let her throw away
the shattered remnants of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He knew he was being stupid,
knew that the Nimbus was beyond repair, but Harry couldn’t help it; he felt as
though he’d lost one of his best friends.
He hadn’t told anyone about the Grim, not even Ron and Hermione, because he
knew Ron would panic and Hermione would scoff. And then there were the
dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them.
Everyone said the dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time
they went near one. No one else heard echoes in their heads of their dying
mother.
It was a relief to return to the noise and bustle of the main school on Monday,
where he was forced to think about other things, such as that bet with Blaise,
or the odd look from Malfoy he was getting from across the Great Hall. He was
happy to return to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that happiness quickly
evaporated when he saw Professor Snape standing behind the teacher’s desk
instead of Professor Lupin-Black. “Sit down,” he drawled as the confused
students filtered in.
“Where’s Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked.
“He says he is feeling too ill to teach today,” Snape said with a twisted
smile. “I believe I told you to sit down.”
Harry did not sit, he stayed where he was. “What’s wrong with him?”
Snape’s black eyes glittered. “Nothing life-threatening,” he said, looking as
though he wished it were. “Five points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask
you to sit down again, it will be fifty.”
Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. He glanced back to where Blaise
and Draco were sitting, both of them looked concern, though Draco was just
staring at him. Snape looked around at the class. “Professor Lupin-Black has
not left any record of the topics you have covered so far—“
“Please, sir, we’ve done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows,” Hermione
said quickly, “and we’re just about to start—“
“Be quiet,” Snape said coldly. “I did not ask for information. I was merely
commenting on Professor Lupin’s lack of organization.”
“He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we’ve ever had,” Dean
Thomas said boldy, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the
class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.
“You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you—I would expect first
years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss—“
Harry watched him flick through the textbook, to the very back chapter, which
he must knew they hadn’t covered.
“—werewolves,” Snape said.
“But sir,” Hermione said, seemingly unable to restrain herself, “we’re not
supposed to do werewolves yet, we’re due to start hinkypunks—“
“Miss Granger,” Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, “I was under the
impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to
turn to page 394.” He glanced around again. “All of you! Now!”
With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened
their books.
“Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true
wolf?” Snape said.
Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone expect Hermione, whose hand, as it
so often did, had shot straight into the air.
“Anyone?” Snape said, ignoring Hermione’s hand. His twisted smile was back.
“Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn’t even taught you the basic
distinction between—“
“We told you,” Parvati said suddenly, “we haven’t got as far as werewolves yet,
we’re still on—“
“Silence!” Snape snarled. “Well, well, well, I never thought I’d meet a third-
year class who wouldn’t even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall
make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are. …”
“Please sir,” Hermione said, whose hand was still in the air, “the werewolf
differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—“
“That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger,” Snape said
coolly. “Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-
all.”
Hermione went very red, put down her hand, and stared at the floor with her
eyes full of tears. It was a mark of how much the class loathed Snape that they
were all glaring at him, because every one of them had called Hermione a know-
it-all at least once, and Ron, who told Hermione she was a know-it-all at least
twice a week, said loudly, “You asked us a question and she knows the answer!
Why ask if you don’t want to be told?”
The class knew instantly he’d gone too far, but Harry swore he heard a snicker
and looked back to see Blaise, who was now looking at Ron. Snape advanced on
Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.
“Detention, Weasley,” Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron’s. “And if
I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry
indeed.”
No one made a sound throughout the rest of the lesson. They sat and made notes
on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of
desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.
“Very poorly explained … That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in
Mongolia. …Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn’t have given it
three. …”
When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back. “You will each write an
essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I
want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Wednesday
morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we
need to arrange your detention.”
Harry and Hermione left the room with the rest of the class, who waited until
they were well out of earshot, then burst into a furious tirade about Snape.
Draco and Blaise broke from the rest of the Slytherins, who were glaring at the
Gryffindors. Draco and Blaise walked past Harry, and Harry felt a piece of
paper in his hand. He watched as the two walked past the group of Gryffindors,
and turn a corner. He looked at the piece of paper and read, “Classroom down
the hall. Ten minutes.”
Ron caught up with them in a towering rage. “D’you know what that—(he called
Snape something that made Hermione say “Ron!”) “—is making me do? I’ve got to
scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing. Without magic!” He was breathing
deeply, his fists clenched. “Why couldn’t the dementors attack Snape instead of
Harry, eh? They could have finished him off for us!”
Harry looked at his raging friend and took a step back. “I think I forgot
something… I’ll meet you guys later in the common room, alright?”
“Wha—yeah, alright Harry,” Ron said, anger still in his voice. “Snape’s gone so
there’s that.”
Harry nodded and started to head back towards the classroom. He doubled back
when he was sure Ron and Hermione wasn’t in the corridor, and followed the path
Draco and Blaise took. He went down the corridor, and found the classroom the
note was talking about.
He opened the door to find both Draco and Blaise there, leaning against desks
and talking softly to each other. “Harry!” Blaise said as Harry closed the door
behind him. The Slytherin walked up to Harry, ignoring the glare Draco was
giving him, and pulled the small Gryffindor into a hug. “Are you hurt? Are you
all right? Draco and I wanted to visit you but with the Gryffindors swarming
you, we didn’t get a chance!” he said.
A smile broke Harry’s face and his arms reached around Blaise’s waist
embarrassed. “I’m fine,” he said. He looked over at Draco, and blushed when he
saw an obvious look of jealousy on his face. “Is that what you wanted to talk
to me about?” he asked.
“Mostly,” Draco said, stepping towards them “But there is more, come sit.” He
indicated to his desk and gave Blaise a sharp look. He smiled when Blaise moved
away from Harry, and Harry started moving to Draco’s seat. Draco smirked when
Harry sat down, and looked at him. “How are you feeling?” Draco asked softly.
“Fine… just very angry,” Harry admitted.
“Because of Professor Snape?” Draco asked.
Harry nodded.
“Yeah, that… Snape,” Harry said. He looked up at Draco with a small glare and
said, “How can you guys defend that guy? He’s vile! You saw how he treated
Hermione and Ron!”
“Well—“
“No well!” Harry said, “It’s cruel what’s he’s doing! Two rolls of parchment by
Wednesday!? There’s no way any of us can do that!” His cheeks were flustered as
he ranted out his anger. “And do you know what he’s making Ron do? He has to
scrub out the bedpans in the hospital wing! Without magic!?”
“How is Weasley doing?” Blaise asked. Harry whipped his head as he turned to
look at Blaise. “Is he… angry?”
“He’s more than that,” Harry told Blaise. “He’s absolutely livid.” Blaise
frowned at that.
Draco got off of the desk and turned to face Harry. “Pot—Harry,” he said. “Do
you want to talk about what happened during the match?”
“I don’t—sure… just don’t laugh,” Harry said. Draco smirked and said, “Me?
Laughing at you Harry?”
Harry ignored the comment and said, “I couldn’t see a thing, the rain was
fogging my glasses and I could almost see the Snitch. Then, there was lightning
and then I saw the dementors. They came close to me then… I err heard my mum.
…”
“You heard your mother?” Draco asked softly.
“Yeah… I heard her begging You-Know-Who to kill her…instead, instead of me,”
Harry said. He looked up at Draco and saw that the Ice Prince was frowning.
“Didn’t know that…” Draco murmured. Blaise took a step and said, “Harry… about
our bet.”
Harry looked at him and gave a smile. “Right, sorry bout that. Looks like I
lost.”
“Wait, you two had a bet?” Draco asked, looking between Harry and Blaise.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “If I won the game, Blaise would do my homework, but if I
lost we would have to spend time together down by the lake or something.” He
shrugged and looked at Blaise. “And he won.”
“Really?”
“Yeah… well about that,” Blaise said. “Since the dementors interfered… how
about we hold the bet for the next game?”
“Are you sure?” Harry asked casually.
“Yeah,” Blaise said. “Seems unfair, taking advantage of you like that.”
“Yes, it would,” Draco said, he turned to Harry and said. “You let him have a
bet with you?”
“It’s just a friendly bet,” Harry said, looking at Draco confused. Draco shook
his head as his nostrils flared. “Alright, but if he gets to have a bet with
you, I would want one too.”
“Umm okay…”
“The Slytherin/Gryffindor match is coming up,” Draco said. “If we win, you’ll
do my Defense homework for three weeks.”
“Okay…” Harry said, “And if I win?”
Draco smirked. “If you win, then we’ll spend an entire day at Hogsmeade with
use the two of us, and I will pay for whatever you want.”
“In case you forgot, my dad didn’t sign my permission form,” Harry said. That
caused Draco to laugh, his lips curved into a huge grin as he looked down at
Harry. “You’re a Potter,” he said through his laughs. “And a Gryffindor. You’ll
find a way.”
Harry couldn’t argue with that, so he nodded. “Alright, it’s a bet.” He held
out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco took it and brought it to his lips,
kissing it. “A bet, Harry.” He smirked.
Harry blushed as Draco pulled him up. “And after our bet,” Draco added, “I
would like for us to be seen in public.”
“Y-Yeah… I’d like that,” Harry said, his emotions controlling him as he blushed
like a middle school girl. Draco smirked and said, “Good, I’d like that too.”
Blaise rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. “I’m still here, idiots,” he said.
He turned to Harry and asked, “So… about Weasley… how is he? Does he normally
get this angry or…”
“What? Why are you asking so much about Ron?” Harry asked, curious.
“Just am,” Blaise shrugged.
“Well… not usually,” Harry said. “But he gets frustrated easily with people
like Snape.” Blaise nodded and smiled at Harry, “Thanks—hey, we’ll see you
later? Alright Harry.”
“Yeah, see you?” Harry said. Blaise left, leaving Harry and Draco by
themselves. “Draco?” he asked, looking at him curiously.
Draco took a step forward and smiled at the teenaged Gryffindor. He looked as
if he wanted to say something, and Harry waited until Draco talked. Draco
opened his mouth and said, “Thank you Harry… for giving me a chance.”
“You’re welcome Draco,” Harry said. Draco nodded and smiled. “I’ll see you
later Harry.” He wiped his thumb across Harry’s cheek and left the room,
closing the door behind him.
Harry stood in his spot for nearly ten minutes before he felt his face was a
reasonable non-red color. He felt his legs again, and made his way back to
Gryffindor Tower. He kept his breath somewhat calm as he played back what
happened in the classroom. Draco touching him… kissing his hand. A thought past
through his head, wishing that it was his lips Draco was kissing, or maybe…
something else? Is that possible? A blush started to make its way across
Harry’s cheeks again, and he tried to control it.
“What happened to you?” the Fat Lady asked, noting Harry’s blush.
“Fortuna Major,” Harry said embarrassed. The portrait swung open with the Fat
Lady laughing as he stepped through the portrait hole. He spotted Ron and
Hermione by the fireplace and walked up to them.
“There you are, was wondering where you were, mate,” Ron said as Harry sat down
in an armchair. “Did you get your things?”
“What? Oh yeah… yeah, I got ‘em,” Harry said, momentarily forgetting the lie he
told Ron and Hermione. Something sparked in him and he said, “I uh actually
need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Hermione asked, looking up from her Arithmancy homework.
“Uhh…err—“ Harry didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t know why he even was
saying it. Just that Ron and Hermione were his best mates and this sneaking
around… it felt like lying to them. “I honestly don’t know how to say this,” he
admitted.
“Say what mate?”
Harry looked at both and them and leaned closer to the table. Hermione and Ron
leaned closer as well and Harry opened his mouth and just blurted out, “I’m
gay.”
He wanted to close his eyes as he anticipated their reaction, but he didn’t.
His eyes refused to close as they roamed from Ron to Hermione. Ron’s face was
that of confusion at first, before he processed what Harry said, and a look of
enlightenment emerged, a smile emerging from his face. Harry looked at
Hermione, and frowned when she looked confused.
“That’s cool mate,” Ron said, nodding. “You’re like George and Charlie.” Harry
just nodded and looked at Hermione. “Hermione?” he said cautiously.
“I’m sorry… but what’s gay?” she asked. “I know that it can mean happy but… I
don’t think that’s what you mean here. …”
“Oh,” Harry said, embarrassed. “Well it uhh means that instead of liking…
girls… I um like boys instead…?” He looked for Ron for help.
“It’s like this Hermione,” Ron said. “George explained it to me. He and Harry
don’t like girls… well not in the way our dads like our mums. Instead they like
guys. Like Professor Lupin-Black and his husband.”
“Ohh… I think I understand,” Hermione said, looking less confused than she was.
She looked at Harry and nodded. “So you like boys, instead of girls.”
“Yes,” Harry said.
“I see… okay then.” Hermione said. “I didn’t know that was a thing before here…
is that just a wizards thing? Or are there gay muggles as well?” She asked, a
curious look glinting in her eyes.
“Oh, err I don’t know?” Harry said. “I guess so… obviously?”
“It’s just that I never heard of such a thing,” Hermione said quickly. “I mean,
mum and dad may have mentioned it somewhere, but this is the first time
actually experiencing such a thing—Do you think Professor Lupin-Black will
answer a few questions for me?”
“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “Maybe if you asked.”
Hermione nodded and went back to her homework, mumbling that maybe she should
ask him. Harry looked at Ron who just looked back at him. “Charlie is too?” he
asked.
“Yeah. Was the first to tell us,” Ron said. “Should have seen mum’s face.
Looked like she would cry a lake and wouldn’t let Charlie go.”
“How did she handle George?” Harry asked.
“Same thing,” Ron chuckled. “Though she looked at Fred expectantly.”
“What did Fred say?” Harry said.
Ron smiled wide and said, “He waved his arms real fast and said, ‘Just him mum
just him!’” Ron and Harry laughed together, which got Hermione to scowl at them
and tell them to start their homework.
“If Snape’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts again, I’m skiving off,” Ron
said as they headed toward Lupin-Black’s classroom after lunch. It was
Wednesday, and Harry and Ron barely finished one roll of the assigned two rolls
assignment. “Check who’s in there, Hermione.”
Hermione peered around the classroom door.
“It’s okay!”
Professor Lupin-Black was back at work. It certainly looked as though he had
been ill. His old robes were hanging more loosely on him and there were dark
shadows beneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiled at the class as they took
their seats, and they burst at once into an explosion of complaints about
Snape’s behavior while Lupin had been ill.
“It’s not fair, he was only filling in, why should he give us homework?”
“We don’t know anything about werewolves—“
“—two rolls of parchment!”
“Did you tell Professor Snape we haven’t covered them yet?” Lupin-Black asked,
frowning slightly.
The babble broke out again.
“Yes but he said we were really behind—“
“—he wouldn’t listen—“
“—two rolls of parchment!”
Professor Lupin-Black smiled at the look of indignation on every face. “Don’t
worry. I’ll speak to Professor Snape. You don’t have to do the essay.”
“Oh no,” Hermione said, looking very disappointed. “I’ve already finished it!”
They had a very enjoyable lesson. Professor Lupin-Black had brought along a
glass box containing a hinkypunk, a little one-legged creature who looked as
though he were made of wisps of smoke, rather frail and harmless-looking. When
the bell rang, everyone gathered up their things and headed for the door, Harry
among them, but—
“Wait a moment, Harry,” Lupin called. “I’d like a word.”
Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin-Black covering the hinkypunk’s
box with a cloth. “I heard about the match,” Lupin-Black said, turning back to
his desk and starting to pile books into his briefcase, “and I’m sorry about
your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?”
“No,” Harry said. “The tree smashed it to bits.”
Lupin-Black sighed.
“They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts.
People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In
the end, a boy called Davey Gungeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden
to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance.”
“Dad told me about that too,” Harry said. “You and he were in the same year
right?” Lupin-Black nodded. Then, with great difficulty, Harry said, “Did you
hear about the dementors too?”
Lupin looked at him quickly.
“Yes, I did. I don’t think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry.
They have been growing restless for some time. … furious at his refusal to let
them inside the grounds. …I suppose they were the reason you fell?”
“Yes,” Harry said. He hesitated, and then the question he had to ask burst from
him before he could stop himself. “Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I
just—?”
“It has nothing to do with weakness,” Professor Lupin-Black said sharply, as
though he had read Harry’s mind. “The dementors affect you worse than the
others because there are horrors in your past that the others don’t have.”
“When I go near them,” Harry said, staring at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight.
“I can hear You-Know-Who murdering my mum.”
Lupin-Black made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s
shoulder, but thought better of it. There was a moment’s silence, then—
“Why did they have to come to the match?” Harry said bitterly.
“They’re getting hungry,” Lupin-Black said coolly, shutting his briefcase with
a snap. “Dumbledore won’t let them into the school, so their supply of humans
prey has dried up. …I don’t think they could resist the large crowd around the
Quidditch field. All that excitement… emotions running high …it was their idea
of a feast.”
“Azkaban must be terrible,” Harry muttered. “Dad hates going there.” Lupin-
Black nodded grimly.
“The fortress is set on a tiny island, way out to sea, but they don’t need
walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they’re all trapped inside
their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad
within weeks.”
Harry nodded. “Whenever dad visits… it takes days before he’s his happy self
again.”
“Yes, well, dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is
left with them too long. …”
“You made that dementor on the train back off,” Harry said suddenly.
“There are—certain defenses on can use,” Lupin-Black said. “But there was only
one dementor on the train. The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to
resist.”
“What defenses? Harry said at once. “Can you teach me?”
“I don’t pretend to be an expert at fighting dementors, Harry … quite the
contrary. … Your father on the other hand—“
“He won’t teach me.” Harry said, “And what if a dementor come to another
Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them—“
Lupin looked into Harry’s determined face, hesitated, then said, “Well …all
right. I’ll try and help. But it’ll have to wait until next term, I’m afraid. I
have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall
ill.”
James Potter walked into his office at home, still fuming about what happened
in the Minister’s office.
“Hmpt, you look like you’re brewing,” said the portrait of Fleamont Potter,
James’s father and Harry’s grandfather. His portrait consists of a single, very
comfortable looking armchair which he liked to reside in, and a small table on
which sat Fleamont’s favorite books, most of which were about famous duels that
changed the world. Fleamont himself looked strong for an old man, wearing a
scarlet robe and matching hat, which covered his baldness. He was short, and
looked to have knobby knees.
“Hello dad,” James said as he sat down in his chair with a groan. He looked at
the portrait and said, “What you’re here for? Why aren’t you in your painting
at Potter Manor?”
“Because there are no Potters living in that place,” Fleamont said. “And I have
decided to come here and talk to someone living, instead of our ancestors.
There are only so many times you can hear my great grandfather Charlus tell the
same story without going mad. I mean, I developed the Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion,
and more than quadrupled our wealth, but you do not see me talk about it every
day.”
“That’s because you would rather talk about the duels you fought in dad,” James
sighed as he turned towards his desk again. He opened up a drawer and pulled
out some papers with a frown.
“So? They are more interesting than almost sleeping with a banshee,” Fleamont
chuckled. He looked at his son and frowned. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Where to begin?” James muttered bitterly.
“No muttering! Didn’t your mother and I taught you that?” Fleamont snapped.
“Sorry dad,” James said with a yawn. “Not in the mood. The Minister decided to
put dementors in Hogwarts.”
“What!? That’s ludicrous! Dementors should stay at Azkaban where they belong!”
Fleamont yelled.
“No need to tell me,” James said. He turned to look at the portrait and said,
“I told the Minister and Shaklebolt that it’s dangerous countless times. And
you know what happens? First Quidditch match of the season, and the damn
dementors almost killed Harry!”
“They didn’t!?” Fleamont said, getting outraged. “Why if I had a portrait at
the Ministry I’ll—well, times were so much better under Leonard Spencer-Moon,
and Wilhelmina Tuft! Especially Wilhelmina Tuft … son was an idiot though,
breeding Dementors, pah!”
“Dad, focus,” James said. “Dementors made Harry fall from his broomstick during
the match.”
“Is the boy alright?” Fleamont asked.
“Yes he is, Dumbledore stopped his fall,” James said. Fleamont nodded and
muttered “Good man… good man. …” James ignored Fleamont’s interruption and
continued. “Yes, and after I made sure he was all right in the hospital wing, I
went to Dumbledore’s office to see him and the Minister having a shouting
match.”
“I hoped you added your mind there, boy,” Fleamont said.
“I did,” James said, “and this morning at the Ministry. You know what is
strange though, is that Malfoy was there and he was agreeing with me!”
“A Malfoy agreeing with a Potter!” Fleamont exclaimed. “Why I thought I never
see the day! What did you say that made the slimy snake to agree with you?”
“Basically that the dementors are dark creatures that the Ministry cannot fully
control,” James said.
“And you are right!” Fleamont said. “Those dementors are truly uncontrollable.
They only move by instinct. It is almost laughable seeing the Ministry trying
to control them like that. Laughable!”
“Yes, well it cannot be laughable when those fucking creatures almost kill my
only son!”
“Language James!” Fleamont said, standing from his chair. “You are angry at
your pitiful Ministry, but that is no reason to curse at your father.”
“Yeah, well you’re right I am angry!” James said, his anger slowly taking the
best of him. “My son almost died because of Fudge’s stupidity and instead he’s
looking at Malfoy’s case where his idiot son went and got himself slashed by a
hippogriff!”
“Did he die?” Fleamont asked.
“No, Malfoy’s son is alive. Though, they’re now talking about killing the
hippogriff,” James said.
“Shame. World could use one less Malfoy in the world, oh well,” Fleamont shook
his head. “Anyway, how is Harry doing in school? He better be doing better than
you, James.”
“Of course he is,” James said. “He has his mother’s talent in potions, and mine
in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
“Which you got from me!” Fleamont said. “Don’t you be taking all the credit.”
“Of course dad,” James said dismissively. “Other than that… he’s doing okay in
his other subjects. He really likes Care of Magical Creatures, but I think only
because Hagrid is teaching it.”
“The half-giant, yes,” Fleamont nodded. “You better tell me he’s coming over
for Christmas.”
“Of course he is!” James said. “He came home his first or second year. Though,
he might stay at Hogwarts… now being a teenager you know,” he smirked at his
dad.
“No I wouldn’t, I haven’t been a teenager in over eighty years,” Fleamont
declared. “Well, if he comes home, he better be talking about a girl. Nice to
know the Potter line will be continuing.”
“I’m sure it’ll continue dad, don’t worry,” James said, not feeling like
working anymore.
“Hmpt. Well, hopefully he won’t be indecisive like you were!” Fleamont said
with a sudden distain.
“I wasn’t indecisive!” James said.
“Of course you weren’t,” Fleamont nodded. “Do you to tell the ancestors
anything?”
“Just tell mum I love her, and still working on getting her portrait here,”
James said.
Fleamont laughed. “Great! Now we can both annoy you while you work. See you
James.” And with that, the old man stood up from his armchair and walked
towards the edge of the portrait, disappearing as he walked through it. All
that was left was an empty armchair, and the small pile of books on a small
table.
James gave an exhausted sigh and looked down at the picture of Lily on his
desk. “Saw Remus yesterday,” he told the motionless picture. “Must have been a
full moon recently. … He’s married now you know? He and Sirius. … have a kid.”
The room turned quiet as he stared at the photo. “Think I should write to
them?”
There was a meow and he looked down to see Snuffles brushing against his leg.
James bent down to pick him up. “What do you think Snuffles?” he asked.
The cat just meowed again and he nodded, “Yeah… nah.”
He dropped his cat near the floor, and watched as he ran away out the door.
With the cat gone, and his moment of reflection done, James bent his back and
started again on his work, uninterrupted by distance thoughts and cats.
Harry’s mood took a definite upturn the next few days. Ravenclaw flattened
Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, and Professor
Lupin-Black had agreed to give him anti-dementors lessons. Gryffindor were not
out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another
match. Wood became repossessed of his manic energy, and worked his team as hard
as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December. Harry had
received and given multiple letters to his dad, the last one asking if he was
coming home for Christmas. Harry had thought about it, but decided to stay in
the castle, though he was worried that his father would be alone with Snuffles
on Christmas. James responded that he wouldn’t, though he loved his son’s
concerns, and that he would spend Christmas Eve with some friends, and possibly
visit Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for a bit on Christmas Day. He promised to send them
Harry’s love, and wished him a Happy Christmas.
Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling,
opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in
glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air.
Professor Flitwick had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights
that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. The students were all happily
discussing their plans for the holidays. Both Ron and Hermione had decided to
stay at Hogwarts with Harry, Ron saying he couldn’t stand two weeks Percy, and
Hermione insisted she needed to use the library.
To everyone’s delight except Harry’s, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on
the very last weekend of the term. “We can do all our Christmas shopping
there!” Hermione said. “Mum and Dad would really love those Toothflossing
Stringmints from Honeydukes!”
The day before the trip, Harry and Draco met in secret, sitting in a deserted
corridor. The statues and suits of armor all were dusted with snow. It seemed
that someone had turned the statue’s weapons into giant candy canes, and
charmed them to sing Christmas carols whenever a student passed by. “So…
Christmas is coming,” Draco said.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and frowned, “It feels like I’m
lying.”
“What does?”
“Everything. Hanging out with you in secret, not telling dad that I’m friends
with Slytherins, … telling him that I like boys rather than girls. …”
Draco frowned and said, “Harry, one rule is that you must never be sad in my
company.”
Harry smirked and couldn’t help but snicker, “Excuse me?”
“See, better. As for your… lying. You’re not lying Harry,” Draco said. “You’re
just not telling the true yet. But if it bothers you so much… I’ll find a way
to help it.”
“You will?” Harry asked.
Draco nodded. “Sure. In fact, I think I know the perfect thing that will help.”
“What is it?” Harry asked. Draco smirked at him and shook his head. “Sorry
Potter, but I will not tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll have to wait till Christmas, you impatient brat,” Draco
chuckled.
“If I’m so much of a brat, then why you hang out with me?” Harry smirked. The
more Harry and Draco hung out together, the more Harry got used to the
Slytherin’s snide comments.
Draco smirked and said, “Well, brat, it may be because you’re a cute lion whom
would get me in so much trouble with my parents.” Harry blushed at being called
‘cute’—“ And also because, believe it or not I genuine enjoy being in your
company, Harry.”
“Well… I enjoy being in your company as well,” Harry admitted.
“Of course you would,” Draco said. “I am the Ice Prince of Slytherin! I
practically run the entire House.”
“Oh really?”
“How else did I get Crabbe and Goyle to keep them from following me?” Draco
asked with a cocky smirk. “I command, they do. Simple as that.”
“Even Blaise?” Harry asked chuckling.
“Blaise? No I can never control Zabini,” Draco said. “I can never control my
friend.”
“Really?” Harry asked. Draco shrugged, “I’m a nice guy Potter, honestly.”
Harry laughed and said, “I know you are Draco. It’s just surprising how much
power you have in Slytherin.”
“What can I say?” Draco said, with a smirk, “I love being in control.” A shiver
went down Harry’s spine, though he does not know why. He just smiled and
nodded, feeling like Draco had another meaning to his words, but Harry couldn’t
understand them.
“So what do you want for Christmas?” he asked Draco.
“You don’t need to get me anything,” Draco said.
“I want to, it’s unfair if I don’t,” Harry said.
Draco gave Harry a sharp look. “I do not want anything from you for Christmas
Harry. Do not worry about it.”
Harry returned the look and shook his head. “Whatever you say Draco.”
Draco, believing he had won, smirked and stood up. He pulled Harry with him and
again kissed his hand, an act that was quickly becoming a habit between the
two. “Well then Harry, I will see you after holidays. Happy Christmas Harry.”
“Happy Christmas Draco.”
***** Hogsmeade *****
                                   Chapter 8
                                   Hogsmeade
On the Saturday morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Harry bid good-bye to Ron and
Hermione, who were wrapped in cloaks and scarves, then turned up the marble
staircase alone, and headed back toward Gryffindor Tower. Snow had started to
fall outside the windows, and the castle was very still and quiet.
“Psst—Harry!”
He turned, halfway along the third-floor corridor, to see Fred and George
peering out at him from behind a statue of a humpbacked one-eyed witch.
“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously. “How come you’re not going to
Hogsmeade?”
“We’ve come to give you a bit of festive cheer before we go,” Fred said with a
mysterious wink. “Come in here. …”
He nodded toward an empty classroom to the left of the one-eyed statue. Harry
followed Fred and George inside, noting to himself how used he was becoming to
meeting people in empty classrooms. George closed the door quietly and then
turned, beaming to look at Harry.
“Early Christmas present for you, Harry,” he said.
“Yup, to our new favorite gay boy in the House,” Fred said as he pulled
something from inside his cloak with a flourish and laid it on one of the
desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing
written on it. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George’s jokes, stared at it.
“What’s that supposed to be?”
“This, Harry, is the secret to our success,” George said, patting the parchment
fondly.
“It’s a wrench, giving it to you,” Fred said, “but we decided last night, your
need’s greater than ours.”
“And what do I need with a bit of old parchment?” Harry said.
“A bit of old parchment!” Fred said, closing his eyes with a grimace as though
Harry had mortally offended him. “Explain, George.”
“Well… when we were in our first year, Harry—young, carefree, and innocent—“
Harry snorted. He doubted whether Fred and George had ever been innocent.
“—well, more innocent than we are now—we got into a spot of bother with Filch.”
“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—“
“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—“
“—detention—“
“—disembowelment—“
“—and we couldn’t help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked
Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.”
“Don’t tell me—“ Harry said, starting to grin.
“Well, what would you’ve done?” Fred said. “George caused a diversion by
dropping another Dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed—this.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds, you know,” George said. “We don’t rekon Filch
ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he
wouldn’t have confiscated it.”
“And you know how it works?”
“Oh yes,” Fred said, smirking. “This little beauty’s taught us more than all
the teachers in this school.”
George smirked and took out his wand. He touched the parchment lightly, and
said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point
that George’s wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they
fanned into every corner of the parchment’ then words began to blossom across
the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:
   Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical
                     Mischief-Makers are proud to present
                              THE MARAUDER’S MAP
It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the
truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled
with a name in minuscule writing. Astounded, Harry bent over it. A labeled dot
in the top left corner showed that Professor Dumbledore was pacing his study;
and Peeves the Poltergeist was currently bouncing around the trophy room. And
as Harry’s eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors, he noticed
something else.
This map showed a set of passages he had never entered. And many of them seemed
to lead—
“Right into Hogsmeade,” Fred said, tracing one of them with his finger. “There
are seven in all. Now, Filch knows about these four”—he pointed them out—“but
we’re sure we’re the only ones who know about these. Don’t bother with the one
behind the mirror on the fourth floor. We used it until last winter, but it’s
caved in—completely blocked. And we don’t reckon anyone’s ever used this one,
because the Whomping Willow’s planted right over the entrance. But this one
here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes. We’ve used it loads
of times. And as you might’ve noticed, the entrance is right outside this room,
through that statue.”
“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” George sighed. “We owe them so much. If
only we can shake their hands.”
“Noble men, working tirelessly to help a new generation of law-breakers,” Fred
said solemnly.
“Right,” George said briskly. “Don’t forget to wipe it after you’ve used it—“
“—or anyone can read it,” Fred said warningly.
“Just put your wand on the map, and say ‘Mischief Managed!’ And it’ll go
black.”
“So, young, twink Harry,” Fred said, in an uncanny impersonation of Percy,
“mind you behave yourself.”
“See you in Honeydukes,” George said, winking.
They left the room, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way. Fred looked at
George and said, “We’re raising him right George.”
“I agree Fred,” George smirked. “Nice idea deciding to give it to him.”
“Thank you brother, but you deserve credit for convincing me,” Fred said. They
both laughed and started talking about what they wanted to buy at Hogsmeade.
When they turned a corner, they saw a boy standing there, as if waiting for
them. “George,” he said, looking angry.
“What do you want?” Fred asked, glaring at the boy in Slytherin robes.
“None of your business Weasley, I want to talk to my boyfriend,” the Slytherin
said.
“I am not your boyfriend,” George said. “We broke up two days ago.”
“No, we did not,” the Slytherin brute said, taking a step towards the Weasley
twins. Fred glared at the boy as he seemed to step into the firelight,
revealing his features. He was tall and relatively muscular, his shifty grey
eyes glaring at the older Weasley twin as he automatically took a step in front
of his brother. His normally large teeth was fixed, thanks to a charm George
cast on their fifth date. “He is my boyfriend, for as long as I say he is,” he
said.
“Sod off Flint!” Fred said. “If George says you’re through, then you’re
through.”
Marcus Flint looked between Fred and George and scowled. “You’ll see George.
You belong to me.”
“We said sod off!” George yelled. Flint just smirked before turning around and
leaving. Fred turned around to Fred and said, “I can’t believe that guy! Why
don’t you just tell McGonagall or Dumbledore?”
“Because he technically hasn’t done anything yet,” George said. He shook his
head and looked up at Fred. “I cannot believe that bastard. I’ve told him again
and again that we’re done but the troll keeps coming back.”
“Why did you date him in the first place?” Fred asked. They doubled back and
walked down the corridor they just went through. George looked at his twin
brother and said, “Because he was the only gay guy I knew at the time?”
“That’s a good point…” Fred said. He looked at George and said, “There’s Harry
now.”
“Too weird, it’ll be incesty,” George said. “Besides, he’s Ron’s mate.”
“Yeah,” Fred nodded. “And the way he looks at Malfoy, seems like he’s taken.”
“Already?” George gasped. “Wow…”
“Yeah… know what? You figure out a way to keep Flint from ruining our fun, and
I’ll find a guy for you!” Fred smirked.
“You’ll do that?” George asked, having a similar smirk.
“Of course, it’ll be fun! Now come on, I want to load up in Honeydukes before
heading towards Zonko’s!”
The twins hastened their steps as they went towards the grand staircase,
joining the crowd at the entrance hall as they made their way towards
Hogsmeade.
After a long hour of walking, Harry came to the foot of some worn stone steps,
which rose out of sight above him. Careful not to make any noise, Harry began
to climb. A hundred steps, two hundred steps, he lost count as he climbed,
watching his feet. …Then, without warning, his head hit something hard.
It seemed to be a trapdoor. Harry stood there, massaging the top of his head,
listening. He couldn’t hear any sounds above him. Very slowly, he pushed the
trapdoor open and peered over the edge. He was in a cellar, which was full of
wooden crates and boxes. Harry climbed out of the trapdoor and replaced it—it
blended so perfectly with the dusty floor that it was impossible to tell it was
there. Harry crept towards the wooden staircase and started to climb them. He
could definitely heard voices now, not to mention the tinkle of a bell and
opening and shutting of a door.
He opened the door at the top of the wooden staircase, and found himself behind
the counter of Honeydukes—he ducked crept sideways, and then straightened up.
Honeydukes was so crowded with Hogwarts students that no one looked twice at
Harry. He edged among them, looking around, smiling when an idea came to him as
he knew exactly what to buy Draco.
There were shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets
imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice,
fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat
rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing
Whizbees, the levitating sherbet balls that Ron had mentioned; along yet
another wall were “Special Effects” sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum, the
strange, splintery Toothflossing Stringments, tiny black Pepper Imps, Ice Mice,
peppermint creams shaped like toads, fragile sugar-spun quills, and exploding
bonbons.
Harry squeezed himself through a crowd of sixth years and saw a sign hanging in
the farthest corner of the shop. Ron and Hermione were standing underneath it,
examining a tray of blood-flavored lollipops. Harry sneaked up to them.
“Ugh, no, Harry won’t want one of thoses, they’re for vampires, I expect,”
Hermione was saying.
“How about these?” Ron said, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under
Hermione’s nose.
“Definitely, not,” Harry said.
Ron nearly dropped the jar.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed.”What are you doing here? How—how did you—?”
“Wow!” Ron said, looking very impressed, “you’ve learned to Apparate!”
“’Course I haven’t,” Harry said. “I’m only thirteen!” He dropped his voice so
that none of the sixth years could hear him and told them all about the
Marauder’s Map.
“How come Fred and George never gave it to me!” Ron said outraged. “I’m their
brother!”
“But Harry isn’t going to keep it!” Hermione said, as though the idea was
ludicrous. “he’s going to give it to Professor McGonagall, aren’t you Harry?”
“As if,” Harry snorted.
“Are you mad?” Ron said, goggling at Hermione. “Hand in something that good?”
“If I hand it in, I’ll have to say where I got it! Filch would know Fred and
George nicked it!”
But—but—“ Hermione said, trying to think of an argument. Harry shook his head,
“We can argue about this later, but for now I need your help.”
“What?” Ron asked.
“I need your help picking some sweets,” Harry said. “I’m thinking of sending
some to dad.”
“Oh… alright,” Hermione said. Harry gave her a quick smile. Technically, he
wasn’t lying. He does intend to give some of the sweets to his dad for
Christmas, but mostly he wanted a chance to stop the argument.
The trio went around the tightly packed shop, and Ron and Hermione pointed out
some of their favorite sweets. “These floss your teeth as you eat them,”
Hermione said as she pulled out a Toothflossing Stringmint, “I’m getting some
for my parents. I’m sure your dad’ll like it.”
Harry just nodded and held on to it. “Dad loves Cauldron Cakes,” he said as he
reached over to grab five small wrapped cakes. He tried to remember what Draco
had brought him, wishing that he had asked the Ice Prince what his favorite
candies were. He decided to go safe, picking chocolate bar after chocolate bar.
He stopped at a small tray and pointed it at it, “Crystallized pineapple,” he
said. “Dad hates those, he said a professor of his always ate them during
class.”
“Really?” Hermione asked, “Who was it?”
Harry tried to remember but shook his head, “I don’t remember, sorry. Pretty
sure he was a Potions professor. Dad says mum loved him.”
“A good potions professor?” Ron said, unbelieving. “The world’s gone mad then.”
Harry and Hermione laughed as they went to the counter. Harry paid for the
candy, and held onto the bag. As they left the store, Harry noticed a notice
pasted on the inside of the sweetshop door.
                                 —By Order Of—
                             THE MINISTER OF MAGIC
Customers are reminded that until further notice, dementors will be patrolling
 the streets of Hogsmeade every night after sundown. This measure has been put
  in place for the safety of Hogsmeade residents and will be lifted upon the
   finishing of this trial. It is therefore advisable that you complete your
                        shopping well before nightfall.
                               Merry Christmas!
“Ron,” Hermione said once they were out of the shop. “Look, Harry still
shouldn’t be coming into Hogsmeade He hasn’t got a signed form! If anyone finds
out, he’ll be in so much trouble!”
“People’ll have a job spotting Harry in this,” Ron said, nodding through the
mullioned windows at the thick, swirling snow. “Come on Hermione, it’s
Christmas. Harry deserves a break.”
Hermione bit her lip, looking extremely worried. “Fine,” she said after a
while. “But I still think Harry should show the map to Professor McGonagall.”
The three of them left Honeydukes for the blizzard outside. Hogsmeade looked
like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered
in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of
enchanted candles hanging in the trees.
Harry shivered; unlike the other two, he didn’t have his cloak. They headed up
the street, heads bowed against the wind, Ron and Hermione shouting through
their scarves.
“That’s the post office—“
“Zonko’s is up there—“
“We could go up to the Shrieking Shack—“
“Tell you what,” Ron said, his teeth clattering, “shall we go for a butterbeer
in the Three Broomsticks?”
Harry was more than willing; the wind was fierce and his hands were freezing,
so they crossed the road, and in a few minutes were entering the tiny inn. It
was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a
pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.
“That’s Madam Rosmerta,” Ron said. “I’ll get the drinks, shall I?” he added,
going slightly red.
Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a
small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which
stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three
foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.
“Merry Christmas!” he said happily, raising his tankard.
Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted and seemed
to heat every bit of him inside. “Look out,” Ron said, looking off somewhere.
“Malfoy’s here, the git.”
Harry and Hermione turned to see that Ron was right. Draco Malfoy was sitting
in a booth at the opposite side of the tavern, along with his usual lackeys of
Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting on the outside of the booth. Harry saw that
Blaise was there, sitting across from Draco. “What are they doing here?” Ron
growled.
“Don’t worry about them,” Harry said turning in his seat, hoping that the
Slytherins didn’t see them.
“You better keep your head down, Harry,” Hermione said. “No saying what Malfoy
would do if he knows you’re here.”
“Would probably go running to Snape, the—“
“Ron!”
“Well, he would!” Ron said. Hermione gave him a sharp look, but shook her head.
“Just lay low until he’s gone, Harry,” she said instead.
Harry nodded, concluding that his first visit to Hogsmeade is not the best
place to tell Ron and Hermione about his new friendship with Draco Malfoy and
Blaise Zabini. “Who’s the other guy, I wonder?” Ron said, glancing back at the
four Slytherins. “Not Crabbe and Goyle, the one talking to Malfoy.”
“Blaise Zabini,” Harry said almost immediately. The two looked at him, and he
shrugged. “I remember Flitwick calling his name,” he lied. They took the answer
and nodded, looking at Blaise and Draco.
“Never saw anyone else speaking to Malfoy,” Hermione said. “Wonder what he’s
doing.”
“Who cares,” Ron shrugged. “Probably some slimy Slytherin stuff.”
Harry didn’t want to comment. Instead he asked, “What’s the Shrieking Shack?”
Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry. “It’s said to be the most haunted
building in Britain. People here reported hearing screams coming from inside.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding. “But when the people here go to see, it’s empty.”
Harry frowned at that, and took another drink of his butterbeer. They spent
most of the afternoon in the Three Broomsticks, Ron nor Hermione not wanting to
go out and show Harry more of Hogsmeade in this weather. Near the end of the
afternoon, the three was walking in the blizzard, when Harry felt something
strange. He looked around and saw Draco, standing in the snow smirking. Their
eyes connected, and Harry felt… weird. He didn’t know what happened, but he
felt as if Draco had stared directly at his soul, and it affected him. It was
as if he was walking in a daze. Harry didn’t have a clear idea of how he had
managed to get back into the Honeydukes cellar, through the tunnel, and into
the castle once more. All he knew was that the return trip seemed to take no
time at all, and that he hardly noticed what he was doing.
He tried his best to act innocent during the dinner, and afterwards quickly
returned to the Gryffindor Tower. He did not want to deal with Fred and George,
who had set off half a dozen Dungbombs in a fit of end-of-term high spirits. He
sneaked quietly up to the empty dormitory and headed straight for his bed.
He closed the bed curtains and just laid in his bed. He didn’t know why he felt
so weird, Draco just looked at him, as he has done multiple times. But this
time… it felt weird, as if Draco could see him clearly, more clearly than
anyone has seen him. He felt something stirring and looked down. His pants
started to feel tight and uncomfortable. He shrugged off his robes and kicked
off his shoes, laying down in only pants, button-downed shirt, and his tie. His
pants started to feel tighter, so he quickly took them off, revealing his
underwear, which was tented.
Curious, Harry took off the rest of his clothes until only he was in his
underwear. He looked down and blushed as he took a look at his body. Somehow,
it felt different—looked different. He was lean, his skin pale with hints of
sun. There was no hints or showings of muscles, but he still looked obviously
healthy. His nipples were plump and pink, the nubs erect from the cold drafty
air. There was not a hint of hair on his body, and Harry couldn’t help but drag
his hands down from his chest and towards his underwear, shivering and loving
the feeling of heat against his skin.
It felt… good, and Harry’s hands hooked on the edge of his tight underwear, the
tent now provident as he slowly pulled it down, revealing his dick. Hard, it
looked about five inches, the head of the cock brightly pink and shiny looking
from a weird liquid that was coming out. Harry wiped a finger over the top of
his dick and gave a gasp. His dick reacted by twitching and more of the
clearish liquid came out. He brought it to his lips and stick his tongue out,
licking his finger. It tasted… good. Whatever it was, Harry loved the taste.
Something inside him started to stir, he wanted more, he needed more. A primal
urge rose in Harry, and Harry let it take control of him.
His hand went down and grabbed his dick at the base. The same twitch happened
and Harry’s mouth opened as a moan escaped his lips. His hand started to move
up the length of his dick, squeezing as he did so. He moaned and bit his lip as
he stroke his dick. His other hand, acting on the primal instinct, moved
towards his plump nipples and started playing with them, squeezing and pulling
them. He loved the feeling of having his body touched, pulled, played with. He
felt like he just needed more. More touching, more pulling, more playing. The
harder he pinched and pulled his nipples, the faster he stroke his dick, now
fully leaking with the clear liquid. His mouth hung open, small moans and gasps
coming out before he enunciated, “Da-Dray—Draco! Ahhh!”
Then, as if without warning, he felt like he was about to burst with pee. He
tried to stop it, but it was too late, the feeling was overwhelming and he
screamed as the sensation took over his body, his dick pulsing and pushing. But
it wasn’t the clearish yellow liquid waste he was expecting, but instead thick
ropes of a sticky hot white substance squirted from his dick, covering the head
easily and arcing to splash onto his chest and stomach. Rope after rope came
out until finally, his dick started to soften, and the ropes just started to
dribble out of his penis. Sweat-slicken and red faced, Harry reached for the
sticky substance and swiped it with his finger.
Again, like he did with the clearish liquid, he brought it to his mouth and
licked it clean. This was it! This was what he needed! This pleasurable
substance that he just instantly loved. It was salty, yet, and musky but it
tasted like heaven! Pure, dirty heaven! Still going off from the animalistic
urges, he scooped up as much of the substance he could get and licked his
fingers clean. He did this again and again until his body was clean, with not a
drop of the stickiness in sight.
With the deed done, the primal urges slowly swept away from Harry, his brain
starting to feel heavier, as did his eyes, as exhaustion took hold of him. He
was barely able to take his glasses off and place them on the bedside table
before he succumbed to the tiredness, naked and on top of his bed.
Harry had awoken to find the dormitory deserted, dressed, and gone down the
spiral staircase to a common room that was completely empty except for Ron, who
was eating a Peppermint Toad, and massaging his stomach, and Hermione, who had
spread her homework over three tables.
“Where is everyone?” Harry said.
“Gone! It’s the first day of the holidays, remember?” Ron said, watching Harry
closely. “It’s nearly lunchtime; I was going to come and wake you up in a
minute.”
Harry slumped into a chair next to the fire. Snow was still falling outside the
windows. Crookshanks was spread out in front of the fire like a large, ginger
rug.
“Let’s go down to Hagrid’s,” Ron said. “We haven’t visited him for ages!”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry said, sitting up. They got their cloaks from their
dormitories and set off through the portrait hole, down through the empty
castle and out through the oak front doors. They made their way slowly down the
lawn, making a shallow trench in the glittering powdery snow, their socks and
the hems of their cloaks soaked and freezing. The Forbidden Forest looked as
though it had been enchanted, each tree smattered with silver, and Hagrid’s
cabin looked like an iced cake.
Ron knocked, but there was no answer.
“He’s not out, is he?” Hermione asked, who was shivering under her cloak. Ron
had his ear to the door.
“There’s a weird noise,” he said. “Listen—is that Fang?”
Harry and Hermione put their ears to the door too. From inside the cabin came a
series of low, throbbing moans.
“Think we’d better go and get someone?” Ron said, nervously.
“Hagrid!” Harry called, thumping the door. “Hagrid, are you in there?”
There was a sound of heavy footsteps, then the door creaked open. Hagrid stood
there with his eyes red and swollen, tears splashing down the front of his
leather vest.
“Yeh’ve heard?” he bellowed, and he flung himself on to Harry’s neck.
Hagrid being at least twice the size of a normal man, this was no laughing
matter. Harry, about to collapse under Hagrid’s weight, was rescued by Ron and
Hermione, who each seized Hagrid under an arm and heaved him back into the
cabin. Hagrid allowed himself to be steered into a chair and slumped over the
table, sobbing uncontrollably, his face glazed with tears that dripped down
into his tangled beard.
“Hagrid, what is it?” Hermione said, aghast.
Harry spotted an official-looking letter lying open on the table. “What’s this
Hagrid?”
Hagrid’s sobs redoubled, but he shoved the letter toward Harry, who picked it
up and read aloud:
Dear, Mr. Hagrid,
Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your
class, we have accepted the assurance of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no
responsibility for the regrettable incident.
However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have
decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter
will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous
Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present
yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date.
In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.
Yours in fellowship …
There followed a list of the school governors.
“Oh,” Ron said. “But you said Buckbeak isn’t a bad hippogriff, Hagrid. I bet
he’ll get off—“
“Yeh don’ know them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous
Creatures!” Hagrid choked, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “They’ve got it in
fer interestin’ creatures!”
A sudden sound from the corner of Hagrid’s cabin made harry, Ron, and Hermione
whip around. Buckbeak was lying in the corner, chomping on something that was
oozing blood all over the floor.
“I couldn’ leave him tied up out there in the snow!” Hagrid choked. “All on his
own! At Christmas!”
“You’ll have to put up a good defense, Hagrid,” Hermione said, sitting down and
laying a hand on Hagrid’s massive forearm. “I’m sure you can prove Buckbeak is
safe.”
“Won’t make no diff’rence!” Hagrid sobbed. “Them Disposal devils, they’re all
in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket! Scared o’ him! An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak—“
“Listen Hagrid, you can’t give up,” Harry said. “Hermione’s right, you just
need a good defense. You can call us as witnesses—“
“I’m sure I’ve read about a case of hippogriff-baiting,” Hermione said
thoughtfully, “where the hippogriff got off. I’ll look it up for you, Hagrid,
and see exactly what happened.”
Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione Looked at Ron to help them.
“Er—shall I make a cup of tea?” Ron said. Harry stared at him. “It’s what my
mum does whenever someone’s upset,” Ron muttered, shrugging.
Harry’s thought turned to Draco, it was his fault Hagrid is in this mess. If
they are going to be… whatever they are, then he needs to make Draco
do—something, anything to help the innocent hippogriff.
At last, after many more assurances of help, with a steaming mug of tea in
front of him, Hagrid blew his nose on a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth
and said, “Yer right. I can’ afford to go ter pieces. Gotta pull meself
together. …”
James Potter woke up exhausted on Christmas morning. He had spent some time
last night with co-workers from the Ministry, who were mostly single young
wizards who had no significant others to spend the holiday with, and not
wanting to go visit their families yet. They were nice, James remembered that
he had personally trained most of the Aurors in the group, but either due to
his age or just general tiredness, he could not have kept up with them. While
the young aurors have tried stories over eggnog and firewhiskey, James have
kept to butterbeer, and just nodded when the men’s conversation turned to more
lewd topics, as all drunken men’s conversations tend to do. It was at this
point that he decided to leave his co-workers where they are, and returned to
his office where he continued on his case for removing the dementors from
Harry. It was nearly midnight when he returned home, and nearly nine when he
woke up.
“What I need,” he said to no one in particular, “is a full day of sleeping.
Just one day. That is if the Ministry would give me that.”
He walked out of his bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen. “Mornin’
Snuffles,” he yawned when he walked past his cat, who was waiting by his food
bowl. James started making coffee and turned to fill Snuffles’s bowl. “Eat up
there,” he said. When his coffee was ready, he filled a cup, and went into the
living room, where a small Christmas Tree stood in a corner, amateurishly
decorated. Snuffles followed him and meowed. “I know,” James chuckled. “This
was more of Lily’s thing. And Harry’s, lord knows both are way better at
Christmas decorating than I am.”
Under the tree stood a few presents, and James was surprised, and smiled when
he saw that one of the few presents was from Harry. He immediately picked up
the small parcel and noticed a note was written on it.
Dad,
Sorry I’m not there to spend the holidays with you. There’s something I
actually want to talk to you about, but I’ll do it during the next break.
Anyway, Happy Christmas.
Love,
Harry.
Excited, confused, and concerned, James unwrapped the parcel and pulled out its
contents. Candy. It was a box of candy from Honeydukes, James made sure to be
very familiar with Honeydukes while he was at Hogwarts. He opened the box and
smirked. There were Cauldron Cakes, his favorite, some bars of Honeydukes Best
Chocolate, Nougat chunks, and, much to James’s ire and laughter, a small box of
crystallized pineapples. He looked at the box and smirked. There was no way
Harry would have asked his friends to buy any of these for him. “That little
cheeky weasel,” he smirked, feeling very proud. “I knew it. I knew he would
find a way. Ha!”
He took a bite out of a Cauldron Cake and moaned, “Still as delicious as ever,”
he said.
“I see you’re stuffing yourself as ever,” Fleamont Potter said as he walked
into his portrait.
“Gift from Harry,” James said after he swallowed. “Remember how I didn’t sign
his permission form for Hogsmeade?”
“Yes, you said it was for his own protection,” Fleamont said. “A fact that I
both agree and disagree with. I mean, there are dementors there now after all.”
James nodded and couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, I did it for his own
protection, but I had another reason.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” James smirked. “After all, he does steal the Invisibility Cloak from me
every year term starts. So, I just knew that he would find his way to
Hogsmeade.”
“Really?” Fleamont asked as he started chuckling. “What’s that muggle
expression again…? Like father like son?”
“Like father, like son,” James nodded. “And you thought he was going to be a
goody-two shoes!”
“I would never use that language! Too juvenile!” Fleamont said.
That caused James to laugh out loud. “Juvenile!? You said that after I told you
Harry left for Hogwarts first year!”
“I did not,” Fleamont denied. James just shook his head again and said, “Well,
he’s my son. That much is proven now. Now, if you excuse me dad, I have some
things to do before I visit Molly and Arthur.”
“And what is so important that you cannot visit Potter Manor?” Fleamont asked.
“Many things, such as the dementor problem,” James said. He looked at the rest
of the presents and checked who sent them, “Ha, Molly sent me a sweater…told
her not to,” before looking at the portrait again. “Sorry dad, I’ll visit some
other time. Right now… I have a lot on my plate.”
“All right, all right, fine,” Fleamont said. “You better bring your mother’s
portrait here though, it’s getting annoying being the only one who can come
here.”
“I know, I know,” James said. “I already have a guy who’s going to paint it.
He’s coming here the thirteenth of January.”
“Good,” Fleamont nodded. “Well… Happy Christmas son.”
“Happy Christmas, dad,” James said. He waited until his father was gone from
his portrait before exhaling. Lately, old feelings were haunting James.
Feelings that he thought he buried a long time ago.
On Christmas morning, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him.
“Oy! Presents!”
Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-
darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared.
Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.
“Another sweater from Mum …maroon again …see if you’ve got one.”
Harry had, Mrs. Weasley had sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion
knitted on the front, also a dozen home-baked mice pies, some Christmas cake,
and a box of nut brittle. His dad had got him a book of famous Quidditch plays,
as well as a small book filled with potions with interesting and joking
results. There was also a small, neatly wrapped package with a card from Draco.
Harry hid the card and present from Ron’s view as he read the card.
Harry,
I hope you’re having a wonderful Christmas. Do you remember when you told me
that you feel like you are lying both with hanging out with me and Blaise, and
your sexuality? Well, I’ve found a book that I hope will help you. It’s a
diary. Found it in Father’s library long ago hidden away. It seems like it had
a previous owner, but he never wrote on it. I’m sorry I couldn’t get you
anything better. I just thought that this is what you need best.
Yours,
Draco
Harry couldn’t help but smile as he read the letter. He didn’t mind that the
book, which still laid wrapped on his lap, was old, the thought and feeling
mattered more to Harry. This truly shows that Draco was listening… was caring
about him. The smile remained as he placed the card on his lap and picked up
the pristinely wrapped gift. Carefully, as if ripping would ruin everything,
Harry unwrapped the gift and brought out the book.
The diary was a small black leathered book with worn out pages. The diary was
beaten, looking as if it stood the test of time for at least half a century.
Harry opened the diary and flipped through the pages. As Draco said, there was
nothing written on any of the pages. He guessed that the original owner just
brought it, but didn’t decide to write in it at the end of the day. He wondered
how Draco’s father got the diary, but put it in the back of his mind as he
remembered he needed to talk to Draco about Buckbeak.
He placed the card and diary on his bed and moved back to the pile. He saw a
long, thin package lying underneath at the bottom of the pile.
“What’s that?” Ron asked, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon
socks in his hand. …
“Dunno…”
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick
rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for
a closer look.
“I don’t believe it,” he said hoarsely.
It was a Firebolt. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it
vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right
height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number
at the top of the handle, right to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch
twigs that made up the tail.
“Did your dad sent that?” Ron said in a hushed voice.
“I don’t think so… he would have mentioned… look and see if there’s a card,”
Harry said.
Ron ripped apart the Firebolt’s wrappings. “Nothing! Blimey, who’d spend that
much on you?”
“I do not know…” Harry said, still amazed at the gift.
“I bet it was Dumbledore,” Ron said, now walking around and around the
Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch.
“He wouldn’t spend hundreds of Galleons on me,” Harry said. “He can’t go giving
students stuff like this—“
“That’s why he wouldn’t say it was from him!” Ron said. “In case some git like
Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey Harry, Malfoy! Wait till he sees you on
this! He’ll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this
is!”
“I can’t believe this,” Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt,
while Ron sank onto Harry’s bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Draco.
Harry ignored the laughter as he stared at the Firebolt. His own Firebolt!
Harry couldn’t believe that he owned one. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder
who sent him this. There was no way it was his dad… or Draco… and Blaise gave
him chocolates… the possible subjects spun through his head as both he and Ron
just gazed and inspected the broomstick.
***** Confessions *****
                                   Chapter 9
                                  Confessions
After opening their presents, Ron and Harry went down to the common room where
Hermione was waiting with Crookshanks. Ron, who had Scabbers in his pocket,
yelled at Hermione to keep the cat away from him. Crookshanks kept staring at
Ron’s pocket until they left, struggling against Hermione’s hold as he tried to
grab the old rat.
At lunch time the Golden Trio went down to the Great Hall, to find that the
House tables had been moved against the walls again, and that a single table,
set for twelve, stood in the middle of the room. Professors Dumbledore,
McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick were there, along with Filch, the
caretaker, who had taken off his usual brown coat and was wearing a very old
and rather moldy-looking tailcoat. There were only three other students, two
extremely nervous-looking first years and a sullen-faced Slytherin fifth year.
“Merry Christmas!” Dumbledore said as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the
table. “As there are so few of us, it seems foolish to use the House tables.
…Sit down, sit down!”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table.
“Crackers!” Dumbledore said enthusiastically, offering the end of a large
silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang
like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch’s hat
topped with a stuffed vulture.
Harry, remembering the boggart, caught Ron’s eye and they both grinned; Snape’s
mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his
wizard’s hat at once.
“Dig in!” he advised the table, beaming around.
As Harry was helping himself to roast potatoes, the doors of the Great hall
opened again. It was Professor Trelawney, gliding toward them as though on
wheels. She had on a green sequined dress in honor of the occasion, making her
look more than ever like a glittering, oversized dragonfly.
“Sibyll, this is a pleasant surprise!” Dumbledore said, standing up.
“I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster,” Professor Trelawney said in her
mistiest, most faraway voice, “and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning
my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings
of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my
lateness. …”
“Certainly, certainly,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “Let me draw you
up a chair—“
And he did indeed draw a chair in midair with his wand, which revolved for a
few second before falling with a thud between Professors Snape and McGonagall.
Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been
roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.
“I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing
could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first
to rise will be the first to die!”
“We’ll risk it, Sibyll,” Professor McGonagall said impatiently. “Do sit down,
the turkey’s getting stone cold.”
Professor Trelawney hesitated, then lowered herself into the empty chair, eyes
shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting a thunderbolt to hit the
table. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest tureen.
“Tripe, Sibyll?”
Professor Trelawney ignored her. Eyes open again, she looked around once more
and said, “But where is dear Professor Lupin-Black?”
“I’m afraid the poor fellow is ill again,” Dumbledore said, indicating that
everyone should start serving themselves. “Most unfortunate that it should
happen on Christmas Day. And he was going to visit his family as well.”
“But surely you already knew that, Sibyll?” Professor McGonagall said, her
eyebrows raised.
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look. “Certainly I
knew, Minerva,” she said quietly. “But one does not parade the fact that one is
All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so
as not to make others nervous.”
“That explains a great deal,” Professor McGonagall said tartly. Professor
Trelawney’s voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.
“If you must know, Minerva. I have seen that poor Professor Lupin-Black will
not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short.
He positively fled when I offered to crystal gave for him—“
“Imagine that,” McGonagall said dryly.
“I doubt,” Dumbledore said in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put
an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney’s conversation, “that
Professor Lupin-Black is in any immediate danger. Severus, you’ve made the
potion for him again?”
“Yes, Headmaster,” Snape said.
“Good,” Dumbledore said. “Then he should be up and about in no time. …Derek,
have you any of these chipolatas? They’re excellent.”
The first-year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by
Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.
Professor Trelawney behaved almost normally until the very end of Christmas
dinner, two hours later. Full to bursting with Christmas dinner and still
wearing their party hats, Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she
shrieked loudly.
“My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?”
“Dunno,” Ron said, looking uneasily at Harry.
“I doubt it will make much difference,” Professor McGonagall said coldly,
“unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into
the entrance hall.”
Even Ron laughed. Professor Trelawney looked highly affronted.
“Coming?” Harry said to Hermione.
“In a bit,” Hermione muttered.
Harry and Ron nodded and left the entrance hall. “That was awkward,” Ron yawned
as they made their way into the entrance hall, which was completely devoid of
mad axe-men. When they reached the portrait hole, they found the Fat Lady
enjoying a Christmas party with her best friend Violet. “Password?” she said,
her cheeks clearly flushed.
“Fortuna Major,” Ron said.
“Yup!” Violet toasted as the painting swung open to admit them.
Harry went straight to the dormitory, collected his Firebolt, the Broomstick
Servicing Kit Hermione had given him, and the diary Draco gave him, and brought
them downstairs.
“Meant to ask,” Ron said. “Who sent you the book?” he asked, pointing to the
black diary. Harry’s cheeks flushed as he placed the Firebolt and kit gently on
the coffee table in between the armchairs.
“Well… it’s a long story,” Harry said.
Ron looked at him curiously as they sat down in opposite armchairs, the diary
and Firebolt between them. “Pretty sure we got time, mate,” he said.
Harry nodded and looked at Ron. “Just don’t interrupt alright?”
Ron gave a slightly sour look, “Please tell me you’re not doing… that already!”
“That?” Harry asked, confused.
Ron gave him a look and said with relief, “Never mind. Go ahead.”
“Alright… well, you know how I’m gay right?”
“Yeah,” Ron said nodding.
“Well… I didn’t exactly figure that out by myself…” Harry began. “It began in
the start of the year. I started noticing different things… like Seamus’
brogue, or how deep Wood’s voice is… how nice they smell… and I was confused.
Like, really confused, I had no idea what was going on. Then on the day Malfoy
provoked Buckbeak, I visited him in the hospital wing. I didn’t know why I
decided to do that, but I did, and I’ve dressed his wounds just as dad taught
me when I was young. I’ve told him about it, but Malfoy being Malfoy, he
basically spat back at me. So I left and it’s there I’ve met Blaise.
“Blaise Zabini… yes Ron, he is in Slytherin,” Harry said when he noticed his
friend’s face. Ron’s scowl softened and he remained quiet. “I was cautious like
you, and stand offish, but he convinced me to talk to him. So I did. We’ve met
in empty classrooms multiple times, and walked down empty corridors, and I
started to really like him. Then, one day, Blaise convinced Malfoy to meet with
me in an empty classroom. This was… I think around the first Hogsmeade weekend,
no before. We talked about our families, and figured out how similar we both
are actually are… even down to how we’re both gay—“
“You mean Draco Malfoy likes blokes?” Ron interrupted, with a certain grin.
“Yeah,” Harry said.
Ron couldn’t help but give a short laugh, “Should have known! Considering his
hair! Looks like he takes hours doing it.”
Harry gave a laugh and smiled, “Actually, more like an hour… hour in a half on
weekends.” They both shared a small laugh and Ron apologized for interrupting.
“Anyway,” Harry continued. “We’ve started talking and became friends. … On the
day before the first Hogsmeade meeting, Draco—I mean Malfoy, brought me from
the group at the end of Defense and he promised to get me chocolate from
Hogsmeade, which he did. That was right before you and Hermione gave me the lot
you two brought. Blaise and I had a friendly bet on the first Quidditch match
but… well, you know what happened.
“But anyways, Draco and I met more and more often and we’ve genuinely became
friends. And we agreed that after the Gryffindor/ Slytherin Quidditch match,
we’ll take our friendship outside the classrooms. I’ve told him that I’ve felt
like I’m… like I’m lying. To my dad, to everyone. Not only by not telling dad
I’m gay, but by having two friendships in secret. So to help that… Draco gave
me the diary as a Christmas present. And umm that’s that.” Harry finished. He
looked up at Ron, waiting for his reaction or outburst.
Ron’s face hid his emotions as he processed everything Harry told him. He
stared at Harry for a long time, each second Harry was expecting a loud, curse
filled outburst. Then, finally, Ron said “You’re mates with Malfoy… Malfoy! The
git who called Hermione a Mudblood. The git who got us in trouble in our first
year when we helped Hagrid with Norbert! The git—the damn git who’s constantly
mocking us, treats us like crap and is the reason for Buckbeak getting in
trouble. That git!?”
Harry blushed and looked down. “Look, yes he’s a git, I understand that,” he
began. “But I’m working on that part. I’m angry about all of that too, and as
soon as the holiday’s up, you better believe I’ll be yelling at him. Dad’s
working his best to stop the stupid trail, and I’m working on Malfoy. He’s a
prat but… but he’s trying. He listened to me and got me this diary so that I
can just write my thoughts whenever I feel like I’m lying.”
“I don’t know… Harry, if you were going to befriend a Slytherin like that, why
could you stick to Zabini? He sounds like a much better person,” Ron argued.
Harry, remembering all the questions Blaise asked about Ron, blushed and shook
his head. “It’s complicated… look, please don’t be angry at me, alright?”
“I’m not angry at you Harry,” Ron said. “I just don’t trust Malfoy with you.
He’s a prat who doesn’t care about anyone.”
“He does care,” Harry argued. “Look. Just trust me, okay? If it’s true what you
say, that he’s a prat and will always be a git, then I’ll stop talking to him
and instead focus on Blaise or someone else, alright? It’s just that… he makes
me feel happy. He understands things that others can’t.”
Ron gave a defeated sigh, “Alright fine. But if I’m right, you’ll let me deal
with him the Muggle way, okay?”
“Of course Ron,” Harry said. They both agreed, Ron smirking at the idea of
hitting Malfoy as he turned his attention to the diary. “So… he gave you this?”
he said as he flipped through the pages. “It’s old, and nothing’s written on
it.”
“I know, it’s strange,” Harry said. “Draco told me it’s over fifty years old…
guess who ever got it never wrote in it.”
Ron nodded and gave it to Harry. Harry opened the cover and noticed something
that he didn’t notice the first time. “T.M. Riddle,” he read. He shrugged and
said, “Guess that was the first owner.”
He placed the diary to the side and Ron and Harry turned their attention to
Harry’s new Firebolt. They sat admiring it from every angle until the portrait
hole opened, and Hermione came in. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the
broom.
“The Firebolt,” Ron said admiringly. “Someone got it for Harry.”
“Who?” Hermione asked, a frown forming on her lips.
“We don’t know,” Ron said. “There’s no card or anything.”
Hermione’s frown deepened. “Harry, you’re not actually thinking of riding that
broom are you?”
“Of course Hermione, why not?” Harry said. “It’s a gift.”
“But we don’t know who sent it to you! For all we know, it could be jinxed or
hexed to throw you off when fly it!” Hermione said.
“Hermione, who would do a stupid thing like that,” Ron said, rolling his eyes.
“Just relax Hermione!”
Hermione pursed her lips. “Harry,” she argued.
“Look, the broom’s not dangerous Hermione,” Harry said. He took hold of the
broomstick and walked towards the window. “If you need to see me fly it, then
alright.”
Then, before Hermione or Ron could say anything, Harry got on the broomstick
and flown out the open window. He could faintly hear Hermione’s voice yelling
“HARRY POTTER!” as he flew towards the night sky. The wind rushed against his
face as he flew around the castle, a huge grin appearing on his face as flew
higher and higher into the air. He felt a sense of freedom as he started to
slow down to a stop, hovering around the top of the castle. The moon was full
tonight and the sky was surprisingly cloudless, stars dotting the darkness. He
decided to take a lap, flying around the castle proper before darting towards
Hagrid’s hut, and over the Forbidden Forest. After five minutes, he returned to
Gryffindor Tower, landing expertly and perfectly in front of Ron and Hermione.
Ron was cheering and clapping at Harry while Hermione had her arms crossed,
looking livid.
“Harry Potter, what are you thinking?” Hermione demanded.
“I was showing you that the broom is not jinxed, hexed, or cursed in any way,”
Harry said, getting off the Firebolt.
“By just throwing yourself on your broom!?” Hermione said lividly. He threw her
hands up and groaned, “I cannot deal with this. You are lucky that I didn’t
tell Professor McGonagall about it.”
“Hermione, be reasonable! It’s a Firebolt! You know how expensive they are? Who
would by a Firebolt just to curse it?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s possible!” Hermione said. “Harry’s dad is one of the
best Aurors out there, I’m sure he has enemies! And those enemies could just
harm Harry to get to him!”
“Hermione, you’re being insane,” Ron said. “Enemies? What are you talking
about?”
Harry frowned and said, “Look, Hermione. Even if dad has enemies like you said,
wouldn’t you think they would have tried years ago? Look, perhaps the sender
just forgot to put the card, alright? I’ve flown it, and I’m still in one
piece. It’s fine.”
Hermione looked at both of them and shook her head. “Boys,” she said
dismissively before turning towards the girls’ dormitory.
Harry and Ron just shared a look before going into the boys’ dormitory. Ron
headed straight to bed, while Harry lingered. He looked at the diary and bit
his lip. He might as well start writing in it. Quietly he took a quill and ink,
and crept downstairs towards a small desk by the now closed window that he flew
out of. He opened the diary to the first page and paused, not sure what exactly
to write about.
He dipped his quill in scarlet ink, and let it hover over the top page as he
thought about what topic he should write about. His arm hovered for so long
that a drop of the ink fell from his quill and landed neatly on the page,
splotching it. Harry stared at it, and, to his amazement, the ink seemed to
sink into the page, as if the diary was draining it before disappearing
completely. Harry quickly moved the quill aside and ran his finger across the
page, surprised to feel that it was bone-dry. Excited, Harry took the quill and
wrote “My name is Harry Potter.”
The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace.
Then, at last, something happened.
Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words Harry had never
written.
“Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?”
These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to scribble
back. “It was a gift from Draco Malfoy. He told me to write in it whenever I
feel like I am lying.”
Harry waited for the diary’s reply.
“Interesting. Tell me, what do you mean by lying?”
“There are things that I lie about. Things about me,” Harry wrote quickly. “I’m
lying to my dad about my sexuality and who I’m friends with… I’m lying to my
best friends about Draco and Blaise… and I’m lying to everyone because I can
talk to snakes.”
The ink sank into the page and Harry waited on bated breath for the reply. The
words oozed slowly, as if Riddle was choosing his words carefully. “Snakes? You
can talk to snakes? Very interesting. We can talk about your sexuality and
friends in a moment. But first, I want to hear about your ability. To talk to
snakes is very rare, Harry.”
“It is?” Harry wrote. “I’ve never told anyone about it.”
“Where are you Harry? If you do not mind telling me.”
“Hogwarts,” Harry wrote. “Gryffindor Tower.”
“You are a Gryffindor… and yet you can speak to snakes. Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?”
“A Gryffindor having the talent to speak to snakes. It is a rare and powerful
ability Harry. An ability that is saved only those of pure heritage. Tell me,
have you heard of Parseltongue?”
“Parseltongue?” Harry whispered as he wrote down the question. “No, I have
not.”
He felt as if the diary was chuckling at him as words oozed into the page.
“Then you have much to learn Harry. Parseltongue is the language of snakes. To
be able to speak it, is a gift need sharing.”
“I need to go,” Harry wrote into the diary, closing it. He didn’t know why, but
he felt… something against the diary. It was a curious object and Harry did not
know how to approach it. He picked up the book and made his way back to the
dormitories. He quietly placed the diary into his bedside table drawer, and
laid in bed, his thoughts spinning. Parselmouth, a diary that had a mind of
it’s own… or maybe somebody’s mind… he needed to talk to Draco about this, he
needed to figure just what the diary is.
New Years came and went shortly, and Gryffindor Tower became crowded and noisy
again. Wood sought Harry out on the night before term started.
“Had a good Christmas?” he said, and then, without an answer, he sat down,
lowered his voice, and said “I’ve been doing some thinking over Christmas,
Harry. After last match, you know. If the dementors come to the next one… I
mean… we can’t afford you to—well—“
Wood broke off, looking awkward.
“I’m working on it,” Harry said quickly. “Professor Lupin-Black said he’d train
me to ward off the dementors. We should be starting this week. He said he’d
have time after Christmas.”
“Ah,” Wood said, his expression clearing. “Well, in that case—I really didn’t
want to lose you as Seeker, Harry. And have you ordered a new broom yet?”
“No,” Harry said.
“What!” You’d better get a move on, you know—you can’t ride that Shooting Star
against Ravenclaw!”
“He got a Firebolt for Christmas,” Ron said.
“A Firebolt? No! Seriously? A—a real Firebolt?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s in my room.” Oliver Wood demanded Harry to show it to
him, and Harry ended up spending the rest of the night showing his new Firebolt
to the entire Gryffindor House, much to the annoyance of Hermione, who was
giving Harry sharp looks. It was clear that she still haven’t forgiven Harry
for the reckless stunt he pulled on Christmas day.
Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was
spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had
provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an
unusually good lesson collected dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing
while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot
logs. Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time
in informing Harry that he had the shortest life she had ever seen.
It was Defense Against the Dark Arts that Harry was keen to get to; after his
conversation with Wood, he wanted to get started on his anti-dementor lessons
as soon as possible.
“Ah yes,” said Lupin-Black, when Harry reminded him of his promise at the end
of class. “Let me see …how about eight o’clock on Thursday evening? The History
of Magic classroom should be large enough. …I’ll have to think carefully about
how we’re going to do this. …We can’t bring a real dementor into the castle to
practice on. …”
“Still looks ill, doesn’t he?” Ron said as they walked down the corridor,
heading to dinner. “What d’you reckon’s the matter with him?”
Harry shrugged and looked where he saw Draco walking down a corridor. “I’ll
meet up with you Ron,” he said. “Need to get something from the dorms.”
“Oh, alright…” Ron said unsurely as he watched Harry leave down a corridor.
Harry followed Draco until he was sure the blond was in earshot. “Draco!” he
said. The Slytherin stopped and turned around to see Harry approaching him. “We
need to talk,” Harry said.
“Okay, what about?” Draco asked.
“Many things,” Harry said, deciding to show his annoyance at Draco. The Ice
Prince slowed slightly when he saw the frown on Harry’s face. “You are going to
tell your father to stop the charges against Buckbeak,” Harry stated when Draco
stopped fully.
“Buckbeak…” Draco said slowly, as if he had forgotten about the hippogriff.
“Yes, Buckbeak. The hippogriff that you provoked,” Harry said. “The one that
scratched your arm.”
“Oh yes, I remember,” Draco said. “The beast almost shredded my arm! Why do you
care for it?”
“Because Hagrid is at his wit’s end trying to save Buckbeak,” Harry said. “They
are going to kill the hippogriff, and it is your fault.”
Draco looked at Harry and shook his head. “Why do you care Harry? It’s just a
creature.”
Harry glared at Draco and spat out, “Ron was right. You are still a git.” Harry
turned to leave, but Draco chased after him. “Harry, wait.” He demanded.
“Why should I?” Harry asked, still walking.
“We can talk about this!”
“Talk about what?” Harry asked, turned around to glare at Draco. “You’re being
a selfish git! You wouldn’t even talk to your father to save an innocent
creature!”
“That thing attacked me!”
“Because you provoked him!” Harry yelled. “Hell, you barely even tried to
apologize for that, or even show regret!”
“I didn’t know I have to,” Draco said. “I thought that the hippogriff was
behind us!”
“And what? So is calling Hermione a mudblood multiple times? Is that ‘behind
us’ as well?” Harry asked.
“Well—“
“And the time you almost got Ron Hermione and I expelled because of Norbert? Is
that behind us as well?”
“I get it, I’m a git—“
“No, you’re not. You’re a spoiled git who needs to start apologizing for his
past actions or else…” Harry’s voice trailed off.
“Or else what Potter?” Draco asked, his arms crossed as he looked down at
Harry. Harry met his gaze and said, “Or else I’ll just tell you to sod off and
get with Blaise.”
Draco’s eyes zoned into Harry’s. “You wouldn’t,” he said. Harry met the glare
and said, “He’s a better person Draco. If you want to continue whatever this
is… then get your act together.”
“My act together? I got you a dairy for you!” Draco said.
“Yeah, a fifty year old diary that has the memories of the previous owner!”
Harry said.
“What?” Draco said, sounding shocked.
“Yeah, you forgot to add that part,” Harry said. Draco looked as if he was
stunned silent.
“I… I… I never knew that,” Draco said. He looked up at Harry and said,
“Honestly, I didn’t. Memories of the previous owner? What does that mean?”
“I mean that when I write in it, the ink disappears and reappears in his
words,” Harry said. “Are you really telling me that you never knew about it?”
“Yes Harry, I didn’t,” Draco said. “I honestly thought that it was just an old
empty diary.”
Harry looked at Draco and said, “At least you’re honest about that.”
“Harry!” Draco said, feeling hurt. Harry shook his head, “No, don’t ‘Harry’ me.
I don’t want to talk with you until you get your act together.”
And with that, Harry turned and left Draco in the corridor. But instead of
feeling angry or sad he felt empty.
At eight o’clock on Thursday evening, Harry left Gryffindor Tower for the
History of Magic classroom. It was dark and empty when he arrived, but he lit
the lamps with his wand and had waited only five minutes when Professor Lupin-
Black turned up, carrying a large packing case, which he heaved onto Professor
Binn’s desk.
“Another boggart,” Lupin-Black said, stripping off his cloak. “I’ve been
combing the castle ever since Tuesday, and very luckily, I found this one
lurking inside Mr. Filch’s filing cabinet. It’s the nearest we’ll get to a real
dementor. The boggart will turn into a dementor when he sees you, so we’ll be
able to practice on him.”
“Okay,” Harry said, trying to sound as though he wasn’t apprehensive at all and
merely glad that Lupin-Black had found such a good substitute for a real
dementor.
“So…” Professor Lupin-Black had taken out his own wand, and indicated that
Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly
advanced magic, harry—well being Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the
Patronus Charm. Now, have your dad told you about the charm?”
“A little,” Harry admitted. “He told me that there is a spell that keeps
dementors away… and that it is powered by happy thoughts.”
“That is correct Harry,” Lupin-Black said. “The spell conjures a Patronus when
done correctly, and the Patronus acts as a shield between you and the
dementors. It is a powerful force created by happiness, hope, the desire to
survive, all things that dementors feed upon. But I must warn you, Harry that
the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty
with it.”
“What does a Patronus look like?” Harry asked curiously.
“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it,” Lupin-Black said. “Your
father’s for insist, is a stag.”
“And how do you conjure it?”
“With an incantation, which will work only if you are concentrating, with all
your might, on a single, very happy memory.”
Harry cast his mind about for a happy memory, settling on the moment when he
had first ridden a broomstick.
“Right,” he said, trying to recall as exactly as possible the wonderful,
soaring sensation of his stomach.
“The incantation is this—“ Lupin-Black cleared his throat. “Expecto Patronum!”
“Expecto patronum,” Harry repeated under his breath, “expecto patronum.”
Concentrating hard on your happy memory?”
“Oh—yeah—“ Harry said, quickly forcing his thoughts back to that first broom
ride. “Expecto patronum, expecto patronum—“
Lupin-Black grasped the lid of the packing case and pulled. A dementor rose
slowly from the box, its hooded face turned toward Harry. The lamps around the
classroom flickered and went out. The dementor stepped from the box and started
to sweep silently toward Harry, drawing a deep, rattling breath. A wave of
piercing cold broke over him—
“Expecto patronum!” Harry yelled. A wisp of silvery gas appeared for a moment
before disappearing. “Expecto patronum! Expecto—“
But the classroom and the dementor were dissolving. …Harry was falling again
through the thick white fog, and his mother’s voice was louder than ever,
echoing in his head.
“Harry!”
Harry jerked back to life. He was laying flat on his back on the floor. The
classroom lamps were alight again. He didn’t have to ask what happened.
“Sorry,” he muttered, sitting up and feeling cold sweat trickling down behind
his glasses. Lupin-Black gave him a Chocolate Frog which he ate immediately.
“I’m ready to try again,” he said.
“Harry… are you sure you want to continue?”
“I do!” Harry said fiercely. “I’ve got to! What if the dementors turn up at our
match against Ravenclaw? I can’t afford to fall off again. If we lose this game
we’ve lost the Quidditch Cup!”
“All right then …” Lupin-Black said. “You might want to pick another memory to
concentrate on. That one doesn’t seem to have been strong enough. …”
Harry nodded and rattled his brain for another memory. He thought about his
feelings when Gryffindor had won the House Championship last year, about his
first time to Diagon Alley with his father and Hagrid… then, he finally decided
on a memory.
“Ready?” Lupin-Black said, who was looking as though he were doing this against
his better judgment. “Concentrating hard? All right—go!”
He pulled the lid of the case, and the dementor rose out of it; the room fell
cold and dark—
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry bellowed. “EXPECTO PATRONUM! EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The screaming inside Harry’s head had started again—except this time, it
sounded as though it were coming from a badly tuned radio—softer and louder and
softer again—and he could still see the dementor—it had halted—and then a huge,
silver shadow came bursting out of the end of Harry’s wand, to hover between
him and the dementor, and though Harry’s legs felt like water, he was still on
his feet—though for how much longer, he wasn’t sure—
“Riddikulus!” Lupin-Black roared, springing forward.
There was a loud crack, and Harry’s cloudy Patronus vanished along with the
dementor; he sank into a chair, feeling as exhausted as if he’d just run a
mile, and felt his legs shaking.
“Excellent!” Lupin-Black said, striding over to where Harry sat. “Excellent,
Harry! That was definitely a start!”
“Can we have another go? Just one more go?”
“Not now,” Lupin-Black said firmly. “You’ve had enough for one night. Here—“
He handed Harry a large bar of Honeydukes’ best chocolate. “Eat the lot, or
Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?”
“Okay,” Harry said. He took a bite of the chocolate and watched Lupin
extinguishing the lamps that had rekindled with the disappearance of the
dementor. A thought had just occurred to him. “Professor Lupin-Black? You know
my dad, right? You told me that he was angry at you and your husband… but you
never told me why,” Harry said.
“True,” Professor Lupin-Black said, nodding. “I’ve told you that it would be
better if you ask your father.”
“But he wouldn’t tell me, even if I did,” Harry said. “I just know it.”
Lupin-Black sighed and sat down. “Alright… I see no reason to hide it. You see
Harry, there are people who… they hate us for what we are. I thought your
father was different, but after Lily died and Sirius and I gotten married… it
seems as if we were wrong.”
“You mean… my dad hates you because you like blokes?” Harry said slowly. Lupin-
Black nodded and Harry said, “But he wouldn’t be like that! He’s too nice to be
like that!”
“And yet… there’s a reason why I’m just meeting you now Harry, instead of being
in your life for a long time,” Lupin-Black said. He shook his head and said,
“You’d better be off, Harry, it’s getting late.”
Harry left the classroom, walking along the corridor and around a corner, then
took a detour behind a suit of armor and sank down on its plinth to finish his
chocolate, wishing he hadn’t mentioned his father to Lupin-Black. He tried to
convince himself that his father isn’t that way. “He’s wrong, there has to be a
better reason that that,” he told himself.
He stood up, crammed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, and headed back
to Gryffindor Tower. When he reached the dormitories, instead of going to sleep
he instead felt a pull towards the drawer where Riddle’s diary hid. He debated,
then quickly opened the drawer and pulled out the diary, writing about
everything that happened.
He watched as the ink disappeared into the page, and Riddle’s words oozed back.
“I see… I can understand how such a dilemma can impact a person such as you
Harry. So young, and yet so many expectations and challenges. … If you want, I
can help you, both with this Malfoy problem and your father’s homophobia. All I
need is your trust. With that, I have so much that I can teach you. You do not
need to say anything now, but just think about it. And if Malfoy does in fact
change his ways then, what I will teach you will still be benedictory. The body
is a wondrous yet complex thing Harry, even if this Malfoy does not come back,
and instead is replaced by Blaise, what I can teach you will still be valuable.
I do not want your answer now. Sleep on it young Harry, sleep and when you are
ready, you know where I will be.”
***** Lessons of Patience *****
                                  Chapter 10
                              Lessons of Patience
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won,
though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who
would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the
number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin-Black’s
anti-dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six
Quidditch practices, harry had just one night a week to do all his homework.
Even so, he wasn’t showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense
workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail,
Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread
with books. Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting
heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to
anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.
“How’s she doing it?” Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing
a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was
barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
“Doing what?”
“Getting to all her classes!” Ron said, “I heard her talking to Professor
Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about
yesterday’s lesson, but Hermione can’t’ve been there, because she was with us
in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she’s never missed a
Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and
she’s never missed one of them either!”
Harry didn’t have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione’s impossible schedule
at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape’s essay. He had not talked
to Draco since their last argument, and he was feeling disappointed. He really
hoped that Draco would have tried something by now, but instead he had done
nothing, not that Harry had a lot of free time to look for the Slytherin.
He looked up to see the Weasley twins walking into the common room, but paid
them little attention as they walked past, keeping his attention to the essay.
“I’m telling you I’m handling it,” George whispered as he and Fred walked
towards a corner of the common room. George looked around to make sure that no
one was listening in.
“Yeah, handling it,” Fred said. “That idiot just came by and demanded you to
follow him—“
“And I did not,” George said. “Honestly Fred just let me handle it.”
“Handle what?” a voice asked. They looked up and saw Oliver Wood standing in
front of them, looking down at the sitting twins. George looked at Fred, as if
silently telling him not to tell Wood, but Fred didn’t listen. “Flint is
bothering George,” he said.
“Why?” Wood asked, frowning.
Both him and Fred looked to George for an answer. George gave his brother a
sharp look before looking up at Wood. “We were dating,” he said, “and I broke
up with him.”
Oliver Wood frowned at George. “And he’s still bothering you?”
“Yeah,” George nodded. “But I’m handling it,” he said more to Fred than Oliver.
“I’m talking to him,” Oliver Wood said.
“What?”
“I’m talking to him,” Oliver repeated. “I’m not going to have someone bother
one of my teammates and push him off his focus.”
“No, you don’t need to do that,” George said. “Please don’t do that.”
Oliver shook his head, “I’m going to anyway, there no way I’m going to let that
brute bother you George,” he said with a wink and smirk. “And don’t try to stop
me.”
Oliver Wood walked away from the twins and out of the common room, both twins
looked at each other, Fred smirking and George grimacing. “He’s totally gay,”
Fred said with a smirk.
“Yeah but I told you I can handle it,” George said. “And now you got Wood
involved.”
“No, that’s all you brother,” Fred said. “Come on, I’ve done my part.”
George gave Fred one last look before standing up and following after Oliver
Wood. He found the Quidditch captain down the hallway at the top of the
stairway and yelled out his name. Oliver turned around and said, “George, what
are you doing?”
“What am I doing? Wood, what the hell are you doing?” George asked, crossing
his arms as he stared at the burly Gryffindor.
“I’m going to give Flint a piece of my mind,” Oliver said. “If that troll keeps
on hounding you, it’s going to impact our results as a team! Besides, it’s just
wrong.”
“Wrong…” George repeated. “You don’t even know what he did to me.”
“Then tell me,” Oliver said. “What did he do to you?”
George shook his head, “I’m not going to tell you, that’ll just send you in a
rage. I’ve told Fred that I am handling it, and I don’t need anyone’s help.”
“Well, I want to help,” Oliver said. “And I will help. So tell me what he did
to you. Don’t tell me… did he—“
“No, he didn’t do that,” George said. “He had the decency to stop when I told
him to.” He stopped, embarrassed and shocked that he just easily shared that
information with Wood. Both boys were quiet as a battle ran in George’s head,
debating whether or not to tell Oliver the evils Marcus Flint had done against
him. They both stood quiet, Wood waiting patiently as he stared at the lean
Weasley as his eyes screwed tight in confliction. Then, after a painfully long
five minutes, George said, “He’s rough with me. …Too rough, and lately he
started stalking me as well. He can’t seem to accept that we’re not dating
anymore. Today, he followed me into a bathroom just to tell me that I cannot
get away from him. … it’s scaring me, but I can’t tell anyone about it since
he’s not exactly hurting me.”
“You still need to tell Professor McGonagall!” Oliver Wood said. “He’s
tormenting you, stalking you!”
“No, I am handling it,” George said strictly. “Don’t you dare tell Professor
McGonagall.”
“Then, I am helping you,” Oliver Wood said.
“But—“
Oliver took a step forward and grabbed George’s shoulders. He made the Weasley
look him into his eyes and said, “I am helping you George, there is nothing you
can do to stop me.”
They both stared at each other, and George had to look away, blushing. “Fine,”
he said. “But we’re not going to either Professor McGonagall, or just directly
to Flint.”
“Alright then,” Wood said with a cocky smirk on his face. “Then what?”
“… I don’t know,” George said. “Let’s just do nothing for now.”
Oliver looked at him and said, “Alright, nothing… for now.”
“Good,” George nodded. He noticed that Oliver was still holding his shoulders.
“Err, you can let go now,” he said.
Oliver Wood smirked at him and said, “Of course I’m not. Come on.” So, still
holding George by his shoulders, Oliver Wood led the shorter boy back towards
Gryffindor Tower and into the common room.
 
James Potter watched as the two wizards brought in an empty portrait into the
house, the wizard painter following them as they walked into the study. “Right
next to the old man’s portrait,” James said as they walked in. Fleamont was
walking into his portrait as the two wizards took out their wands and aimed it
at the portrait they were just carrying. The two wizards flicked their wands
and the portrait hovered into the air and glided towards the wall. The painter
took out his wand as well and aimed it at the portrait, now hanging perfectly
next to wall, and aimed a non-verbal spell at it. The portrait seemed to spring
to life, a small ornate love seat appearing as the background changed.
The portrait was now of a porch, the love seat facing away from the sunny
weather of the painting. They waited, and soon a woman walked into frame,
looking around. She looked at James and said, “Took you long enough, James.”
“Euphemia, there you are,” Fleamont said as he walked into his wife’s portrait.
James and the other wizards turned away from them to conduct business. “Thank
you very much,” James said. “How much do I owe you?”
“It was an easy job,” the painter shrugged. “Copying a portrait, easy work.
Just give us” –he pulled out a small slip of paper—“249 Galleons, eight Sickles
and eleven Knuts.”
“Alright, one second,” James said as he walked towards the back of the study.
He took out his wand, tapped a part of the wall, and a small compartment opened
up with a money pouch. He took the pouch, counted up the money, and gave it to
the painter. The painter nodded in thanks, said his goodbyes, and barked at the
two wizards to leave.
With the three wizards gone, James turned to look at his mother’s portrait. “I
told you I’ve get it in,” he told his father.
“Yes, but you certainly took your sweet time,” Fleamont said.
“Oh hush Fleamont, the boy was busy,” Euphemia said, turning to look at James.
“Weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was,” James said. “And I still am. So, goodbye.”
“Where do you think you are going?” James’ mother’s portrait demanded. “I’ve
just got here and you are already leaving?”
“Sorry mother, but I have work to do,” James said. “I’m sure dad here can fill
you in on everything.” He tried again to leave the study but his mother’s voice
stopped him again. He turned around and with a sigh of annoyance walked towards
his desk, sat down in his padded chair, and turned to look towards his mother.
He was glad that he had gotten one of those muggle chairs with wheels as he
flicked his wand as the chair rolled towards the two portraits. “What do you
want, mum?” he asked.
“Firstly, where is my grandson?” she asked.
“Hogwarts mum,” James answered bored. “It’s January, term’s started.” His
mother looked around and nodded, looking disappointed. “This place needs a
woman’s touch,” she critiqued. “You know your father’s house is still in clean
condition. If you would—“
“For the last time Harry and I will not move into Potter Manor,” James groaned.
“We’re happy here. This is Harry’s home and I will not uproot him to a place
that is too large for the two of us and swarmed with musty old house elves.”
“But the Potter Manor has been in our family for generations,” Euphemia argued.
“To simply not live in it… it’s unthinkable! It was yours to live in when we
died.”
“And Lily and I agreed that it would be better to live in Godric’s Hollow,”
James said.
“And look where that ended you,” Euphemia said. James’ face darkened as he
glared at his mother’s portrait.
“What your mother means… I think, is that it’s about upholding tradition,”
Fleamont said, looking between his wife and their own son. Isn’t that right,
Euphemia, sweetie?”
“Yes, tradition,” the old woman nodded.
“Besides, James and I have gone through this talk a hundred times,” Fleamont
said. “The boy’s stubborn. You know that. Now, what is it you’re so busy about
you can’t talk to your parents?”
“Harry has something important to tell me,” James said. “He told me so in the
letter he sent me for Christmas, and now I have till either Easter or the end
of the school year to figure it out before he tells me.”
“Ah yes… that,” Fleamont nodded. “I remember you talking about that. What do
you think it could be?”
“I don’t know… hopefully nothing seriously damaging,” James said. “Though if he
had hurt himself like that, I would have been contacted. … But I don’t know
what else it could be.” He looked up to the two portraits and said, “Also I
still have to deal with the damn dementors, and I’m meeting the Minister to
talk about it in half an hour. Worst of all, Malfoy will be there.”
“Malfoy… you mean Abraxas’ kid?” Euphemia asked.
“Yes, Lucius,” James said. “I swear that man is up to something. He actually
said to me that he will work with me on the dementors. He actually agreed with
me!”
“Oh my… there must be something wrong with him,” Euphemia said. Both Fleamont
and James nodded, agreeing with her.
“Yes, well whatever it is, I need to get to the Ministry,” James said to the
two portraits. “Goodbye.”
James left the study and made sure that he had everything he needed, picking up
a stack of papers. He took out his wand, took a step, and apparated directing
into the Ministry foyer. He walked down to the elevator and stayed quiet as he
rode it down to the Minister’s level. When he got off the elevator, he saw
Malfoy walking down the small corridor, heading towards the Minister’s office
as well. “Malfoy,” he said.
Lucius looked back and said, “Potter.”
They both stayed quiet as they walked towards the Minister’s office, James
opening the door and entering first. The Minister of Magic was alone, and James
started immediately. “Sir, here is the report of the dementors at Hogwarts and
the damage they have done,” he said, dropping the stack of papers onto his
desk.
The Minister looked up and frowned. “Potter, don’t remember calling you in.”
“I know, but you wanted the information of how your project is working,” James
said. He pointed at the papers and said, “There you go. Every complaint,
disturbance, and injuries the dementors had caused since September.”
The Minister just glanced at the stack before shaking his head dismissively. “I
am busy Potter. There will be expected disturbances for the change. They are
not directly on the grounds, nor in Hogsmeade so please return to your job. I
am busy.”
“If I may, Minister,” Lucius Malfoy said, stepping forward. “Potter raises a
sound point with the dangers of the dementors. True, they may not be precisely
on the grounds or Hogsmeade, yet their effects can still be felt in both. If
you remember, a single dementor caused the Hogwarts Express to force a stop an
hour before arriving at Hogsmeade Castle. And a small swarm of dementors came
and caused the first Quidditch match of the season to stop short with the near-
death of a student.”
“A death that had been avoided, and a stop that was to be expected,” the
Minister said.
“True, but still both incidence could have been avoided with better planning,”
Lucius said. “I believe it is in the best interest of everyone if the Ministry
turns their attention to this problem after you and I have dealt with the
hippogriff problem.”
“You are still hung up about that?” James said, slightly outraged. “You would
rather deal with one singular hippogriff than the dozens of dementors that are
surrounding the castle?”
“Yes, I am,” Lucius said shortly. “And I do not have time for your bellyaching
of the supposed innocent on a mad hippogriff.”
James glared at Lucius. “You cannot be serious, Malfoy,” he said. “There are
things more important than your son getting a damn scratch and the dementor
situation is one of them.”
“Either way, the Minister has priorities,” Lucius smirked. “And my son’s
horrible attack is one of them. Now, if you are done, there is a trial that
both the Minister and I need to prepare for.”
James gave Lucius a sharp look as the Malfoy smirked victorious. He mouthed
‘Fuck you’ then walked out, angry at both the Minister and Malfoy that they
would rather focus on a hippogriff then the obvious problem.
 
Draco Malfoy paced up and down the Slytherin common room, irritated. “A git? He
calls me a git?”
He had told everyone in the common room to go to the dorms, except for Blaise,
who was watching amused as his friend looked as if he was trying to hold back
his anger. “And he tells me that if I don’t ‘change my ways’ that he’ll just
snog it up with you! Well, I’m sorry if I do not care about the oaf or his damn
bird! I mean honestly, who cares about a damn hippogriff? Prideful bird
attacked me! Me! And yet Harry’s defending it!”
“I don’t think that’s the point Draco—“
“And the mudblood thing? I mean, yeah I was a prick with that, but I’ve never
called anyone that for a year! If Harry doesn’t want me to use then, then all
right,” Draco went on, fuming. “I mean I am trying here, and he still calls me
a git?”
“Draco, if you would just shut up,” Blaise said quickly. “Look, I think Harry
cares more about Hagrid than the hippogriff. And I guess with your dad wanting
the creature dead… it’s making Hagrid, and so Harry, very upset.”
“Maybe but still, it isn’t entirely my fault,” Draco said. “The beast attacked
me!”
“After you provoked him,” Blaise said. “I forgot what you said, but I just know
you’ve said something to cause that beast to slash at you.”
“I might have said… something…” Draco said. “But there’s nothing I can do at
this point! Father already had the trial set.”
“Seriously?” Blaise asked.
“Yes,” Draco said. “It is in April, and whatever happens, happens. There is
nothing I can do to deter father.” Blaise gave Draco a sharp look. “Look,”
Draco continued, “if it would help Harry out that much, I would love to stop
the hippogriff’s trial, but I simply cannot. I’m a thirteen year old student,
and the Minister is involved. You know how my father is, I cannot do anything
that makes him seem weak. And going against this trial will make him and our
family seem weak.”
“Then talk to Harry about it,” Blaise said. “Let him know about your father.
From what I heard, you two barely talk about fathers.”
“We do,” Draco said. “We talked about how our fathers both have pressure on
us.”
“Is that it?” Blaise asked. “Look, Harry needs to understand what exactly your
father is pressuring you to do. Otherwise you’ll just seem like a giant prick.”
Draco stopped and threw a glare at Blaise. The dark-skinned Slytherin just
shrugged, “It’s true Draco. Without it, you’re just looking like a giant
prick.”
“Fine, then I’ll talk to him!” Draco said, throwing his hands into the air in a
frustrated manner. Blaise smirk victoriously and said, “Have fun Draco!”
Draco said nothing as he left the dungeons, deciding to get the conversation
over with. He walked up the stairs, looking out the windows near the entrance
hall as he thought about where Harry would be. He decided to just roam the
corridors. He headed towards the seventh floor, believing that it would be
easier and more likely to find Potter nearer the Gryffindor Tower. He walked
for nearly an hour, and decided that he was going nowhere, spending most of the
time glaring at first and second year Gryffindors as he looked for his Potter.
Feeling slightly defeated, he started to walk down the stairs when he walked
into Hermione Granger, who was carrying many heavy textbooks. “Granger!” he
called out, deciding that if he couldn’t talk to Harry directly, he could at
least let his Gryffindor know that he is trying.
“What do you want Malfoy?” Granger asked, voice filled with both annoyance, and
sheer tiredness.
“No need to look at me like that Granger,” Draco said. “I’m just here to say
I’m sorry.”
“Excuse me?” Granger said, not believing him.
“Look, I’m sorry for calling you a mudblood. Goodbye.” And with that, Draco
descended the stairs and left Granger to her ways. He returned to the Slytherin
common room irritated, yet feeling accomplished. Blaise only glanced up at him
from his seat, a roll of parchment in front of him. “Couldn’t find him,
apologized to Granger,” Draco stated as he sat down in front of Blaise.
“That’s a good start,” Blaise nodded. He looked up and smiled weakly at Draco.
“Draco, think you can help me with my Transfiguration assignment?”
Draco chuckled and said, “You’re hopeless Zabini, give it here.” Blaise just
smiled as he slid his parchment towards Draco, letting his best friend correct
his mistakes in the essay.
 
“He said what?” Harry asked, shocked.
“I told you,” Hermione said, “Malfoy just walked up to me, said he’s sorry for
calling me a mudblood, then left.”
They were in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione just coming back from a talk
with one of her professors. Ron and Harry were staring at her as if she had
spontaneously grown a second head. Harry and Ron shared a look and Harry began
to mouth something as Ron shook his head. “Well… Harry said slowly. “That’s
just… weird.”
Harry wondered if his and Draco’s talk a few days ago had an impact on the
Slytherin as he guessed that under normal conditions, Draco would never
apologize for anything. Maybe he was trying to make a difference.
“I know, right,” Hermione frowned. She shook her head and moved past them,
towards her usual corner and unpacked all of her homework assignments for the
night.
“I honestly have no idea how she does that,” Ron said as they watch Hermione
open up her runes dictionary. “Honestly, what is she trying to prove?”
But Harry wasn’t thinking about that, instead thoughts of Draco filled him as
he made his way up to the dormitories. He opened his bedside drawer and pulled
out the dairy. He just felt like writing about it.
“Draco is trying,” he wrote. “Hermione told me that he had apologized to her
for calling her a mudblood.”
“Interesting. … A muggleborn? It seems good that the Malfoy is giving an
effort. Though, I am wondering about you Harry. Do you remember the proposal
I’ve made? It is still open, and now it seems that it will be more helpful than
ever.”
“Yes,” Harry wrote. “I accept.”
“Excellent,”the words oozed from the diary. “We will begin later. What will you
do now?”
“I’m thinking of finding Draco,” Harry wrote. “But I can’t until tomorrow.”
“Then sleep Harry, sleep and tomorrow find Draco Malfoy.”
Somehow, Harry yawned and felt tired. He returned the diary to it’s rightful
place, and stripped. He changed into his pajamas and laid in bed. As soon as
his head hit the pillows, he fell asleep.
The next morning Harry immediately went out to look for Draco. Lucky for him,
he found the Slytherin just as he and the other Slytherins were walking up from
the dungeons. The Slytherins all sneered at him, but Blaise gave him a small
smile and wave. Draco looked uncertain, but slowly drifted from the crowd as
Harry walked away from the doors to the Great Hall.
“Harry?” Draco said.
“I’ve heard that you apologized to Hermione,” Harry said.
“Yeah well… I was looking for you, and found her instead,” Draco said. Harry
nodded and gave him a small smile. “I’m glad… that you’re showing an effort.”
“Of course I am,” Draco said. “Which is why I wanted to look for you.”
“Why?” Harry asked.
“There are some things I need to tell you,” Draco said. He looked around and
frowned. “After we find some privacy.” He grabbed Harry’s hand and led him down
to an empty corridor. He looked around and found a stone bench next to a window
between two suits of armor. They both sat down and Draco said, “Remember when
we both admitted that our fathers exert pressure on us?”
“Yeah,” Harry said.
“Well… my father is more… forceful,” Draco began. “To him, the family image
means everything. We cannot show any weakness, to anyone. And to him, anything
that he is against or does not like is considered as ‘weakness.’ One of the
biggest showing of weakness that he just hates is going back on plans.
Especially when time and effort had been put into it. The situation with the
hippogriff… yes, I over reacted. I provoked the damn beast, and now it is out
of either my hands or yours. The trial is set for April, and there is no way my
father is backing down. The Minister is involved, and if he backs down now and
withdraw the charges… it would cause my father to embarrass himself in front of
the Minister, something he would never do.
“And there is nothing I can do. I’m sorry but I cannot convince my father to
change his mind, nor even think of convincing the Minister! I wish there was
something I could do for that hippogriff, but there isn’t. I am sorry, but know
that if there was anything I could do to help you, I’ve would have done it
already.”
“Then find something,” Harry said.
“Excuse me?”
“Find something to help me,” Harry said. “Go against your dad.”
“I already am,” Draco muttered.
“What?”
“I already am going against my dad,” Draco said. “I’m liking you.”
Harry’s face turned red as he stared at Draco.
“I told you, my father had a plan for me, and one of those plans was marrying a
pureblood witch,” Draco said. “It didn’t matter who it was, I was to be married
to a pureblood witch… and that’s just impossible now.”
“Why?” Harry asked.
Draco chuckled and smirked, “Really Potter? Did you forget already? I’m gay
Harry. I am gay, and I like you. That’s already two signs of ‘weakness’ for my
father.”
Harry frowned. “Then go against him,” he said.
“I can’t just ‘go against’ my father, Harry! This is my father we are talking
about! He has the Minister in his pocket!”
“Then do something!” Harry said. “Don’t just stand there and mope cause your
dad’s having a plan for you! Look at me, I’m diverting from my dad’s plan and
you don’t think I’m scared of what will happen?”
“Harry—“
“I’m scared too Draco,” Harry said. “But I’m still working on it. … I’ve mailed
my dad at Christmas, I’m going to tell him I am gay. I’m not following my dad’s
expectations, and I want him to know it. That is what I am doing Draco. What
are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” Draco repeated. “I am thinking of going against my father.
My father Harry, who basically controls the Ministry. Yeah, we both have hard
dads, but honestly Harry mine is a hundred times worse than yours. At least
yours mail you every month, at least your dad runs to Hogwarts when you get
hurt! Do you want to know what my father did? Nothing. No visit, no owl, not
even a stupid visit! My mother visited me then told my father about it. And
during the Christmas break, he did not even bring the attack up. He just asked
me how my classes were going, requested for m grades, and left me alone. So
yeah, that is what I’m up against Harry.”
Draco’s arms were crossed as he fumed against Harry. Harry’s frown deepened as
he shifted closer to Draco. “I… I didn’t know,” he said.
“Yeah well… I’m used to it by now,” Draco shrugged.
Harry wrapped an arm around the taller boy hesitantly and said, “I’m sorry…”
Draco shook his head and turned towards Harry, “No, you don’t need to
apologize, Harry. No one outside the Malfoy family knows of how we’ve kept our
image for generations. So don’t ever think you need to apologize for that.”
Harry blushed but nodded slowly. He looked up at Draco and said, “I’ve missed
you, you know?”
“Of course you did,” Draco smirked. “Who wouldn’t miss me? I’m the most
important boy in your life.”
Harry chuckled, relieved that Draco was lightening the mood and said, “Well… I
don’t know if you’re the most important boy in my life… but you’re up there.”
Draco chuckled and smirked. “I’m sure I can get up there.”
“Oh really?” Harry said.
“Draco chuckled and moved his hand to Harry’s chin. “Yes, now are we better?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded. Draco smiled and stood up, pulling Harry with him. “Good,
I’ll see you later than Harry.” He kissed Harry’s cheek and left the corridor,
leaving the Gryffindor smiling as their relationship became a little clearer.
January faded imperceptibly into Februrary, with no change in the birrerly cold
weather. Harry frequently wrote in the diary, at least twice a week as Tom
Riddle taught him about Parseltongue and more lewd subjects. Every time after
they have talked, however, Harry always felt a severe tiredness overwhelm him,
which he put to on staying up late at night to talk to the diary. To make
matters worse, Harry’s anti-dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as
he had hoped. Several lessons on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery
shadow every time the boggart-dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too
feeble to drive the dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semi-
transparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there.
Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his
mother’s voice again.
“You’re expecting too much of yourself,” Professor Lupin-Black said sternly in
their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an
indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren’t passing out anymore, are
you?”
“I thought a Patronus would—charge the dementors down or something,” Harry
said  dispiritedly. “Make them disappear—“
“The true Patronus does do that,” Lupin said. “But you’ve achieved a great deal
in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your
next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get
back to the ground.”
“You said it’s harder if there are loads of them,” Harry said.
“I have complete confidence in you,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. “Here—you’ve
earn a drink—something from the Three Broomsticks. You won’t have tried it
before—“
He pulled out two bottles out of his briefcase.
“Butterbeer!” Harry said, without thinking. “Yeah, I like that stuff!”
Lupin-Black raised an eyebrow.
“Oh—Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade,” Harry lied quickly.
“I see,” Lupin-Black said, though he still looked slightly suspicious.
“Well—let’s drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I’m
supposed to take sides, as a teacher …,” he added hastily.
They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he’d been
wondering for a while.
“Do you think there’s a reason? On why my dad doesn’t like you and your
husband? It cannot be just because you’re gay.”
Professor Lupin-Black lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
“Hmmm… if there is a reason, then it is one that I do not know Harry,” Lupin-
Black said. “I suppose that if there is a reason, for there has to be
considering we were friends for so many years, that only your father would know
it. And, considering that we are currently on nonspeaking terms, I can only
guess that he would not be sharing that reason with me nor Sirius shortly.”
“Ohh,” Harry said with a slight frown.
Lupin-Black gave a short chuckle and said, “You know, my son Orion asked me
something similar during the school break.”
“Your son?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Lupin-Black chuckled. “I’ll expect you see him next year here. His
birthday’s in August.”
“Ohh… what did your son ask?” Harry asked.
“He asked if there was a reason why we didn’t talk to James,” Lupin-Black
chuckled. “And we have told you what I have mostly told you. If there is a
reason behind your father’s homophobia, then we do not know it. I hoped that
there is another, underlining reason for it, though if I were honest, I had
given up that possibility years ago.”
Harry frowned. “I do not mean to put a wedge between you and your father,”
Professor Lupin-Black said. He finished his butterbeer and looked at the time.
“It’s getting late. You should return back to the Gryffindor common room,
Harry.”
Harry nodded, thanked Lupin-Black for the butterbeer, and left the History of
Magic classroom. He returned to the common room to find Hermione working. “Can
I sit down?” Harry asked Hermione.
“I suppose so,” Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on
which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay
(“Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity”) and at the rune translation Hermione
was now pouring over.
“How are you getting through all this stuff?” Harry asked her.
“Oh, well—you know—working hard,” Hermione said. Close-up, Harry saw that she
looked almost as tired as Lupin.
“Why don’t you just drop a couple of subjects?” Harry asked, watching her
lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
“I couldn’t do that!” Hermione said, looking scandalized.
“Arithmancy looks terrible,” Harry said, picking up a very complicated-looking
numbers char.
“Oh no, it’s wonderful!” Hermione said earnestly. “It’s my favorite subject!
It’s—“
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. At that
precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys’ staircase. The whole
common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried
footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view,
dragging with him a bedsheet.
“LOOK!” he bellowed, striding over to Hermione’s table. “LOOK!” he yelled,
shaking the sheets in her face.
“Ron, what—?”
“SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!”
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked
down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something
that looked horribly like—
“BLOOD!” Ron yelled into the stunned silence. “HE’S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS
ON THE FLOOR?”
N-No,” Hermione said in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione’s rune translation. Hermione and Harry
leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long,
ginger cat hairs.
***** Patronus and Practice *****
                                  Chapter 11
                             Patronus and Practice
It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione’s friendship. Each was so angry with
the other that Harry couldn’t see how they’d ever make up. Ron was enraged that
Hermione had never taken Crookshanks’s attempts to eat Scabbers seriously,
hadn’t bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to
pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers
under all the boys’ beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had
no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have
been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat
ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron’s head in the Magical Menagerie.
Personally, Harry was sure that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and when he
tried to point out to Hermione that the evidence all pointed that way, she lost
her temper with Harry too.
“Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would!” she said shrilly. “First the Firebolt,
now Scabbers, everything’s my fault, isn’t it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I’ve
got a lot of work to do!”
Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed.
“Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was,” Fred said
bracingly. “And he’s been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was
probably better for him to snuff it quickly—one swallow—he probably didn’t feel
a thing.”
“Fred!” Ginny said.
“All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself,” George said.
“Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade and buy a new rat, what’s the
point of moaning?”
In a last-ditch attempt to cheer Ron up, Harry persuaded him to come along to
the Gryffindor team’s final practice before the Ravenclaw match, so that he
could have a ride on the Firebolt after they’d finished. This did seem to take
Ron’s mind off Scabbers for a moment so they set off for the Quidditch field
together.
It was the best practice the team inspired by the presence of the Firebolt in
their midst, performed their best moves faultlessly, and by the time they hit
the ground again, Wood didn’t have a single criticism to make. Harry noticed
that Wood again seemed to spend more time closer to the Weasley twins, but more
especially George, who both seemed to share glances at each other throughout
the practice. Harry wondered mildly what happened between the two of them, but
turned his mind to catching the Snitch using various maneuvers.
Wood told the team to head in for an early night, but Harry and Ron stayed back
while the rest of the Quidditch team headed towards the lockers.
Fred smirked and wrapped his arm around his twin as they entered the lockers.
“So what’s this thing between you and Wood? Eh?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” George said, struggling to get out
of his brother’s grip. “He’s just helping me with a problem.”
“Right,” Fred smirked. “You know, I don’t have to ask you. I can just ask Wood
here. Hey, Wood! Come here!”
Oliver Wood, who had just finished dressing into his school robes, turned
around towards Fred and George and began walking over to them. “What is it
Fred?” he asked, looking at Fred.
Fred looked over at George who had a light blush. “Well Wood, since George here
wouldn’t tell me, what’s going on between you two?”
“You mean you didn’t tell him?” the burly boy smirked at George. “Come on
George, you’re better than that.” He pulled the Weasley over towards him and
wrapped a possessive arm around his waist. He looked at Fred and smirked,
“Didn’t he tell you he’s my boy now? We’re boyfriends.”
George blushed and smiled as he nodded in agreement. Fred crossed his arms and
smirked at the two. “Really? And when did this happen George?”
“Umm the night he heard about Flint?” George said questioning, looking at
Oliver for help. Oliver just smirked and pulled George closer. “That is when it
was official George. But I was staring at your ass for a long time.”
“Don’t need to hear that,” Fred smirked as he walked away. He turned to the two
and said, “George hurry up! Lee said he has a horned slug we’re going to let
loose in Filch’s office!”
“Alright!” George said as he watched his twin go deeper into the locker rooms
to change. He turned his attention to Oliver, “Oliver, I need to go change,” he
said.
“Aright, but first let me do this,” Oliver said. He gently took George’s chin
in his strong hand and tilted his face up as he leaned down to kiss the boy.
George, shocked at first, closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the
Keeper as he lost himself in the kiss. A moan came from the back of George’s
throat as Oliver pulled him even closer, their chests pushing against each
other as every nerve of George’s being tuned to Oliver’s. He felt their heart
beats pulse against each other, synchronizing as Oliver led and controlled the
kiss. But it was over too quickly for George’s liking as Oliver pulled away, a
confident, cocky smirk on his face. “Better than Flint?” he asked.
“Much better,” George breathed.
Oliver’s smile turned into a victorious one as he kissed George’s nose. “Get
dress George. I want everyone to turn in early tonight.” George nodded and
walked away from Oliver, grabbing his school robes.
Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his
dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of
honor. As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the
Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. Harry saw, with
enormous satisfaction, that the Slytherin team were all looking thunder-struck.
“Did you see his face?” Ron said gleefully, looking back at Draco. “He can’t
believe it! This is brilliant!” Harry looked and saw that Draco, was in fact as
shocked as the rest of his team, but instead of anger and jealousy, Harry could
see a small confident smirk on his face.
“We have a bet going,” Harry whispered to Ron. “Based on how we’ll do on the
Gryffindor/Slytherin match.”
“You’ll definitely win mate,” Ron whispered with a gleeful smirk.
Harry nodded and looked over to Draco, giving him a confident smirk. He barely
saw Draco’s reaction as the Gryffindors led Harry towards the Gryffindor Table.
Wood had Harry place the Firebolt in the middle of the table and carefully
turned it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and
Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to
congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Numbus.
“I was worried after hearing what happened,” he said with a handsome smile.
“Now we can have a proper rematch.”
“Looking for it Diggory,” Harry said.
Harry looked at Draco, wanting to talk to him. Draco looked up from his table,
and as if he had read Harry’s mind, he nodded towards the door, signaling for
Harry to leave first. “I’ll be right back, can you watch my Firebolt?” he told
Ron, who just nodded.
Harry stood from the Gryffindor Table and walked his way out of the Great Hall,
leaving the Firebolt in good hands. He went through the open doors and into the
entrance hall, turning right and walked towards a stone bench near the four
huge hourglasses that kept count of the House Points. He stayed quiet as he
waited, until he heard Draco’s voice. “Leave me alone you stupid oafs,” he
said. “I can take a bloody walk by myself!”
“You taking lots of walks by yourself,” Goyle’s voice grunted. “You told us to
stick by you. Now you telling us to not?”
“Yes, I am,” Draco growled irritated. “Now leave.”
The footsteps stopped, before continuing again. Harry continued to wait until
he saw Draco, alone, smiling towards him. “Finally,” he breathed. “It’s getting
harder and harder to get those two squibs to leave me alone.”
“Any reason why?” Harry asked as Draco sat down next to him. He moved closer to
the Ice Prince and couldn’t help but smile when Draco wrapped an arm around his
waist.
“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged. “I’m not saying or doing anything that should
suspect them. Though they are the two biggest idiots I’ve ever met. I bet if
you and I snogged in front of them, they wouldn’t notice anything.”
Harry chuckled and blushed at the thought of snogging Draco. “Would you?” he
asked.
“Would I what?”
“Snog me in front of Crabbe and Goyle?” Harry asked.
Draco smirked and said, “Harry I would snog those beautiful lips in front of
the whole Slytherin Table.”
Harry’s blush deepened as a thought occurred to him. “Then how about we have
another bet? On today’s match. One on top of ours for our match.”
“Alright, sounds fun,” Draco smirked. “What you have in mind?”
“If I win today’s match,” Harry said. “You’ll snog me in front of the entire
Slytherin Table at dinner tonight.”
“Already sounds like a win-win Harry,” Draco smirked. “And what if you somehow,
impossibility lose?”
“If I lose…” Harry thought. “Then, I’ll show you something that I’ve learned.”
“Oh? And what is it that you learned Harry?” Draco asked.
“Something that Tom… the diary taught me,” Harry said. Draco looked at him
uneasily. “What’s the matter Draco?”
“I’ve been… looking in on stuff like the diary,” Draco said. “Books talking
back to people, that isn’t supposed to happen. They aren’t supposed to have an
intelligent conversation with the reader. I don’t know what that diary is… but
I think maybe you should pull back on writing in it. … how much do you write in
it Harry?”
“About once every two days or so,” Harry frowned. “But if you think I should
stop writing in it for now… I will.” Draco offered a small smiled and held
Harry’s hand. “Thank you. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Harry smiled.
“Of course it is, I like you,” Draco chuckled, kissing Harry’s cheek. “Also,
I’ve saw that Firebolt so… be ready for that snog Harry. Though, I don’t think
you’ll win the bet on our match. You are going against me after all.” Draco
smirked cockily. “So be ready to do all my Defense Against the Dark Arts
homework.”
“Actually I think I’ll be planning everything you’ll be paying for at Hogsmeade
on our date,” Harry smirked. Draco met that smirked and kissed Harry’s cheek
again. “Keep dreaming cub,” he said.
Draco stood up and Harry did also. “Why don’t you kiss my lips?” he asked.
Draco turned around and chuckled. “I’m going to Harry. Tonight.”
“Tonight…” Harry said.
“Yes, where I’m going to show the whole school, staff and students, that Harry
Potter is mine. You are my boyfriend, and there is nothing anybody can do about
it,” Draco said.
“Boyfriend…” Harry said slowly, testing the word on his lips. “Draco Malfoy’s
boyfriend. … You know, I think I like the sound of that.”
“Harry Potter’s boyfriend sounds even better,” Draco smirked. “You should go
eat breakfast Harry, you have a bet to win.”
“I do, don’t I?” Harry asked, Draco’s cockiness rubbing off on him. “See you
after the match then.”
“I’ll be watching your every move,” Draco stated. “You’re dating the Ice Prince
of Slytherin Harry. Don’t mess up now.”
“Don’t worry Dray, I will,” Harry said making his way back towards the Great
Hall and Gryffindor Table. The Firebolt was still in front of Ron and his empty
seat, Ron’s hand ever on the handle, as if the broom would be stolen by an
invisible thief at any second.
Harry returned to his seat and sat down. As soon as he did, Ron asked “What did
Malfoy want?”
“Huh?”
“I saw Malfoy heading after you after you left,” Ron said. “What did he want?”
“Well…” Harry said, watching as Draco walked confidently back to his seat in
Slytherin Table. “I think we just confirmed our relationship.”
“You mean you’re both—“
“Boyfriends, yeah,” Harry said. “I’m his boyfriend. … I have a boyfriend.”
“Congrats mate,” Ron said looking at the Slytherin table. “Still think he’s a
git though.”
“Not a slimy git?”
“No… just a git. It’s a start,” Ron laughed, Harry joining in.
At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The
weather couldn’t have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff.
It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility
problems this time, and Harry was starting to feel the excitement only a
Quidditch match could bring. He had to admit that, for the first time, he was
genuinely excited to play a game. He wondered how his father would react
knowing his son was really excited to play an official game. Harry took off his
black school robes, removed his wand from his pocket, and stuck it inside the
T-shirt he was going to wear under his Quidditch robes. He only hoped he
wouldn’t need it. He wondered suddenly whether Professor Lupin-Black was in the
crowd, watching.
They walked into the field to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed
in blue, were already standing in the middle of the field. Madam Hooch told the
team captains to shake hands and mount their brooms. “On my whistle …
three—two—one—“
Harry kicked off into the air and the Firebolt zoomed higher and faster than
any other broom; he soared around the stadium and began squinting around for
the Snitch, listening all the while to the commentary.
“They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry
Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Witch Weekly, the Firebolt’s
going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World
Championship—“
“Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” Professor
McGonagall’s voice interrupted.
“Right you are, Professor—just giving a bit of background information—the
Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and—“
“Jordan!”
“Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for
goal …”
Harry streaked past Katie in the opposite direction, gazing around for a glint
of gold and noticing that Cho Chang was tailing him closely. She was
undoubtedly a very good flier—she kept cutting across him, forcing him to
change direction.
“Show her your acceleration, Harry!” Fred yelled as he whooshed past in pursuit
of a Bludger that was aimed for Alicia.
Harry urged the Firebolt forward as they rounded the Ravenclaw goal posts and
Cho fell behind. Just as Katie succeeded in scoring the first goal of the
match, and the Gryffindor end of the field went wild, he saw it—the Snitch was
close to the ground, flitting near one of the banners.
Harry dived; Cho saw what he was doing and tore after him—Harry was speeding
up, excitement flooding him; dives were his specialty, he was ten feet away—
Then a Bludger, hit by one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, came pelting out of
nowhere; Harry veered off course, avoiding it by an inch, and in those few,
crucial seconds, the Snitch had vanished. There was a great “Oooooh” of
disappointment from the Gryffindor supporters, but much applause for their
Beater from the Ravenclaw end. George Weasley vented his feelings by hitting
the second Bludger directly at the offending Beater, who was forced to roll
right over in midair to avoid it.
“Gryffindor leads by eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go!
Potter’s really putting it through its paces now, see it turn—Chang’s Comet is
just no match for it, the Firebolt’s precision-balance is really noticeable in
these long—“
“JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE
COMMENTARY!”
Ravenclaw was pulling back; they had now scored three goals, which put
Gryffindor only fifty points ahead. Harry dropped lower, narrowly avoiding a
Ravenclaw Chaser, scanning the field frantically—a glint of gold, a fluttering
of tiny wings—the Snitch was circling the Gryffindor goal post—
Harry accelerated, eyes fixed on the speck of gold ahead—but just then, Cho
appeared out of thin air, blocking him—
“HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! KNOCK HER OFF!” Wood roared as Harry
swerved to avoid a collision.
Harry turned and caught sight of Cho; she was grinning. The Snitch had vanished
again. Harry turned his Firebolt upward and was soon twenty feet above the
game. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cho following him. …She’d decided to
mark him rather than search for the Snitch herself. Harry decided that she’ll
have to face the consequences and began to dive immediately. Cho, thinking he’d
seen the Snitch, tired to follow; Harry pulled out of the dive very sharply;
she hurtled downward; he rose fast as a bullet once more, and then saw it, for
the third time—the Snitch was glittering way above the field as the Ravenclaw
end.
He accelerated, gaining on the Snitch with every second—then—
Three dementors, three tall, black, hooded dementors were looking up at him.
He didn’t stop to think. Plunging a hand down the neck of his robes, he whipped
out his wand and roared, “Expecto patronum!”
Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wand.
He knew it had shot directly at the dementors but didn’t pause to watch; his
mind still miraculously clear, he looked ahead—he was nearly there. He
stretched out his hand still grasping his wand and just managed to close his
fingers over the small, struggling Snitch.
Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded. Harry turned around in midair and saw six
scarlet blurs bearing down on him; next moment the whole team was hugging him
so hard he was nearly pulled off his broom. Down below he could hear the roars
of the Gryffindors in the crowd.
“That’s my boy!” Wood kept yelling. Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all kissed
Harry; Fred had him in a grip so tight Harry felt as though his head would come
off. In complete disarray, the team managed to make its way back to the ground.
Harry got off his broom and looked up to see a gaggle of Gryffindor supporters
sprinting onto the field, Ron in the lead. Before he knew it, he had been
engulfed by the cheering crowd.
“That was some Patronus,” a voice said in Harry’s ear. He turned around to see
Professor Lupin-Black, who looked both shaken and pleased.
“The dementors didn’t affect me at all!” Harry said excitedly. “I didn’t feel a
thing!”
“That would be because they—er—weren’t dementors,” Professor Lupin-Black said.
“Come and see—“
He led Harry out of the crowd until they were able to see the edge of the
field. “You gave Mr. Flint quite a fright,” Lupin-Black said.
Harry stared. Lying in a crumpled heap on the ground were Crabbe, Goyle, and
Marcus Flint, all struggling to remove themselves from long, black hooded
robes. Standing over them, with an expression of the utmost fury was Professor
McGonagall.
“An unworthy trick!” she was shouting. “A low and cowardly attempt to sabotage
the Gryffindor Seeker! Detention for all of you, and fifty points from
Slytherin! I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this, make no
mistake! Ah, here he comes now!”
Harry didn’t see Draco until leaving the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin
stalking him until he knew Harry was alone enough to talk with him. “Harry, are
you okay?” he asked as Harry stopped, the rest of the Gryffindor House going
back to the castle to celebrate in Gryffindor Tower. “I heard about what
happened. Those damn idiots—“
“I’m fine,” Harry grinned. “Who cares about them? I won!”
“I know you did,” Draco smirked. “I’m so happy, you did brilliantly Harry!”
“Thanks,” Harry breathed. “But I’m actually more excited about something else,”
he blushed. Draco chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry my cub, you won the
bet, and I’m a man of my word. I heard you Gryffindors are celebrating in your
Tower. So before you go and join them, meet me at the Great Hall my cub, and I
will give you your just reward.”
Harry smiled, just loving the sound of Draco’s voice, and nodded before having
a better idea. “Why not we just walk there together? Right now?”
Draco looked at Harry for a moment before smirking. “You want to do that? Show
everyone we past that we are boyfriends before I snog the life out of you?”
“Yeah,” Harry breathed. Draco smirked again and took Harry’s hand. “Let’s go
then. You can tell me all about that spell you casted on the squibs.”
Harry nodded and let Draco led him away from the Quidditch pitch. On the walk
back to the castle he told Draco everything about the Patronus Charm, about how
the dementors affected him and how Professor Lupin-Black had been giving him
anti-dementors lessons to fight the dementors if they had ever came at him
again either on the grounds or during a Quidditch match. When he was done
talking, he was starting to feel out of breath and noticed that they were in
the entrance hall.
“We’re all ready here?” Harry said surprised, a blush appearing on his cheeks.
“You kept us entertained the entire way,” Draco chuckled. He tugged Harry’s
hand gently. “Are you ready for your reward?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, his head nodding enthusiastically. Draco smiled and pulled
Harry into the Great Hall. The Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were
all filled, while the Gryffindor Table stood empty. Students looked at the
doors when Harry and Draco walked in, and there was a shocked moment of silence
when they saw a Gryffindor and Slytherin together. The silence turned to
curious awe as the whole room seemed to realize who the two were.
The boys ignored them as Draco and Harry walked between the Slytherin and
Ravenclaw tables, until they were right in the center of both tables. Draco
turned towards Harry and without a moment’s hesitation pulled the smaller boy
to his body, crushing his lips onto Harry’s as he claimed Harry’s first kiss.
Harry’s eyes closed as he let himself be taken over by the sensation, letting
Draco control him, guide him in the kiss as opened his mouth and allowed
Draco’s tongue to enter. Their tongues danced for a while before Harry
submitted to Draco, allowing the Ice Prince to explore and devour his prize.
His body felt heavy as he seemed to melt in Draco’s arms, his dominant being
the only connection he had to the world and keeping him stable. All that matter
was Draco’s tongue, Draco’s lips. Touching him, tasting him… It was heaven.
When they finally separated, Harry’s cheeks were rosy ready, beads of sweat
starting to form on his forehead as he was out of breath. He looked around as
the entire Great Hall erupted in gossip. He glanced at the staff table to see
the teachers looking at both of them awkwardly, he could practically see the
gears in Snape’s head as he tried to figure out how much points he could take
from Gryffindor for that display. His eyes turned towards Slytherin Table and
couldn’t feel prouder. Blaise’s eyes were huge with his grin, openly giving
them both thumbs off as he showed his perfect teeth while the rest of Slytherin
Table looked as a mix of shocked horror, pure outrage, and baffled confusion.
“Go enjoy your party cub, I’ll take care of things here,” Draco said giving
Harry a small peck on the lips as he turned towards Slytherin Table. He sat
down next to Blaise and shot the surrounding Slytherins a cold look, as if
daring them to argue with their Prince and Leader. Harry turned and left the
Great Hall extremely satisfied and very excited. He wanted to tell someone,
anyone about the kiss. His first thought was Ron, though he thought he would
save Ron the details of his best mate snogging his former rival. His next
thought was to tell George, and settled on that.
He doubled his steps towards Gryffindor Tower and it was only when he stood in
front of the Fat Lady that he remembered something crucial that he had
forgotten. He didn’t tell Hermione about his relationship with Draco. Deciding
that he better tell her now before her finding out by someone else, Harry spoke
the password and entered through the Portrait hole.
“There’s the man of the hour!” Fred yelled as Harry walked through.
The nearby Gryffindors cheered as Harry stepped out of the portrait hole. It
felt as though they had already won the Quidditch Cup, the party went on all
night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with
armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of
Honeydukes sweets.
“How did you do that?” Angelina Jonson squealed as George started throwing
Peppermint Toads into the crowd.
“With a little help from Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,” Fred muttered
in Harry’s ear.
Only one person wasn’t joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was
sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and
Social Habits of British Muggles. Harry broke away from the table where Fred
and George had started juggling butterbeer bottles and went over to her.
“Did you even come to the match?” he asked her, deciding to ease into the topic
of Draco.
“Of course I did,” Hermione said in a strangely high-pitched voice, not looking
up. “And I’m very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to
read this by Monday.”
“Come on, Hermione, come and have some food,” Harry said, looking over at Ron
and wondering whether he was in a good enough mood to bury the hatchet.
“I can’t, Harry. I still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read!”
Hermione said, now sounding slightly hysterical. “Anyway …” She glanced over at
Ron too “He doesn’t want me to join in.”
There was no arguing with this, as Ron chose that moment to say loudly, “If
Scabbers hadn’t just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies.
He used to really like them—“
Hermione burst into tears. Before Harry could say or do anything, she tucked
the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase
to the girls’ dormitories and out of sight.
“Can’t you give her a break?” Harry asked Ron quietly.
“No,” Ron said flatly. “If she just acted like she was sorry—but she’ll never
admit she’s wrong, Hermione. She’s still acting like Scabbers has gone on
vacation or something.”
The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her
tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they
all go to bed. Harry walked to his dormitory, surprisingly not exhausted. He
climbed into his bed, twitched the hangings of his four-poster shut to block
out a ray of moonlight, lay back, and tried to go to sleep.
But he couldn’t he didn’t felt tired at all, instead he felt… awake, his dick
tenting in his pants. Feeling a rush of arousal, Harry bit his lip as he pulled
his pajama shirt off. Harry withheld a moan as he started to rub his chest, his
eyes closed as he focused on the sensation of his hands. They drifted down
towards his pants and easily pushed them off, leaving Harry laying on his bed
naked, his cock standing fully erect and begging for attention. Aside from
teaching him about Parseltongue, and listening to his troubles, the diary had
also taught him more about how to pleasure himself, Tom admitting that he liked
to have boys perform in front of him. He also suggested that Harry should do
that for Draco as well.
Feeling brave and lewd, Harry spat on his hand and started to stroke his cock a
few times, giving a small moan when pre-cum started to ooze out of the head.
Then, an idea came to him. He reached out of his bed and grabbed his wand. He
had never done what he was about to do, but Tom Riddle had described it
multiple times that he thought he could easily do it himself. He moved up on
his bed, making sure that he was comfortable, before he slowly began to lift
his legs into the air. He arched and lifted his ass as well, exposing the
spread cheeks to the cold night air as he locked his arm around his legs. His
feet was against the stone walls of the castle and his cock pointing directly
at his face. Harry felt that with enough practice he might be able to lick the
head of his cock.
But for now, he had another thing planned. With his left arm holding his legs
in place, he used his right arm to bring his wand up to his exposed hole. He
muttered two spells that Tom had taught him, and shivered when he felt a cold
sensation force itself into his ass, cleaning and leaving a wet substance Tom
referred to as “lube.”
Harry placed his wand on his bed and brought his finger to his pink rosebud. He
circled his pointer finger around the hole, moaning as his finger played with
the lube at the entrance of his hole. He counted down in his head, before
thrusting his finger in, his breath gasping as his finger broke the tight ring
of muscles. He pushed as far as he could down into his hole, pain and pleasure
mixing as he did so. His cock was dripping with pre-cum that lathered the top
of his cock head before dripping down onto Harry’s chin and lips. His started
to pull back his finger before thrusting it again, small gasps and moan
escaping his lips as his finger was devoured by the hot velvet tightness of his
ass. He took a couple of breaths and calmed down, relaxing his ass muscles as
he tried to put two fingers in. The sensation was too much for the young
Gryffindor as when he curled his fingers, he must have touched something as he
had to bit his lip to hold in the scream as he came, ropes of his own cum
hitting his chin, cheeks and lips as he opened his mouth to catch it.
He pulled his fingers from his hole, mewling at a sudden feeling of emptiness,
and cleaned his face before falling asleep naked on top of the covers.
George Weasley and Oliver Wood did not feel like sleeping either that night.
Both boys too were too filled with excitement and adrenaline to fall asleep
when Professor McGonagall had told them too. So, while the rest of the
Gryffindors slept, the two snuck back downstairs into the common room where
they snogged on an armchair, George on the burly Gryffindor’s lap.
“Where did you learn how to snog?” Oliver chuckled.
“Flint,” George breathed. “He wasn’t as good as you though.”
Oliver chuckled and slapped George’s rump. “Good, I’m here to prove that I am
better than Flint in every single way.”
“Well… you’re definitely hotter than him, and bigger,” George said, his arm
stroking Oliver Wood’s bicep.
Wood smirked as he flexed, looking at George. “You haven’t seen anything yet.
Get off my lap baby, I want to do something.”
George obeyed. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
Oliver Wood sat up tall in the armchair and looked at George. “I want you to
suck my cock George. Can you do that?”
“I can,” George smirked playfully. “But I don’t know if I want to right now…”
“Then as your Quidditch Captain,” Oliver Wood said, matching George’s smirk, “I
order you to suck my cock George.”
“Yes Captain,” George chuckled as he got onto his knees. The two boys worked
together to get Oliver’s pants off, revealing his soft cock resting on the seat
of the armchair, waiting for attention. “Dear god…” George gasped.
Wood looked proud at George’s reaction. “I’m not called ‘Wood’ just because
it’s my last name, George I’ve measured myself. Soft, I’m six inches long, but
when you get me hard George, you’re going to be dealing with ten inches long
and six inches thick of pure satisfaction. So tell me, am I still bigger than
Flint?”
“Yeah…” George breathed as he lovingly took Oliver’s cock in his hand. “So much
bigger.”
“Then get to it baby,” Oliver said. George nodded and took no time at all
putting Oliver’s thick cock in his mouth. He moaned loudly as he began to suck,
unbuttoning his pants to get his own cock out as he continued to suck. Oliver
moaned and put his hands in the redhead’s hair, he pushed George down on his
cock as it started to grow. “Yeah… like that,” he moaned, his eyes closing in
bliss.
George moaned as well as he felt the cock grow heavy and bigger on his tongue.
He started to gag and breathed through his nose as he tried to handle Wood’s
full length. His jaw was feeling sore, but he didn’t care. To him, it was as if
he was in heaven as he worked on the largest cock he had ever seen.
“God you’re a good cocksucker,” Oliver moaned as George hummed. While George
stroke himself with one hand, the other went to play with Oliver’s balls,
causing Oliver to moan even more. “Ahh… Ahh… I want to come on that pretty
face,” Oliver moaned. George got off of Oliver’s cock, spit and precum on both
his bruised puffed lips and Oliver’s fat cock. He began to jerk off Oliver,
both his hands moving at the same frequency. “Fuck… GEORGE!” Oliver yelled as
he came all over George’s face. Ropes and ropes of cum hitting everywhere.
George came soon after, cumming into his hand. When cum just started dripping
from Oliver’s softening cock, George licked and cleaned his cock up before
bringing his cum-soaked hand to his mouth and cleaning it as well. Oliver
smirked and wiped his thumb across George’s cheek, collecting cum and holding
it in front of George. “Eat all of it George,” he breathed.
George mewled and licked Oliver’s thumb clean. They continued this, Oliver
collecting the cum and George licking it, until the redhead’s face was clean of
cum and his mouth tasting heavenly. Oliver pulled George up from his knees and
moved so they both squeezed into the armchair. “That was amazing George,”
Oliver breathed. “I think I’m falling for you.”
George chuckled and relaxed onto Oliver’s shoulders as Oliver rubbed George’s
knees, soothing them. “You know he never did that,” George said after a few
moments of silence in which Oliver just rubbed and massaged George’s sore legs.
“After care is important,” Oliver said. “Dad taught me that.” George just
nodded. “He just used to have me suck him, kiss then go.”
“You mean he never…”
“Nope,” George said. “No aftercare, and forget about sucking my cock!”
“You mean you never had your cock sucked before?” Oliver gasped. “We need to
fix that,” he smirked.
“Too tired,” George yawned.
“Alright, next time then,” Oliver said. “Come on, we better go to sleep before
McGonagall catches us. I don’t think it would be good if she saw you sitting on
my naked lap.”
George gave a tired laugh and got up off from the bed. Oliver got up and fixed
his pants before joining George as the two made their tired way up the
staircase to the boys’ dormitory. When they reached their beds they slipped in
and murmured their “good nights” before falling onto their pillows, going to
sleep immediately.
***** Consequences *****
                                  Chapter 12
                                 Consequences
The next morning, Harry received silent stares as he walked down into the
Gryffindor common room. Harry looked around confused to see upper years giving
him small glares as Harry waited for Ron or Hermione. Harry wondered briefly
why there were stares as Ron came down the stairs from the boys’ dormitories.
“Why is everyone staring?” he asked Ron.
“Dunno,” Ron shrugged as they left the common room. As they walked towards the
Great Hall for breakfast, Harry noticed that they were getting looks.
Slytherins were giving him and Ron the normal sharp looks, but he noticed that
Ravenclaws, and even Hufflepuffs were whispering around him as well. “Wonder
what they’re talking about,” Ron said as they entered the entrance hall.
Harry’s stomach dropped as his mind went to last night’s events. “I think I
know what they’re talking about,” he said.
“What is it?” Ron asked.
“Draco and I snogged in the Great Hall last night,” Harry said with a slight
grimace. “Remember?”
“Oh yeah, you told me something about it,” Ron said as they went through the
doors of the Great Hall. “In front of the entire school! What were you two
thinking!?”
“Well,” Harry said, a blush coming to his cheeks. “We made a bet on the
Quidditch match, and I won so…”
Ron groaned as he looked around at everyone staring at Harry and him. The
Slytherins were glaring at Harry, but both he and Harry were surprised to see
some Gryffindors glaring at him as well. The hall erupted into whispers and
murmurs as Harry and Ron walked towards the Gryffindor table and sat down in
their regular seats.
“So Harry,” a voice said. Harry looked around and saw Blaise Zabini standing
over both him and Ron. The entire Gryffindor table was staring silently,
confused why a Slytherin would dare come to Gryffindor territory. “Heard you
and Draco had a bit of a kiss last night,” he chuckled.
“What’s it to you?” Ron asked, giving the Slytherin a glare. Blaise chuckled
and smirked at Ron before turning his attention to a flustered Harry. “Harry,
you didn’t introduce me to your best friend,” he chuckled. “Come on, I’m sure
you two talk loads about me.”
“Maybe,” Harry said, still a bit flustered.
“Why you here?” Ron asked again. Blaise just give him a confident smirk and
said, “Don’t worry your cute red-head about it. I just want to talk to my
friend Harry here.”
Ron gave the Slytherin a sharp look as he ignored Ron and focused on Harry.
“What do you want Blaise?” Harry asked.
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Blaise said.
“Fine,” Harry said uncertain. “Though, we keep getting looks.”
“What else do you expect when you snog a Slytherin?” Ron asked. Blaise chuckled
and nodded.
“Draco is known for his theatrics,” he said. He looked at the two Gryffindors
and gave them a small smile, “Well, that’s all I wanted to see with you Harry,
hope you hold out okay.” He looked at Ron and gave him a smirk, “And it’s very
nice to meet you Ron Weasley, hope to see more of you both.” Blaise walked away
from Gryffindor Table, leaving behind him confused looks and murmurs as
Gryffindors looked at Harry and Ron, as if checking to make sure the Slytherin
hasn’t jinxed them.
Hedwig flew down towards Harry with the rest of the owls. Harry tore open the
envelope Hedwig was holding while she helped herself to some of Neville’s
cornflakes. The note inside said:
Dear Harry and Ron,
How about having tea with me this afternoon ‘round six?
I’ll come and collect you from the castle.
WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL;
YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.
Cheers,
Hagrid.
 
“Wonder what he wants,” Ron said.
“I don’t know,” Harry said. So at six o’clock that afternoon, Harry and Ron
left Gryffindor Tower, Harry relieved to be away from the strange looks, and
headed down to the entrance hall. Harry briefly wondered if Hermione would be
there, he hasn’t seen the girl since last night.
Hagrid was already there waiting for them.
“S’pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?” Ron asked.
“I’ve already heard all abou’ it,” Hagrid said, opening the front doors and
leading them outside. “Don’t wanna talk bou’ that today.”
“Oh,” both Ron and Harry said.
The first thing they saw on entering Hagrid’s hut was Buckbeak, who was
stretching out on top of Hagrid’s patchwork quilt, his enormous wings folded
tight to his body, enjoying a large plate of dead ferrets. Averting his eyes
from this unpleasant sight, Harry saw a gigantic, hairy brown suit and a very
horrible yellow-and-orange tie hanging from the top of Hagrid’s wardrobe door.
“What are they for, Hagrid?” Harry asked.
“Buckbeak’s case against the Committee for the Disposal o’ Dangerous
Creatures,” Hagrid said. “This Friday. Him an’ me’ll be goin’ down ter London
together. I’ve booked two beds on the Knight Bus. …”
Harry felt a nasty pang of guilt. He had completely forgotten that Buckbeak’s
trial was so near, and judging by the uneasy look on Ron’s face, he had too.
They had also forgotten their promise about helping him prepare Buckbeak’s
defense; the arrival of the Firebolt had driven it out of their minds.
Hagrid poured them tea and offered them a plate of Bath buns, but they knew
better than to accept; they had too much experience with Hagrid’s cooking.
“I got somethin’ ter discuss with you two,” Hagrid said, sitting himself
between them and looking uncharacteristically serious.
“What?” Harry said.
“Hermione,” Hagrid said.
“What about her?” Ron said.
“She’s in a righ’ state, that’s what. She’s bin comin’ down ter visit me a lot
since Chris’mas. Bin feelin’ lonely. Firs’ yeh weren’ talking to her because o’
the Firebolt, now yer not talkin’ to her because her cat—“
“—ate Scabbers!” Ron interjected angrily.
“Because her cat acted like all cats do,” Hagrid continued doggedly. “She’s
cried a fair few times, yeh know. Goin’ through a rough time at the moment.
Bitten off more’n she can chew if yeh ask me, all the work she’s tryin’ ter do.
Still found time ter help me with Buckbeak’s case, mind. …She’s found some
really good stuff fer me …reckon he’ll stand a good chance now. …”
“Hagrid, we should’ve helped as well—sorry—“ Harry began awkwardly.
“I’m not blamin’ yeh!” Hagrid said, waving Harry’s apology aside. “Gawd knows
yeh’ve had enough ter be gettin’ on with. I’ve seen yeh practicin’ Quidditch
ev’ry hour o’ the day an’ night—but I gotta tell yeh, I thought you two’d value
yer friend more’n broomstricks or rats. Tha’s all.”
Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks.
“She’s got her heart in the right place, Hermione has, an’ you two not talkin’
to her—“
“If she’d just get rid of that cat, I’d speak to her again!” Ron said angrily.
“But she’s still sticking up for it! It’s a maniac, and she won’t hear a word
against it!”
“Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid abou’ their pets,” Hagrid said wisely.
Behind him, Buckbeak spat a few ferret bones onto Hagrid’s pillow.
“Hagrid…” Harry began awkwardly, “about last night in the Great Hall—“
“Just be careful Harry,” Hagrid said. “Don’t know why you pick Malfoy, though.”
“Oh…” Harry said. He looked at Ron, and hoped for him to change the topic. Ron
got the look and nodded.
They spent the rest of their visit discussing Gryffindor’s improved chances for
the Quidditch Cup. At nine o’clock, Hagrid walked them back up to the castle.
A large group of people was bunched around the bulletin board when they
returned to the common room.
“Hogsmeade, next weekend!” Ron said, craning over the heads to read the new
notice. “What d’you reckon?” he added quietly to Harry as they went to sit
down.
“Well, Filch hasn’t done anything about the passage into Honeydukes. …” Harry
said, even more quietly.
“Harry!” a voice said in his right ear. Harry started and looked around at
Hermione, who was sitting at the table right behind them and clearing a space
in the wall of books that had been hiding her.
“Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again …I’ll tell Professor McGonagall about
the map!” Hermione said.
“Can you hear someone talking, Harry?” growled Ron, not looking at Hermione.
Harry gave Ron a small glare and sighed, maybe he and Ron were being prats.
“Hermione…”
“Harry,” Hermione said, “can I ask you about this thing I heard?”
“Err… what is it?” Harry asked.
“I heard from Parvati Patil that her sister told her that you and Malfoy were…
well you two were kissing… in the Great Hall… in front of everyone. And then
you left,” Hermione said awkwardly, her face flustered as she tried to avoid
Harry’s face.
Harry was flustered as well, his face nearly the shade of red as Ron’s hair.
“Umm yeah… it’s true,” he said.
Hermione looked up at Harry, seemingly betrayed and heartbroken. “Why didn’t
you tell me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Malfoy were…”
“I tried,” Harry argued. “I tried telling you last night, during the party but
Ron made you run to the girls’ dormitories.”
Ron looked at both of them shocked. “Not my fault she’s done enough damage this
year!”
“Still, you could have told me this morning,” Hermione said. “I thought I
deserve better than to learn my friend snogged his supposed enemy second-hand.”
Guilt boiled in Harry again. He opened his mouth to apologize, but with a soft
hiss, Crookshanks leapt onto Hermione’s lap. Hermione took one frightened look
at the expression on Ron’s face, gathered up Crookshanks, and hurried away
towards the girls’ dormitories.
“So how about it?” Ron said to Harry, as though there had been no interruption.
“Come on, last time we went you didn’t see anything. You haven’t even been
inside Zonko’s yet!”
“Maybe,” Harry said. He stood up and left Ron as he went towards the boys’
dormitories, the guilt leading him towards the book he hadn’t touch for so
long.
“Tom, help,” he wrote into the diary.
“Harry, it has been so long. Where have you been?”the words immediately
replied. Harry stared at Riddle’s response and thought before writing, telling
the diary about every detail that happened since he last wrote.
“I don’t know what to do,” he finished.
Harry waited with baited breath as he watched the ink ooze into the page, being
absorbed by the magic diary. It took a few moments, then paragraphs appeared as
Riddle replied.
“First you should calm down Harry,”Riddle began. “The arguments with your
friends are now done and can be looked at later. First we much address
something more important. You and Malfoy have kissed, snog as you put it, in
front of the entire school no doubt. There will be serious consequences of
this, no doubt his father and yours will hear of it. Either by your own mouths
or by their associates. If both you and Malfoy fear your fathers as I believe
you do, then I believe that the best course of action would be to tell them in
person, immediately. You have the Invisibility Cloak, I am sure you can find a
way to reach your father. As for now, I think you need a distraction. A
project, if you will, that will keep your mind off of your friends, off of your
father, and off of all your troubles.”
“What do you have in mind?” Harry wrote, his head starting to feel light as a
yawn escaped his lips.
“What do you know of The Chamber of Secrets?”the diary wrote.
Harry was confused, he had never heard of it. “Nothing.”
“The Chamber is one of a few things left by the great Salazar Slytherin. It is
a chamber that only those he deems worthy can access, those who are like you
and me. Parselmouths. When he left Hogwarts, Slytherin had told the school of
the Chamber’s existence, but only us Parselmouths can know and find the true
location of it. The school has tried to find it multiple times, and each time
they have failed. Every time the Chamber of Secrets has been open, the school
has become something better, something purer. The last time the Chamber has
been open was fifty years ago. I had opened it, and used Salazar Slytherin’s
secret to better Hogwarts.”
A feeling of dread appeared in Harry, but it was quickly squashed down as he
stared at the ink. It felt as if the diary was forcing him to focus only on it,
that whatever Riddle was writing was the only thing that matter. Any thoughts
of how wrong or fear Harry felt was pushed down with his dread as artificial
compliance and curiosity made him wrote, “What is in the Chamber?”
“A most magnificent and powerful beast. A basilisk. The Chamber of Secrets is
home to Salazar’s basilisk, a creature used to vanquish his enemies, as well as
his heirs’.”
“But I have no enemies,” Harry wrote. “None in Hogwarts.”
“You are wrong. That muggleborn you have told me of constantly, this Hermione
Granger. She is holding you and Ronald Weasley back. She is constantly parading
her intelligence and making you and Ron feel worthless. Why, it is more than
anyone can bear, isn’t it? Her constant badgering and forcing you to do what
she wants. Hogwarts, and your lives, would be so much fuller, so much better,
if she wasn’t here. She is the reason why you are angry at your best friend
after all. Are you really going to let that girl stand between you and your
best friend? Between you and your lover? She’ll never accept your relationship,
we both know that. She will try everything in her power to separate you and
Draco.”
“She would never do that!”
“No? Then why didn’t she congratulate you? Why isn’t she happy with your
relationship with Draco? Harry, I am trying to protect you. Go, carry this book
and go out of the boys’ dormitories Bring your quill and leave Gryffindor
Tower. Head towards the second floor girls bathroom and all will be revealed.
Now, walk.”
Harry tried to resist, he tried to fight back. But his legs seemed to have a
mind of their own as he closed the diary and shot up from bed. He held the
diary close and began walking, slowly, each step seemingly deliberate. And with
each step Harry found that his vision was fading, a blackness overtaking the
boundaries of his surroundings. The darkness inching closer and closer
together, his vision narrowing as he went down the stairs, his awareness and
mind going as well. He couldn’t fight it, he couldn’t scream. His surroundings
kept surrendering to the darkness. Then, at the bottom of the stairs,
everything went black.
 
“It seems that our sons have an interesting relationship,” Lucius Malfoy said
to James. James was in his office when the Malfoy barged in.
“Go away Malfoy, unlike you, I have actual work to do,” James said, not looking
up from his report. It seems that the dementors were terrorizing the citizens
of Hogsmeade, and Kingsley was thinking of sending him to deal with it.
“You mean you did not hear? My how embarrassing,” Lucius smirked. “Lucky for
you, I have.”
“Have what Malfoy?” James asked annoyed.
“Why, it seems that our sons are in a relationship with each other,” Lucius
said. “Your filthy half-blood of a son seemed to think it was proper to ruin my
child and kiss him. Right in front of the Great Hall.”
James Potter looked up from his report, his mind barely processing what Lucius
had just said. He slammed his hands against his desk and growled out, “Don’t
you dare call my son a filthy half-blood.”
“Well, it is true,” Lucius chuckled. “To think that your son thought right to
drag Draco into his perversion. I should have him expelled for that.”
“What the fuck are you talking about Malfoy?”
“Why, this,” Lucius said, pulling out a photo out of his robes. “Pansy
Parkinson was kind enough to take a picture of the moment and send it to me.
She believed that it would be beneficial if I see this, and believe me it is. I
have just finished writing a severe letter to my son, which will be followed by
a personal visit after the trail. I just thought that—“
James snatched the photo from Malfoy’s hand and looked at it. It was a still
photo, but James saw plenty. There, in the Great Hall, was his son, leaning up
and against Draco Malfoy, their arms around each other as their mouths were
firmly connected. James could see the look of pure happiness in Harry, the
expressions, the way he held himself, and, for a moment, he had forgotten
everything and felt… happy. But that second was ruined as old voices and
tragedies flooded into his head, his happiness felt with anger, despair, self-
hatred, and rage.
Harry Potter, his son, was kissing a boy. His first kiss was with a boy! The
spawn of a man James hated most. And this Pansy Parkinson dared to ruin it,
immortalize it, by taking a photo. He continued to stare at the picture as
Lucius Malfoy went on about how he was going to “correct” his son.
“Get out,” James finally said. He pocketed the photograph and sat back down at
his desk. Lucius looked at him offended.
“Don’t you—“
“Get out!” James roared in anger. “Or so help me I’ll reopen your case and have
you thrown into Azkaban!”
Lucius simply gave James a cold, calculating look and said, “Very well.” He
closed the door behind him.
James gave an exhausted sigh and took out the photo again. He looked at it, and
again that feeling of happiness came to him. He tried to hold onto that
happiness, his pride for his son finding someone to spend his intimate time
with. But old wounds washed it away, and in an act of frustration, James tore
the picture.
 
Harry awoke to a sense of panic. He looked around, and almost yelled in fright
when he realized that he was on the second floor. He looked down at the diary
and threw it on the ground in fear. That thing had controlled him! He lost
conscious and did as the diary commanded; made him think that he wanted to—no
he would never do that! He needed help, he needed to get rid of it. He
needed—he needed… he needed Draco. He needed to tell Draco and have him help
him get rid of the blasted diary.
Harry looked down at the diary. He didn’t want to touch it, yet he didn’t want
to leave it where anyone can find it. Harry took off his robe and wrapped the
diary with it. Holding the clothed diary in his arms, Harry turned and quickly
made his way towards the grand staircase. He didn’t know where or how he’ll get
to the Slytherin common room. All he knew was that it was located in the
dungeons.
Harry ran down the staircases, taking the stairs two steps at a time as he
stared down, making sure that he did not trip. He miraculously did not run into
any prefects or teachers as he reached the entrance hall, turning around to go
further down into the dungeons. Harry had only gone down to the dungeons for
potions class, and instead of hanging a right at the first intersection towards
the potion classrooms, Harry instead turned left and began his way down the
maze of corridors that was Hogwart’s underbelly.
The diary still wrapped in his robes, Harry had no idea how long he was walking
around, the corridors blending into each other as he searched endlessly for the
entrance to the Slytherin Dungeons. His feet started to hurt as he turned
another corridor, he started to feel light-headed again, a small urge to open
the diary bubbling inside him.
“Look who it is,” a voice grunted behind him. Harry turned around to see Crabbe
and Goyle standing in front of him, both Slytherins resembling trollish boys as
they stood shoulder to shoulder.
“What you doing here Potter?” Goyle grunted.
Harry looked between the two of them. He didn’t want to drop the diary, yet he
felt like he needed to get his wand out quick. “Looking for Draco,” he said,
trying to size himself up.
“What you want with Malfoy, Potter?” Goyle demanded.
“Yeah, we don’t like that you and him are spending time together,” Crabbe said.
“No one does.”
“It’s none of your business,” Harry said, remembering how his boyfriend is
Slytherin’s Ice Prince.
“Really? Well you’re in Slytherin territory Potter, no one to help you here,”
Goyle said.
“Slytherin territory,” Harry repeated, his brain working overtime as he tried
to act like Draco. He needed to get these two to bring him to the Slytherin
Dungeon. “That’s right I am in Slytherin territory… which means that it’s run
by Draco.”
“Yeah, you got that right,” Goyle grunted.
“And he doesn’t want any stupid Gryffindors in here, especially after what you
done to him and Zabini,” Crabbe said.
“What I did to them?” Harry asked.
“Yeah! Making them fags! Flint said that you made Malfoy and Zabini fags!”
Crabbe said.
“I didn’t do that,” Harry said. “They were born that way. Besides, I think
Draco would be mad at you if you don’t bring me to him.”
“What you talking about Potter?”
“I’m Draco’s boyfriend,” Harry began. “If he heard that I was looking for him…
and then found out that you two stopped me from seeing him… he’s not called the
Ice Prince of Slytherin for nothing.”
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, slightly nervous. “He would never do
anything to us,” Crabbe said.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, slowly gaining confidence as he watched the two
grunts grow confuse and uncertain. “So what if you two are in the same house as
him. We all know that Draco cared more about me, he always did.”
“He hated you,” Crabbe said.
“Still he spent more time thinking about me then you two,” Harry said. He
hugged his robe closer to him as he took a step towards the two goons. “When
was the last time he was actually interesting in you? Talked about your
hobbies? Your interests?”
Crabbe and Goyle glanced at each other and Harry felt victorious. “You two
follow him, because he deserves to be followed,” he continued. “Those who
don’t… they’re going to be in trouble with Draco. I know that’s true.”
“Yeah… Draco tells us not to talk to them for a bit, ignore they exist,” Crabbe
admitted.
Harry nodded and said, “That’s only if you disobey him. Imagine what he would
do to you two, knowing that you kept his boyfriend from him. …”
Crabbe and Goyle again shared that same dumb look and Goyle grunted, “You’re
coming with us Potter. No fighting.”
They both grabbed an arm roughly, Harry squeezing his robe and the hidden diary
to his chest as they did so, and he allowed the two Slytherins to manhandle him
as they escorted him throughout the dungeons. The two Slytherins led Harry down
a corridor, turned left, and down a set of stairs Harry never saw before. At
the end of the stairs was a stone brick wall with moss growing on it. Crabbe
and Goyle let go of him as Goyle walked up to the wall. Crabbe meanwhile
squished his hands against Harry’s ears, pushing hard as he tried to block out
the sounds of Goyle saying the password to the wall.
The wall shuttered and slid out, revealing an archway that led into the
Slytherin Dungeon. Crabbe and Goyle again placed their hands on Harry and
dragged him into the common room, the wall closing behind him.
The common room was filled with Slytherins, all sitting around on low backed
black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas. The entire room had a green
tint to it as the lamps gave out a green light, as well as a huge window
showing what Harry guessed was the underwater of the Black Lake. Every
Slytherin turned their attention to the three as they came in. “The hell is he
doing here!?” a Slytherin yelled when he noticed Harry.
“What are you idiots doing bringing a Gryffindor in here for?” another
demanded.
“Get out Potter! You don’t belong here!”
“Fuck off Potter!”
“Stop it!”
The last voice was an all too familiar voice as Draco stood up from his place
with Blaise. Blaise looked over and gave Harry a confused look. Draco glared at
Crabbe and Goyle and said, “Take your squib hands off of Harry at once! Who do
you think you are?”
“We found him wondering the dungeons!” Crabbe argued.
“Yeah! We thought you should know—“
“Just get away from him. Now,” Draco said coldly. Harry felt as if the entire
common room fell several degrees as Draco glared at the two. The grunts let go
of Harry immediately, and he stumbled before regaining his balance.
“We need to talk… now,” Harry said. Draco looked at the bundle in Harry’s arms
confused, but nodded. He opened his mouth and addressed the entire common room.
“Everybody out!”
“Screw you Malfoy! We’re not doing what Potter wants,” Flint said from his
seat. Draco turned to him and said, “For that Flint, I will personally make
sure that your family is forgotten. Remember who it was that gave your team the
Nimbuses.”
Flint glared at Draco and turned his view to Harry. “Snake’s Bitch.” He spat
before leaving the common room. The other Slytherins followed, all groaning and
muttering, but looking apprehensively at Harry and Draco. Blaise stayed where
he was, as well as Crabbe and Goyle.
“Are you deaf as well as squibs?” Draco demanded at Goyle and Crabbe. “Go to
the dormitories.”
“Blaise can stay,” Harry said quickly. Blaise shot Harry a small smile. Draco
just nodded and led Harry to the sofas as Crabbe and Goyle left. “What’s the
matter Harry?” he asked. “What is in your robe?”
Harry looked between the two of them and laid the robe out on the table. He
unfolded it until Riddle’s diary was laying on top of it. He looked nervously
between Blaise and Draco, thinking of how he can explain what happened.
“Harry, is that the diary I gave you?” Draco asked.
“Yeah,” Harry began. “I know you didn’t tell me to write in it but… I just felt
compelled to. Ron and Hermione are still fighting, and both of them are mad at
me and in that moment I just… ran to the diary. Riddle replied and for some
reason I just started to feel light headed. He told me that Hermione… that she
would never accept our relationship Draco, and that she was holding me and Ron
back. I knew it was all lies but still… I couldn’t just throw the book away. He
then told me about a thing called the Chamber of Secrets, and the thing in
there can help… get rid of Hermione. Next thing I knew my body was moving by
its own and everything went black. … Then I woke up on the second floor and I
was really scared. I picked up the diary in my robe and brought it down here. I
don’t know what to do Draco, I’m scared.”
“Harry… if I knew that this would happen… I would have never given you the
diary,” Draco said.
“I don’t blame you Draco,” Harry said. “I just need your help getting rid of
it.”
Draco and Blaise looked down at the diary in fear while Blaise looked confused
and worried. He looked down at the diary and looked at the fireplace roaring
next to them. “Then it’s simple,” he said. “Let’s just toss it into the fire.”
And before Harry or Draco could react, Blaise took up the diary, and threw it
violently into the fire. The fire crackled and burned around the diary, and
Harry watched with baited breath, hoping that the fire would be enough to
destroy it. But the longer Harry watched the diary, dread filled in him as he
noticed that there was no damage to it. It was as if the fire simply danced
around it, licking the book but doing no damage to it.
“Draco…”
“I know.”
“What is this thing!?” Blaise demanded as he took out his wand. He pointed it
at the fire and casted an extinguishing spell at the fireplace. The fire died
out, and laying perfectly still on the charred and burnt logs was the diary in
perfect condition. The three boys looked at each other, all scared and helpless
as they stared at the dairy.
“What did I bring in?” Draco said to himself. He sat up and knelt in front of
the fire. Hesitantly he put his hand into the fireplace, and gasped when his
fingers touched the cover of the book. “It’s cold,” he said. He picked up the
book and placed it again on Harry’s robes. Draco opened the book and flipped
through the pages quickly. “Not a hint of burns,” he said.
“We need to give this to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “It’s out of our control.”
“You’re right,” Draco nodded. “I’m so sorry Harry. I should never have given
this thing to you.”
Harry gave Draco a reassuring smile and shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself
Draco, there’s no way you could have known.” And to make sure Draco knew that
Harry didn’t blame him, Harry closed the distance between them and kissed him
briefly. “Come on, we have to show this to Dumbledore… now.”
Harry and Draco stood up and Harry again wrapped the diary in his robes.
“Blaise, are you coming?”
“No, I’m not,” Blaise said, his eyes locked on the robes. “That thing scares me
too much. …I think I’ll wait for you guys to tell me what happened.”
Harry and Draco nodded and left the Slytherin Dungeons. They were silent as
they walked, both scared of the small book Harry was holding as they exited the
dungeons. They reached the third floor when they ran into somebody. “What are
you boys doing out of bed?” Professor Lupin-Black asked.
“We need to get to Dumbledore,” Harry said. “We need his help.”
“Whatever for?” Professor Lupin-Black asked.
Harry and Draco looked at each other, worried. “It is very urgent, Professor,”
Draco said. “Please.”
“Very well, follow me,” Professor Lupin-Black sighed, eyeing the bundle in
Harry’s arms. Harry and Draco followed Professor Lupin-Black back towards the
grand staircase and onto the second floor. He led the boys towards a corridor
with an ugly stature of a gargoyle at the end of it. “Acid pop,” Professor
Lupin-Black told the gargoyle.
The gargoyle sprung to life and jumped out of the way, revealing a spiraling
staircase that rose from the ground. “Up there boys. Afterwards, I think you
two should return to your dormitories immediately. Good night,” Professor
Lupin-Black said. He waited till Harry and Draco started to climb the staircase
before leaving them.
Harry and Draco walked to the top of the spiraling staircase and knocked on the
door. They waited until they heard Dumbledore’s voice say “Come in,” and opened
the door. The boys entered and found Professor Dumbledore wearing a night robe.
“Ah, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Dumbledore said. “What do I owe this
late night visiting?”
“We need to show you something,” Harry said. He walked towards Dumbledore’s
desk and placed his robe on it. Dumbledore watched curiously as Harry unwrapped
the diary. “This is a diary that belonged to Tom Riddle,” Harry said.
Dumbledore frowned and said, “You both need to sit down boys, I believe we will
be here for a while.” Harry and Draco sat down in front of Dumbledore’s desk as
the Professor sat in his chair. “You must tell me everything involved with this
diary,” Dumbledore said seriously.
Harry nodded and both boys started to tell Dumbledore everything about the
diary. From Draco finding it in his father’s study, giving it to Harry as a
Christmas present, and every session of Harry writing in it, and how the ink
disappears into the diary, only for Riddle’s reply to appear. When Harry was
done telling Dumbledore of the events that just happened, and of the Chamber of
Secrets, Dumbledore remained quiet as he thought out his response.
“I am glad to see that both of you are uninjured because of this book,”
Dumbledore said. “Though, I wish that this had been brought to my attention
sooner. This diary is a very dangerous object.”
“Sir… is it because of the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked.
“That is one reason, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Another one is that this diary
was once owned by Lord Voldemort himself.”
“You-Know-Who?” Harry gasped.
“Please Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Call him Voldemort. Always use the proper
name of things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. But yes, the
person you know as Tom Riddle grew up to become Lord Voldemort.”
“Then the thing that… Voldemort told me about,” Harry said. “About the Chamber
being open. …”
“Is true, that is correct,” Dumbledore said. “Fifty years ago the Chamber of
Secrets has been open, and a student has died because of it. It seems that
Voldemort would want to repeat the incident, killing those he deemed unworthy.”
“Muggleborns,” Draco said.
“Correct, Draco,” Dumbledore said.
“But why me?” Harry asked. “Why did he want me to open the Chamber?”
“I believe you told me the reason already Harry,” Dumbledore said. “It is
because of your unique ability to talk to snakes.”
“Parseltongue is an extremely rare ability Harry,” Draco said. “Only those
descendent from Salazar Slytherin can have it.”
Harry nodded and frowned. He didn’t like knowing that he and Voldemort
apparently had a common ancestor. “We tried to throw it into a fireplace,” he
said, “but it didn’t burn.”
“We thought that if we give it to you, then you would know a way to destroy
it,” Draco said.
Dumbledore nodded and looked down at the diary, “That is very frightening,” he
said. “So much so for boys your age. I am afraid to tell you both that at the
moment, I do not know how to properly dispose of this dangerous object, nor can
I properly identify it. But rest assured that it is in safe hands with me. You
do not need to worry about the diary any longer, nor about the worries it has
caused both of you.”
“Thank you Professor,” Draco said standing up.
Professor Dumbledore nodded and stood up. He picked up the diary and opened a
drawer, dropping the diary in it and closing it up. “Now I suggest we all go to
bed. You boys have a busy morning after all,” Dumbledore said. “I always find
Monday mornings to be the longest of all. Good night boys.”
“Good night Professor,” they both said as they left, Harry taking his robes
with him.
They went down the spiral staircase and Draco turned to Harry. “How are you
feeling, cub?” he asked.
“Fine…” Harry said, not believing himself. He looked at Draco and blushed as he
said, “Can… can I sleep with you? For tonight?”
Draco chuckled and nodded. “Of course Harry, come on. Let’s go to bed.”
***** Dates and Dead Rats *****
                                  Chapter 13
                              Dates and Dead Rats
As the week passed, Harry and Draco noticed that news of their relationship
seemed to diminish only slightly. They still received looks and whispered, but
Harry at least wasn’t being ostracized from Gryffindor Tower like he was when
the news came out.
On Saturday morning, Harry packed his Invisibility Cloak in his bag, slipped
the Marauder’s Map into his pocket, and went down to breakfast with everyone
else. He decided that he wanted to go to Hogsmeade, not only to see if Ron and
him are okay, but also to spend the day with Draco. Hermione kept shooting
suspicious looks down the table at him, but he avoided her eye and was careful
to let her see him walking back up the marble staircase in the entrance hall as
everyone else proceeded to the front doors. He did however, smiled and winked
at Draco.
Harry hurried up to the third floor, slipping the Marauder’s map out of his
pocket as he went. Crouching behind the one-eyed witch, he smoothed it out. A
tiny dot was moving in his direction. Harry squinted at it. The minuscule
writing next to it read Neville Longbottom.
“Dissendium!” Harry quickly muttered as he pulled out his wand and shoved his
bag into the statue. He climbed into the passage as well, and waited as he
heard Neville walk by the statue. He pulled out the map again and watched as
Neville’s dot walked away from the one-eyed statue. He waited ten minutes, just
staring at the map and making sure no one was coming near him, before going
down the secret passage.
When he reached Honeydukes, Harry made sure the coast was clear before entering
the shop proper from the basement. The sweets shop was crowded as ever, and
Harry quickly blended into the crowd as he made his way towards the doorway. He
prodded Ron in the back when he saw him.
“It’s me,” Harry said.
“What kept you?” Ron asked.
“Had to wait till the coast was clear,” Harry said. They set of up the High
Street. They went to the post office and Ron pretended to be checking the price
of an owl to Bill in Egypt so that Harry could have a good look around. The
owls sat hooting softly down at him, at least three hundred of them; from Great
Grays right down to tiny little Scops owls, which were so small they could have
sat in the palm of Harry’s hand.
Then they visited Zonko’s, which was so packed with students Harry and Ron
could barely take a step without bumping into someone. There were jokes and
tricks to fulfill even Fred’s and George’s wildest dreams; Harry needed to buy
some for himself. They left Zonko’s with their money bags considerably lighter
than they had been on entering, but their pockets bulging with Hiccup Sweets,
Frog Spawn Soap, and a Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.
The day was fine and breezy, and neither of them felt like saying indoors, so
they walked past the Three Broomsticks and climbed a slop to visit the
Shrieking Shack, the most haunted dwelling in Britain. It stood a little way
above the rest of the village, and even in daylight was slightly creepy, with
its boarded windows and dank overgrown garden.
“Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoid it,” Ron said as they leaned on the fence,
looking up at it. “I asked Nearly Headless Nick …he says he’s heard a very
rough crowd lives here. No one can get in. Fred and George tried, obviously,
but all the entrances are sealed shut. …”
“There you are,” a voice said behind them. They turned around to see Draco
standing with Blaise. “We were looking all over for you Harry.”
“Draco!” Harry said, looking slightly flustered as a smile crept on his face.
He automatically walked towards Draco and hugged the Slytherin as Ron stood
still. “Where were you?” he asked.
“Three Broomsticks,” Draco said.
“We were waiting for you,” Blaise said. He looked at Ron and waved. “Hi
Weasley.”
“Umm hi,” Ron said. “Harry…” he said uncertainly, looking at his friend.
Harry looked around and blushed. “Oh, umm sorry Ron, do you mind if Draco and I
spend some time together?”
“No, no, no, no,” Ron said quickly.
“Don’t worry Ronald,” Blaise smirked as he walked towards the redhead. “I’ll
spend the day with you. Have you been to Zonko’s yet? There are some things I
want to buy to use on some Slytherins I know.”
“Wait, what?” Ron said confused, looking at Blaise. “You mean not all of you
stick up for the gits?”
Draco looked slightly offended but Blaise just laughed. “Of course not, there
are several Slytherins who needs a good prank. Like Flint. Did you hear that he
broke up with his boyfriend and now acting like a total ass to everyone? He
needs to be brought down a peg or two. Now…”
“I think we should leave them alone,” Draco chuckled as they looked at the
surprised, if satisfied look on Ron’s face as the two talked about Slytherins
who are gits. “Come on, are you hungry? I know a very corny shop all student
couples need to visit.”
They walked down the hill and back onto the main street. Harry wondered where
Draco was bringing him as they walked down the street. “If you and I don’t like
it,” Draco said as they passed by shops, going into a side street, “we’ll just
head towards the Three Broomsticks if you want. But I heard a lot of the older
Slytherins talking about this place. …Here it is—oh…”
Harry looked at where Draco had brought them and something flipped in his
stomach as he looked at the tea shop. The first thing that came to Harry’s mind
was pink and tack. The walls were painted pink, a huge window next to the pink
door that showed couples sitting close together. Everything seemed to be
decorated with frills or bows.
“This is… something,” Harry said, looking at Draco. Both boys had a look of
utter grimace.
“Well… hopefully the drinks are good,” Draco said. Harry nodded in agreement
and they hesitantly walked into the shop, Harry now noticing the sign that read
Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.
They sat down at the last remaining table, which was situated in the steamy
window. Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Seeker, was witting about a foot and
a half away with the very handsome Cedric Diggory. They were holding hands. The
sight made Harry feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the tea
shop, he saw that it was full of nothing but straight couples, all of them
holding hands.
“What can I get you, m’dears?” Madam Puddifoot, a very stout woman with a shiny
black bun, said squeezing between their table and Cedric Diggory’s with great
difficulty.
“Two coffees,” Draco ordered. He turned to Harry and looked around. “To be
honest, this probably isn’t one of my best ideas. But it is better than being
stuck with the squibs and Parkinson.”
“Is she bothering you?” Harry asked.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Draco said. “I am just so mad at her right now. I’m
sorry but when we kissed, that girl had the nerve to photograph it! And worst
of all she… she sent it to my father!”
“What?” Harry said, shocked. “That… that bitch!” He might have said that word a
bit too loud as several couples turned to glare at him. Cedric and Cho looked
over at him and Cedric said, “Harry, that’s not a nice thing to say about a
girl.” Cho giggled softly while nodding.
“Well, the girl we are talking about is one Diggory,” Draco explained. “She
dared to photograph mine and Harry’s first kiss.”
The two Seekers gave them a look of understanding before returning to their own
business.
“What are we going to do?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know,” Draco said. “Father hasn’t contacted me at all since then. I
know he will be furious, he might even try to do something drastic.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know… have the hippogriff killed just to spite me? I’ve been sending
daily letters to him not to do it, to just drop the charges,” Draco said. “I
even suggested just having the creature removed from Hogwarts grounds.”
“Really?” Harry asked, impressed.
“Yes,” Draco said. “I even mailed the Minister a few times asking him to just
stop it and focus on the dementors. I’ve seen the way they affected you…”
“I didn’t think you would do all of that for me,” Harry admitted.
“Harry… I would do so much more for you,” Draco said, taking his hand. “If only
you’ll let me.”
“After hearing what you said… I think I will,” Harry smiled. Draco returned it
and they relaxed into their seats. They heard a chuckle and Harry turned to see
Cedric giving the young Seeker and wink and a thumbs-up.
When their coffee had arrived, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory started kissing
over their sugar bowl. Harry wished they wouldn’t, it was too gross and weird
seeing two Quidditch players he played against kissing. He felt his face
growing hot and tried staring out the window, but it was so steamed up he could
not see the street outside.
“This place is umm…” Harry said.
“Frilly,” Draco said, taking a sip of his coffee. He grimaced slightly but
continued to drink. Harry did the same and grimaced like Draco. He wondered
what they were doing, two thirteen year olds sitting in a place like this
drinking coffee of all things. They both looked up at each other’s faces. When
they saw the similar grimaces, their lips parted and both laughed.
They ignored the looks from others as they smiled at each other. “Three
Broomsticks?” Harry asked.
“Three Broomsticks,” Draco nodded. They both got up and Draco paid Madam
Puddifoot before both left, arm in arm. They quickly made their way to the
Three Broomsticks and got into a comfortable booth. Harry offered to get
butterbeer, and got up to get two bottles.
As he walked back he smiled at Draco and said, “This is better,” as he sat down
and gave Draco his bottle.
“Loads,” Draco agreed. “Remind me never again to go in there.”
“Yup,” Harry said. They both took a sip of their butterbeer and looked at each
other. “So, what were we talking about back there?”
“Parkinson,” Draco said.
“Right,” Harry frowned. “Do you think she is going to be a problem?”
“Most likely,” Draco said. “The girl went and gave the photo to my father, who
might have thrust our relationship in your dad’s face.”
“Why would he do that?” Harry asked.
“To get one over your dad of course,” Draco said. “You should hear how much he
complains about your dad. The hero Auror who survived the Dark Lord’s attack,
no wonder the Minister ask him for advice now and then. My father hates that.”
“He wants the Minister for himself,” Harry guessed. Draco nodded. “But that
isn’t possible with my dad being there. Him knowing about us… it could be a
distraction.”
“Yes,” Draco nodded, both boys frowning. “But knowing your dad, there might be
a chance that he’ll accept us.”
“Maybe,” Harry said. “But first… he needs to know about me being gay. How about
your mum? How will she react?”
“My mother?” Draco scoffed. “She’ll agree with my father. Always does.”
“Ohh…” Harry said. He thought of something to say, and looked at Draco. “You
know, I’ve just got a bunch of things from Zonko’s.
“And?”
“Well… let’s say if Parkinson is going to be such a pain,” Harry began. “I can
always, you know, give you some of the jokes to pull on Parkinson.”
Draco looked at Harry for a moment and a smirk appeared before he laughed.
“Harry Potter, you devilish boy! I love it!”
Harry blushed and bit his lip. Draco leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Who
know you had such a rule-breaking attitude?”
“Have you met my dad?” Harry said despite his blush. Draco laughed, Harry
joining in shortly. Their moods lightened, their conversations moved towards
more common-place topics, both boys talking about which House will win the
Quidditch Cup, and who will be in the World Cup during the summer.
 
James Potter burst into his office, outraged, excited, shameful, and a
collection of conflicting emotions that smashed against each other, using his
body as the warzone as he twitched and walked agitated. He could feel a cold
sweat, and his mind was in pain, as if he was about to collapse or break down
at any moment. “Our son, gay!” He yelled. “GAY!”
He looked at the wall and noticed that his father’s and mother’s portraits were
empty. Relieved and angry at the same time, James ran to his desk to the
picture of Lily. “Lily, our Harry, our baby is gay! This is—This is”—he tried
to say amazing, or something positive, but instead—“awful! Terrible Lily! Harry
can’t be gay, he just can’t!”
His looked up and his eyes fell upon the empty portraits, mocking him with
their silence. His eyes narrowed, all his conflicting emotions burning into
rage. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t it father? Mother? After all, that is what you
two said when—“ he caught himself and shook his head, the uncharacteristic rage
leaving him. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
James fell into his chair and stared at his picture of Lily sadly. He missed
his wife every day, but today he felt absolutely depressed without her. 
“Lily,” he said his voice low and dripping with sadness and exhaustion, “what
are we going to do? Our baby is gay, and I don’t know what to do. … He can get
in so much trouble. … I need your help Lily, I really do.”
He looked down at his desk and sighed. He opened a drawer and pulled out a
piece of parchment. Placing it on the desk he did nothing but stare at it, his
mind spiraling as two opposite strong ideas fought. His hand hovered towards
his quill and, with great effort, dipped it into the ink. He brought it out and
let it hover over the bottle as he tried and think of his words carefully. One
idea won and he finally brought the quill to the parchment.
Dear Sirius and Remus
He stopped. Putting the quill in the ink bottle he stared at the page, lost of
words. He didn’t know how long he stared at the page, but with a sigh of defeat
he said, “What am I doing?” and opened a separate drawer. Instead of crumpling
up the page, he just dropped it into the drawer and closed it.
He put the quill and ink bottle away and stood up from the desk, needing to see
Snuffles.
 
Ron and Blaise made their way immediately towards Zonko’s. Draco and Harry just
left for wherever it was that they were heading, and the two waited an awkward
silent five minutes before heading down the hill. Ron looked at Blaise and kept
his thoughts to himself. How was he supposed to talk to the Slytherin!? Why is
he even hanging out with Zabini? He’s a Slytherin!
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Blaise beat him to it, “Is this
weird? Us hanging out?” he asked.
“What you mean?” Ron asked, trying to act as if he didn’t notice the weirdness.
Blaise chuckled and said, “Isn’t it obvious Weasley—Ron, I’m a Slytherin and
you’re a Gryffindor. We’re supposed to be at each other’s throats.”
“Yeah well….” Ron said, trying not to seem awkward or standoffish. “You’re not
like other Slytherins…are you?”
Blaise looked at Ron. Ron felt as if he had said something horrible, but Blaise
just laughed. “Come on, let’s go to Zonko’s.”
They did and as soon as they walked inside, Ron started to feel more at ease.
The shop was still crowded and Ron’s shoulders loosened as he and Blaise went
deep into the shop. “So I’ve been thinking of getting back at Flint and
Parkinson,” Blaise began.
“Why?”
“Well I don’t know if Draco told Harry this already, but Parkinson did
something very bad,” Blaise began as they walked down an aisle, Blaise looking
at rows upon rows of pranks.
“What did she do?” Ron asked.
“When Harry and Draco kissed, she took a picture of both of them,” Blaise said.
“She didn’t!”
Blaise nodded,” Draco was angry when he found out. He yelled at the girl, but
the other Slytherins went to her aid. So, this is more to show what happens
when you mess with my friends.”
“Friends?” Ron asked as Blaise took down a box. “What you mean friends?”
“Harry of course,” Blaise chuckled, “as well as Draco. Come on, don’t you want
to get revenge against the Slytherins for pulling a stunt like that?”
“Well, yeah,” Ron said.
“Then hold these Weasley,” Blaise said as he gave Ron small boxes to hold.
Ron looked around and pointed, “You can never do wrong with Dungbombs,” he
said.
“That’s more like it,” Blaise smiled as he got a couple of packages of
Dungbombs. Ron looked at Blaise for a bit before sharing a similar smile, the
small influence from the twins coming out in him.
The two boys walked around the shop, Blaise taking any prank, joke, or object
that caught his interest. Ron nodded and listened to Blaise as he talked about
the pranks, filling in his opinion and what he knew from the twins’ expertise.
When they gathered more than they can carry, Blaise brought Ron towards the end
of the shop and paid for everything. Afterwards, the two walked out, they
looked around Hogsmeade a bit, wondering where to go next.
“You know, you can talk to me,” Blaise said. “If Harry can befriend me, I’m
sure you can.”
“Just don’t know what to talk ‘bout,” Ron mumbled. Blaise still heard him and
nodded. “Alright,” he said, “how about the Quidditch Cup? Who you think is
going to win?”
“The Irish of course,” Ron scoffed. “Have you read about their match against
the Spanish? Beat them in two hours!”
“Yeah, but I think the Bulgarians have a chance. Have you seen their Seeker?”
Blaise asked. “He’s amazing on a broom.”
“He is,” Ron said begrudgingly, nodding. “He’s one of the best Seekers I’ve
ever known.”
“Exactly! And he’s so fast, and have complete control of his broomstick.
There’s no way Bulgaria’s going to lose with him!” Blaise said.
“The Irish is still going to give him a fight,” Ron said.
“True,” Blaise smirked. “But a fight that they’ll lose. Guys like the Bulgarian
Seeker… they get what they want. And if he wants to win, then he’ll win.”
Ron scoffed and looked at Blaise, “What? You going to tell me that you’re like
that too?”
“Maybe,” Blaise smirked. “If there’s a guy that I want, he’s already mine.”
“Didn’t get Harry,” Ron said.
Blaise shrugged and looked at him. “It isn’t Harry who I want Ron. Besides, I
got him, we’re friends.”
“Oh,” Ron said, a flustered look on his face. He gave Blaise a weird look as he
looked around. “Well err…”
“Besides,” Blaise said, continuing as if he did not see Ron’s flustered,
embarrassed look, “I’m sure that a guy like him must be surrounded by things he
want.”
“Yeah, think of it,” Ron said, getting over his fluster. “Betcha he could get
any girl he wants.”
“Or boy,” Blaise said. “A guy looking like him, could be bi.”
“What?”
“Means liking both guys and girls,” Blaise said. “Look at us, imagine if we
were one body.”
“I don’t,” Ron said.
“Well, imagine a guy who’s like us then,” Blaise chuckled, taking a small step
closer to Ron. “He’ll like boys like I do, and girls like you do. That could be
the Bulgarian seeker. Would be better if you think of it, don’t have to limit
yourself.”
“Still weird,” Ron said with a scrunched up nose. “Why would any boy want to
kiss a boy? I mean, yeah Harry and George likes it, but I don’t get it.”
Blaise smiled and shook his head. “Sounds like something you should ask your
brother, but I’ll try and answer. We just like the looks and feelings of boys
rather than girls. They’re too… squishy for me.”
“Alright… I think,” Ron said. “But how would that help Krum win?”
“Well, who knows, he might be having a bout with a girl and guy the night
before and that’ll keep him focus and in the mood for the match,” Blaise
laughed.
Ron looked at him before laughing as well. Their conversations turned towards
talking about the teams’ abilities as they walked down Hogsmeade, deciding to
go into the Three Broomsticks. As they entered, Ron looked and saw Harry
sitting down with Draco. He pointed them at Blaise, but Blaise shook his head.
“Let’s leave them be,” he said as they walked towards an empty booth.
Ron agreed as they sat down and watched as Blaise went to get them both a
drink. When Blaise returned, and gave Ron his drink. “Here you go, fresh from
Madam Rosmerta,” he said. Ron accepted it and looked at Blaise. There was a
strange thought in his mind, for some reason, he noticed how close he and
Blaise was, but he didn’t mind it. He guessed to himself that it was just him
and Blaise getting along. They continued to talk, Ron founding himself truly
enjoying himself as they talked about the jokes they’ve brought in Zonko’s and
how Blaise planned to use it.
Ron found himself losing himself in their conversations, going from pranks back
to Quidditch, to even their opinions on random people and things. He was very
pleased to find out that Blaise was deeply annoyed by most of the Slytherins,
and that he was secretly hoping that they would lose the House Cup. “They have
no chance now that Harry has a Firebolt,” Ron told Blaise after he admitted his
hope. Ron didn’t notice the time passing, and the next time he looked around,
he noticed that it was nearly time to return to Hogwarts.
Both boys were surprised to see that time past so quickly and made their way
back towards the entrance of Hogsmeade. They returned to Hogwarts together,
smiling like quick friends as they entered the entrance hall. After dinner, Ron
returned to Gryffindor Tower, he quickly looked for Harry. “It’s weird, ya
know,” he began. “I thought Slytherins were all slimy prats, but Blaise seems
to be alright.”
“I could tell,” Harry chuckled. “Draco and I saw you two in the Three
Broomsticks. You two were talking like old friends.”
“It’s weird, it feels like I’m talking to you when talking to him,” Ron
shrugged. He yawned and said, “Anyways, I’m bushed.”
“Right, night,” Harry said. Ron nodded and changed for bed. Harry went to his
bed as well, but instead of going to bed, Harry pulled out the Marauders’ Map.
He opened the map and began studying it, losing himself as he watched the named
dots move around the castle. Professor Dumbledore was pacing around in his
office, as Filch and Mrs. Norris was walking down a corridor on the fourth
floor. He looked at Professor Lupin-Black’s office and gasped when he saw two
dots in there. There was Professor Lupin-Black’s name, as well as a dot named
Sirius Black. Harry figured it must have been Professor Lupin-Black’s husband
visiting, and blushed as he felt like he was invading something private.
So instead, Harry looked over at the Slytherin Dungeon and watched Draco’s dot.
It rested in the common room, and Harry watched as several dots moved towards
Draco. A few names recognized. Marcus Flint, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, the dots
seemed to gang up on Draco, but a few moved away. Harry watched as Draco’s dot
moved towards the four that remained, and Harry could almost envision his
boyfriend arguing, yelling at them for whatever fault the four have done. He
watched as the dots continued to stay still, until Flint, Crabbe, and Goyle
left leaving only Parkinson. Five minutes later, Parkinson’s dot left quickly,
with Draco returning to his original position.
Harry stopped watching Draco and continued to just roam around the map,
exploring Hogwarts and its inhabitants unaware. He watched for hours upon
hours, watching Sirius Black’s dot disappearing through what Harry supposed was
a fireplace, and all the older students turning in for the night. It was then
that he saw it, a strange dot scurrying around the empty halls. His entire
focus turned onto that dot as he read the name, perplexed and confused at it’s
existence. Peter Pettigrewwas written in the same small handwriting as all
names on the map.
Confused, and curious Harry got out of bed and grabbed his wand. There was no
way, he could be here, Harry thought. His dad told him that Pettigrew was dead,
that he was the one who betrayed them to Voldemort. He quietly left the boys’
dormitory and kept the map open as he slipped out of the Gryffindor Tower.
Harry’s eyes stuck to the map as he made his way down from the seventh floor,
hiding and avoiding the prefects and Filch as he walked down the stairs.
When he reached the fourth floor, he looked at the map again to see that
Pettigrew was still there. A small surge of anxiety and anger grew in him as he
started chasing the dot, remembering everything his father had told him about
the man. He pulled out his wand and muttered, “Lumos!” the tip of his wand
lighting up as he looked around. He glanced down at the map again and turned
the corner, the dot reading Harry Potter coming closer and closer towards Peter
Pettigrew. He stopped when the Pettigrew’s dot stopped and started to make a
beeline towards him. Harry kept his wand up and stared into the darkness,
stealing himself, readying as their dots came closer. The distance between them
shortened, and yet Harry still saw nothing, scared he looked down at the map
and saw as the two dots overlapped each other before Pettigrew seemingly walked
past him. Harry whipped around, but saw nothing. The corridors were empty, with
only the occasional snore or grumble from the portraits. Harry, in utter shock,
watched as the dot continued to scurry down the corridor and turn a corner.
Harry gained his senses quick enough to see that Snape was walking towards him
quickly. He pointed his still lit wand at the map and whispered, “Mischief
Managed.” The map began to disappear as Harry said, “Nox!” and plunged the
corridor into darkness.
Harry was surrounded by darkness for only a moment as a light appeared,
followed by Severus Snape, holding up his wand. “Well… it seems Mr. Potter
believes himself above curfew,” Snape drawled as he stared down at Harry. He
noticed the map and said, “What are you holding?”
“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, trying to pocket it.
“Give it here Potter, now,” Snape said, holding out his hand.
“It’s just rubbish,” Harry said.
“Now Mr. Potter,” Snape repeated. Harry reluctantly gave Snape the map. Snape
looked over the old parchment and pointed his wand at it. “Reveal your
secrets.”
As though an invisible hand were writing upon it, words appeared on the smooth
surface of the map.
“Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep
his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business!”
Snape froze. Harry stared, dumbstruck, at the message. But the map didn’t stop
there. More writing was appearing beneath the first.
“Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape
is an ugly git.”
It would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so serious, Snape still
standing over Harry threateningly.
“Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that
ever became a professor.”
Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he’d opened them, the map had had its
last word.
“Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair,
the slimeball.”
Harry waited for the blow to fall.
“So…” Snape said softly. “We’ll see about this. …”
He grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him down the corridor. They turned, and
Snape dragged Harry towards Professor Lupin-Black’s office. “Lupin!” he called
out.
Professor Lupin-Black walked into his office. “You called, Severus?” he said
mildly.
“I certainly did,” Snape said, his face contorted with fury as he strode
towards Lupin-Black’s desk. “I have found Potter out of bed after curfew, and
he was carrying this.”
Snape placed the parchment on the desk, the words of Messrs. Moody, Wormtail,
Padfoot, and Prongs were still shining. An odd, closed expression appeared on
Lupin-Black’s face.
“Well?” Snape said.
Lupin-Black continued to stare at the map. Harry had the impression that he was
doing some very quick thinking.
“Well?” Snape said again. “This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This
is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter
got such a thing?”
Lupin-Black looked up and, by the merest half-glance in Harry’s direction,
warned him not to interrupt.
“Full of Dark Magic?” he repeated mildly. “Do you really think so, Severus? It
looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody
who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a
joke shop—“
“Indeed?” Snape said. His jaw had gone rigid with anger. “You think a joke shop
could supply him with such a thing? You don’t think it more likely that he got
it directly from the manufacturers?”
Harry didn’t understand what Snape was talking about. Nor, apparently, did
Lupin-Black.
“You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?” he said. “Harry, do you
know any of these men?”
“No,” Harry said.
“You see, Severus?” Lupin-Black said, turning back to Snape. “It looks like a
Zonko product to me. Most likely got it from one of his friends while they were
off in Hogsmeade. So, how about I will take this, shall I?” He folded the map
and tucked it inside his robes. “I will escort Harry back to Gryffindor Tower,
Severus. Good night.”
Snape gave both of them a sharp look before leaving. Harry turned to Professor
Lupin-Black and said, “Professor—“
“I don’t want to hear explanations,” Lupin said shortly. “I happen to know that
this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it’s a map,”
he said as Harry looked amazed. “I don’t want to know how it fell into your
possession. However, I cannot let you have it back, Harry.”
“Professor, there’s something you should know about that map,” Harry said.
“It’s supposed to show every living person in Hogwarts and where they are, but
there must be something wrong with it because earlier tonight it showed someone
who shouldn’t be here, someone who’s dead.”
“Oh, really?” Lupin-Black asked. “Who?”
“Peter Pettigrew,” Harry said. “But he died… twelve years ago. Dad said all
they found was his finger.”
Professor Lupin-Black looked at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face. He
took out the map again and looked at Harry. “I believe you should head back to
your dormitory Harry. It is past your bedtime.”
“Yes Professor,” Harry said slightly confused at Professor Lupin-Black’s
changed demeanor. He turned and left the office, saddened that he had to give
up the Marauder’s Map, but mostly curious and feeling lost at both Snape’s and
Lupin-Black’s reactions.
The next morning, however, his confusion and curiosity all were swept away when
Hermione walked towards him and Ron during breakfast. She was holding a letter
in her hands and her lip was trembling. “I just thought you ought to know
…Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed.”
“He—he sent me this,” Hermione said, holding out the letter.
Harry took it. The parchment was damp, and enormous teardrops had smudged the
ink so badly in places that it was very difficult to read.
Dear Hermione,
We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.
Execution date to be fixed.
Beaky has enjoyed London.
I won’t forget all the help you gave us.
Hagrid
“They can’t do this,” Harry said. “They can’t. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous.”
“Malfoy’s dad’s frightened the Committee into it,” Hermione said, wiping her
eyes. “You know what he’s like. They’re a bunch of doddery old fools, and they
were scared. There’ll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can’t see
any hope. …Nothing will have changed.”
“Yeah it will,” Ron said fiercely. “You won’t have to do all the work alone
this time, Hermione. I’ll help.”
“Oh, Ron!”
Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and broke down completely. Ron,
looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head.
Finally, Hermione drew away.
“Ron, I’m really, really, really sorry about Scabbers … ,” she sobbed.
“Oh—well—he was old,” Ron said, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go
of him. “And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an
owl now!”
The safety measures imposed on the students made it impossible for Harry, Ron,
and Hermione to go and visit Hagrid in the evenings. On their first attempt,
Draco caught them and seemed to stand a bit awkwardly as Hermione gave him a
sharp look. “I heard… about the hippogriff,” he said. “I’ve tried telling my
father to drop the charges, multiple times,” he spoke mostly to Hermione, but
his eyes were on Harry, as if he did not want to see Ron’s and Hermione’s
reactions. “I’ve even mailed the Minister a few times.”
Harry looked anxiously between Draco and Hermione, dreading Hermione’s
reaction. The Gryffindor remained emotionless as she considered Malfoy’s
apology. She looked at Draco and said, “Thanks,” a bit too bitterly.
Harry and Draco frowned at that, but Harry assumed that unlike him, Draco still
needs to prove that he can, and did, change for the better. Draco nodded and
offered a small smile. “I heard that there is an appeal. If you need any help—“
“No thank you Malfoy, we have this,” Hermione said. Draco nodded again and
looked at Harry. “I’ll… I’ll see you later Harry. Weasley, nice to see you
again.”
“Malfoy.”
Draco left and Hermione turned towards Harry and Ron. “When did you become so
friendly with Malfoy?” she half-accused.
“I’m not, but if he’s dating Harry… we should at least be civil, right?” Ron
said.
“I guess…”
“He’s trying to change,” Harry said. “He’s still a bit of a prat, but he’s
doing his best to not be a prat… at least not to us Gryffindors. And he and
Blaise told me that he never said ‘mudblood’ ever since I told him to stop.
Instead, he’s using muggleborn.”
Hermione looked at Harry, her arms crossed. “I guess that’s a start,” she said.
“But I have to see his progress myself before I even consider forgiving him.”
“Alright,” Harry agreed.
“Just do me one thing Harry,” Hermione said, her voice and body going hostile
as she seemed to remember Draco’s father. “You better beat him at the Quidditch
Final. I don’t want another win Malfoy can hold over Hagrid.”
***** The Quidditch Final *****
                                  Chapter 14
                              The Quidditch Final
Harry, Ron, and Hermione just climbed up into Divination class. Hermione was
fretting that she missed Charms class, even though Harry couldn’t see how as
she was right behind him and Ron as they entered.
“I thought we weren’t starting crystal balls until next term,” Ron muttered,
casting a wary eye around for Professor Trelawney, in case she was lurking
nearby. The small tables each held a crystal ball full of pearly white mist.
“Don’t complain, this means we’ve finished palmistry,” Harry muttered back. “I
was getting sick of her flinching every time she looked at my hands.”
“Good day to you!” Professor Trelawney said as she made her usual dramatic
entrance out of the shadows. “I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a
little earlier than I had planned,” she sat down with her back to the fire.
“The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb,
and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice.”
Hermione snorted.
“Of course the fates informed her, she makes the exam!” she said, not troubling
to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron chocked back laughs. Professor Trelawney
continued as if she did not heard Hermione’s remark.
“Crystal gazing is a particually refined art,” she said dreamily. “I do not
expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb’s infinite depths. We
shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes”—Ron
began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to
stifle the noise—“so as to clear the Inner Eye and the superconscious. Perhaps,
if we are lucky, some of you will See before the end of the class.”
Harry felt ridiculous staring at the white fog in the orb. He and Ron stared
blankly until Hermione hissed, “This is such a waste of time. I could be
practicing something useful. I could be catching up on Cheering Charms—“
Professor Trelawney rustled past. “Would anyone like me to help them interpret
the shadowy portents within the Orbs?” she muttered over the clinking of her
bangles.
“I don’t need help,” Ron whispered. “It’s obvious what this means. There’s
going to be loads of fog tonight.”
Both Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.
“Now, really!” Professor Trelawney said as everyone’s heads turned in their
direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. “You are disturbing
the clairvoyant vibrations!” She approached their table and peered into their
crystal ball. Harry felt his heart sinking. He knew what was coming.
“There is something here!” Professor Trelawney whispered. “Something moving…
but what is it?”
“Let me guess, it’s the Grim,” Hermione said sarcastically.
Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione’s face. Parvati
whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too.
Professor Trelawney stood up, surverying Hermione with unmistakable anger.
“I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class, my
dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of
Divination requires. Indeed, I don’t remember ever meeting a student whose mind
was so hopelessly mundane.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then—
“Fine!” Hermione said suddenly, getting up and cramming her book back into ther
bag. “Fine!” she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and knocking the
crystal ball off of the table, the glassy orb rolling away from the classroom
and down the open trapdoor. “I give up! I’m leaving!”
Hermione followed the orb down the trapdoor to the class’s stunned amazement.
It took a few minutes for the class to comprehend what just happened. Then,
Lavender shrieked suddenly. “Ooooo, Professor Trelawney, I’ve just remembered!
You saw her leaving didn’t you? Didn’t you Professor? ‘Around Easter, one of
our number will leave us forever!’ You said it ages ago Professor!”
 
James Potter was fretting over the house. Harry would be coming home for one
day during the Easter holidays, he told his dad in a letter that they needed to
talk. James already knew that Harry would be coming out to him, but he did not
know how to react or respond to it. His son, gay, loving a boy, James could
wrap his mind around it, but for some reason he couldn’t comprehend or
understand no matter how much he wanted to. He looked again at the empty
portraits of his mother and father. It has been weeks since they visited him,
and James was half-relieved that they were away. He knew that if he saw them,
there would be a shouting match. “Even when they’re dead they haunt me,” James
muttered to himself. He looked at the calander on his desk. Three days. Three
days until Harry visits. He has three days to mentally prepare himself.
 
The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so
much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous breakdown, and he
wasn’t the only one.
“Call this a holiday!” Seamus roared at the common room one afternoon. “The
exams are ages away, what’re they playing at?”
But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was
taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the
common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had
shadows like Lupin-Black’s under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to
tears.
Ron had taken over responsibility for Buckbeak’s appeal, Draco helping any way
he could without Hagrid knowing. While Ron and Draco were on a shaky neutral
ground, Draco and Harry were both sure that Hagrid, though kind-hearted, would
not care so much for the Malfoy. When Ron wasn’t doing his own work, he was
poring over enormously thick volumes with names like The Handbook of Hippogriff
Psychology. Draco meanwhile continued to write letters, looking over similar
books as Ron.
Harry meanwhile had to fit in his homework around Quidditch practice every day,
not to mention endless discussions of tactics with Wood. The Gryffindor-
Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter
holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points.
This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the
match by more than that amount to with the Cup. It also meant that the burden
of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one
hundred and fifty points.
The only saving grace was that Harry was going home for one day, but he didn’t
feel completely relieved to come home. He somehow knew that his father have
seen the photo of him and Draco kissing. He also told his father that there was
something very important he needed to tell him, so when Harry flooed home for
the day, he decided that the best thing was the get it over with.
He found his dad in the kitchen making lunch. “Dad, I’m home,” he said. James
turned around and smiled. “Harry! Come here.”
James pulled his father into a strained hug. Harry relaxed a bit in his dad’s
arms and looked around. “Where’s Snuffles?” he asked.
“Walking around somewhere,” James shrugged. “Can you do me a favor and get me
the cat food in the cupboard?”
Harry nodded and walked towards the cupboard, thankful for the small
distraction. He pulled it out and opened it, pouring the food into Snuffle’s
bowl. “So, how’s Quidditch going?” James asked.
“Good,” Harry said. “The final is the Saturday after Easter break. Us against
Slytherin. Slytherin’s up two hundred points so I have to catch the Snitch only
when we’re over fifty points, as Wood told us constantly.”
James chuckled and called for their cat. Snuffles bounced into the room, going
immediately for his lunch. “Well, good luck I’m sure you’ll beat them
perfectly. Two hundred and ten to zero,” James chuckled. Harry nodded and
watched Snuffles eat. He looked at his dad and sighed. “Dad, we need to talk.”
James sighed and nodded, looking down at his son. “I know. … Come on, let’s go
sit down somewhere more comfortable.”
They walked into the living room and they each sat down in an armchair. “Dad,”
Harry began awkwardly. “There’s um something I need to tell you. I err know
that there’s a picture taken of me… and it’s … it’s…” –Harry took another
breath, his cheeks flustering as he stumbled over his words. “True,” he finally
said. “I’m a poof. I’m gay and dating Draco Malfoy.”
Harry waited for his father’s reactions. His breath shortened and heart
quickened as he looked at his father, waiting anxiously for his reaction. The
room’s atmosphere was tense, and the longer the silence, the more Harry dreaded
his dad’s reactions. “Dad,” he said questionably after the silence became too
much for him. “Dad say something.”
“It’s true…” James said quietly to himself. “A fag in the family. …” Harry
looked up at this word, his heart breaking. He opened his mouth to say
something, but James beaten him to it. “I think… I think you should go back to
Hogwarts,” he said. “Good luck with the final. I’ll see you during the summer.”
Heartbroken, Harry nodded and stood up, walking stiffly towards the fireplace
and taking a fistful of floo powder.
When Harry left, James returned to his office. Needing to write a letter. He
pulled out the letter and wrote quickly under the dears,
I know it’s been a long time. There is something I need to tell you. I need
your help.
James
He went to get his owl the Ministry have given all workers and tied the letter
to him. He watched as the owl flew out of the window and returned to his
office, where he saw his mother and father. “Oh, there you are,” he said
spitefully.
“You dare talk to your parents like that James?” his father said.
“You’re not my parents, they’re dead. You’re just portraits,” James sighed.
“But you act and think exactly like them.”
“What does that mean?” Fleamont asked, looking down at his son. “What you
grumbling about now James?”
James glared at both of them. “Harry came,” he began.
“And you didn’t tell us?” Euphemia said. “It has been ages since I’ve seen my
grandson. What did he say? Did he find a girlfriend?”
“No mother, not exactly,” James said. “Harry came out to me just now. … He’s
gay.”
Both his mother and father shared a look, both looking disappointed. Euphemia
sighed and looked at her husband. “Told you there would be a fag in the
family,” she said.
“I know, just thought it wouldn’t be our grandson!”
“Better than our son.”
James growled angrily “Enough!” he roared at them. He took out his wand and
pointed it at the two portraits. He breathed heavily, staring at the portraits
as his parents simply watched him. Angrily he pocketed his wand and said, “Go
away. I don’t want to see you two for a long time.”
“Hmpt, and I thought we got all past this,” Fleamont grumbled as he walked into
his wife’s portrait. He helped her up and the two walked away. James glared
angrily at the two empty portraits before taking his father’s off the wall. He
kicked open the doors as he went down to the basement, Snuffles following him
curiously. At the basement, James just leaned the portrait against the wall
before doing the same with his mother’s.
When he returned to his office he looked at the bare wall. He was still angry,
yet he also felt a bit more relieved as he stared at the blank wall, before the
anger returned. Anger towards his parents, and himself. How dare he treat Harry
like that, James needed to do something, anything to make up for it. But he
didn’t know how.
 
When Harry returned to Hogwarts, he still felt heartbroken. Harry didn’t know
how he finished his homework and completed practice, but before he knew it the
Quidditch Final was right around the corner.
Draco was severely distressed over the case’s lost. He and Harry were sitting
close together in the courtyard. It was the day before the Quidditch final. “I
should’ve done something,” he complained.
“It’s not your fault Draco,” Harry said. “You did your best. It’s your father’s
fault for not listening.”
“My father…” Draco repeated. He looked towards Harry and frowned, “You know
what my father did? He sent me a letter.”
“What did it say?” Harry asked, leaning on Draco’s shoulder. Draco wrapped an
arm around Harry and said, “Basically that I was being a shame to the family.
He knows about our kiss, and he is truly and deeply ashamed of it. He… he wants
us to break up immediately.”
“Never,” Harry said.
Draco nodded. “Don’t worry Harry, I’m never going to break up with you.”
Harry looked at Draco and smiled. “I told my dad,” he said. “About us.”
“How did he take it?” Draco asked.
“Not good,” Harry frowned. “He said… that there was a fag in the family after
all.”
“Oh Harry!” Draco said. He pulled Harry closer and kissed him fully on the
lips. “How do you feel Harry?”
“Fine… hey, I have an idea,” Harry said. “Something that’ll cheer us both up.”
“What is it?” Draco asked as Harry stood up, pulling Draco up with him.
“You’ll see,” Harry said with a playful smirk. He needed a distraction from his
father, as well as Draco, so this was the best he could think of. They walked
down the empty corridor and up towards the seventh floor. “I’ve been in your
common room, it’s only fair,” he said as Harry saw the realization on Draco’s
face.
They went up to the Seventh Floor and Harry told Draco to stay out of the Fat
Lady’s sight as he told her the password. As her portrait swung open Draco
caught up with Harry and they both walked inside. “Everyone should be out,” he
said as they entered the empty common room. Draco looked around and scoffed.
“Everything is so red and gold,” he said.
“Compared to your green?” Harry laughed. He pulled Draco towards the spiral
staircase that led towards the boy’s dormitory. When they reached the fourth
year boys, he opened slowly and poked his head in. “Nobody here,” he said as he
opened the door fully.
They walked into the dormitory and Draco closed the door behind him. He locked
it and turned to Harry, “What’s going on Harry?”
“Just sit down and watch,” Harry said, pointing to Ron’s bed next to his. Draco
did and watched curiously as Harry sat on his bed.
Harry shouldered his cloak off and laid it on his bed before starting to
unbutton his shirt. “Just sit and watch… I want to do this for you,” he said as
he unbuttoned his last button, reveal his smooth, skinny body to Draco for the
first time. Draco watched with bated breath, his pants slowly tightening as
Harry slipped out of his shirt and kicked his shoes off, pulling his pants and
boxers down with one go. He stood there, naked and completely hairless. Before
Draco got time to appreciate Harry standing in front of him, Harry sat down on
his bed and laid on his back. Harry began touching himself, his eyes closing as
his fingers brushed against his sensitive nipples. His back arched as his
fingers danced across his nipples, squeezing and pulling as they hardened,
becoming plump. Draco felt the need to shift his pants. He watched as Harry’s
small cock began to harden, standing in full attention for Draco.
Harry’s hand traveled further down his body before he reached his dick. Instead
of jerking off as Draco thought he would, however, Harry grunted and lifted his
legs in the air, bending them towards his body and giving Draco perfect access
to his virgin hole. Harry hooked one arm expertly around his legs and held them
in place. Draco watched transfixed as Harry took his other hand and brought it
to his hole. Harry circled his hairless, smooth, pink hole with a finger before
thrusting it in, the digit penetrating his body. Harry moaned and Draco’s eyes
widened as Harry started going faster and faster, before pulling the finger out
and licking it. He made the finger slick with his spit and started again,
thrusting himself over and over, making sure Draco can see all.
Draco couldn’t resist the temptation anymore, and pulled down his pants,
revealing his hard member. Draco gripped his cock and started pulling, tugging,
masterbating to Harry’s thrusts. Harry too gripped his dick and they didn’t
last long before they both started coming, Draco in his hand, and Harry’s
flying to his chest. Flustered and out of breath, both boys cleaned up before
grinning at each other. “Better?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, loads. Were you always so showing?” Draco asked.
“Only for you,” Harry said. He looked around and said, “Come on, we better get
out of here before anyone sees us. They’ll think I’m conspiring with the enemy
or something.”
Draco chuckled and followed Harry out of the Gryffindor common room. They
walked in comfortable silence until they reached the fifth floor. Draco turned
to Harry and kissed him. “Good luck tomorrow Harry. May the best Seeker win.”
“I plan to,” Harry smirked. He kissed Draco and they went their separate ways,
knowing that tomorrow they’ll be enemies again, if only in the field.
The grounds were still and quiet the next morning. No breath of wind disturbed
the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and
innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be
perfect. The Gryffindor team walked out onto the field to a tidal wave of
noise. Three-quarters of the crowd was wearing scarlet rosettes, waving scarlet
flags with the Gryffindor lion upon them, or branding banners that cheered for
Gryffindor.
Harry and Draco gave each other knowing smirks as they both walked onto the
field, Lee Jordan yelling their names. Madam Hooch called for them all to mount
their brooms after Wood and Flint shook hands, Harry noticed that they were
both glaring at each other with a hatred he had never saw before.
The sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle blew Harry out of his thoughts as he and the
other thirteen plays flew into the air. Harry felt his hair fly back off his
forehead; his nerves left him in the thrill of the flight; he glanced around,
saw Draco on his tail, and sped off in search of the Snitch.
“And it’s Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinner of Gryffinodr with the
Quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Alicia!
Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up
the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the
Quaffle, it’s caught by Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on
Angelina—nice swerve around Montague—duck Angelia, that’s a Bludger!—SHE
SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR! TAKE THAT YOU DIRTY—“
“JORDAN!” Professor McGonagall yelled.
Angelina punched the air as she soared around the end of the field; the sea of
scarlet below was scraming in delight—
“OUCH!”
Angelina was nearly thrown from her broom as Marcus Flint went smashing into
her.
“Sorry!” Flint said as the crowd below booed. “Sorry, didn’t see her!”
A moment later, George Weasley chucked his Beater’s club at the back of Flint’s
head. Flint’s nose smashed into the handle of his broom and began to bleed.
“That will do!” Madam Hooch shrieked, zooming between them. “Penalty shot to
Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin
for deliberate damage to their Chaser!”
“Come off it, Miss!” George howled, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Alicia
flew forward to take the penalty.
“Come on Alicia!” Lee yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd.
“YES! SHE’S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”
Harry turned the Firebolt sharply to watch Flint, still bleeding freely, fly
forward to take the Slytherin penalty. Wood was hovering in front of the
Gryffindor goal posts, his jaw clenched and fists tight.
“Course, Wood’s a superb Keeper!” Lee Jordan told the crowd as Flint waited for
Madam Hooch’s whistle. “Superb! Very difficult to pass—very difficult
indeed—YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE’S SAVED IT!”
Relieved, Harry zoomed away, gazing around for the Snitch, but still making
sure he caught every word of Lee’s commentary.
“Going a bit slow Potter?” Draco called out from behind him. Harry looked
around and smirked at Draco.
“You wish Malfoy!” he called out, edging his broom to go faster. The two spend
around as their teams continued playing. He and Draco flew around, both looking
for the Snitch as Harry tried to shake his boyfriend off. Gryffindor scored
again during this chase, leading thirty to zero. Then, after Harry shook Draco
off his tail, he finally saw it. The Snitch! He felt a huge jolt of excitement.
The Snitch was shimmering at the foot of one of the Gryffindor goal posts—but
he mustn’t catch it yet—and if Draco saw it—
Faking a look of sudden concentration, Harry pulled his Firebolt around and
sped off towards the Slytherin end, it worked. He saw Draco racing after him,
clearly thinking Harry had sen the Snitch there. …
WHOOSH.
One of the Bludgers came streaking past Harry’s right ear, hit by the gigantic
Slytherin Beater, Derrick. Then again—
WHOOSH.
The second Bludger grazed Harry’s elbow. The other Beater, Bole, was closing
in.
Harry had a fleeting glimpse of Bole and Derrick zooming toward him, clubs
raised—
He turned the Firebolt upward at the last second, and Bole and Derrick collided
with a sickening crunch. Flint got control of the Quaffle and chucked it hard
at Wood, Wood caught it easily but was almost smacked off his broom from the
impact, as if Flint was aiming for Wood and not scoring.
It was turning into the diriest game harry had ever played in. Enraged that
Gryffindor had taken such an early lead, the Slytherins were rapidly resorting
to any means to take the Quaffle. Bole hit Alicia with his club and tried to
say he’d thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley elbowed Bole in the face in
retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded both teams penalties, and Wood pulled off
another spectacular save, making the score forty-zero to Gryffindor. The Snitch
disappeared again. Draco was still keeping close to Harry as he soared over the
match, looking around for it—once Gryffindor was fifty points ahead—
Katie scored. Fifty-zero. Harry, free to get the Snitch, turned all his
attention to finding it. Then Angelina scored soon afterwards. The Gryffindor
crowd below was screaming itself hoarse—Gryffindor was sixty points in the
lead, and if Harry caught the Snitch now, the Cup was theirs. Draco was right
on Harry’s trail as they shot towards the stands, then there was a quick golden
glimmer and both boys smirked. Draco dived first, with Harry following.
“Go! Go! Go!” Harry urged his broom. He was gaining on Draco—Harry flattened
himself to the broom handle as Bole sent a Bludger at him—he was a Draco’s
ankles—he was level—Harry threw himself forward, took both hands off his broom.
He knocked Draco’s arm out of the way and—
“YES!”
He pulled out of his dive, his hand in the air, and the stadium exploded. Harry
soared above the crowd, an odd ringing in his ears. The tiny golden ball was
held tight in his fist, beating its wings hopelessly against his fingers.
Then Wood was speeding toward him, half-blinded by tears; he seized Harry
around the neck and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shoulder. Harry felt two
large thumps as Fred and George hit them; then Angelina’s, Alicia’s and Katie’s
voices. Tangled together in a many-armed hug, the Gryffindor team sank, yelling
hoarsely, back to earth.
 
“Wood!” Flint yelled out. It was hours after the match, both teams showered and
dressed in their regular robes. Oliver Wood and George Weasley were celebrating
privately in the courtyard. They both turned to watch the Slytherin march up to
them. There was a venomous look upon him as he stormed at them.
“What do you want Flint?” Wood asked, standing in front of George, who also
stood.
“What’s mine!” Flint growled. “The cup and Weasley!”
“I’m not a thing you beast!” George screamed. “Besides we won the Cup fair and
square, unlike you cheating lot.”
Flint pulled his wand out and aimed it at them. “Say that again,” he warned.
Oliver and George quickly pulled their wands out and trained them on Flint. The
three glared at each other. “You’ve already lost the Cup and the boy,” Oliver
smirked. “What more you want to lose?”
Flint looked at both boys and snarled as he pocketed his wand. “He was a stupid
fuck anyway,” he said. He smirked at Oliver and said, “Enjoy having my second
fucks Wood. Least I have that over you.”
And with that, Flint left the couple alone. George and Oliver looked at each
other, confused but relieved. “Guess he’s gone for good,” George said.
Oliver nodded and easily lifted the Beater up. “Guess so, now where were we
George?”
“I think you were about to put that big thing in my mouth Oliver,” George
smirked. Oliver returned the smirk and said, “Right… well, get to it.”
***** Pasts Fought *****
                                  Chapter 15
                                 Pasts Fought
James paced nervously around his living room. It has been a week since he sent
the letter to Sirius and Remus, and still no reply. Snuffles meowed as he
curled around James’ leg, searching for attention. He looked down and bent to
pet him. Then, there was a pecking at the window. Confused, yet hopeful, James
looked up at the window to see a barn owl waiting outside. He opened the window
and let the owl fly into the room. There was a letter attached to its leg, and
James unrolled it easily as the owl pecked at a small dish of owl treats. The
owl waited, as if for James’ reply, so he sat down and unrolled the letter.
James
It’s been a while hasn’t it? Remus and I were really surprised that you sent
this, but alright. We’re coming. Expect us an hour after the owl arrives. If we
plan this out right, hehe.
Sirius
As soon as James read the letter, he looked up at the owl, a sense of happiness
surge in him. That was Sirius’ owl! “An hour,” he said. He figured that Sirius
and Remus does not need a reply, but wrote one just in case. It took him five
minutes to write one, and tied it to the owl. As soon as the owl left his home,
James sat down in one armchair, feeling pleasant, the nervousness overwhelming
him again. Then, two minutes later, his fireplace surged into life, green fire
flaring from the logs as two grown wizards stepped through. James recognized
them immediately as Sirius and Remus brushed the ashes off of their cloaks.
“Here we are, right on time,” Sirius smiled as he looked around.
“You’re early,” James couldn’t help but drawl. “Fifty minutes early.”
“But who’s counting?” Sirius grinned, ignoring the awkwardness that fell
between the old friends. He looked at James as he got up. “You uhh look good
James,” he said.
“So do you,” James nodded. “R-Remus.”
“You wanted to tell us something? That you needed our help?” Remus asked,
sounding awkward as he looked around James’ living room.
“Yeah,” James sighed. “Sit-sit, this’ll take awhile.”
Sirius and Remus looked worried as they sat down in a nearby sofa as James sat
in his armchair. He looked at his old friends, not knowing where or how to
begin. He looked confused, grasping at straws in his head as he thought of the
best point to begin. Miraculously, as if sensing his master’s desperation,
Snuffles came running in and jumped onto the mantle.
“You got a cat,” Sirius said.
“Yeah… Snuffles,” James said a bit stiffly. Sirius snickered and James looked
at him.
“I knew you didn’t forget about us,” Sirius smirked. “See Remus? He named the
cat after me.”
“I see,” Remus nodded, he turned his attention back to James and said a bit
more softly, “What is it you wanted to tell us?”
“Well… where should I begin?” James sighed. He looked up at his old friends,
and stayed quiet, trying to find a place to begin. Sirius and Remus waited
patiently, Sirius taking to watch Snuffles as James thought, lost in thoughts.
Then, after he was sure he got the jumbled pieces of his memory together, James
began to talk.
“This began… with my parents. Mostly my mother. You know how they were always
sweet to us right? And that they treated you Sirius, like a second son? Well,
as loving as they were… they were also hateful. Not like the snobbish Malfoys
or their lot, but still hateful in their own way. I never told you this, but
when they learned that you two were umm snogging… mum had some choice words to
say about it. They didn’t say anything because you guys are… were my best
mates, but still… Anyway, she and dad didn’t like guys… kissing. Or even
holding hands. Remember those girls they showed us at our seventh year? Those
sisters? That was because they saw you and Remus kissing in our backyard. I’ve
locked the portraits in the basement if you want to ask them.
“Anyway… umm something happened in fifth year, well the summer before it. You
see, there was this muggle, I forgot their name, I don’t even think it matters.
Anyway, this muggle, he was our age, and this was all before me and Lily got
together, I remember that he used to roam around. Somehow, he got near the
Potter Manor, and pass our Anti-Muggle charms. Maybe he was a Squib, doesn’t
matter, but he came to Potter Manor where he, well he caught me practicing
magic. I was scared that he was going to scream or something, but instead he
was completely amazed. He asked me to perform some more spells, so being the
cocky boy I was of course I did, showing off the strongest and hardest spells I
knew. He was completely entranced; it was awesome during the time.
“After I showed off, we got to talking, and he kept visiting over and over
again. Obviously we made sure not to let my parents know, who knows what would
happen if they knew their only son was talking to a strange Muggle/Squib.
Probably be nice to him, until they know what we were umm doing. You see, the
more he came over, the closer we got. It wasn’t anything serious, God no, we
were only fifteen, and nothing serious happens when you’re fifteen. We didn’t
do much at all, it was just two blokes hanging out. One showing off his magic,
and the other truly awed and inspired by it. It was always on Potter grounds so
the Trace never went off. Sometimes he showed me these lame Muggle tricks that
I pretend to find amusing, but other than that we just hung around. Then, one
day the Squib, I’m pretty sure he was a Squib thinking back on it, maybe he had
a Squib parent and a Muggle one, who knows, anyway he just went up to me one
day and kissed me. Right on the lips, first one. It was weird, but we both
liked it, and again this was before Lily and I and I honestly didn’t felt any
of that serious stuff towards the guy, I just liked kissing him. So we started
kissing. After we talk, or hung out as I make sticks dance, we would just start
randomly kissing.
“But unfortunately, while we were kissing we were usually focusing on the other
person that we forget to check that we were alone. One day, he was on top of me
and we were kissing, fully clothed Sirius, don’t give me that look! One day we
were busy snogging when… mum walked in on us. We were in the garden behind some
bushes and mum was taking a walk, but she heard us and came to investigate.
When she saw the Squib on top of me, I don’t know if she panicked or was
immediately furious, but the next thing I knew he was off of me, and rolling on
the ground next to me. There was yelling and shouting, the words ‘poof’ and
‘fag’ was thrown around, as well as calling the boy a muggle. She—she called me
a disgrace to the family and told me that dad would definitely hear about this.
But before she left she pointed her wand at the boy and wiped away his memories
She then told me that if I ever looked for him again I’ll be written out of the
Potter family, only heir or not. So I didn’t look for him, and for the rest of
the summer every day I heard about how two men snogging is gross, and wrong
that it just sunk into me.
“When I met Lily, and we knew about you, I’ve tried my best to keep that stuff
from coming back. I told Lily this, and she helped as well, though not a day
went by she didn’t tell me to tell you guys—“
“What that you’re gay?”
“Sirius!” Remus hissed, elbowing his husband. James gave them both a flat look
before continuing.
“I am not gay Sirius. I’m bisexual, there’s a difference. So yeah, never saw
that boy again, not that I care, again nothing serious. But because of what my
mum and dad basically treated me, I sort of became a huge prat, and without
Lily to help me and the whole You-Know-Who trying to kill our only son… I said
some things that I really regret. So… sorry.”
“All’s forgiven!” Sirius smiled immediately. “You really should have told us
sooner James, all those years wasted. Why just think our sons might have been
best friends by now!”
“You have a son?” James asked, the shock that Sirius easily forgave him
overtaking him for only a moment.
“Yeah, of course we do,” Sirius said. “He’s starting Hogwarts next year. Going
to be a Gryffindor, I can tell.”
“Anyway, his name is Orion,” Remus said as he stood up to rifle through his
pockets. “Pretty sure we have a picture somewhere…”
“Why doesn’t he just meet the real deal?” Sirius asked. “He should be home.”
“No, he should be at your aunt’s, remember?” Remus said as he stopped looking
through his pockets. He looked between Sirius and James and smiled at James,
“Good to see you again James, we need to talk more, catch up. But I need to go
back to Hogwarts.”
“Yeah,” James nodded. He watched as Remus went to his fire and disappeared in
the emerald flames. He looked at Sirius and waited for him to talk.
“So, let’s go pick Orion up,” Sirius grinned. “Come on.”
James looked at his friend confused before shrugging. “Let me just make sure
Snuffles’ dishes are full,” he said.
Sirius nodded and followed James as he walked into the kitchen. James whistled
as he filled Snuffles’ bowl. “He’s surprisingly dog like sometimes,” James
said. “We need to whistle to tell him his food is ready.”
“Just like his namesake,” Sirius grinned, causing James to chuckle. And with
that one single joke, the awkwardness that stood between James and Sirius like
a wall of ice melted away. When James was busy taking care of Snuffles, he
turned his attention to Sirius, and allowed the man to lead him back into the
living room. “Did you actually lock your parents’ portraits in the basement?”
he chuckled.
“Yeah,” James said. “They called my son a—well you know.”
Sirius just nodded and smiled at James. “I understand. So, shall we? It’ll be
easier to travel by Apparation.”
“Yeah,” James nodded as Sirius place a strong hand on his shoulder. James felt
a pull at his navel and soon felt as if he was being shoved into a small
cylinder as he and Sirius apparated away from the Potter house. When James’
feet land on the ground, he looked around to see he was in a cozy muggle-ish
living room. “Dad!” a voice yelled, followed by the sound of footsteps.
James looked around to see a little boy running into the room, followed by a
sort-of familiar woman. “Hey there Andromeda, how’s Tonks?” Sirius smiled at
the woman as he bent to hug his son.
“Nymphadora is fine,” the woman said, emphasizing her daughter’s name. She
turned her attention to James and gasped. “James! Why—it’s been years! Surely
you remember me?”
James looked at the woman and thought for a second. “Aren’t you the Black that
married a muggle? What Sirius said? Andromeda?”
The woman chuckled, “At least I’m remembered for that. Orion just had lunch,”
she said turning to look at Sirius again.
James let the two adults talk as he looked down at Orion. He looked just like a
miniature Sirius. He had the same ruffled black hair that James remembered
Sirius had when he was young, but also he couldn’t help but notice that there
were strands of hair that was a vivid bubblegum-pink. His big eyes were light
brown, freckled with gray that James guessed he got from his other father,
Remus. He looked up to Sirius, confused over the very unusual hair color.
“Sirius?” he asked, “Why does your son have pink hair?”
Sirius turned to look at James before looking down at his son. When he saw the
pink strands of hair, he began to laugh. “Playing with Tonks?” he asked.
“Yeah, she showed me how to do this!” Orion smiled. Sirius laughed again and
said, “Well, let’s change it back alright? Doesn’t seem appropriate for a first
time meeting.”
“Okay,” Orion said. Then, with great concentration, the boy closed his eyes and
James thought of a small strawberry as the boy’s cheek flushed as he tried to
change his hair back to normal.
“I didn’t know there was metamorphmagi in your family, Sirius,” James said as
Orion’s hair changed to its natural blackness.
“Me neither until this guy just woke us up, his nose looking exactly like
Remus’,” Sirius said, pointing to his son. “You know Andromeda’s daughter is a
Metamorphmagi as well? Tonks’ her name.”
“Tonks…” James said, “That sounds familiar… is she an Auror? I heard about some
new ones, one of them a girl with pink hair. Moody has her.”
“That’s my daughter,” Andromeda said. “She isn’t qualified yet, but hopefully
soon.”
“Well, I’ll have to have a look at her then,” James said.
“Dad? Who’s this?” Orion asked, finally looking at James. Sirius smirked at him
and said, “You remember that old friend we told you about? The one who we
thought was good, then turned into a protective loon after You-Know-Who?”
“Yeah,” Orion said, missing the sharp look James was giving Sirius.
“Meet the loon Ori! James, this is our son Orion. Orion, this is your dad’s and
mine old friend, James Potter,” Sirius smiled.
“Potter? Like Harry Potter!?” Orion said excitedly.
“Yes, Harry’s my son,” James said. “He’s in Hogwarts right now.”
“Cool!” Orion said. “Is it true that Harry beat You-Know-Who when he was a
baby? And that he wasn’t seen since?”
“Umm well…” James said awkwardly, not wanting to talk about that night.
“And how about for some reason both that guy with the turban and Gilderoy
Lockhart had to quit after being a teacher at Hogwarts for a year?” Orion asked
again.
“Where did you even heard about that—“
“Oh-oh, how about—“
“That’s enough Orion,” Sirius chuckled. He looked up at James apologetically.
“Sorry about that, he’s a curious kid.”
“I can see that,” James said nodding. “I don’t know why exactly they left.
Dumbledore told us that Lockhart just left and Quirrell, well he just
disappeared.”
“Ohhh. Will the same thing happen to Dad?” Orion asked.
“I don’t know,” James shrugged. He looked at Sirius and checked his watch.
“Well, thanks for coming to see me,” he said sincerely as Andromeda left the
room. “I’m sorry that it took me this long to umm, well get my head out of my
arse.”
“Ehh it’s fine James,” Sirius smiled. “Just don’t make a habit of keeping
things from us.”
“Of course not,” James nodded. He sighed and looked down at Orion. “Now I just
need to make up to Harry…”
“Oh don’t tell me,” Sirius moaned. “You said the thing your parents said,
didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” James admitted, hating himself.
“James! Well, if you need any help, I’ll do my best,” Sirius said.
“Yeah thanks,” James said. He looked down at Orion and said, “Nice to meet you
kid, hopefully we’ll see more of each other. Next time I’ll see if I can bring
Harry along.”
“Alright! Bye,” Orion said, quickly leaving the room. Sirius looked at James
with a certain smirk as he brought the cheerful mood back. “So, does Harry have
a boyfriend yet?”
“Actually yeah,” James said. “Though I wish I actually learned it from him
rather than Lucius Malfoy.”
“Malfoy? What does he have to do with it?” Sirius asked.
“My son is dating his son, Draco,” James said. “One second…” He dug through his
pocket and pulled out a folded picture. It was the one Parkinson took months
ago. “See? That wasn’t taken consensually, however.”
“Look at them, they’re starting younger and younger aren’t they?” Sirius said,
looking at the picture. “You think they’ve declared their love yet?” he
chuckled.
“I hope not! Thirteen is way too young to fall in love. Hell it’s too young to
even start dating,” James said. “If  Harry tells me he loves Draco it’ll be the
end of me.”
“Because it’s Malfoy?”
“Because they’re too young!” James said again. “Lily and I were almost twenty
before I said I loved her, and we were dating for three years.”
“Beat you there, we were eighteen and dating for two,” Sirius said.
“Point its, it’s been years yeah? Harry and Draco they’ve been what doing this
for what eight, nine months? That is way too soon. And he’s Thir-bloody-teen!”
James said.
“I am sensing an overprotective father moment, but I can understand,” Sirius
nodded. “If Orion comes up to me and tells me he’s in love at thirteen I’ll
probably laugh before setting him right.”
James laughed and said, “Thanks for understanding. Hopefully Harry will too. If
he and Draco continue this, then I’m fine, but nothing serious happens when
you’re a teenager. Especially when you’re so young like him.”
“I don’t know, I did learn how to turn into a very handsome big dog as a
teenager,” Sirius said.
“Besides that Sirius. Nothing serious happens in relationships when you’re a
teenager. Harry and Draco can say their ‘I love you’s but only after they
graduate. Or at least wait till they’re in their sixth year,” James said.
“I hear you,” Sirius nodded. “Listen, I have to take care of a… rat problem,
alright? We need to do this again soon.”
“Yeah, sure. Hopefully with all five of us?” James asked. Sirius agreed.
James and Sirius said their goodbyes and James left the room by Floo Powder,
feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he walked
into his office. He sat down contently in his chair and looked at his picture
of Lily. “I told them Lily,” he said. “And I think I feel better… yeah.”
 
It was the dead of night at Hogwarts. The courtyard was washed with moonlight,
as the cloudless night watched upon the sleeping castle. Everything seemed to
be asleep, not even the trees made a sound as a light breeze push through them,
bringing an ominous air to the castle. The only sounds that the castle can hear
were the ominous, peaceful air as the castle was lulled to tiredness. Not even
the sounds of doors opening, and footsteps on pavement could have woken the
castle as two figures met in the courtyard, each with a vendetta against the
other, both with a similar goal. When they reached the middle of the courtyard,
they both just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the
first move.
The two continued to glare, wands at the ready, until the first one spoke.
“Flint.”
“Wood,” said the other.
“I’m surprised you showed up,” Oliver smirked. “Thought you were going to wuss
out and call Filch.”
“Course not,” Flint smirked, “If I can’t beat you for the Cup, then I’ll just
beat you in a duel.”
Oliver Wood smirk cockily. “You’re not going to win,” he said. “And after I
beat you, you’ll leave me and George alone. Forever.”
A laugh caught in Flint’s throat as he glared at Oliver. “As if I’ll lose to
you poof,” he said. Then, with speed Oliver didn’t see, Flint brought his wand
up and yelled, “Stupefy!”
“Protego!” Oliver yelled, the stunning spell blasted into nothingness as it hit
Oliver’s invisible shield. He glared at his opponent before whipping his wand,
“Rictusempra!” A silver light shot from Oliver’s wand and hit Flint straight in
the stomach. The Slytherin doubled over and started to uncontrollably laugh as
Oliver’s tickling charm hit him.
Still laughing, Flint struggled to point his wand at Oliver. He laughed out a
spell, and a white light fired from his wand. The spell lashed out onto Oliver,
hitting him in the wrist where an angry welt appeared on it. Oliver screamed in
shock and pain before grinding his teeth. He ignored the pain as he fired a
disarming charm, which Flint dodged. Flint was still chuckling, but he seemed
to have full control of his body as he started firing jinxs and hexes randomly,
all of them aimed directly at Oliver.
Oliver only had a second’s notice to dodge the spells, running behind pillars
and stone benches to avoid the spells. When he stopped to counterattack, Flint
yelled “Locomotor Mortis!”
Oliver’s legs snapped together, and he instantly fell, rolling around on the
floor, scrapping his cheeks. He turned onto his back, the pain far less than
getting smacked by a bludger, and said, “Relashio!” The spell forced Flint
back, the boy flying into the air a couple of feet off the ground before
falling onto a stone bench. Oliver heard the crack of the bench as Flint’s back
landed on it, the boy flipping over it and hitting his head on the stone floor.
Oliver didn’t care as he pointed his wand at his legs and quickly said the
counter-jinx, warmth and movement returning instantly to his legs.
Oliver jumped up to see Flint staggering to his feet, grunting in pain at his
back. Oliver couldn’t help but smirk at that and he pointed his wand at Flint.
“Expelli—“
“Stupefy!” Flint roared. The stunning spell forced Oliver back to the ground as
he flew back, barely holding onto his wand. Flint smirked cockily and walked
slowly towards Oliver. “Told ya you’ll never win,” Flint gloated. “Looks like
Weasley’s ass will be mine again. Maybe this time I’ll do something to make
sure he’ll never run from me again. How about—“
“Expelliarmus!” Oliver yelled from the ground. The red light hit Flint’s hand
expertly and his wand flew into the air. With Flint wandless, Oliver quickly
got to his feet as the wand fell before him. He pointed his wand again at Flint
and yelled, “Stupefy!”
Flint fell to the ground, and in his anger Oliver continued, casting the same
stinging hex that Flint casted on him. Welts appeared on Flint’s arms as the
Slytherin Quidditch Captain cried in pain. Just to make sure Flint had learned
his lesson, Oliver kneeled before Flint’s body and made a fist.
“You will leave George alone,” Oliver seethed before punching Flint’s nose, a
satisfying crunching sound filling the air. Blood gushed from Flint’s broken
nose and, satisfied, Oliver stood up to leave. When he reached the outskirts of
the courtyard, the door opened and a voice yelled out, “What in the blazes is
going on here?”
Oliver looked to see that Filch was standing in the only entrance. “Who is
stupid enough to be outside with dementors around?” Filch grumbled as he held
his lantern higher, the light revealing Flint. As the caretaker walked up to
the still bleeding Filch, Oliver sneaked around the courtyard, making his way
to the door. “What are you doing out of bed?” Filch growled at Flint as he
groaned. “Get up! Let’s see Slytherin eh? Just wait till Snape hears about you.
You’re all bruised up, obviously been dueling, and out of bed—“
Oliver heard a meowing noise and turned in horror to see Mrs. Norris standing
right behind him, trialing him as he almost escaped. “And there’s the other
one! Three weeks detention I think! Just wait till I tell your Heads of Houses.
Off to bed!”
Angry that he couldn’t escape in time, Oliver threw Flint as many sharp looks
as he could as they were forced to follow Filch inside. Filch led them to his
office where he wrote their detentions, the two boys glaring at each other and
saying nothing as he did so, before kicking them out. Oliver ignored Filch as
he made his way directly towards Gryffindor Tower, his victory now feeling sour
by the three weeks of detention he now had to serve.
 
“So what?” Blaise asked. He finally was able to hang out with Ron before the
exams started. Ron was awkward about how it was just them two, but he was
grateful for the break from studying. He had just finished telling Blaise about
Hagrid’s appeal, and how they were bringing an executor to it. “That’s it? They
already made their decision?”
“Yeah,” Ron said, irritated. “And I’ve spent ages reading up on stuff for him;
they can’t just ignore it all!”
“That’s awful,” Blaise frowned. “Is there anything you guys can do?”
“No, just hope that Hagrid wins the appeal,” Ron said. Blaise nodded and took a
step closer to Ron. Ron barely noticed as he continued to rant. Blaise was
being a good listener as Ron complained. They turned the corner and Ron looked
at Blaise.
“Hmm?” Blaise asked.
“Nothing,” Ron said, looking away. He didn’t notice Blaise’s smirk as he again
took a step closer. “So Ron,” Blaise said, “How is the uh… rat situation?”
Ron looked at Blaise for a moment before sighing. “Fine, I guess. I mean,
Hermione and I made up a while ago. Though I’m not going near that damn cat
soon,” Ron said.
Blaise nodded. “Didn’t you told me that your parents’ are buying you an owl?”
“Maybe they will,” Ron said. “They might, that’s what I said.” Blaise nodded
and looked at his friend. “Do you know when…”
“Huh? Oh it’s on the sixth, the day we finish the exams,” Ron said.
“You and Harry going to visit?” Blaise asked.
“Yeah, we’re thinking of,” Ron said. “Me, Harry, and Hermione.” Blaise nodded
and looked outside. “You heard about the duel between Wood and Flint?”
“Yeah,” Ron said smirking, “George and Fred told me all about it.” Blaise
smiled at Ron’s higher mood. “Wood beat Flint in a duel and broke his nose,”
Ron said.
Blaise nodded and smiled, “I know! You should have seen the looks he was giving
everyone the next day. Draco and I couldn’t stop laughing.”
“You mean Malfoy can laugh?” Ron gasped.
Blaise snickered and nodded, “Yes believe it or not, he does.”
“You’re pulling me,” Ron said. “There is no way that prat can laugh.”
Blaise shrugged and said, “Believe what you want Ron, but Draco can in fact
laugh. And like a real laugh, not one of those snickers.”
“Sucks Wood have detention though,” Ron said. “It would’ve been brilliant if
only Flint got caught.”
“Yeah,” Blaise nodded. “Flint’s stuck cleaning all of Snape’s cauldrons.”
“Wood’s polishing the suits of armor,” Ron said. “George is hating it, it’s
digging into their time.”
“How you feel, if you don’t mind me asking,” Blaise said suddenly. “About your
brother, you know, dating a guy?”
“He’s loads better than Flint if that’s what you’re asking,” Ron said. “I can’t
believe he even thought about snogging that troll! George must have been hit by
a Delusion Charm or something.”
“No, no, I mean him dating a guy in general,” Blaise said. “Though I agree,
Flint’s a bit of a troll.”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Ron shrugged. “I mean, if he’s happy then go ahead.
I just don’t want to catch him and Wood snogging onto of the kitchen table or
something.”
Blaise chuckled and smiled at him, “Because it’s weird to see your brother
kissing?”
“That and I eat there!” Ron said horrified, shuttering at the thought. “I don’t
want to put my food on a place someone snogged on!”
“Fair enough,” Blaise chuckled. “What if you just see them, I don’t know,
snogging somewhere else, like a couch or something.”
“Stop em, or leave them alone,” Ron said. “Why you asking all these questions?”
“No reason Ron, no reason. Just need to get my mind from the exams,” Blaise
said. Ron chuckled and agreed. “So, what are your plans for the summer?” Blaise
asked.
“Dad’ll probably get tickets for the World Cup,” Ron said. “So we’ll go there
and see the Irish win.”
“The Irish?” Blaise chuckled. “Didn’t we have this conversation? The Bulgarians
are going to win.”
“Nah-uh the Irish,” Ron said smiled. Blaise laughed and shook his head.
“Whatever you say Ron, whatever you say.”
The two continued to talk and walk around the castle. They’ve gained a few
weird looks, but they didn’t notice as they talked about nothing. Their
excitement and conversation echoed throughout the castle as they walked. Even
though they entered June, a chill surrounded the castle as exam week began, an
unnatural hush fell over the castle. The third years emerged from
Transfiguration at lunchtime on Monday, limp and ashen-faced, comparing results
and bemoaning the difficulty of the tasks they had been set, which had included
turning a teapot into a tortoise. Hermione irritated the rest by fussing about
how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle, which was the least of everyone
else’s worries. Blaise and Ron barely saw each other, only giving friendly
“hellos” and “how are yous” as they past. Ron noticed that the week seemed to
affect Harry worst as he kept looking over at the Slytherin table, undoubtedly
looking at Draco. It was worse during their Charms exam, as they had that class
with the Slytherins, so Ron noticed that every now and then Harry looked at
Draco when he was supposed to be performing a Cheering Charm on Ron. As a
result, Harry overdid it and Ron ended up in fits of hysterical laughter and
had to be led away to a quiet room for an hour before he was ready to perform
the charm himself.
Their exams continued in a cycle of study, hastily eat, take, hastily eat,
take, and study more. Both Ron and Harry seemed to lose track of time as their
lives been consumed by the exams. Before they knew it, though thoroughly
exhausted, they were on the last day of exams. Harry felt nervous, as it was
also the day of the appeal, and both he and Draco had a horrible feeling as
they talked about it in their brief time they had together the night before.
But he had to push those feelings aside as he Ron walked towards their last
exam: Divination.
They climbed up the marble staircase, where they saw many of their classmates
sitting on the stairs, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.
“She’s seeing us all separately,” Neville informed them as they went to sit
down next to him. “Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?” he
asked them unhappily.
“Nope,” Ron said in an offhand voice. He kept checking his watch; Harry knew
that he was counting down the time until Buckbeak’s appeal started. Ron looked
at Harry and whispered, “You sure there was nothing Malfoy couldn’t do?”
“He kept sending letters, but he never got replies,” Harry whispered back.
The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person
climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, “What did
she ask? Was it okay?”
But they all refused to say.
“She says the crystal ball’s told her that if I tell you, I’ll have a horrible
accident!” Neville squeaked as he clambered back down the ladder.
“That’s convenient,” Ron snorted. “You know, I’m starting to think Hermione was
right about her, she’s a right old fraud.”
“Wish she’d hurry up though,” Harry said, checking his watch. Soon, the
familiar, misty voice called for Ron over their heads. Ron grimaced and left
Harry alone as he climbed the ladder. Harry settled himself on the floor with
his back to the wall, his mind across the grounds with Hagrid.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron’s large feet reappeared on the ladder.
“How’d it go?” Harry asked.
“Rubbish, couldn’t see a thing , so I made some stuff up Don’t think she was
convinced, though…” Ron said.
“Meet you in the common room,” Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney called his
name.
The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire
was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Harry cough as he stumbled through
the clutter of chairs and tables to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for
him before a large crystal ball.
“Good day, my dear,” she said softly. “If you would kindly gaze into the Orb.
…Take your time, now …then tell me what you see within it. …”
Harry bent over the crystal ball and stared, stared as hard as he could,
willing it to show him something other than swirling white fog, but nothing
came. His mind began to wander, first to Draco. He missed his boyfriend, and
wanted desperately to see the blonde Slytherin. But still the white fog just
swirled as his mind drifted towards Hagrid and Buckbeak, so he did what Ron did
and decided to pretend.
“I dark shape… um…”
“What does it resemble?” Professor Trelawney whispered, “Think, now… boy or
animal?”
“Animal… A hippogriff,” Harry said firmly.
“Indeed!” Professor Trelawney whispered, scribbling keenly on the parchment
paper upon her knees. “My boy, you may well be seeing the outcome of poor
Hagrid’s trouble with the Ministry of Magic! Look closer. …Does the hippogriff
appear to …have its head?”
“Yes,” Harry said firmly.
“Are you sure?” Professor Trelawney urged him. “Are you quite sure, dear? You
don’t see it writhing on the ground, perhaps, and a shadowy figure raising an
axe behind it?”
“No!” Harry said, starting to feel slightly sick.
“No blood? No weeping Hagrid?”
“No!” Harry said again, wanting more than ever to leave the room and heat. “It
looks fine it’s flying away. …”
Professor Trelawney sighed. “Well, dear, I think we’ll leave it there. … A
little disappointing …but I’m sure you did your best.”
Relieved, Harry got up, picked up his bag and turned to go, but then a loud,
harsh voice spoke behind him.
“IT WILL HAPPEN TONIGHT.”
Harry wheeled around. Professor Trelawney had gone rigid in her armchair; her
eyes were unfocused and her mouth sagging.
“S—sorry?” Harry said.
But Professor Trelawney didn’t seem to hear him. Her eyes started to roll.
Harry sat there in a panic. She looked as though she was about to have some
sort of seizure. He hesitated, thinking of running to the hospital wing—and
then Professor Trelawney spoke again, in the same harsh voice, quite unlike her
own.
“THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS
SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT …THE
SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL
RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS.
TONIGHT …BEFORE MIDNIGHT …THE SERVANT …WILL SET OUT…TO REJOIN… HIS MASTER. …”
***** The Shrieking Shack *****
                                  Chapter 16
                              The Shrieking Shack
Harry stared at Professor Trelawney. “Sorry?” Harry said. Then quite suddenly,
Professor Trelawney’s head snapped towards Harry.
“I’m so sorry, dear boy,” Professor Trelawney said dreamily, “the heat of the
day, you know … I drifted off for a moment. …”
Harry sat there, staring at her.
“Is there anything wrong, my dear?”
“N-No, nothing,” Harry lied. He quickly packed up, his mind buzzing with what
Professor Trelawney said. The Dark Lord returning? How is that possible? It
can’t be! Harry felt a bit of dread as he quickly made his way back to
Gryffindor Tower, he needed to tell Hermione and Ron before finding Draco. Fear
and confusion led his feet as he ran towards the Tower, practically shouting
the password at the Fat Lady when he reached the landing.
He found Ron and Hermione in the corner of the common room. “Professor
Trelawney,” he panted, “just told me—“
But he stopped abruptly at the sight of their faces.
“Buckbeak lost,” Ron said weakly, “Hagrid’s just sent this.”
Hagrid’s note was dry this time, no tears had splattered it, yet his hand
seemed to have shaken so much as he wrote that it was hardly legible.
Lost appeal. They’re going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don’t come
down. I don’t want you to see it.
Hagrid
“We’ve got to go,” Harry said, all thoughts of the Dark Lord fleeing his mind.
“He can’t just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!”
“Sunset, though,” Ron said, who was staring out the window in a glazed sort of
way. “We’d never be allowed…”
“We’ll use the Invisibility Cloak,” Hermione said. Harry and Ron agreed, the
three running up to the boy’s dormitory to get it. Harry hid it under his robes
as they went down to dinner with everybody else. Harry looked up at the
Slytherin Table and saw Draco, frowning at him. He didn’t need to say anything,
but Harry knew that Draco knew about the execution.
Harry excused himself and walked out of the Great Hall, he only had to wait
five minutes for Draco to follow. They both just stared at each other, not
knowing what to say or how to approach the subject. Knowing that death is just
hours away is a fickle thing.
Then, finally, Draco opened his mouth and said, “My father wrote me a letter.
…He seemed proud of it.”
“Hagrid’s distraught,” Harry said. “Told us not to come.”
“But you are … aren’t you?” Draco asked. Harry looked up and nodded his head.
“Wish I could come with you, but I don’t think he would be happy seeing a
Malfoy at the moment.”
“Yeah…” Harry said. He looked up at Draco and frowned. He didn’t cry, he
couldn’t cry, nor did he try to kiss his boyfriend, or even hug him. It felt as
if any physical attraction right now would be too grand, too happy for their
somber mood. But still he needed an anchor to the world, so he just reached out
and held Draco’s hand. “I’m a bit scared,” he admitted to Draco. “Not about the
execution… but about something else.”
“What?” Draco asked. Harry looked at him and told him about what Professor
Trelawney said to him only hours ago. “No way,” Draco said in disbelief. “She
had to be joking, right?”
“If she is, it’s a bad one,” Harry said. “But, You-Know-Who returning… that
worries me.”
“I know,” Draco said. “But he’s dead yeah? He died when he tried to kill you
and your dad.”
“When I was a baby…” Harry said. They looked at each other, then Draco said,
“I’m coming with you.”
“What?”
“I’m coming with you, to Hagrid’s.”
“No you’re not,” Harry said. “You’re not getting in trouble for something so
stupid as being out of the castle.”
“So then you’re not going,” Draco declared.
“Excuse me?”
“You are not going,” Draco said. “If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too
dangerous for you.”
“We are not going to have this argument,” Harry said, looking around to make
sure no one was listening in. “You are not going. Ron, Hermione, and I have the
Invisibility Cloak, and I am sure that four of us won’t all fit under it. I’m
sorry Draco, but I’m going. …Look, as soon as… as soon as we’re done, I’ll come
looking for you, okay?”
“Entrance hall at eight,” Draco said. “Don’t you dare be late.”
“I’ll won’t,” Harry said, happy that Draco understood his decision. They shared
a kiss then returned to dinner.
After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sneaked off from the crowd leaving the
Great Hall, and quickly slipped under the Invisibility Cloak. They made their
way to Hagrid’s and knocked, the sun was already sinking behind the Forbidden
Forest. Hagrid was initially mad that they’ve came to visit him, but Harry
suspected he was glad for their company. Buckbeak was outside the cabin, in the
pumpkin patch, Hagrid thought that he should see the trees and smell the fresh
air one last time.
Hagrid was tearful, and accidently smashed a milk jug as he explained that
Dumbledore was coming down to be with him during the execution. Hermione
offered to get a new one, and that was when she shrieked. “Ron! I—I don’t
believe it—it’s Scabbers!”
Ron gaped at her.
“What are you talking about?”
Hermione carried the milk jug over to the table and turned it upside down. With
a frantic squeak, and much scrambling to get back inside, Scabbers the rat came
sliding out onto the table.
“Scabbers!” Ron said blankly. “Scabbers, what are you doing here?”
He grabbed the struggling rat and held him up to the light. Scabbers looked
dreadful. He was thinner than ever, large tufts of hair had fallen out leaving
wide bald patches, and he writhed in Ron’s hands as though desperate to free
himself.
“It’s okay Scabbers!” Ron said. “No cars! There’s nothing here to hurt you!”
Hagrid suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. His normally ruddy face
had gone the color of parchment. “They’re comin’… Yeh gotta go,” he said, every
inch of him trembling. “Go now…”
Ron stuffed Scabbers into his pocket and Hermione picked up the cloak. They
followed Hagrid to the door to the back garden. Harry felt strangely unreal,
and even more so when he saw Buckbeak a few yards away, tethered to a tree
behind Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. They had no choice. Hermione threw the cloak
over Harry and Ron, they heard voices at the front of the cabin. Hagrid told
them to leave again, more forcefully, and slowly, in a kind of horrified
trance, the three set off silently around Hagrid’s house.
“Please, let’s hurry,” Hermione whispered. “I can’t stand it, I can’t bear it.
…” They started up the sloping lawn toward the castle. The sun was sinking fast
now; the sky had turned to a clear, purple-tinged grey, but to the west there
was a ruby-red glow.
Ron stopped dead.
“Oh, please Ron,” Hermione began.
“It’s Scabbers—he won’t—stay put—“
Ron was bent over, trying to keep Scabbers in his pocket, but the rat was going
berserk; squeaking madly, twisting and flailing , trying to sink his teeth into
Ron’s hand. Ron continued to struggle as they heard background noises, then, as
if cutting into their very souls, the unmistakable swish and thud of an axe
filled the air.
Hermione swayed on the spot.
“They did it!” she whispered to Harry. “I d—don’t believe it—they did it!”
But they didn’t have any time to mourn as Ron continued to struggle with
Scabbers, the rat trying desperate, frantically to escape Ron’s pocket. In his
struggles, the Invisibility cloak somehow was pulled off of them, lying on the
ground as Ron continued to fight with Scabbers. With one final bite, Ron
dropped the rat and yelled its name. Ron started to chase after Scabbers, Harry
and Hermione running after their friend, Hermione taking time to collect the
Invisibility Cloak.
“Scabbers, come here—“ Ron yelled as he ran. Harry saw a dart of orange, and
saw Crookshanks running towards them. “No!” Ron yelled. “Stay away—you ruddy
cat!” He bent for a grab just as Crookshanks pounced. “Gotcha!” Get off you
stinking cat—“
Harry and Hermione almost fell over Ron; they skidded to a stop right in front
of him. He was sprawled on the ground, but Scabbers was back in his pocket; he
had both hands held tight over the quivering lump.
“Ron—come on—back under the cloak—“ Hermione panted. “Dumbledore—the
Minister—they’ll be coming back in a minute—“
But become they could cover themselves again, before they could even catch
their breath, they heard the soft pounding of gigantic paws. …Something was
bounding toward them, quiet as a shadow—an enormous, pale-eyed, jet-black dog.
Harry reached for his wand, but too late—the dog had made an enormous leap and
the front paws hit him on the chest; he keeled over backward in a whirl of
hair; he felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth—
The dog, however, ignored Harry as he dropped his wand, and chased after Ron.
The dog’s jaws locked onto Ron’s leg, pulling the wizard to the ground, and
dragging him like a rag doll. Then, out of nowhere, something hit Harry so hard
across the face he was knocked off his feet again. He heard Hermione shriek
with pain and fall too.
They had chased Scabbers all the way towards the Whomping Willow. Harry saw the
dog drag Ron backward into a large gap in the roots—Ron was fighting furiously,
but it was no use.
“RON!” They both yelled.
Then, somewhere far off, Harry heard someone calling his name. He spun around
to see Draco Malfoy running towards them. “Go away!” Harry yelled. It’s too
dangerous, he thought.
“Harry! What’s going on?” Draco yelled as he ran up to the Whomping Willow.
“What happened—why are you—“
“Shut it Malfoy, something’s got Ron!” Hermione gasped. She was bleeding from
where she was hit as she frantically looked for a way to go after her friend.
“Harry—we’ve got to go for help—“ she said.
“No! That thing’s big enough to eat him, we don’t have time!” Harry said,
panting. “If that dog can get in, then so can we!” He started darting here and
there, trying to find a way through the vicious, swishing branches, but he
couldn’t get an inch nearer to the tree roots without being in range of the
tree’s blows.
“What exactly is going on?” Draco demanded.
“An enormous dog came out of nowhere and got Ron,” Hermione said quickly, as if
that was all she wanted to talk to Draco. Crookshanks darted forward. He
slithered between the battering branches like a snake and placed his front paws
upon a knot on the trunk.
Abruptly, as though the tree had been turned to marble, it stopped moving.
“Crookshanks!” Hermione whispered uncertainly. “How did he know—?”
“Come on—and keep your wand out—“ Harry said to Hermione. He looked at Draco
and said, “Go get help.”
“Screw that Potter, I’m coming with you,” Draco said. And to show that there
was no point of arguing, Draco pulled his wand out and marched ahead of
Hermione and Harry, into the gap under the tree. Reluctantly, Harry followed
and soon it was the three students, being led by Crookshanks as the cat
expertly walked down the tunnel.
“Where does this tunnel come out?” Hermione asked breathlessly from behind
Harry.
“I don’t know. …It’s marked on the Marauder’s Map but Fred and George said no
one’s ever gotten into it. …It goes off the edge of the map, but it looked like
it was heading for Hogsmeade. …”
“Where ever it goes, let just get there quickly before that thing eats
Weasley,” Draco whispered back.
They moved as fast as they could, bent almost double, ahead of them,
Crookshanks’s tail bobbed in and out of view. On and on went the passage; it
felt at least as ong as the one to Honeydukes. …All Harry could think of was
Ron and what the enormous dog might be doing to him. …He was drawing breath in
sharp, painful gasps, running at a crouch.
And then the tunnel began to rise; moments later it twisted, and Crookshanks
had gone. Instead, Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small
opening.
He, Hermione, and Draco paused, gasping for breath, edging forward. Their wands
raised to see what lay beyond.
It was a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls;
there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as
though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.
“Where are we?” Harry asked as they pulled themselves out of the hole.
“Harry… I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack,” Hermione whispered.
At the moment, there was a creak overhead. Something had moved upstairs. The
three looked at the ceiling. Quietly as they could, they crept out into the
hall and up the crumbling staircase. Harry took the head as they reached the
dark landing.
Only one door was open. As they crept toward it, they heard movement from
behind it; a low moan, and then a deep, loud purring. They exchanged a last
look, a last nod.
Wands held tightly before him, Harry kicked the door wide open.
On a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings lay Crookshanks, purring
loudly at the sight of them. On the floor beside him, clutching his leg, which
stuck out at an odd angle, was Ron.
Harry and Hermione dashed across to him, Draco walking cautiously into the
room.
“Ron—are you okay?”
“Where’s the dog?”
“Not a dog,” Ron moaned. His teeth were gritted with pain. “Harry, it’s a
trap—“
“What—“
“He’s the dog …he’s an Animagus. …”
Ron was staring over Harry’s shoulder. Harry wheeled around. With a snap, the
man in the shadows closed the door behind him. A mass of matted hair hung to
his shoulders. Eyes shining dark as he stared at them. “Expelliarmus!” the man
said with Ron’s wand.
Harry’s, Draco’s and Hermione’s wands shot out of their hands, high in the air,
and the man caught them. “This will make things a bit easier,” the man grunted.
“I thought you’d come and help your friend. Brave of you, not running for a
teacher. … Your father would have done the same.”
Infuriated at the mention of his father, Harry felt a boiling anger erupt
inside him. Whoever this man was, Harry wanted his wand back, not to stun, but
to hurt. To hurt so bad that even his father could feel it wherever that man
is.
Without knowing what he was doing, Harry started forward, but ther was a sudden
movement on either side of him and three pairs of hands grabbed him and held
him back. “Don’t even think about it Harry,” Draco hissed. “Harry, Stop,”
Hermione said.
Ron, however, spoke to the man. “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill
us too!”
Kill? Why would anyone want to kill Harry? The thought terrified him for a
moment, thinking that there was someone out there who wanted him dead, and he
didn’t know the reason why.
“Lie down,” the man said quietly to Ron. “You will damage that leg even more.”
“Did you hear me?” Ron said weakly, though he was clinging painfully to Harry
to stay upright. “You’ll have to kill all thre—four of us!”
“There’ll be only one murder here tonight,” the man said, and his grin widened.
“Why’s that?” Harry spat. “Who are you?”
“I’ve waited so long…” the man continued. He took a step towards them, but
stopped suddenly.
Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor—someone was moving
downstairs.
“WE’RE UP HERE!” Hermione screamed suddenly. “WE’RE UP HERE—QUICK!”
The man made a startled movement, Harry broke free from the hands holding him
and leapt towards the man, trying to get his wand. The footsteps were
thundering up the stairs when Harry landed on the man, his fists smashing into
the man’s stomach as he grabbed for the wands.
The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled
around as Professor Lupin-Black and his father came hurdling into the room,
wands at the ready. “Dad!” he yelled out. Lupin-Black’s eyes flickered over
Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering near Ron, Draco, not knowing
what to do, to Harry, still struggling to grab his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” Lupin-Black shouted. The wands in both the man’s and Harry’s
hands flew out of their grasps and into Lupin’s waiting hand. James ran forward
to Harry, and jerked him off of the man.
“Are you okay?” he breathed.
“Y-Yeah—but Dad,” Harry said, relieved that his father was here, forgetting
their last encounter.
His dad made sure that his son was okay, before turning to the man. “Where is
he Sirius?” he asked in a tense voice.
“D-Dad?” Harry asked, confused. “Sirius? Sirius Black!?”
He didn’t know what his dad meant. Sirius Black? Professor Lupin-Black’s
husband? Why is he here? And why is he trying to kill them?
Black’s face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn’t move at
all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron.
Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered.
“But then…” Professor Lupin-Black said, staring at his husband so intently it
was as if he was trying to read his mind, “…why hasn’t he shown himself before
now?”
“What is going on?” Draco demanded, looking between the three adults. He was
still stuck to his place, unable to move no matter how hard he wanted to go to
his boyfriend. The three adults turned their attention to him.
“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Hermione screamed.
The adults turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing
at Lupin, wide-eyed. “You—you—“
“Hermione—“
“—you and him!”
“Hermione, calm down—“
“I didn’t tell anyone!” Hermione shrieked. “I’ve been covering up for you—“
“Hermione, listen to me, please!” Lupin-Black shouted. “I can explain—“
Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.
“I trusted you!” he shouted at Lupin.
“Harry! That’s enough!” His father yelled at him. “Listen to us.”
“Harry, please—“
“Don’t trust him Harry!” Hermione said. “He’s a werewolf!”
There was a ringing silence. Draco instinctively moved towards Harry and James,
bending down to hold Harry. Everyone’s eyes were now on Lupin-Black, who looked
remarkably calm, though rather pale.
“Yes,” he said. “I am a werewolf, I will not deny that.”
Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain.
Lupin-Black made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped.
“Get away from me, werewolf!”
Lupin-Black stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione
and said, “How long have you known?”
“Ages,” Hermione said, “Since Professor Snape’s essay…”
“He’ll be delighted,” Lupin-Black said coolly. “He assigned that essay hoping
someone would realize why my symptoms meant.”
“Remus,” James spoke up. “Sirius says he’s here. Let’s get this over with.”
“What are you doing?” Harry demanded, shoving away from his dad and standing up
with the help of Draco. James frowned, but stood up as well.
“Look, we can explain later, but right now we just need him,” James said,
pointing towards Ron.
“M-Me? But I haven’t done anything!”
“Not you Ron,” James said. “Your rat. Scabbers.” He looked at Lupin-Black and
said, “You sure he brought him?”
“Yes,” Lupin-Black said. “The map showed Sirius dragging the two of them here.”
“But Black only pulled Weasley!” Draco argued.
“No, he pulled two,” Lupin-Black said. “The map never lies.”
“How do you know how the map works?” Harry demanded.
“Of course, he knew,” James said. “We made it. He was Moody, Sirius there was
Padfoot, and I was Prongs.”
Harry stared at his father in disbelief. James pointed at Ron again, and said,
“And there is Wormtail. Back from the dead.”
“Though, not for long,” Sirius added.
Ron stared at the adults, petrified with fear and confusion.
“Do you think I can have a look at the rat?” Lupin-Black said evenly.
“What?” Ron said. “What’s Scabbers got to do with it?”
“Everything,” James said. “Give Remus the rat, Ron.”
Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing
desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping.
Lupin-Black moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed
intently at Scabbers.
“What?” Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. “What’s
my rat got to do with anything?”
“That’s not a rat,” Sirius Black said suddenly. “He’s an Animagus, but the name
of Peter Pettigrew.”
It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ron
voiced what Harry was thinking.
“You’re all mental.”
“Ridiculous,” Hermione said faintly.
“You told me Pettigrew’s dead,” Harry said to his father. “Twelve years ago
after…”
“I know, it’s hard to believe, but it’s true Harry,” James said.
“Enough of this! Let’s just get it over with!” Sirius said as he lunged at
Scabbers. Ron yelled with pain as Black’s weight fell on his broken leg.
“Sirius, NO!” Lupin-Black yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black
away from Ron again. “WAIT! You can’t do it just like that—they need to
understand—we’ve got to explain—“
“We can explain afterwards!” Black snarled, trying to throw his husband off.
“They’ve—got—a—right—to—know—everything!” Lupin-Black panted, still trying to
restrain Black. “Ron’s kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don’t
understand! And Harry—we owe Harry the truth, Sirius!”
Black stopped struggling, though his eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was
clamped tightly under Ron’s bitten, scratched, and bleeding hands.
“All right then,” Black said without taking his eyes off the rat. “James tell
them,” he said. “But make it quick! If I am to be committed for murder, I
actually want to do it!”
James sighed and looked at Harry, speaking mainly to him, but his voice was
loud enough so everyone could hear. “You know, of course, about my days at
Hogwarts.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “You told me you and mum used to hang out a lot with three
other guys.”
James nodded. “Yeah, it was me, your mum, these two, and one other. But before
it was me and your mum, it was just the four of us. Me, Remus, Sirius, …and
Pettigrew. The four of us made that map, and used it to explore the castle.”
“That doesn’t explain how the rat can be Pettigrew,” Draco interrupted, staring
at his boyfriend’s father with distrust.
James shook his head and said, “I’m getting to that. This whole place, the
Whomping Willow, the tunnel, and the shack was built because of Remus. Before
Dumbledore was Headmaster, there was no way a werewolf would have come to
Hogwarts. But since the old man was way more sympathetic then the previous
headmasters, Remus was allowed and every full moon he was smuggled here so he
can transform. Sirius and I found out around our second year that this was
happening.”
“I was terrified that they would desert me the moment they found out what I
was,” Lupin-Black said. “But, of course, they worked out the truth, no matter
what excuse I’ve made up, and they didn’t desert me at all. Instead, they did
something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the
best times of my life. They became Animagi.”
“You too?” Harry asked, looking at his dad.
James nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked.
James shrugged, “You didn’t ask,” he said simply. “Besides, it’s been years
since I transformed. It would probably take a lot from me if I do it now.”
“So what?” Draco said in disbelief, “We’re supposed to accept that you three
just happened to learn to become Animagi?”
“Well it took us three years,” James said. “It was hard, really hard, Pettigrew
needed all the help he could get from us. But finally in our fifth year, we
were able to turn into animals at will.”
“But how did that help you?” Hermione said, sounding puzzled.
“They couldn’t keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,”
Lupin-Black answered. “A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out
of the caslte every month under James’s Invisibility Cloak. They transformed
…Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow’s attacking branches and
touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join
me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish,
but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.”
“Hurry up, Remus,” Black snarled, who was still watching Scabbers with a
horrible sort of hunger on his face.
“Harry,” James said suddenly. “What do you remember, of that night? You
remember what I told you?”
Harry nodded with a frown. “But wait,” Hermione interrupted. “It’s illegal for
you to become an Animagus and not register it with the Ministry.”
“Yes, it is Hermione,” Lupin nodded. “They became illegal Animagi in order to
help me during those nights.”
James nodded and looked at Harry, ignoring Hermione’s look of shock. “Harry?”
he repeated.
“You and mum went to Godric’s Hollow to hide me away,” Harry began. “Dumbledore
told you two that You-Know-Who was after us, and that hiding would be best. He
helped you two find the house, and suggested a Secret-Keeper. You and Mum
thought of using Sirius, but didn’t because it would be too obvious, but
instead you chose Pettigrew.”
James nodded solemnly. “A decision that I regret,” he sighed. “It was Sirius’s
idea to have Peter Pettigrew as our Secret-Keeper. We thought that the Dark
Lord wouldn’t go after him. But we were wrong. Pettigrew betrayed us to You-
Know-Who, and because of him your mother is dead.”
Harry looked at his father, not truly knowing if he should believe him or not.
“But, Pettigrew died, you said so yourself. You looked for him, but couldn’t
find him, and he was then left as dead.”
“Yes, we all thought he died,” James said. “But we were wrong.”
“How could you be wrong?” Draco asked.
“Easy, the map,” Lupin-Black said. “After Harry told me that he saw Pettigrew’s
name on the map, I couldn’t believe it. But when I saw it again tonight, I’ve
contacted James immediately and we chased after you.”
“Just give us the rat!” Sirius said, “It’ll be easier to show you then tell
you!”
“What are you going to do with him if I give him to you?” Ron asked Lupin-Black
tensely.
“Force him to show himself,” Lupin-Black said. “If he really is a rat, it won’t
hurt him.”
Ron hesitated. Then at long last, he held out Scabbers and Lupin-Black took
him. Scabbers bagan to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny
black eyes bulging in his head.
“Ready boys?” Lupin-Black asked Sirius and James. They both approached Lupin-
Black and the struggling rat, and his eyes seemed to be burning in his face.
“Together,” James said.
A flash of blue-white light erupted from the three wands; for a moment,
Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly—Ron
yelled—the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of
light and then—
It was like watching a speeded up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting
upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting a moment later, a man was standing
where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was
spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up.
He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin,
colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the
shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short
time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabber’s fur, and something of the
rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked
around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to
the door and back again.
“Well, hello, Peter,” Lupin-Black said pleasantly, as though rats frequently
erupted into old school friends around him. “Long time no see.”
“S—Sirius… R-Remus…J-James… My friends …my old friends …”
Black’s wand arm rose, but Lupin-Black seized him around the wrist, gave him a
warning look, then tunred again to Pettigrew, his voice light and casual.
“We’ve been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened the night Lily
died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around
down there on the bed—“
“Remus,” Pettigrew gasped, and Harry could see beads of seat breaking out over
his pasty face, “you can’t believe them—I was never their Secret Keeper—S-
Sirius was—“
“Lair!” Both Sirius and James roared.
Pettigrew flinched and looked at James. “J-James, surely you don’t mean this!
H-He did it! Yes, Sirius did! His family is full of dark wizards. … Surely you
can s-see that—that he was a spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!”
“Me a spy for Voldemort!?” Sirius yelled.
Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him.
“What, scared to hear your old master’s name?” Black said. “I don’t blame you,
Peter. His lot aren’t very happy with you, are they?”
“Don’t know what you mean, Sirius—“ Pettigrew muttered, his breathing faster
than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.
“So you’re the rat,” Draco said looking at Pettigrew. “My father mentioned he
remembered Death Eaters muttering something about a rat when he was under the
Imperius Curse.”
Sirius snickered coldly at the thought of Malfoy under the Imperius Curse.
Pettigrew looked at Draco and ran up to him. “Y-You must be a Malfoy,” he said,
clutching Draco’s robes. “Your father is an evil man; h-he lied about that!
Just as he lies about everything!”
“Don’t touch me, you filthy thing!” Draco said, forcing Pettigrew off of his
body as he shot the man a sharp, cold look that even sent a shiver up Harry’s
spine.
“We’ve heard enough,” Sirius said. He looked towards his husband, “Shall we
kill him together Remus?”
“Yes, I think so,” Lupin-Black said grimly. They looked over to James, who was
just staring gravely at Pettigrew. “James?”
“Do it,” James said.
“No!”
Pettigrew had fallen to his knees at James’s death sentence. He shuffled
forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though
praying. “Sirius—it’s me …it’s Peter …your friend…you wouldn’t…”
Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.
“M robes are filthy enough without you touching them,” he said.
Pettigrew scrambled to Ron. “Ron…haven’t I been a good friend… a good pet? You
won’t let them kill me, Ron, will you …you’re on my side, aren’t you?”
But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.
“I let you sleep in my bed!” he said.
“Kind boy… kind master…”Pettigrew crawled toward Ron, “you won’t let them do
it. …I was your rat. …I was a good pet. …”
“If you made a better rat than a human, it’s not much to boast about, Peter,”
Black said harshly. Ron, going still paler with pain, wrenched his broken leg
out of Pettigrew’s reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and
seized the hem of Hermione’s robes.
“Sweet girl… clever girl… you—you won’t let them. …Help me. …”
Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew’s clutching hands and backed away
against the wall, looking horrified.
Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly towards
Draco. “Young Malfoy. … Kind boy… you wouldn’t—“
Draco took a step back and spat on the ground in front of Pettigrew. Pettigrew
turned towards Harry, who was unconsciously holding Draco’s hand, and said,
“Harry… Harry…you look just like your father … just like him… but you have your
mother’s eyes…”
“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO MY SON! HOW DARE YOU EVEN THINK OF FACING HIM!” James
roared. “HOW ARE YOU MENTION HIS MOTHER IN FRONT OF HIM!”
“Harry,” Pettigrew whispered, shuffling toward him, hands out-stretched.
“Harry, Lily wouldn’t have wanted me killed. …Lily would have understood Harry,
she would have shown me mercy. …”
James and Sirius strode forward, seized Pettigrew’s shoulders, and threw him
backward onto the floor. “Don’t talk to my son,” James snarled at him.
Pettigrew sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.
“You sold us out to Voldemort,” James said “Admit it!”
“James… Sirius, what could I have done? THe Dark Lord …you have no idea…he has
weapons you can’t imagine. …I was scared, Sirius—James! I was never brave like
you two and Remus. I never meant it to happen. …He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced
me—“
“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME!” James bellowed.
“YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY DIED! YOU WERE
HIS SPY!” Sirius roared.
“He—he was taking over everywhere!” Pettigrew gasped. “Wh—what was there to be
gained by refusing him? James, he would have killed me!”
“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” James yelled. “DIED RATHER THEN BETRAY ME! BETRAY
MY WIFE! DIED FOR YOUR FRIENDS AS WE WOULD HAVE DIED FOR YOU!”
James looked back towards Harry and said, “Harry turn around. I don’t want you
to see this.”
“Dad—“
“Harry do this! Please!” James said. Harry saw that his father was shaking, his
arm trembling as he aimed his wand at Pettigrew.
“You can’t kill him!” Harry said.
“Harry, listen, this piece of garbage is the reason you grew up without a
mother,” James said. “He killed my best friend!”
“But you just can’t kill him Dad!” Harry said. “We’ll—We’ll take him to the
castle. We’ll hand him over to the dementors. …He can go to Azkaban … but don’t
kill him.”
“Harry!” Pettigrew gasped and he flung his arms around Harry’s knees.
“You—thank you—it’s more than I deserve—thank you—“
“Get off me,”
“Don’t touch him!” Draco and Harry said at the same time, throwing Pettigrew’s
hands off Harry in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you,” Harry said. “I just
don’t want my dad to become a murderer. And I’m sure Professor Lupin-Black’s
son wants the same.”
No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in
wheezes as he clutched his chest. James looked at his two friends, and they
each lowered their wand. “Okay,” James said. “You’re right Harry.”
He took a step closer to Pettigrew, “If you can move out of the way, Harry?”
Harry hesitated.
“I’m just going to tie him up,” his dad said. “We don’t want him running away
from us.”
Harry nodded and stepped to the side with Draco. Thin cords shot from James’s
wand and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.
“But if you transform, Peter,” Black growled, his own wand pointed at Pettigrew
too, “we will kill you. You agree Harry?”
Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that
Pettigrew could see him.
“Right,” Lupin-Black said suddenly businesslike. “Ron, I can’t mend bones
nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it’s best if we just strap your leg
up until we can get you to the hospital wing.”
“Let Harry try,” James said. “The boy still mends me up from dangerous Auror
missions.”
“You were just bleeding, not broken,” Harry muttered. “I only know the muggle
ways.”
“Then, let’s just strap him up,” Lupin-Black repeated. He hurried over to Ron,
bent down, tapped Ron’s leg with his wand, and muttered, “Ferula.” Bandages
spun up Ron’s leg strapping it tightly to a splint. Lupin-Black helped him to
his feet; Ron put his weight gingerly on the leg and didn’t wince.
“That’s better,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Two of us should be chained to this,” Black said, nudging Pettigrew with his
toe. “Just to make sure.”
“I’ll do it,” Lupin-Black said.
“And me,” Ron said savagely, limping forward.
Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again,
left arm chained to Lupin-Black’s right, right arm to Ron’s left. Ron’s face
was set. He seemed to have taken Scabbers’s true identity as a personal insult.
Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his
bottlebrush tail held jauntily high.
“Harry, Mal—Draco, wait,” James said as the others left the room. “We need to
talk.”
Harry stopped and looked at his father. James stood awkwardly at the door,
blocking the way out. “Yeah dad?” Harry asked.
“I um… I want to apologize,” James said. “For Eater break. What I said… it’s
unforgivable. I’m sorry for saying such a thing to my own son. Thing is… those
words weren’t mine. They were your grandparents’ words. They used to say that
to me when I was living with them, especially… after they caught me snogging a
boy. They called me a disgrace and I… I shouldn’t have called you that. I’m so
sorry Harry. If there’s anything that I could do for you to forgive me, I’ll do
it.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He was just staring at the floor near his father’s
feet as he listened to him. The room filled with a tense silence as Harry
thought of what to say. “It hurt me dad,” he said. “A lot. … but I think I can
forgive you.”
“Thank you Harry,” James smiled. “Now,” he said his voice more pleasant like as
he looked between Harry and Draco. “I wish we could have met in different
terms, and I’ve learned this from Harry, but we should probably get this over
with. “Hello Draco Malfoy, I am Harry’s father, James.”
“Hello Mr. Potter,” Draco said, politely shaking James’s hand. He flinched a
little when he felt James squeeze his hand a bit too roughly at he looked at
the two of them. “Some rules,” he said. “I know you are too young for this, way
too young for any of this. But all I want to see is hand holding. Light pecks
on the cheeks are okay, but Harry if I hear or see you and Mr. Malfoy doing
anything more serious, then there will be consequences. Do you understand me,
Draco Malfoy?”
“Yes Sir,” Draco said. Harry noticed that Draco was looking a bit paler than
usual as he stared up at James Potter, Auror. James gave a serious, threatening
grin and let go of Draco’s hand. “Good. Now, Harry, I need to ask you, have you
two told each other you love each other?”
“N-No dad!” Harry blushed, confused where this serious change of mood came
from.
“Good. Thirteen is too young to say those words,” James said. “Maybe when you
are both sixteen.”
“And when did you say you loved mum?” Harry challenged.
“When we were both nineteen and dating for two years,” James countered. “Now
Draco, you are welcomed to our home anytime. Just give me two days warning.”
“Y-Yes sir,” Draco said. James nodded, patted Draco’s back and pulled Harry in
an affectionate hug. “I’m glad that you’re not hurt, Harry. Now let’s go join
the others.”
The boys agreed and made their way out of the Shrieking Shack, quickly catching
up with the rest of the group as they walked through the tunnel, led by
Crookshanks. James and Sirius talked of missed times, both men keeping a
watchful eye on Pettigrew as they walked. “You know, you and Harry should visit
us during the summer,” Sirius said. “I’m sure Orion would love to meet Harry.”
“I don’t know,” James said. “Molly and I were talking of letting Harry stay at
the Burrow for most of the summer. Kingsley’s having me go to ruddy Albania for
something.”
“He’s sending you where?” Harry asked.
“Albania,” James said, looking back at his son. “Strange too, last time I was
sent out country was years ago. I guess they found something important there.
I’ll be leaving a month after Hogwarts end.”
“Then, visit us during that month,” Sirius said. “Come on Prongsly, we have so
much to catch up about!”
“Alright,” James shrugged. “I’ll see if I can let Harry outside for one day.”
He chuckled.
They didn’t talk again until they’ve left the tunnel. Crookshanks first, he had
evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because Lupin-Black,
Pettigrew, and Ron clambered upward without any sound of savaging branches.
Black exited next, followed by Hermione, James waiting for Harry and Draco to
leave before climbing after them.
The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of
the castle. Without a word, they set off. Pettigrew was still wheezing and
occasionally whimpering. Harry’s mind was buzzing as he and Draco held hands.
His talk with his father seemed to have lifted an unknown weight from both of
their shoulders as the two Potters walked.
A cloud shifted. There were suddenly dim shadows on the ground. Their party was
bathed in moonlight. Black and James froze. James threw out one arm to make
Harry, Draco, and Hermione stop.
Harry could see Lupin-Black’s silhouette. He had gone rigid. Then his limbs
began to shake.
“Did you take the potion?” Black cried out. “Remus, did you take the potion?”
“Run,” James whispered. “Run. Now.”
But Harry couldn’t run. Ron was chained to Pettigrew and Lupin-Black. He leapt
forward, but his father caught him around the chest and threw him back.
“Leave it to us—Run!”
There was a terrible snarling noise. Lupin-Black’s head was lengthening. So was
his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face
and hands, which were curling into clawed paws.
As the werewolf reared, snapping its long jaws, James disappeared from Harry’s
side. He had transformed, as did Sirius. An enormous bearlike dog bounded
forward, as well as a tall red stag. As the werewolf wrenched itself free of
the manacle binding it, the dog seized it about the neck and pulled it
backward, away from Ron and Pettigrew. The stag pushed into them as well,
forcing the two further away as the two were locked, jaw to jaw, claws ripping
at each other—
Harry stood, transfixed by the sight, too intent upon the battle to notice
anything else. It was Hermione’s screams that alerted him—
Pettigrew had dived for Lupin-Black’s dropped wand. Ron, unsteady on his
bandaged leg, fell. There was a bang, a burst of light—and Ron lay mothionless
on the ground. Another bang—Crookshanks flew into the air and back to the earth
in a heap.
“Expelliarmus!” Two voices yelled, Harry and Draco’s wands pointed at
Pettigrew. Lupin-Black’s wand flew high into the air and out of sight. “Don’t
move!” Draco yelled.
Too late. Pettigrew transformed. The last Harry saw of the rat, his tail
whipped through the manacle and he went scurrying into the grass.
There was a howl, a high piercing sound, and a rumbling growl; Harry turned to
see the werewolf taking flight; it was galloping into the forest—
“Dad!” Harry yelled.
His father was bleeding, as well as Sirius. There was blood coating the stag’s
fur, as well as gushing from the black fur of the enormous dog. Both stumbled
to their feet, but fell again as they walked away from the group.
Harry ran after them as Draco and Hermione ran towards Ron. Harry saw his
father and Black tumble down to the lake shore. “Dad!” he yelled again, chasing
after them. He pelted towards the lakeshore and saw his father and Sirius
laying down, human again. His father could barely stand, and Harry could hear
them moaning in pain and despair.
“Noo… not Harry… Please not Harry…” James moaned in fear as he struggled to get
on all fours.
And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least two hundred of them, gliding in a
black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold
penetrating his insides, fog staring to obscure his vision; more were appearing
out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them.
“Think of something happy,” he muttered to himself raising his wand, blinking
furiously as he try and clear his vision, shaking his head to get rid of the
fain screaming that had started inside it.
He forced himself to think of himself with his father, and Draco under the same
roof. “Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!”
His father gave a shutter and started crying out for Harry again, his skin
turning paler than death.
They’re all going to live. They’re going to live, and we are going to visit
them this summer.
“Expecto Patronum! Hermione! Draco! Help me! Expecto Patronum!”
He looked around, but nobody came.
The dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. James was screaming
now, yelling about Harry’s and Lily’s dead bodies. “I’M SORRY! I COULDN’T HAVE
DONE ANYTHING! I’M SORRY!”
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him.
“Expecto—expecto—“
Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding his eyes. With a huge
effort, he fought to remember any happy thought he could think of. “Expecto
patronum!” he gasped.
 
“Harry! Harry please wake up!” a voice called from beyond the darkness. Light
filtered through Harry’s vision. He was no longer at the lakeside. He was no
longer outside of Hogwarts. He was still wearing his tattered, dirty clothing,
but he was laying in a bed. “Harry! Oh thank God!” the same voice said before a
weight put on him.
Harry looked down and saw the blurry form of Draco holding onto him. “D-Draco?
What happened?” Harry asked. “Where are we?”
Draco looked up and frowned. He helped Harry get his glasses on, and he looked
around. They were in the hospital wing. “Harry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Hang on, where’s Dad? Sirius? Professor Lupin-Black?” Harry asked as he looked
around. He could only see him and Draco, the curtains were drawn around them.
“I’m so sorry Harry,” Draco said, Harry looked and saw tears welling in his
eyes. “It… it was an accident. Dumbledore is very pissed at the Minister.”
“Draco? Draco what happened?” Harry asked, fear swelling inside him as he
looked at his boyfriend’s sad, scared face. “Draco? Where is my dad?”
“He’s… they’ve been…I’m sorry Harry, but your dad and Black received the
Dementor’s Kiss.”
***** Harry's Patronus *****
                                  Chapter 17
                               Harry’s Patronus
“No, they can’t be!” Harry cried out. “Draco, please tell me—“
The doors to the Hospital Wing burst open, and Harry heard Dumbledore’s voice,
yelling, as multiple sets of feet walked into the wing.
“I have told you multiple times Cornelius that Dementors are terrible
creatures! Now look what they have done!” Dumbledore roared.
“Yes, yes I see that an unfortunately accident had occurred, but—“
“Accident? You call the Dementors taking two wizards’ souls accidents?”
Dumbledore demanded.
“Well, Dementors are dark creatures, Headmaster, I’m sure even you could
remember that,” the voice of Lucius Malfoy drawled. “They were simply acting on
instinct, they were hungry from the lack of meals they were being fed. Besides,
we should be lucky. The two victims were adults who were trespassing, not
students. Not a bit loss at all.”
“Really Lucius, now is not the time,” the Minister said meekly. “One of them is
your co-worker, James Potter.”
“We weren’t on same terms,” Lucius said.
Angry tears threatened to fall from Harry’s eyes as he pushed past Draco and
away from his bed. “Hey!” He yelled. The three adults turned around to see
Harry. Before they could react, Harry had his wand out and aimed at Lucius.
“Don’t you dare talk about my dad like that!” he yelled. Anger leading his
actions, Harry whipped his wand and a golden light jetted out of it. Dumbledore
and the Minister watched, shocked, but Lucius just smirked and produced a
Shield Charm with his wand.
“Honestly Dumbledore, if this is how his son treats his elders, there must be
something troubling about James’s parenting method,” Lucius said calmly.
Harry glared at him and began to cast another spell at the man who insulted his
father.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said warningly, giving him stern, yet sympathetic eyes.
Draco came out from Harry’s bed and stood beside him, holding his hand.
“Ahh umm Mr. Potter…” Cornelius said awkwardly, holding his bowler hat in his
hands. “So sorry about what happened. …Terrible accident, really. Horrible. I,
I uh don’t know what to say about this. Terrible accident…”
“This was your mostly fault Minister,” Hermione’s voice piped up. “Your
proposal for having dementors around as a protection against Dark Wizards was
always rocky, and kept avoiding the unpredictability of dementors in an open
space, as well as the very nature of Dementors, a creature that sucks all
happiness and positivity from any creature it nears.”
The Minister of Magic turned his attention to Hermione and angrily said, “I do
not need the opinion of a teenage witch, thank you very much!”
“It seems that they have somehow been confounded. It must have been that other
male who did it,” Lucius said. “He looked a suspicious type to me. Especially
considering his… marriage.”
“Yes, well… we will naturally look into that, Lucius,” the Minister said.
Dumbledore still didn’t look happy. “Minister, I believe we should continue
this elsewhere. Lucius, if you would bring him to my office.”
Lucius looked as if he was about to refuse, but instead he just stopped himself
and nodded. The two left, Lucius giving Harry a cold, emotionless stare which
turned to anger as he noticed him and Draco still holding hands. As soon as the
doors closed, Harry and Hermione started talking at once.
“Sir, it was Peter Pettigrew, he’s not dead. Dad and Sirius Black were here to
capture him—“
“There was no way this was an accident, please believe us—“
“There has to be a way to save Dad, it’s Pettigrew’s fault that—“
Dumbledore held up his hand and waited for silence. “I have listened to your
woes, and now it is time for me to speak.” Harry frowned and looked around the
hospital wing. At the end of the room were two curtains drawn closed. Harry
didn’t need to look and see to know that was where his father and Sirius are.
“I have no power to change what had happened to your father and his friend,
Harry,” Dumbledore said. “What we need,” he said slowly, and his light blue
eyes moved from Harry, to Draco, to Hermione, “is more time.”
“But—“ Hermione began. And then her eyes became very round. “OH!”
“Now, pay attention,” Dumbledore said, speaking very low and very clearly. “If
a Kiss occurs, you only have seconds to reverse it. You must get the dementors
away from the victim in those seconds. If all goes well, you will be able to
save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, all of you, you
must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law—you know what is at stake.
…You—must—not—be—seen.”
Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on. Dumbledore had turned on his heel
and looked back as he reached the door. “I am going to lock you in. It is—“ he
consulted his watch,” five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns
should do it. Good luck.”
“Good luck?” Harry repeated as the door closed behind Dumbledore. “Three turns?
What’s he talking about? What are we supposed to do?”
But Hermione was fumbling with the neck of her robes, pulling from beneath them
a very long, very fine gold chain.
“Harry, come here,” she said urgently. “Quick!”
Harry moved towards her, completely bewildered. She was holding the chain out.
He saw a tiny, sparkling hourglass handing from it.
“Here—“
“Don’t you dare leave me here,” Draco said as he stepped closer to Harry.
“Fine Malfoy, quickly!” Hermione said, not having time to argue. She threw the
chain around both their necks too.
“Ready?” she said breathlessly.
“What are we doing?” Harry said, completely lost.
Hermione turned the hourglass over three times.
The dark ward dissolved. Harry had the sensation that he was flying very fast,
backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding,
he tried to yell but couldn’t hear his own voice—
And then he felt solid ground beneath his feet, and everything came into focus
again—
He was standing between Hermione and Draco in the deserted entrance hall and a
stream of golden sunlight was falling across the paved floor from the open
front doors. He looked wildly around at Hermione, the chain of the hourglass
cutting into his neck.
“Hermione, what—?”
“In here!” Hermione seized Harry’s arm and dragged him across the hall to the
door of a broom closet, Draco running after; she opened it, pushed him inside
among the buckets and mops, then slammed the door behind Draco.
“What—how—Hermione, what happened?”
“We went back in time,” Draco whispered, fighting the chain off of his neck.
“Three hours back,” Hermione added.
“But—“
“Shh! Listen! Someone’s coming! I think—I think it might be us!”
Hermione had her ear pressed against the cupboard door as Draco pulled the
chain off of Harry. “Footsteps across the hall …yes, I think it’s us going down
to Hagrid’s!”
“Are you telling me,” Harry whispered, “that we’re here in this cupboard and
we’re out there too?”
“Exactly,” Draco whispered. “The thing Granger got is a Time Turner, though I
have no idea how she got it.”
“Professor McGonagall gave it to me on our first day back. It’s how I’ve been
getting to all my lessons,” Hermione whispered. “…We’re out of the doorway.
…Harry, I don’t understand what Dumbledore wants us to do. Why did he tell us
to go back three hours? How’s that going to help Sirius?”
Harry stared at her shadowy face, then turned to Draco.
“I don’t know,” Draco said. “Don’t expect me to answer all your problems,
Harry.”
“There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change,” he
said slowly. “What happened? We were walking down to Hagrid’s three hours ago.
…”
Draco hit his forehead. “The execution,” he said simply. “Remember? I was
waiting for you here so I could… help you after that hippogriff died.”
Hermione gave a small gasp. “That must be what Dumbledore wanted! Dumbledore
just said we could save more than one innocent life—Harry, we’re going to
rescue Buckbeak! Though, I still don’t understand how that will help…”
“I think I do,” Harry said. “He told us it’ll take a few seconds if a Kiss was
performed. Buckbeak could help us during those seconds!”
From what Harry could see of Hermione’s face, she looked terrified.
“If we managed that without being seen, it’ll be a miracle!”
“Well, we’ve got to try, haven’t we?” Harry said. He stood up and pressed his
ear against the door.
“Doesn’t sound like anyone’s there. …Come on, let’s go. …” Harry pushed open
the closet door. The entrance hall was deserted. As quietly and quickly as they
could, the three darted out of the closet and down the stone steps. The shadows
were already lengthening, the tops of the trees in the Forbidden Forest gilded
once more with gold.
“Wait, what about Malfoy?” Hermione asked, looking back at him. “Where were you
during this time?”
“In the Slytherin common room with Zabini,” Draco whispered back. “I didn’t
leave till half an hour after the execution. When I saw Harry, I came running.”
“Will you two be quiet?” Harry whispered back, “We’re almost at Hagrid’s!”
“Go around the greenhouses!” Hermione said breathlessly. “We need to keep out
of sight of Hagrid’s front door, or we’ll see us!”
Still working out what Hermione meant, Harry set off at a sprint, Hermione
behind him and Draco keeping up. They tore across the pumpkin patch to the
greenhouses, paused for a moment behind them, then set off again, fast as they
could, skirting around the Whomping Willow, tearing toward the shelter of the
forest. …
Safe in the shadows of the trees, Harry turned around; seconds later, Hermione
arrived beside him, panting.
“Right,” she gasped. “We need to sneak over to Hagrid’s. …Keep out of sight,
guys. …”
They made their way silently through the trees, keeping to the very edge of the
forest. Then, as they glimpsed the front of Hagrid’s house, they heard a knock
upon his door. They moved quickly behind a wide oak trunk and peered out from
either side. Hagrid had appeared in his doorway, shaking and white, looking
around to see who had knocked. And harry heard his own voice.
“It’s us. We’re wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it
off.”
“You shouldn’ve come!” Hagrid whispered. He stood back, then shut the door
quickly.
“This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done,” Harry said fervently. “Does my
voice actually sound like that?”
“Yes, now let’s get the damn hippogriff,” Draco whispered back.
The three crept through the trees until they saw the nervous hippogriff,
tethered to the fence around Hagrid’s pumpkin patch.
“Now?” Harry whispered.
“No!” Hermione said. “If we still him now, those Committee people will think
Hagrid set him free! We’ve got to wait until they’ve seen he’s tied outside!”
“And how long will that take Granger?” Draco whispered. “I say we just take the
hippogriff now and get done with it.”
“No, we can’t get him yet,” Hermione said again. They heard a loud breaking
noise, followed by a scream. “There’s me finding Scabbers,” Hermione whispered.
“Hermione, what I just—“
“No Harry,” Draco said. “Remember what Granger said? You can’t be seen.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Harry whispered.
“You were going to suggest that you run in there and grab the rat,” Draco said.
“Which will get either you or past self killed. Now stay here like a good
Gryffindor.”
Harry just gave Draco a cold, sharp glare but stood his place. Moments later,
they saw the distant frond doors of the castle opening, and Dumbledore, Fudge,
and Macnair the executioner coming down the steps. Soon enough, the back door
to Hagrid’s cabin opened, and Harry watched himself, Hermione, and Ron walking
out of it with Hagrid. It was, without a doubt, the strangest sensation of his
life, standing behind the tree, and watching himself in the pumpkin patch.
Draco pulled Harry and Hermione away from the trees as their counterparts threw
the cloak over themselves and left. There was a knock on Hagrid’s front door.
The execution party had arrived. Hagrid turned around and headed back into his
cabin, leaving the back door ajar.
“Where’s the beast?” came the could voice of Macnair.
“Out—outside,” Hagrid croaked.
Harry pulled his head out of sight as Macnair’s face appeared at Hagrid’s
window, staring out at Buckbeak. Then they heard Fudge.
“We—er—have to read you the official notice of execution, Hagrid. I’ll make it
quick. And then you and Macnair need to sign it. Macnair, you’re supposed to
listen too, that’s procedure—“
Macnair’s face vanished from the window. It was now or never.
“Wait here,” Harry said to Hermione and Draco. “I’ll do it.”
“Feel free,” Draco said, looking at the hippogriff with apprehension.
As Fudge’s voice started again, Harry darted out from behind his tree, vaulted
the fence into the pumpkin patch, and approached Buckbeak. Careful not to
blink, Harry bowed and stared into Buckbeak’s orange eyes. Buckbeak sank to his
scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry began to fumble with the knotted
rope tying Buckbeak to the fence.
“Come on,” Harry murmured, “come on, we’re going to help you. Quietly
…quietly…”
Harry threw all his weight onto the rope, but Buckbeak had dug in his front
feet.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” said the reedy voice of the Committee member
from inside Hagrid’s cabin. “Hagrid, perhaps it will be better if you stay
inside—“
“No, I—I wan’ ter be with him. …I don’ wan’ him ter be alone—“
Footsteps echoed from within the cabin.
“Buckbeak, move!” Harry hissed. He tugged harder on the rope around Buckbeak’s
neck. The hippogriff began to walk, rustling its wings irritably. Harry heard
footsteps behind him and turned quickly to see Draco coming out to help him.
The two pulled, and they were about six feet away from the forest, still in
plain view of Hagrid’s back door.
“One moment please, Macnair,” came Dumbledore’s voice. “You need to sign too.”
The footsteps stopped. Harry and Draco heaved on the rope. Buckbeak snapped his
beak and walked a little faster.
Hermione’s white face was sticking out from behind a tree.
“Guys, hurry!” she mouthed.
Harry could still hear Dumbledore’s voice, talking from within the cabin. He
and Draco gave the rope a final wrench, Buckbeak broke into a grudging trot.
They had reached the trees. …
“Quick! Quick!” Hermione said, darting out from behind her tree, seizing the
rope too and adding her weight to make Buckbeak move faster.
“Stop!” Harry whispered when they were out of sight from Hagrid’s cabin. “They
might hear us—“
Hagrid’s back door opened with a bang. The three students and Buckbeak stood
quite still; even the hippogriff seemed to be listening intently.
“Where is it?” said the voice of the Committee member. “Where is the beast?”
“It was tied here!” The executioner said furiously. “I saw it! Just here!”
“How extraordinary,” Dumbledore said. “There was a note of amusement in his
voice.
“Beaky!” Hagrid said huskily. There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an
axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into the fence in anger.
“We have to search immediately!” Fudge began. “Search the grounds—“
“Search the skies, if you will,” Dumbledore said amused. “Hagrid, I could do
with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy.”
“O’—o’ course, Professor,” Hagrid said, who sounded weak with happiness. “Come
in, come in. …”
Harry and Hermione listened closely. They heard footsteps, the soft cursing of
the executioner, the snap of the door, and then silence once more.
“Now what?” Harry whispered, looking around. He turned to see Buckbeak away
from them, but instead staring sharply at Draco, who was returning the glare.
“Draco?” he whispered.
Draco’s brow was sweating as he and Buckbeak kept staring at each other, angry
orange meeting steely silver. Buckbeak’s eyes sharpened as he took a step
forward.
“Harry! They might hear him,” Hermione whispered.
Harry couldn’t move, he didn’t know what to do as the hippogriff and his
boyfriend continued to stare. It looked as if Buckbeak, after his failed
attempted of hurting Draco, was about to try again. But then, before anyone
could move, Draco opened his mouth and whispered, “Sorry.”
Buckbeak continued to glare at Draco, but stayed quiet. The two continued to
stare, one too scared to move and the other just staring. Then, finally, after
a tense silence Buckbeak looked away, busying himself with something else. Both
Draco and Harry breathed a breath they didn’t know they were holding and looked
at Hermione.
“What now?” Draco asked.
“We’ll have to hide here,” Hermione said, who looked very shaken. “We need to
wait until they’ve gone back to the castle. Then we can move.”
“We might as well wait by the Whomping Willow,” Harry said. “That way we know
when we’ve gone in.”
“Good idea,” Draco nodded. The three moved quietly through the forest’s edge,
hiding behind the trees as they slowly made their way to the Whomping Willow.
Darkness was falling thickly around them, until they were hidden behind a clump
of trees through which they could make out the Willow.
“There’s Ron,” Harry said suddenly.
They watched as Ron chased after Scabbers, as two other figures materialize out
of nowhere. They ran, before a huge black dog jump out of nowhere and latched
onto Ron. “There’s Sirius!” Harry said.
“This is so weird…” Harry said as he watched himself getting struck by a branch
from the Whomping Willow.
“There I am,” Draco pointed out as a fourth figure came running towards the
Whomping Willow. The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its
lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to
reach the trunk. And then the tree froze.
“That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” Hermione said.
“And there we go. …” Harry muttered. “We’re in.”
Seconds later, the tree began to move again. They waited, and after a few
moments, they saw the castle door open again and two figures came running out.
“Dad…” Harry said. He began to move, but both Hermione and Draco stopped him.
“What are you doing?” Hermione whispered.
“I need to warn him,” Harry said urgently. “I need to—I need to tell him about
the Dementors!”
“Harry, you can’t,” Draco said. “We can’t be seen! Look, he’ll be alright,
that’s why we’re here.”
“I need to tell him, Draco let go!” Harry struggled against Draco’s hold.
“Dad—Mphh” Draco placed his hand on Harry’s mouth and used all his strength to
pull Harry back.
“It’s too late, they’re inside,” Hermione pointed out, Harry turned to see the
fleeing figures of his dad and Professor Lupin-Black entering the tunnel.
“We’re all in,” Hermione sighed.
“Dad!” Harry struggled. With a final struggle, he just collapsed against Draco.
“Now what?” he asked Hermione.
“Now, we wait,” Hermione said. She tied Buckbeak’s rope to a tree and looked at
Harry. “Harry, there’s something that’s been bothering me. Why didn’t the
dementors get you?”
“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “I remember being surrounded by the dementors,
trying to cast the Patronus, but I kept failing. The dementors kept coming
closer and closer, but I still couldn’t do it, then everything went black and I
woke up at the hospital bed.”
Hermione nodded, and sat down. Harry and Draco sat too, and they’ve begun to
wait. The three were afraid to talk, not that they were in any mood to do so.
All of their attention were fixed solely on the Whomping Willow, waiting for it
to stop moving again. Hermione looked back at Harry and Draco, and asked “What
did he wanted to talk about? Your dad?”
“He wanted to apologize,” Harry said. “For the way he treated me during the
Easter break. …He told Draco and me why he was like that. It seems my
grandparents didn’t like guys like me and Draco, and one day they caught dad
snogging a boy.”
“Oh,” Hermione frowned. “Must have been tough.”
Harry nodded, and they said no more.
The leaves overhead rustled faintly in the breeze. The moon drifted in and out
of sight behind the shifting clouds. Hermione sat with her face turned toward
the Willow, waiting.
And then, at last, after over an hour …
“Here we come!” Hermione whispered.
The three stood to their feet. Buckbeak raised his head. They saw Lupin-Black,
Ron, and Pettigrew clambering awkwardly out of the hole in the roots. Then came
Hermione. Last came out Harry, Draco, his dad, and Sirius. They all began to
walk toward the castle.
Harry’s heart was starting to beat very fast. He glanced up at the sky. Any
moment now, that cloud was going ot move aside and show the moon. …
“Harry,” Hermione muttered as though she knew exactly what he was thinking,
“we’ve got to stay put. We mustn’t be seen. There’s nothing we can do. …”
“So we’re just going to let that damn rat get away?” Draco asked.
“How do you expect to find a rat in the dark?” Hermione snapped. “There’s
nothing we can do! We came back to help your dad and Sirius; we’re not supposed
to be doing anything else!”
“Fine!” Both Harry and Draco said.
The moon slid out from behind its cloud. They saw the tiny figures across the
grounds stop. Then they saw movement.
“That’s Lupin-Black,” Hermione whispered.
“Hermione,” Harry said suddenly. “We have to move!”
“We mustn’t I keep telling you—“
“There’s going to be a werewolf coming straight for us Granger!” Draco said.
Hermione gasped.
“Quick!” She moaned, dashing to untie Buckbeak. “Quick! Where are we going to
go? Where are we going to hide? The dementors will be coming any moment—“
“Head for the lake!” Harry said. “We can save dad.”
Hermione had no time to argue as Harry started to run off. Draco and Hermione
ran after him, Hermione holding onto Buckbeak’s rope as the hippogriff trotted
after them. Harry kept staring at the figures as he dashed out of the woods and
across the grounds, heading towards the part of the forest that hugged the far
side of the lake. He heard Hermione’s voice as she and Draco kept to the trees,
but didn’t care. He needed to be at the lake. He needed to save his dad, to
stop those dementors. “Harry! What were you thinking?” Hermione gasped when she
finally caught up to him. “You could have been seen.”
“Look!” Draco said, pointing at the other side of the lake. There, at the top
of the incline, a red stag and huge black dog came tumbling down the hill, the
animals turning human when they reached the bottom. They watched as Harry’s
figure came running down the hill, and soon Harry felt a familiar icy coldness
seize him as the dementors appeared.
“Harry…” Hermione said warningly. They watched the other side of the lake,
where tiny glimmers of silver appeared, his own attempts at a Patronus.
“Harry, they’re going to die at this rate,” Hermione said again.
The dementors were starting to surround the other side of the lake, and Harry
saw that the silver glimmers stopped.
“Potter!” Draco yelled.
Then, Harry moved. Without thought, without reason, Harry moved towards
Buckbeak and jumped on his back. Buckbeak made a noise of protest, shaking his
head wildly as the rope jerked out of Hermione’s hands. Harry took out his wand
as Buckbeak began running towards the edge of the lake. Buckbeak’s wings
expanded, and before he took a step in the water, he took flight, gliding
quickly towards the Dementors. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry yelled, thinking of
his best memory, and ridding off the high that flying on Buckbeak gave him.
And out of the end of his wand burst, not a shapeless cloud of mist, but a
blinding, dazzling silver animal. He screwed up his eyes, trying to see what it
was. It looked like a horse. It was galloping alongside him and Buckbeak,
before heading off towards the dementors, across the black surface of the lake.
He saw it lower its head and charge at the swarming dementors. …Now it was
galloping around and around the black shapes on the gorund, and the dementors
were falling back, scattering, retreating into the darkness. …They were gone.
The Patronus stopped in front of the three collapsed figures. Harry and
Buckbeak made it to the other side of the lake. It wasn’t a horse, nor was it a
unicorn. It was a stag. It was shining brightly as the moon above. … It lowered
its head, and Harry ran towards his father’s body. “Dad! Dad!” he yelled. His
father’s body was pale, and bruised badly. It looked as if his soul was already
gone. Sirius’ body was the same.
He looked around and saw his own body unconscious. It was strange, looking at
his own body from the outside, but he didn’t think about that now. Now, he had
to save his father. “Dad, dad…” Harry cried, fighting the tears in his eyes.
The Patronus stepped towards Harry’s father and lowered until it’s head touched
James. As soon as the Patronus touched James’s body, light returned to him. His
complexion came back, and for a moment Harry heard groaning. James’s brown eyes
opened and met Harry’s emerald. “Harry…” he groaned his strength low. “Good
job. …” he breathed before collapsing again, still breathing.
Harry smiled as he hugged his father’s unconscious body. He’s back! He’s been
saved!
Harry was so busy hugging his father’s body, he didn’t notice his Patronus was
doing the same with Sirius’s body. Color returned to Sirius, and the Stag stood
between both of them before vanishing.
“Harry!” Draco’s voice cried out.
Harry got up from his father to see Hermione and Draco running after him.
“Harry,” Draco panted. “What did you do?”
“It was the Patronus,” Harry said. “Even though The Dementors performed the
Kiss, the Patronus still somehow saved them! It just touched them, and their
souls were back.”
“But… there’s no cure to a Dementor’s Kiss,” Draco stated. “How could that have
happened…”
“I don’t know, but we did it!” Harry smiled. “We did it.”
“Harry, we need to move before someone sees us!” Hermione said. Harry nodded,
and the three of them raced away from the lake. Harry looked back, and saw
Buckbeak was still standing there, at the edge of the lake. “Buckbeak!” Harry
yelled.
But he was too late, for as he turned to run back for Buckbeak, a figure
appeared. Draco grabbed the neck of Harry’s clothes and pulled him back into
the trees. There they watched as the figure approached Buckbeak. Terrified,
they heard Dumbledore’s amused voice saying, “Ahh, and there is the rogue
hippogriff. Hagrid will be more than delighted to hear that you are safe, I am
sure. Now then…” he took out his wand and three stretchers appeared under the
bodies of Harry, Sirius, and James. “I advise you to wait in the forest until
our guests are gone,” Dumbledore chuckled. Buckbeak bowed and turned from
Dumbledore, retreating into the forest. “I wonder how he’s gotten here,”
Dumbledore mused to himself as he turned towards the castle, the three
stretchers following him.
“He’s safe too,” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They waited until Dumbledore
was out of sight before thinking of moving again. Hermione checked her watch.
“Harry! We have fifteen minutes!” she said, sounding panicked.
The three shared a look before starting to run towards the castle. When they’ve
reached the entrance hall, they heard footsteps. Again, they hid in the closet
as the footsteps came closer and closer.
“It seems as if the Dementors have performed their duty,” came the voice of
Lucius Malfoy.
“Yes, but Lucius, one of those attacked was James Potter!” Fudge said.
“A shame, oh well,” Lucius replied. Their footsteps stopped in front of the
entrance hall. “I suppose that Potter boy is now an orphan.”
“Are you suggesting you’ll take care of the boy, Lucius?” Fudge asked. “After
all, if what I hear is correct, your son and Harry are very close.”
Lucius tsked, “Of course not Minister,” he said. Harry could hear the anger in
his voice. “The boy has… muggle relatives. I am sure they would be more than
happy to take him in.”
“Yes… yes, I suppose they’ll have to know too,” Fudge nodded. “Come Lucius, we
have better explain this terrible accident to Dumbledore.”
Harry heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and waited until there was
silence before he opened the door. He poked his head out, before stepping
outside fully, followed by Draco and Hermione. Seething with angry, Harry
looked at Draco and said, “No offence, but I hate your father.”
“I understand,” Draco nodded.
“Guys, we only have seven minutes left,” Hermione said in a panicked voice.
The three ran up the staircase, and had to hide again as Peeves came floating
down, causing a loud distraction, giggling with glee.
“He’s horrible,” Hermione said.”He’s probably happy that the Dementors got to
your dad and Sirius.”
Harry and Draco agreed, but said nothing as they were forced to wait for Peeves
to leave. When he was gone, they started running again. “One minute!” Hermione
panicked as they turned a corner. They crept along the corridor. “I can hear
Dumbledore’s voice!” Hermione said.
The door opened. Dumbledore’s back appeared.
“I am going to lock you in,” they heard him saying. “It is five minutes to
midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck.”
Dumbledore backed out of the room, closed the door, and took out his wand to
magically lock it. Panicking, the three ran forward. Dumbledore looked up, and
a wide smile appeared under the long silver mustache. “Well?” he said quietly.
“We did it!” Harry said breathlessly. “The Patronus touched them, and they’re
saved.”
Dumbledore beamed at them.
“Well done. I think—“ He listened intently for any sound within the hospital
wing. “Yes, I think you’ve gone too—get inside—I’ll lock you in—“
Harry, Draco, and Hermione slipped back inside the dormitory. Ron was still
laying motionlessly in the end bed, and Harry immediately ran towards his
father’s bed to see him. His complexion was normal and even though scratches
were covering his body, he looked as if he was just sleeping.
Draco and Hermione crept to their own beds as Madam Pomfrey came striding back
out of her office. “Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look
after my patients now?”
She was in a very bad mood, but soften slightly as she pulled Harry from
James’s bed. The three took their pieces of chocolates quietly, Harry hardly
able to swallow them as he kept looking at his father’s bed.
And then, around his fourth piece of chocolate, they heard a rustling sound.
Harry stared at his father’s bed as James sat up, looking around groggily. When
Madam Pomfrey saw him, she shrieked as if seeing the dead come back from life.
Sirius rose as well, and after she finished her screaming, Madam Pomfrey’s mood
became more sour as she busied herself inspecting every inch of James and
Sirius, forcing them to answer questions to make sure that they were actually
back.
“The Headmaster needs to know about this at once!” she said when she finished,
scurrying out of the Hospital Wing like a madwoman.
James and Sirius just looked at each other and started to laugh.
***** Love(?) Consummated *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning! Harry and Draco will be having sex! If you don't want to
     read that part, skip from where it says "The Dormitories should be
     empty" to "Harry nodded and watched as Draco slipped off of him." I
     was sure I've put this warning, oh well.
                                  Chapter 18
                              Love(?) Consummated
Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron left the hospital noon the next day. Harry’s
dad and Sirius left during the morning after hearing several apologies from the
Minister for the incident. James promised to see Harry at the station when
school finishes, and told Draco to watch out for him. Harry found the entire
school to be deserted. The sweltering heat and end of the exams meant that
everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Neither Ron nor
Hermione felt like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds,
Draco making sure that Harry never walked out of his hand. Sitting near the
lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water,
Harry lost the thread of the conversation as he laid down on Draco’s lap.
A shadow fell across them and they looked up to see a very bleary-eyed Hagrid,
mopping his sweaty face with one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs and
beaming down at them. “Guess what?” he said.
“What?” they said, pretending to look curious.
“Beaky! He escaped! He’s free! Bin celebratin’ all night!”
“That’s wonderful!” Hermione said, giving Ron a reproving look because he
looked as though he was close to laughing.
“Yeah …can’t’ve tied him up properly,” Hagrid said, gazing happily out over the
grounds. “I was worried this mornin’, mind, after Dumbledore brought Beaky back
…thought he mighta met Professor Lupin-Black on the grounds, but Lupin says he
never ate anythin’ las’ night. …”
“What?” Harry said quickly, shooting up from Draco’s lap.
“Blimey, haven’ yeh heard?” Hagrid said, his smile fading a little. He lowered
his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. “Er—Snape told all the
Slytherins this mornin’. …Thought everyone’d know by now …Professor Lupin’s a
werewolf, see. An’ he was loose on the grounds las’ night. …He’s packin’ now,
o’ course.”
“he’s packing?” Harry said, alarmed. “Why?”
“Leavin’ isn’ he?” Hagrid said, looking surprised that Harry had to ask.
“Resigned firs’ thing this mornin’. Says he can’t risk it happenin’ again.”
Harry scrambled to his feet, Draco following.
“I’m going ot go see him,” he told Ron and Hermione.
“But if he’s resigned—“
“—doesn’t sound like there’s anything we can do—“
“I don’t care. I still want to see him. I’ll meet you back here.”
Lupin-Black’s office door was open. He had already packed most of his things.
The grindylow’s empty tank stood next to his battered old suitcase, which was
open and nearly full. Lupin-Black was bending over something on his desk and
looked up only when Harry knocked on the door.
“I saw you two coming,” Lupin-Black said, smiling. He pointed to the parchment
he had been poring over. It was the Marauder’s Map.
“We just saw Hagrid,” Harry said.
“You’re resigning?” Draco asked.
Lupin-Black nodded. “I’m afraid I am,” he said. He started opening his desk
drawers and taking out the contents.
“Why?”Harry asked.
Lupin crossed to the door and closed it behind the couple.
“Severus… accidently let slip that I am a werewolf this morning at breakfast,”
Lupin-Black said.
“You’re not leaving just because of that!” Harry said.
Lupin-Black smiled wryly.
“This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents. …They will not
want a werewolf teaching their children, Harry. And after last night, I see
their point. I could have bitten any of you. …That must never happen again.”
“People,” Draco said to Harry, “People really hate werewolves Harry. We think…
they think, that werewolves are dangerous creatures. You remember Snape’s
lessons right?”
“Yeah but… Professor Lupin-Black’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts
teacher we’ve ever had!” Harry said. “Don’t go!” he added, looking at Lupin-
Black.
He shook his head and didn’t speak. He carried on emptying his drawers. Then,
while harry was trying to think of a good argument to make him stay, Lupin
said, “From what the headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives
last night, Harry. If I’m proud of anything I’ve done this year, it’s how much
you’ve learned. …Tell me about your Patronus.”
“How d’you know about that?” Harry asked, distracted.
“What else could have driven the dementors back?”
Harry told Lupin what had happen. When he’d finished Lupin was smiling again.
“Just like your father,” he said. “Your Patronus is your father, like last
night he always transformed into a stag. That’s why we called him Prongs.”
Lupin threw his last few books into his case, closed the desk drawers, and
turned to look at Harry and Draco. “Here—I brought this from the Shrieking
Shack last night,” he said, handing Harry back the Invisibility Cloak. “And…”
he hesitated, then held out the Marauder’s Map too. “I’m sure your dad would
yell at me if I didn’t give this too. Not to mention Sirius too …”
Harry took the map and grinned.
Draco looked at Lupin-Black and said, “You have a son, right? What do you do…
during the full moons?”
“If you’re wondering if he’s in risk of being hurt, don’t worry,” Lupin-Black
said. “I’ve carried him for nine months, both as a human and a werewolf. The
other me knows that Orion is my child.”
“Is he err… you know,” Draco asked.
“Half werewolf? No,” Lupin-Black frowned. “I was so afraid that he was going to
be like me. “He is fully human. I don’t know what I would do if he… never mind,
you two don’t need to hear this.”
There was a knock on the door. Harry hastily stuffed the Marauder’s Map and the
Invisibility Cloak into his pocket.
It was Professor Dumbledore. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry there.
Harry, however, was surprised to see a little kid walking after Dumbledore. The
kid had ruffled black hair, and looked like a miniature Sirius. “Your carriage
is at the gates, Remus,” Dumbledore said, “as well as your escort.”
“Hi Dad!” the child said.
“Thank you headmaster,” Lupin-Black said before smiled at the child. “Hello
Orion.”
He boy came up to Lupin-Black and hugged him before looked at Professor
Dumbledore. “Professor Dumbledore was telling me all about the castle,” Orion
told his dad.
Dumbledore chuckled and said, “He has quite a mind your son. I am sure Hogwarts
will be more than happy to have him in our halls next September.”
“Yes, thank you Headmaster,” Lupin-Black said. He picked up his old suitcase
and the empty grindlylow tank. “Well—good bye, Harry, Draco,” he said, smiling.
“It has been a real pleasure teaching you. I feel sure we’ll meet again
sometime. Headmaster, there is no need to see me to the gates, we can manage…”
Harry had the impression that Lupin-Black wanted to leave as quickly as
possible.
“Good-bye, then, Remus,” Dumbledore said soberly. Lupin-Black shifted the tank
slightly so that he and Dumbledore could shake hands. Then, with a final nod to
Harry and Draco and a swift smile, Lupin-Black left the office, Orion leading
the way.
Harry sat down in his vacated chair, staring glumly at the floor. He heard the
door close and looked up. Dumbledore was still there. “Why so miserable,
Harry?” he said quietly. “You should be very proud of yourself after last
night. You too, Draco.”
“It didn’t make any difference,” Harry said bitterly. “Pettigrew got away.”
“Didn’t make any difference?” Dumbledore said quietly. “It made all the
difference in the world, Harry. You helped uncover the truth. Your father and
Sirius are alive, thanks to your help.”
“I know, and I’m happy that he’s safe but—“ Harry remembered Trelawney’s
prediction—“Professor Dumbledore—yesterday, when I was having my Divination
exam, Professor Trelawney went very—very strange.”
“What do you mean Harry?” Draco asked, looking confused.
“Her voice went all deep and her eyes rolled and she said…she said Voldemort’s
servant was going to set out to return to him before midnight. …She said the
servant would help him come back to power,” Harry stared up at Dumbledore. “And
then she sort of became normal again, and she couldn’t remember anything she’d
said. Was it—was she making a real prediction?”
“Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been,” Dumbledore said
thoughtfully. “Who’d have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions
up to two.  I should offer her a pay raise. …”
“But—“
“Relax Harry,” Draco said. He walked towards Harry’s chair and wrapped his arms
around his boyfriend. “I know what you’re thinking Harry, and it’s not your
fault. He might come back, but it’s not your fault. You saved your dad, and
Sirius, and that hippogriff. They would all be gone if it weren’t for you.”
“He’s right Harry,” Dumbledore nodded. “You have done well so far. I could not
have asked you to do anything else. Do not worry about what might happen, you
deserve to live life carefree.”
“But Pettigrew is going to Voldemort,” Harry said.
“But he’ll owe a debt to you,” Draco said. “I’m sure the Dark Lord does not
want a servant who owes a debt to his enemy.” He smiled softly and kissed
Harry’s head. “So don’t worry about it, alright?”
“I guess…” Harry said, looking up at Draco. Dumbledore left the office, leaving
the two alone.
“I don’t know about you Harry,” Draco said. “But I don’t want to return to our
friends right now.”
“I know… when was the last time we’ve been alone together?” Harry asked.
Draco smirked. “I think when you showed me that little show of yours,” he
chuckled. “Come on! Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”
“The dormitories should be empty,” Harry offered. Draco smirked and pulled
Harry up. “Come on Potter,” he said. “Let’s find a bed.”
They quickly made their way towards the Slytherin common room. Harry smiled in
a secret way as Draco said the password, loud enough for Harry could clearly
hear it, and they stepped into the common room. It was empty, but they didn’t
care. Giggling like lovebirds, the two started kissing randomly, Harry’s hands
always somewhere on Draco’s body. Draco held onto Harry’s tie tightly and
pulled him up, making the little lion follow him up the stairs. “Harry—harry,”
Draco breathed. “I think you would look great in a green and silver tie.” He
chuckled as Harry kissed him again.
Harry just made a grunting noise as they continued up the stairs. When they’ve
made it to the third-year dormitory, Draco pushed Harry onto his bed and
smirked. Harry moved to touch Draco again, but he shook his head. ‘No Harry,
remember your show? I want to see it again.”
Harry blushed, but nodded. He started to strip, slowly revealing his pale,
smooth skin inch by inch. Draco just smirked and sat back on Blaise’s bed.
Before he knew it, Harry was completely naked on his bed, sprawled on his back
as he started to touch himself. His hands slid up and down his body, his
nipples hard as he pulled them. “Stop.” Draco commanded.
Harry obeyed and looked at Draco confused. Draco stood up, and sat down next to
Harry. He shrugged off his robe and laid it on the bed, pushing Harry’s clothes
off and onto the ground. He loosened his tie and put it on Harry, fixing it so
that the Slytherin tie lied perfectly center on Harry’s chest, the green and
silver contrasting his pale skin brilliantly. Harry looked at Draco a bit
confused.
“I want you to wear this,” Draco said. “Not only here, but for the rest of the
year, okay? I want to show all those girls and guys that Harry Potter is my
boyfriend.”
“Doesn’t you kissing me in the Great Hall already prove that?” Harry chuckled.
Draco laughed as well but shook his head. “This will make it permanent. Like a
ring, yeah?”
Harry looked down at the tie, marveling at how well it fitted him. “Like a
ring,” he repeated again.
Draco smiled and kissed Harry again, pushing his cub onto the bed as he draped
himself over him. Harry moaned, his hands reaching for Draco’s back as he
pulled the Slytherin onto him, loving the feeling of Draco’s clothed body on
his skin. Draco’s hands moved down towards Harry’s hard cock and gave a tug.
Harry’s voice hitched as he thrust towards Draco’s hand.
Draco smirked and pulled back, leaving kisses randomly on Harry’s body before
sliding up his bed, taking off his shirt, revealing his pale marble skin. “Well
Harry,” he said. “Come on, continue the show,” he said as he took off his pants
and shoes, leaving him as naked as his boyfriend.
Harry nodded and blushed as he positioned himself. He stretched out his legs
before swinging them into the air, giving Draco perfect view and access to his
tight, pink, virgin hole. Draco licked his lips as he watched Harry slowly
prepare himself. One arm holding both legs in the air, Harry brought his other
hand towards his lips and slowly, meticulously, erotically licked every single
digit, pushing one finger into his lips and giving a soft sound as he did so.
Harry made sure that Draco could see his tie during every move he made. When
his fingers were wet enough, Harry moved his hand away from his lips, his
fingers slicken with his spit, and gave his nipples one last squeeze, loving
the feeling.
“Someone has a tit fetish,” Draco chuckled. “How does that sound Harry? Me
playing with your tits every day, making them grow as big as they can.”
Harry moaned and nodded, moving his fingers to his hole. He inserted his finger
and gave a groan as it penetrated his tight ring of muscles. He felt his warm,
velvety hole around his finger and started to move it. Draco’s cock was fully
hard and Harry watched as Draco started to stroke it. Both boys moaned as Harry
added another finger, both of them moving inside of him, loosening himself for
Draco.
Draco moved to his knee and took Harry’s legs in his hands. He slung them over
his shoulders, and Harry’s hands relaxed at his side, leaving his ass hungry
and available. They both smiled at each other, and Draco fixed Harry’s tie as
he got into position. “Ready cub?” he asked.
Harry nodded and pushed his butt towards Draco. Draco gripped his cock and
positioned it right in front of Harry’s hole. He teased Harry, pushing the head
of his cock at Harry’s hole, feeling the hotness on the head of his cock before
pulling away. Harry mewled and pushed towards Draco, wanting him inside him.
“Wait for it,” Draco chuckled.
Harry made a noise of complaint. Draco positioned his cock again, the head
resting on Harry’s hole. “Count of three, I’m going to push in,” Draco said,
nervous.
Harry nodded, feeling the same apprehension as his boyfriend. “One,” he
breathed.
“Two,” Draco said.
“Three—“
Draco pushed in, not knowing if to stop or not. Harry screamed in incredible
pain. Draco panicked. “Harry! Harry are you okay?” he said.
Harry moaned in pain, but nodded. “Y-Yeah,” he said. “Let me just get used to
it. You’re… you’re big.”
Draco chuckled and smirked, “Of course I am Harry,” he said. They waited,
staying in that same position, chests heaving as Draco tired his best to not
move, not wanting to hurt his boyfriend anymore.
“I’m ready,” Harry said after awhile. Draco started to move again, slowly
moving out of Harry, groaning in ecstasy of the tight, heated feeling of being
inside him. When it was just the cock of his head in, Draco moved again,
sliding into his cub until his balls touched Harry’s ass. Harry groaned, his
ass still adjusting to the strange sensation. It was rough, hurts, but Harry
wanted more, needed more. After a few clumsy, rough trusts Draco and Harry got
into a slow rhythm. Their pants synchronized as they pushed towards each other,
Draco’s cock going further and further into Harry’s ass.
Harry’s body sheen with sweat, his sun-kissed pale skin glistening under Draco,
the Slytherin tie keeping in perfect place between his breast. Harry could help
but idle the idea of him being in Slytherin, him working out. He smirked at
himself.
“What are you thinking of?” Draco panted between thrusts. Harry shook his head
and closed his eyes. “Nothing,” he smiled wryly. Yeah, he’s going to have to
talk to his dad about that.
Draco growled at the look Harry was giving him and thrust roughly. He hit
something that made Harry see stars, his cock bouncing at attention, cum
jumping out of it as he screamed in joy.
“Harry?”
“Again… hit that spot again,” Harry breathed.
Draco nodded and gave another thrust. He hit the same spot and Harry screamed
in joy again, more pre-cum coming out of his cock. “Yes! More Draco!”
Getting the idea, Draco gave a cocky smirk as he moved, hitting the same spot
with his cock over and over again, his pace slowly quickening. Their gasps and
yelps filled the room as Draco took up a fast, savage pace, his hips thrusting
against the small perfect ass of his boyfriend. He fell on top of Harry, his
legs moving from Draco’s shoulder to around his waist. Draco was right on top
of Harry, their eyes connecting as he continued pushing into him. His sweat
dripped onto Harry’s face, his glasses, their breaths came out in pants as
Draco quickened. “I’m close,” he breathed.
He managed to hold himself with one arm, the other quickly going to Harry’s
cock and started jerking it. He wanted them to come at the same time. Harry’s
breaths quickly turned into words, chanting Draco’s name over and over again,
his eyes closed. “Open them!” Draco growled. “I want to see your eyes Harry!”
Harry’s eyes immediately open and he felt the most strangest thing. It was as
if a flood came out of him as he screamed. Pleasure, ecstasy, and everything
imaginable overwhelmed him as ropes after ropes of cum jetted from his cock,
hitting both his and Draco’s chests. His cum splattered over his face as he
screamed Draco’s name. After a couple of more thrusts, Draco was yelling
Harry’s name as well, filling Harry’s virgin ass with his seed. He kept on
thrusting, his cum overflowing and dripping out of Harry’s ass and onto Draco’s
Slytherin robes.
They were breathing deeply, but soon both were smiling and laughing at each
other as they lazily kissed. “That was…” Harry said, not knowing how to
describe the experience.
“I know,” Draco breathed, smiling at Harry. He looked down at the mess Harry
made and said, “Wait here… I’ll get a towel.”
Harry nodded and watched as Draco slipped off of him. He looked down and smiled
at his cum-covered self. It felt good, really good. The hot cum that dripped
from his ass felt exhilarating, yet a bit gross at the same time. He checked
the tie and sighed in relief when he saw it was somehow clean. Draco returned
with a wet towel and took his time cleaning Harry, giving lazy kisses as he
went, making sure that his ass is completely clean. When he was done, Draco
simply dropped the towel off the side of the bed and pulled Harry to him.
He yawned and smiled at his boyfriend. “That was fun,” Draco smiled.
Harry nodded in agreement and looked down at the tie. “I’m starting to like
this,” he said. Draco nodded and said, “It fits you Harry. It matches your
eyes.”
“It also matches yours,” Harry said, bringing the tie up to Draco’s face.
“See?” he chuckled. He tickled Draco’s nose with the tie and Draco laughed,
“Stop that Harry,” he said playfully knocking the tie away. He sat up a bit
against his pillowed and pulled Harry onto his chest. Harry yawned and allowed
Draco to fix the tie on him. “You promise you’re going to keep this on?” Draco
asked.
Harry nodded, “Yeah, I promise,” he yawned. “I’m tired… going to sleep.”
“Me too… night Harry,” Draco said. They kissed; Draco gently took Harry’s
glasses off, put it on his nightstand, and they both fell asleep on top of
Draco’s bed, not even bothering to go under the covers.
Draco woke up the next day to annoying noise. He groaned more in irritation as
he opened his eyes. There, around his bed, was the third year Slytherins.
Blaise had a knowing smirk on his face as the others just glared at him. “The
hell you are staring at?” Draco asked.
Theodore Nott looked the most disgusted. “What the hell is Potter doing in your
bed Malfoy? In our dorm?”
“Sleeping,” Draco answered. “And you better hope that he stays sleeping or else
I will be very angry at all of you.”
“Potter’s a Gryffindor!” Theo argued. “He shouldn’t be here! Shouldn’t be in
your damn bed!”
“And let’s not forget naked,” Blaise said mirthfully.
Draco sent a glare at Blaise, “You have a problem with that?”
“Me no,” Blaise said. “The others though… looks like Crabbe and Goyle are just
about ready to tear Harry out of your grasp.
Draco’s attention turned to the two trolls he’s forced to call fellow
Slytherins and said, “If you two touch a single hair on Harry, I will have both
of your families more ruined then they are.”
Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, “Malfoy,” One of them said, Draco didn’t
care who, “this is gross.” The other one nodded, both of them having looks of
disgust. Draco gave them a sharp look. “He’s a poof! Goyle said, “You’re
sleeping with a Gryffindor Poof!”
Draco had his wand out and pointing straight at Goyle before anyone could
react. “Say that again,” he growled, his eyes shifting to Harry for only a
second. He was still somehow asleep.
Goyle’s eyes moved towards the wand, looking fearfully at it as he and his
fellow troll tried to take a step back.
“Alright, I’ll say it,” Theo said, glaring at Draco and the sleeping Harry. “We
don’t want you to associate yourself with Potter. Not only is he a dirty half-
blood, but he’s a filthy fa—“
“Langlock!” Draco said, his wand snapping to Theo. Theo’s mouth shut, his
tongue snapping to the top of his mouth. Theo tried to talk, but couldn’t make
any comprehensive noises. Draco smirked at himself, silently thanking Professor
Snape for teaching him that spell. He gazed at Crabbe and Goyle and asked, “Is
there anyone else who objects to Harry being here?” he asked simply.
The two trolls shook their heads. “N-No Malfoy,” Crabbe stuttered. “We don’t
but—“
“Nott told the whole common room,” Goyle said. “They’re not happy.”
“I see,” Draco said coldly. He looked at Nott with cold eyes then towards
Crabbe and Goyle. “Bring him to the hospital wing… ten minutes before we have
to leave.” He looked at Nott and smirked, “If you run fast enough, you might
catch the Hogwarts Express home. Though, who knows how hungry you’ll be.”
Draco and Blaise watched as Crabbe and Goyle escorted Theodore Nott out of the
room. Blaise looked at Draco and said, “You know we don’t leave for a few days
right?” he said.
Draco smirked and nodded. “I know,” he said. “I just won’t let that idiot call
my boyfriend that.”
“Where did you even learn that spell?” Blaise asked.
“Professor Snape,” Draco said. “I’ve convinced him to teach me a couple of
spells.”
“You uh do know the counter-jinx right?” Blaise asked.
Draco looked at Blaise confused, “Counter-jinx? No I don’t think I know that.”
Blaise laughed. Tears started to roll from his eyes as he laughed. “Draco
Malfoy, you are something!” he said.
Draco looked down at Harry and scoffed when he saw Harry was still sleeping. “I
must have tired him out last night,” he said.
“That or he’s just a very heavy sleeper,” Blaise said. Draco looked at him and
nodded.
“I’m surprise you’re not asking us to cover up Zabini,” Draco mused.
“I’m Italian Malfoy!” Blaise declared. “The nude body is not foreign to me.
Though, if you could cover your and Harry’s parts. I don’t want to know how big
my friends are.”
“Right,” Draco said. He reached for the sheet and covered his and Harry’s
private parts. He turned his attention to Blaise and said, “I have my
Gryffindor, where’s yours?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Blaise said, smirking.
“Don’t play dumb,” Draco said. “I know the way you looked at Harry’s friend
Weasley.”
Blaise, for the first time in Draco’s life, blushed. “I uhh I’m working on it,”
he said.
“Working on it?” Draco chuckled. “Where is the confident Zabini I’ve known for
so long?”
“I—I’m confident!” Blaise said a bit too loudly. “It’s just that, well… I know
Ron likes guys, I just don’t know if… you know… he realizes it. And if I try to
move in too soon—I don’t know what will happen.”
Draco nodded and looked down at Harry. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“Right. So, I’m going to go and try to defuse the situation downstairs,” Blaise
said, giving Draco and Harry the privacy Draco wanted.
Alone, Draco looked down at Harry. “God Potter, just how heavily you sleep?” he
complained half-heartedly. As if to jest him, Harry started to move, grumbling.
Draco gave a small laugh as Harry wiped his eyes, looking at Draco. “What you
laughing at?” he asked.
“You,” Draco smirked. “And how cute you are sleeping.”
“Sod off,” Harry yawned as Draco kissed his cheek.
“Such dirty language Potter, do I need to clean that mouth of yours?” Draco
smirked.
“Yeah, got toothpaste?” Harry asked as he sat up, looking down confused to see
he was still wearing Draco’s tie. Memories of last night returned to his mind,
and Draco smiled when he saw Harry blush. “Come on,” he said. “I’m sure I do.”
Draco threw the sheet covering their nude bodies off and got out of bed. He
helped Harry off and led him towards the bathroom. Harry hung the tie on
Draco’s bed as he showered, and soon they were both dressed, Harry wearing his
Gryffindor robes, but Draco’s Slytherin tie.
They held hands and walked down out of the dormitory and into the common room.
As soon as they stepped into it, the activity in the room stopped. All eyes
fell on Harry, indifferent, irritated, and hateful gazes fell upon Harry as
Draco walked him deeper into the common room.
Draco looked at each and every Slytherin as they passed, his cold eyes meeting
each and every one as they made their way. “Why are you all glaring?” he asked.
“Harry has been here once before. He is my boyfriend, he is allowed to be in
here if I deem it.”
The Slytherins glanced at each other but did not complain. They just kept their
annoyed glares at Harry as he and Draco walked towards the common room exit.
Draco stopped him in front of the door and smiled at Harry. “Don’t worry about
these idiots,” he said confidently. “They don’t matter.”
“I know Draco, only your opinion matters to me,” Harry said.
Draco looked at Harry and decided to kiss him in front of everyone again. Harry
gladly and eagerly kissed him back, any barriers he had shattered after last
night. The Slytherins around them gave awkward, or disgusted noises but Harry
didn’t care. He was kissing Draco, that’s all that mattered to him. He felt
Draco’s hands on his tie and he whispered against his cheek, “Remember our
promise Harry.”
Harry nodded and said, “I promise.”
For the rest of the school year, the very short week that passed too quickly
for Harry, Harry wore Draco’s tie with pride. The teachers were surprised,
rising a curious eyebrow but saying nothing. The Slytherins kept glaring at
Harry, as if him wearing the tie was a personal insult against all of their
egos. Harry didn’t care. The Gryffindors, however, were curious at first. At
the end of the first day, when they were all in the common room Ron asked Harry
why he was wearing a Slytherin tie. Harry noticed that he held everyone’s
attention, and decided to just drop the ball now instead of letting the rumors
ruin his final days.
“Because, my boyfriend Draco,” Harry said loudly enough so everyone could hear,
“Gave me this tie and asked me to wear it for the final week. It’s like a
promise.”
Everyone accepted his answer, and went on their lives normally. Harry was glad
that everyone accepted his answer and went on his business. He looked around
the common room, and blushed a vivid scarlet when he saw George Weasley
snogging Oliver Wood. He hoped that he and Draco wouldn’t reach that point of
their relationship soon.
Harry was glad he wasn’t the only one who was sorry to see Professor Lupin-
Black go. The whole of Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class was
miserable about his resignation.
“Wonder what they’ll give us next year?” Seamus Finnigan said gloomily.
“Maybe a vampire,” Dean Thomas suggested hopefully.
“Nah, werewolves are cooler,” Seamus said.
The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had
passed every subject, harry was amazed that he had got through Potions.
Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scrapped a handful
of O.W.L.s each, an accomplish that rewarded George with some personal time
with Oliver. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular
performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third
year running. Draco and Blaise joined in the celebration, clapping along with
the rest of the school as the Slytherins stayed quiet. Draco looked and saw
Theo still suffering from his jinx. Feeling pity, he subtly performed the
counter-jinx that he magically remembered and watched as Theo opened his mouth
for the first time in days. The Slytherin looked down at Draco and his eyes
looked down apologetically. Draco just nodded and told Theo to eat, which he
did with a certain ravish.
As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione
gave Harry and Ron some surprising news.
“I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I’ve
decided to drop Muggle Studies.”
“But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!” Ron said.
“Why did you even take a class like that Granger?” Draco asked from his place
at Harry’s side. Hermione ignored him and said, “I know, but I can’t stand
another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad. I’ve
handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I’ll be able to have a
normal schedule again.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” Ron said grumpily. “We’re
supposed to be your friends.”
“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Hermione said severely. She looked around
at Harry, who was relaxing against Draco, watching Hogwarts disappear from view
behind a mountain.
“Harry!” Ron said, “You’re staying with us right?”
“Huh,” Harry said looking at Ron. “Oh, yeah… next month. Dad’s off to Albania
for work.”
“Why’s that?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know, Kingsley’s told my dad something’s important there. Dad just
hopes he’ll be back for the Quidditch Cup,” Harry said.
“Well, Dad’ll always get tickets I’m sure he can get one for your dad,” Ron
smiled.
Draco smirked and whispered at Harry, “Knowing Weasley, they’ll somehow manage
to win box tickets.”
“Draco, stop,” Harry laughed. “That’s not nice.”
“What he said?”
“Nothing Ron, don’t worry,” Harry said. Both him and Draco laughed as Ron
crossed his arms, throwing a friendly glare at Draco and Harry.
The compartment door opened and Blaise joined them. He complained to Draco for
leaving him with Crabbe and Goyle (calling them trolls) and relaxed next to
Ron, who didn’t seem to notice or complain about their closeness.
The train ride went smoothly for Harry, who was content with staying on Draco
during the entire ride. As the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at
platform nine and three quarters, Ron, Hermione, and Blaise stood to get their
luggage off of the overhead. Harry and Draco stayed back as the train stopped
fully and the three exited, promising to wait on the station. Draco stood up
and smiled down at Harry. “What’s the matter Harry?” he asked.
“I just don’t want to leave,” Harry said. “Call me childish… but I don’t know
how I’ll deal with not seeing you for months.”
Draco chuckled. “Harry, since when were you this clingy? Of course you’re going
to see me during the summer. Your dad did invite me over, didn’t he? And we
will definitely see each other during the World Cup.”
That relieved Harry a little. “Yeah… I’m just being stupid.”
“No, not stupid,” Draco said. “Look at me Harry, never call yourself stupid,
okay?” He gave a cocky smirk and said, “You’re dating the great Draco Malfoy. I
won’t date anyone who calls or believes themselves to be stupid. Now come on,
let’s get off.”
“Okay, but one thing first.”
“What—?” Harry kissed Draco before he could finish his question. Harry smirked
as he stepped back and quickly got his luggage. “Come on Draco! Before Dad
climbs onto the train to find us.”
He laughed to himself as he left the compartment.
“You cheeky lion,” Draco said following Harry. He couldn’t help but smile to
himself. Draco got off the train and joined Harry and his friends. It was weird
at first, admitting to himself that he liked Harry, but he was happy that he
did. Even though they’ve been together for only a few months, Draco couldn’t
envision his life without Harry. He truly was a light that shone on Draco’s
life, and Draco was very happy for it. Who knows, maybe one day Draco might
actually learn to love Harry, if he doesn’t already.
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