A/N: Thanks to Seventines Seven for her beta and Brit-picking.
A/N 2: All review responses will be at my LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/humantales
Summer at Hogwarts
A school owl arrived the next morning as Harry finished his breakfast. It was a note from McGonagall telling him that their meeting that morning was postponed until tomorrow, but that Dumbledore wanted to see him after lunch. Harry scowled at the note; he’d been quite happy to avoid the headmaster. Thinking of what he wanted, he decided he needed some advice. He went upstairs, got the mirror out of his trunk and said “Sirius Black” into it.
A minute later, Sirius’s face filled the mirror. He was smiling, but he looked tired and a bit ill, with very blood-shot eyes. “Good morning, Harry. Did you have a good birthday party?”
Harry nodded and told him a little about it. “I called you because I need some advice. Dumbledore wants to talk to me this afternoon. I really don’t want to have anything to do with him. I know I need to learn Occlumency, and he’s better than Snape, but I can’t stand the way he arranges my life without asking me or . . . caring about me really. I’m just a weapon, to him, and I hate it.” Harry was surprised at himself. He had just known he was angry with Dumbledore; he hadn’t really realized why until he started talking.
Sirius looked thoughtful, then grinned. “How important to you is his opinion? Are you willing to take a real risk?”
Harry thought. On the one hand, he found he did still want Dumbledore’s good opinion. He was the most powerful wizard alive; he was the head of the Order, leading the fight against Voldemort. Harry didn’t have a problem with any of that, but he was tired of being left in the dark. At that thought, he suddenly understood what Sirius was implying. “I would like to keep his good opinion, but it’s more important that he stops keeping things from me,” he said.
“Then here’s what you can do.” Sirius outlined a plan, one Harry thought would work. The two of them spent the rest of the morning discussing the plan, the pros and cons, what to do if Dumbledore didn’t react as expected, and what Harry really wanted to achieve in the end. When the house-elves came in with lunch, Sirius finished his sentence, then said, “Good luck. I think you’ll do fine. Contact me afterwards and let me know how it goes.”
After eating lunch, Harry walked to Dumbledore’s office. McGonagall’s note had given him the password; when he got to the gargoyle, he told it “Mars Bars” and was let inside. He knocked on the office door and walked in at Dumbledore’s invitation.
“Good afternoon, dear boy. Would you like a sherbet lemon?” the headmaster offered, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half moon glasses.
“No, thank you, I’ve just had lunch.” Before Dumbledore could speak again, Harry asked, “How did you get to be the one who made the decision as to where I would live after my parents died? Didn’t they leave a will? I know they meant for Sirius to take care of me; did you even consider that? Did anyone ever check up on me to see how I was doing? To see if, I don’t know, I was being fed? Clothed? Housed? Beaten? Who was in charge and why was nothing ever done?”
Dumbledore looked taken aback at losing control of the meeting and the twinkle in his eyes faded. “Yes, your parents did leave a will naming Sirius as your guardian. However, all of us believed him to have been your parents’ Secret Keeper and that he had betrayed us all. The will made no provision for another guardian in the event Sirius could not take on the role; we had to improvise. Your aunt only agreed to take you in if we had no contact with you until it was time for you to come to Hogwarts. The Death Eaters were still at large and very dangerous; I was the executor of your parents’ wills, so it fell to me to make the best provisions for you I could.”
“So, because you wanted to protect your little weapon from the Death Eaters, you made my childhood exactly like Voldemort’s. Were you trying to create a second Voldemort or was that just a side effect?” Harry wondered if Dumbledore had ever seen the similarities between his and Riddle’s childhoods.
Dumbledore looked stunned. “I won’t deny I made mistakes in how you were raised. I see the mistakes are even graver than I had realized up to last month. I never saw the parallels between your upbringing and Riddle’s until after you defeated him in your second year. At that point, of course, it was too late to undo what had been done. As far as my viewing you as a weapon, nothing could be further from the truth.”
Dumbledore sighed, obviously searching for the right words. “I see you not as a weapon, but as a remarkable young man who promises to be the most powerful wizard alive when you finish your training. Your heart, your ability to love others, the ability you have to evoke trust in others, are amazing in someone of your age. You may share Riddle’s charisma, but you surpass him in your heart. To see you as a weapon is to completely miss your true, human, value. I can understand how you might believe otherwise, but I see you as a young man it is an honor to teach and guide. I know I cannot undo what has already been done, but is there anything I can do to begin healing the damage?”
Harry stood there staring at Dumbledore. He had hoped Dumbledore would acknowledge that his decisions had been wrong, had even been damaging, but he hadn’t been expecting the headmaster to completely agree with everything he was feeling. He couldn’t believe the way Dumbledore described him but, otherwise, he felt completely validated. It was more, much more than he had hoped to hear. Harry felt himself sink into his chair. “What did you want to discuss with me today?”
The twinkle was back in Dumbledore’s eyes. “I have prepared an agenda.” He pushed a sheet of paper across the desk to Harry. On it was written in Dumbledore’s loopy handwriting:
· Communication failure while at the Dursleys; discussion of next summer
· OWL results and future career possibilities
· Alternate universe
· Ministry
· Begin Occlumency
“Communication failure?” Harry asked.
“That was supposed to be an apology. The guards with whom you had the most contact were new to the Order and had received most of their impressions of you through the Daily Prophet.” At Harry’s expression, Dumbledore nodded. “Precisely. They believed you were primarily looking for attention and they believed your relatives love you and provide you with emotional support. When we realized how badly things had gone wrong, Nymphadora Tonks, who had given them their initial instructions, reiterated those instructions with a fair amount of emphasis. They are unlikely to take any part of their instructions lightly again.”
Harry thought about it. “Tonks is great, but I can’t see being scolded by her as being especially terrifying.”
Dumbledore smiled. “She asked Remus to assist her. His condition is known to the entire Order. I believe he, er, growled throughout her entire harangue.”
Harry stared at Dumbledore for a moment. Then he burst out into laughter. “That must have been brilliant! I wish I’d seen it.”
Dumbledore chuckled. Harry continued, “Next summer?”
“I wish you to think about the things which would make it easier for you to endure the time you must spend with the Dursleys next summer. We may not be able to meet all of them, but we try, to the best of our abilities.”
Harry smiled and nodded, thinking that he’d discuss his ideas with Sirius and make sure the important needs were met. He was not putting up with any more miserable summers so the Order could keep their weapon safe, but that could wait for now. “Future career possibilities?”
Dumbledore looked relieved that Harry hadn’t pressed him on next summer. “Yes. Before we discuss that, let me congratulate you on your Ordinary Wizarding Level results. You should be very proud of yourself for your achievement; your parents certainly would have been. You should also be quite proud of your achievement with the D.A. Your fellow students’ results, especially compared to those not in the group, were remarkable. As well, and I was remiss at the time,” Dumbledore eyes twinkled merrily, “not to mention how proud and honored I was that you named your group after me.”
Harry felt it only right to say, “Calling it Dumbledore’s Army was really Ginny’s idea.”
Dumbledore smiled and continued, “From what Minerva has told me, you only mentioned one career when the two of you had your meeting. To be an Auror is a fine and honorable career, but we would be doing you a disservice if we led you to believe it was the only one you should consider.”
“Professor McGonagall also mentioned I seem to have a knack for teaching,” Harry added.
The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes increased. “Yes, Minerva has made it quite clear she believes you have the aptitude to be a fine teacher. She keeps a sharp eye out for anyone with that gift; there are far too few who show any aptitude. However, there are two other careers you might like to consider. Potential employers from both have expressed an interest in you. The first is Quidditch. I suspect you will be seeing professional scouts at some of your remaining games; there are other students they will also be scouting. Finally, the head of the Department of Mysteries has come to me. They keep an eye out for students who may do well in their department and you have apparently caught their interest.”
“Me, an Unspeakable?” Harry’s first thought was complete disbelief, but then he remembered something. Lily Potter in that alternate universe was an Unspeakable. Had she been one here, too? “Erm, sir, was my mother an Unspeakable?”
“No, but not because they didn’t want her,” came the answer. “You understand, your parents were fighting Voldemort from the time they finished school. The work your mother did was not dissimilar to that of an Unspeakable, but it was much more focused. That is, in fact, one of the reasons they are considering you and asking you to consider them; she would have been remarkable there and they suspect you may have inherited her talents.”
Dumbledore gave Harry a few minutes to consider what he had said. He then pulled two business cards out of an envelope. “This one is from a trainer in the Auror Department; he would be delighted to hear from you and to discuss your becoming an Auror.” Harry looked down at the card and grinned; the name was Kingsley Shacklebolt. “This other one,” Dumbledore continued, “is from the Department of Mysteries; he would very much like to correspond with you. Neither of these are certainties for you, but it would do you no harm and much good to correspond with them. Minerva will continue encouraging the teacher in you,” Dumbledore’s twinkle said he knew she was going to have Harry tutoring his housemates, “and the Quidditch scouts have their own time-honored rituals. You are a young man with a great deal of potential; you should think long and hard on where that potential is best used.”
Harry’s head was spinning more than a little bit. “I think I’m glad I don’t have to make any definite decisions right now; I don’t think I could. Shall we go on to the alternate universe item? I thought I’d already told you everything.”
“You told us everything you remembered and thought of at the time,” Dumbledore agreed. “What I am hoping you will do is, as you think of it, write down everything you said and did, everything that was said to you and everything that happened to you while there. I would also like you to include what you were thinking and doing, as exactly as you can, before you changed universes the first time. I am compiling a list of questions about your experience, as are several others.” His eyes very far away, Dumbledore continued slowly, “Events like this happen rarely and understanding what happened and why enlarges our understanding of the structure of the world. The fact that it happened to you, someone who is important to the war we find ourselves in, makes it even more important we learn as much as we can from the experience. I can tell you that Voldemort knows that something happened to you for those three days but not yet what.” Dumbledore had a rather funny smile on his face. “I’m afraid it’s making him rather nervous; he and his followers have been very quiet since you first disappeared.”
Harry thought it over. “I don’t mind doing it in principle, but there are a couple of things I don’t want to share with anyone. I’d also like to keep a copy of it, but I don’t want to have to write it twice. There has to be a way to make magical copies.”
Dumbledore nodded and reached into a desk drawer, pulling out a stack of blank parchment. “This has a specific enchantment on it; write whatever you want on it. When you’ve finished, tap the page with your wand and say “Effingo”. If there is anything you do not wish copied, place a strip of parchment over that portion. Keep your copy in a safe place; especially with the added material, you will not want anyone to see it without your knowledge and approval.”
Harry sighed in relief. He really didn’t want Dumbledore to know he was in touch with the other universe, not without making plans for it. “Ministry?”
“Moving right along, eh?” Dumbledore said. “This is a difficult issue for us, Harry. On the one hand, you have the right to speak your mind both in public and in private. You also have the right to tell your story, as long as you are honest. What I am about to ask of you is to limit what you say publicly.” Dumbledore sat for a moment and collected his thoughts. “Due to the events of the last year, and their insistence that Voldemort had not returned, the current administration has a rather tenuous hold on power.”
“Good!” Harry said savagely. “It’s no more than they deserve!”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded. “Unfortunately, the wizarding community as a whole does deserve better. The Death Eaters, both on Voldemort’s orders and for their own ambitions, are poised to take advantage of any weakness within the Ministry. If we destabilize the current government, the Death Eaters are likely to take over, an event we do not want to happen. You have the ability, if you were to go public about all that has transpired between you and the Ministry since Voldemort regained the use of his body, to bring down Cornelius Fudge and his entire administration. I must ask you not to do so.”
Harry thought about it. He didn’t really want Fudge to remain as Minister, but he remembered hearing somewhere that, before you kicked out the current bastards, it was always a good idea to see who was likely to replace them. When he repeated this out loud, Dumbledore laughed. “Precisely. I especially wished to mention this since Dolores Umbridge is still working for the Minister and I know you two are rather at odds.”
This was quite an understatement, Harry thought. “I won’t start anything, but I won’t lie and I won’t let them make me look bad so they look good,” he said. He was not having a repeat of last year.
“I would ask that you consider and discuss any actions you are considering with a responsible adult before carrying them out,” Dumbledore said. “Unless they have arrested you and placed you on trial, you should be able to take the time to consider your actions.”
“And if they do? Arrest me and put me on trial?” Harry asked.
Once again, Harry saw the power Dumbledore usually hid behind a benign expression and twinkling eyes. “Then we will deal with the consequences. I won’t ask you to lie and I won’t ask you not to defend yourself. It never hurts, however,” he added, the twinkle back, “to hold some of your weapons in reserve.
Harry nodded. He could agree to that; the responsible adult didn’t have to be a teacher, a member of the Order or even in this universe. “Occlumency?”
“Yes, I wanted to review what you learned with Professor Snape last year and begin where you have left off. What techniques did Professor Snape teach you?”
“To clear my mind,” Harry said. “Then, he would try to read it. He almost always managed.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said a little impatiently, “but what techniques did he teach you to clear your mind?”
“None,” Harry thought for a moment. “He did say I had to clear my mind of emotions. Or something like that.” He thought for another minute, but couldn’t remember anything else of the hated Occlumency lessons. “Sorry, that’s all I remember.”
“I see,” said Dumbledore quietly. He sat for a moment, seeming to be thinking. “Well, I think it best to begin at the beginning. Did Severus give you any books to read?”
Harry shook his head. “The other Snape, from the other universe, gave me a couple. Er, I don’t remember the titles.”
“Bring them with you next time” Dumbledore said. “Was one of them Meditation and Occlumency?” When Harry nodded, he said, “That is the basic beginner’s text on the subject. Have you read any of it yet?”
“I’ve read through the whole thing, but I know I missed a lot. I’ve gone through almost two chapters carefully.”
Dumbledore began quizzing Harry on the material. When he was satisfied Harry understood the material, he asked, “Have you had the opportunity to try any of it?”
“Night before last, I felt a prickle along my scar. I couldn’t tell what he was doing, just that the connection was open, I suppose. Anyway, I tried one of the techniques, of concentrating on a candle flame, and it faded. I couldn’t get it to go away entirely, but it hurt a lot less.”
Dumbledore smiled. “Excellent. For now until Monday, I want you to work with a different element each day. Keep a note of how easy it is to work with each one, any changes you feel in the connection between you both and anything else that seems relevant. Every night before you go to bed, practice the first exercise to clear your mind before you sleep. If you have any questions, problems or concerns, just let me know. Now,” Dumbledore checked something on his desk, “it’s rather late in the afternoon. Why don’t you go outside and get some fresh air and sunshine until suppertime.”
It took Harry several minutes to work the tension out of his muscles, but by the time he returned to his common room, he was ready for a good flight on his Firebolt. Swooping through the air, he decided he would have to see if he could find a Snitch to practice with. When he finally landed, he felt immensely better. Before he went to bed, he used the mirror to speak with Sirius, letting him know that the discussion with Dumbledore had gone well.
After breakfast the next morning, Harry went to McGonagall’s office. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that she expected him to take a full year to get through the books she was loaning him. He was to read and learn one chapter a week from each of them and she would go over the material with him. They decided to change their meetings to every Monday to go over all four subjects. After the lesson, she allowed Harry to use the Floo to invite Ron over for the rest of the day. Mrs. Weasley told him that Ron was at Diagon Alley helping the twins with their shop, but that he should be able to come over on Sunday. Disappointed, Harry decided to spend the day writing letters.
Thinking about it, he realized he had a lot to write. He wanted to write Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gideon Croaker. He decided to write the first one to Gideon Croaker about the Department of Mysteries. It was a hard letter to write. He finally looked at what he had accomplished.
Dear Mr. Croaker,
Professor Dumbledore gave me your card. He told me you wanted to discuss the possibility of my working at the Department of Mysteries. I only know a little about your department, most of it from a visit I made there in June. I am interested in what you have to tell me. I would like to exchange letters with you about this.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter
Harry didn’t think he was going to do any better writing a letter to a complete stranger. He decided to write the next one to Kingsley. At least he knew Kingsley and something about being an Auror.
Dear Kingsley,
How are you doing? Professor Dumbledore gave me the card and told me you were interested in discussing my being an Auror. What are we supposed to talk about? I know a little about what you do, chasing and catching dark wizards, but that’s about it. What are you working on now? I would like to hear back from you when you can.
Yours sincerely,
Harry Potter
Harry was trying to decide who to write to next, and wondering if it would get any easier, when he heard someone calling his name. Looking up, he saw Luna Lovegood walking towards him with a picnic basket. “There you are, Harry. The house-elves asked me to give this to you. Shall we share it?” Luna looked as if she just happened to be there, but Harry didn’t think that was too likely. She did look happy to see him.
“Hi, Luna, what are you doing here?” Then, thinking that sounded as if he didn’t want to see her, he continued, “I thought you were in Sweden, looking for the Snorkack. I thought I was very lucky to see you at my party, much less come to visit me here.”
Luna set the picnic basket down. As the two of them unloaded enough food for a dozen people, Luna said vaguely, “Daddy and I did go to Sweden, but we couldn’t find any sign of the Snorkack. So, we came home and Daddy’s working on an issue about how rare species like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack need to be protected. He thinks they may have become extinct. When I heard you were going to be staying at school, I asked if I could visit. Professor McGonagall said you were allowed as many visitors as you could handle and that you were studying on your own today. I came straight over. Sandwich?”
They ate lunch together, watching the squid swim through the lake and trying to decide what the clouds looked like. When Harry tried to apologize to Luna for putting her into danger at the Department of Mysteries, Luna looked puzzled. “I knew it was going to be dangerous, but it seemed very important to you. I don’t have so many friends that I wouldn’t try to help one in trouble.”
Harry looked at her, puzzled but smiling. “You are a very good friend, Luna. Did you ever get your things back?”
The sudden change in topic didn’t seem to bother Luna in the least. “Yes, everything came back and in good condition. It’s more of a game than anything else, you know.”
“So you say,” Harry said. “If I have anything to say about it, it will stop. It’s not right, what they do to you.” When Luna shrugged, he switched topics. “Did you enjoy Sweden?”
“Very much so,” she smiled. “It was nice spending time with Daddy, but it’s nice to be back home, too. Can I ask you something?” When Harry nodded, she continued, “Do you like me? Not as a friend, I mean, but as something more?”
Harry realized he didn’t know the answer. He liked Luna, a lot, and found that he felt good in her company. He didn’t know what that meant, but decided that, with Luna at least, he wouldn’t go wrong being completely honest. He told her exactly what was going through his mind.
She smiled at him, leaned forward and kissed him. It was completely different from when Cho kissed him. First, she wasn’t crying, which was a definite improvement. His arms seemed to go around her naturally and he discovered she felt good in them. He could describe the kiss as wet, but soft and sweet were better descriptions. He couldn’t stop thinking, but still it felt wonderful. Eventually, they had to stop to breathe. She pulled back a little and looked up at him. “No sparks,” she said.
He thought about it. “Some sparks,” he argued. “Not Weasley’s Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, but sparks.”
Luna shook her head, but she was smiling. “I like you but I couldn’t decide if I like you that way. I don’t think I do.” She shrugged and looked into the picnic basket. “They packed pudding; do you want some?”
Harry shook his head. He decided that, in the long run, he was happier not being Luna’s boyfriend. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking. When suppertime approached, they walked back to the castle together. Harry gave Luna a hug and a kiss goodbye before she went home through the Floo.
Professor McGonagall was watching him carefully. “Should I make sure the two of you are chaperoned from now on?” she asked, sounding stern.
“No, Professor,” Harry answered happily. “We decided we make good friends, but that’s all. It was just a nice day. Good night, then.”
“Good night, Mr. Potter,” she replied.
Harry walked up to the Owlery to post the two letters he had finished. He went back to the common room and got out the Marauder’s Map. Leaving a note on the table saying that he was taking a walk through the castle, he headed off to explore the area around the Slytherin dormitories.
He located the Slytherin common room and dormitories easily. He couldn’t get into them since he didn’t know the password, but he confirmed that they were where he remembered them from second year. He then went looking for Professor Snape’s quarters. The Map showed them two floors above the dorms, around a corner and hidden by a statue of a chimera. Harry looked at the door with a sense of accomplishment; if he ever needed to find them, he now knew exactly where Snape’s rooms were. He had just turned to leave when he heard the door open and Snape step out.
“Mr. Potter, what are you doing out of bounds?”
“I’m not out of bounds, Professor,” Harry told him, doing his best to sound respectful. “My rules for the summer are that I have to stay in the castle after dark, but I don’t have to keep to Gryffindor Tower as long as I leave a note saying where I am.”
“I doubt you left a note saying you were coming to my quarters,” said Snape.
“No, sir,” Harry agreed. “My note says I’m taking a walk through the castle. Which I am. Professor,” he added for good measure.
“Indeed. You may not be out of bounds, but I would appreciate it if you did not hang around my quarters. I am trying to work and the noise you create is distracting me.” Snape was scowling at Harry, but he didn’t seem especially angry.
Harry thought about arguing for a moment, but decided he was done in the dungeons for now anyway. “OK, I was just about to explore the kitchens anyway. Good night.” Harry had turned and moved most of the way to the corner when Snape’s voice stopped him.
“If you’re going to the kitchen, you can make yourself useful and ask the house-elves to serve a late tea in my rooms,” came the request. After a moment of surprise, Harry nodded. Snape nodded back and returned to his rooms.
Harry hadn’t really planned on going to the kitchens, but he decided that running the errand for Snape couldn’t do any harm. After delivering Snape’s request to the house-elves, he returned to the tower with an armful of snacks. He spent the rest of the evening reading his texts, making notes and munching snacks. When he finally went to bed, he felt it had been a day well spent.
Saturday was spent much as Friday had been. Instead of meeting with Professor McGonagall and spending the afternoon with Luna, Harry spent the day with Hagrid. The two of them talked about everything that had happened over the past year while walking through the Forbidden Forest to visit Grawp. Grawp really was much better behaved these days: he was talking more, he was easier to understand and he wasn’t pulling up trees just for the fun of it. Hagrid told Harry about a day several weeks ago when he had asked Grawp to pull out a couple of trees for firewood and to give some additional sunlight to the plants in the area. He’d had to argue with the giant for some time to convince him that it was all right to uproot these trees. Harry agreed that it showed great progress.
That night, Harry explored the area around the Ravenclaw dorms and found Professor Flitwick’s quarters. He made sure he’d be able to find the area easily if he needed to later. He went back to his own common room to study, but a short time later was visited by an upset house-elf. “Was Sir not happy with his tea last night?” the creature asked him, twisting its hands in its tea towel.
“No, no,” Harry reassured her. “The snacks were great. You were just too generous, I couldn’t finish them last night, so I saved some for tonight.” He pointed to the platter he had left for his snack tonight.
The elf was horrified. “But, Sir, those are being a day old; you can’t eat those,” she insisted. And nothing would do but she take the perfectly good platter of day-old snacks away and return with a new one, overflowing.
“I can’t eat all of these and I don’t want them to go to waste,” Harry protested.
“Sir need not be worrying,” she reassured him. “We house-elves get the leftovers; they won’t go to waste.”
At that Harry gave up, thanked the elf, and hoped they enjoyed the snacks.
The next morning was the first time since he returned to Hogwarts that Harry did not wake up of his own accord. He was woken by Ron, shaking him and yelling at him to wake up.
“Why do I have to get up at whatever ungodly hour of the morning this is?” Harry asked grumpily.
“I’m sorry,” Ron said with no conviction. “It’s just that Sunday is the only day I can visit unless we’re helping Snape with that basilisk. I don’t want to waste the day watching you sleep.”
“You’re spending that much time at the shop?”
“Yeah, and I’m getting paid for it too. C’mon, there’s breakfast in the common room; let’s go.”
By the time Harry got himself dressed and down to the common room, Ron was already tucking into breakfast. Harry watched amused as Ron stuffed his face. “You can’t tell me your mum didn’t feed you before you left,” he said, filling his own plate. Ron shrugged and the two of them ate quickly.
“What do you normally do with yourself all day?” Ron asked. He acted like there was nothing for Harry to do.
“Depends. I’ve been flying a lot, doing some studying, exploring, sitting out by the lake. What do you want to do?”
“Flying sounds great,” Ron answered. It turned out he had brought his broom, so they set off for the grounds.
Once they’d stepped through the portrait hole, Harry turned with a grin. “Have you ever wanted to fly through the castle?”
Ron’s eyes widened. “They can’t take points, can they? Or give detentions? Or can they?”
Harry shook his head. “They could probably give us a detention, but Filch didn’t even yell at me the other day.”
“Brilliant!” Ron said, taking off on his Cleansweep.
Harry was right behind him on his Firebolt, then passed him. The entrance doors were open again so they sailed through and started racing each other over the grounds. They spent the morning flying, doing all the tricks and stunts they wanted. It was another beautiful day, clear and warm, and the two boys reveled in it.
Ron’s stomach was almost as good as a clock for telling mealtimes; he started complaining about being hungry just before noon. They went up to where their lunch was sitting and tucked in. As they were eating, Harry started working up the nerve to talk some things over with Ron.
“Ron, do you remember that night?” Harry found he couldn’t say which night it was, but Ron knew anyway. After he nodded, Harry asked, “Do you remember the prophecy?”
“Yeah, it was destroyed, which seems a shame. If Trelawney actually made a real prophecy, it’d be nice to know what it was.”
Harry took a deep breath. “All that was destroyed was the record. She told the prophecy to someone who can, erm, tell it when he wants.” Harry took another deep breath. “She was discussing the Divination position with Professor Dumbledore; he’s the one who heard the prophecy.”
Ron’s eyes were wide and he seemed to have stopped breathing. “Has he told you?”
“I’m not ready for anyone else to know yet; you have to keep this quiet,” Harry said. After Ron promised, he closed his eyes and recited, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches . . . Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies . . . and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not . . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies . . .” *
When he finished, Harry sat feeling both terribly drained and terribly relieved. Ron was the first person he had told about the prophecy, at least in this universe. He waited, letting Ron think it over. Ron was sitting in one of the squashy armchairs in the common room, staring into the fire, showing no emotion.
They sat in silence for several moments when Ron suddenly jumped up and punched the wall, letting loose a string of words that would have had his mother punishing him. “He told you this and sent you back to those people?” he shouted, when he had started to calm down. “Is he trying to drive you mad?”
“I trust him,” Harry said calmly. “But I don’t understand all of his decisions, either. He said, when we were talking that night, that he’d made mistakes; one of them being not telling me about the prophecy years ago. It’s one of the reasons, maybe the major reason, I left the Dursleys this summer. Ron, you will keep this quiet, won’t you?”
Ron nodded. “Of course, Harry, you can count on me. But,” Ron looked troubled, “aren’t you going to tell Hermione?”
“Yes,” Harry said. “But I want to tell her in person, and I want to tell her in such a way that she doesn’t go mad. I don’t think she’ll be content with punching the wall and she doesn’t use those words.” Ron glared at Harry’s amused glance, but then his face softened.
“Blimey, Harry, it’s not bad enough you have a madman after you, but now there’s a prophecy you have to kill him.”
“I have a madman after me,” Harry corrected, “because there’s a prophecy I have to kill him. He didn’t come after my parents that night. He went through them to get to me; I was what he was after.” Harry sighed, staring into the fire. “I keep telling myself I should be pushing you and the others away. I keep getting people killed. First my parents, then Cedric, now Sirius. Who’s going to be next?”
Ron didn’t let Harry continue. “Stop it! You didn’t get anyone killed! Voldemort killed your parents, and he would have anyway even if he wasn’t coming after you. The prophecy says they defied him three times; I bet they were on the top of his list. Wormtail killed Cedric and the only reason we know what happened to him is he was too
honorable not to let you win. And before you start saying you shouldn’t have let him take the Cup,” Ron continued, seeming to know just what Harry was thinking, “you’re too honorable to have robbed him of it. And Sirius.” Ron stopped a minute, looking as if he wanted to say something he knew would upset Harry. “Sirius,” he continued more quietly, “was dying in that house. He needed to get out of it; rescuing you gave him a good reason instead of doing something stupid. And it isn’t your fault! If they knew Voldemort was coming after the prophecy, they should have told you. You wouldn’t have been tricked if you knew there was a reason to trick you!”
“Harry, listen to me,” Ron said, leaning forward intently. “It’s not that you haven’t made any mistakes. It’s that you keep trying. Dad showed me the letter your, er, the other James Potter sent him. Coming from someone outside . . . Dad says it made them really think about how everyone treats you. Then, they talked to Ginny, the twins and I about everything we know about what’s been happening. I think Ginny’s the most upset. She’s been saying for a while that you grew up like Riddle did, but you’re, well, you’re everything he never was.”
Ron stopped talking for a minute and stared at the ceiling. “I’m not doing this very well. What it comes down to is this: if you need anything we can give you, from decent food to someone to talk to, you only have to ask.”
Ron looked as if he were going to say more, but seemed to have decided not to. Harry was glad; he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Ron sounded ferocious; not angry with Harry, but angry for him. Then, something about the way Ron was talking hit Harry. “You were talking to somebody else about me. I mean, I can’t see you coming up with all that by yourself.”
Ron grinned sheepishly. “Hermione keeps asking me to fellytone her, we’ve been owling each other almost every day and Ginny keeps writing her these epics and getting even longer ones back. Between the two of them, they’ve dissected everything they possibly can.” He shook his head. “It’s one of the reasons I think you should tell both of them about the prophecy. They’re more likely to help you figure it out; me, I’m just the bloke who gets left behind.”
The image of the other Ron came to mind and Harry found himself grateful that his Ron, if not drowning in self-confidence, at least wasn’t so angry. “You’re more than the bloke who tries to help. You’re . . .” Harry tried to think of what to say without sounding mushy. He wasn’t sure which of them would hate that more. “You’re the one who watches my back. You’re the best chess player I know if we could just work out how to use it. You’re . . .” Harry gave up. “If I have to do this any longer, I’m going to start getting mushy; do you want that?”
“No,” Ron said. “One Hermione’s enough. Look, let’s wait until you can tell her; then we’ll let her figure out what to do next.”
This sounded like a good idea to Harry. They spent the rest of the afternoon playing chess, returning to Professor McGonagall’s office when it was time for Ron to leave. Before he did, he shook Harry’s hand and gave him a stern look. “I don’t want to sound pushy, but I want to hear from you regularly. And I want to hear immediately if you need anything, do you hear me?” Harry agreed as Ron left.
As Harry turned to leave McGonagall’s office, she stopped him. “I’m pleased to see your friends are making sure you’re doing well, Mr. Potter,” she said. “You’re very fortunate to have them.”
“I know,” Harry told her. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing by not pushing them away, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He also knew, now, that they wouldn’t let him. “Believe me, I know.”
Harry spent most of the next week on his own. He worked his way through his summer work, trying to get through at least a chapter every day, something he managed more often than not. He spent an hour with Dumbledore every morning working on Occlumency. That was going very well. He was occasionally feeling prickles in his scar, but one or another of his exercises let him block out even that. He explored a different section of the castle every evening; after locating each of the Houses, he decided to find the location of all of the teachers’ quarters. He couldn’t get in them, of course; they were much too well warded, but still it was enlightening to find them all. He also visited Hagrid and Grawp about every other day. Neither of them mentioned anything more about finding Grawp a girlfriend, so Harry decided it was better not to raise the subject.
He also continued receiving and writing letters. He got a letter back from Kingsley asking what Professor McGonagall had him studying that summer and telling him funny and scary stories about what he and his colleagues were doing. Although he didn’t see anyone but Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Grawp and Dobby, who had taken to bringing him his bedtime snack, Harry wasn’t feeling lonely. It felt more like the quiet before a storm, and he could sense that a storm was coming.
Harry was taking the Daily Prophet again and, every morning, he read it cover to cover. There weren’t any reports of attacks, but there were many articles on how to protect yourself from assorted dark spells and creatures. The letters to the editor were filled with people worried about what was going to happen, people who believed that Fudge should be removed from office immediately and people who felt that anyone who questioned Fudge should be thrown into prison. Harry also noticed that there were no reports of trials or anyone sent to Azkaban. Dumbledore refused to tell him anything when he asked, saying that they had no information, only rumors.
As Harry headed back into the castle for supper on Saturday night, he noticed dark clouds starting to roll in. It appeared a storm was coming. This seemed to be confirmed when a school owl soared into the common room while he ate. It was from Snape and informed him that, since it would be raining tomorrow, it would be a perfect time to harvest the basilisk. Harry scribbled his agreement on the note and sent it back.
*Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Arthur A. Levine Books: New York, NY. 2003. p. 841.