Reading Time: 91 Minutes
Title: Halcyon Days
Series: The Many Lives of Sirius Black
Series Order: 3
Author: enigmaticblue
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Established Relationship, Family
Relationship(s): Gen, background pairings
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None apply
Word Count: 57,474
Summary: Harry is still getting used to all of it: having parents, having friends, setting up a year-long prank. But the days are as bright as he’d ever hoped they would be.
Artist: germankitty
“Man ever is and always shall be blessed; for he loves, and love is an onward current that never ebbs; and borne upon this current humanity will at last make its far, fair haven; and meanwhile, as it voyages, it will find the course not too rough, but glorified by frequent halcyon days and calm nights set with stars.” ~Frank C. Lockwood
It’s not until the Quidditch World Cup that Harry begins to understand just how much his life has changed. Up until that point, it had been a bit like living in a dream—a dream of a good summer with no Muggle relatives. It probably hadn’t helped that he’d spent the first couple of weeks of the summer—up until Sirius managed to clear his name and take custody of Harry—imagining what it would be like to live with his godfather for real.
It also hadn’t helped that they’re living in a comfortable, if shabby, farmhouse in the French countryside where he gets to play Quidditch and study magic and read as much as he likes and has dueling lessons from a former Auror.
The whole summer feels like one pleasant, dreamy interlude, doomed to end on September 1st, when everything will go back to normal.
But then there’s the Quidditch World Cup, and that’s a real wake-up call.
Harry is just starting to understand what he’s getting himself into as he looks around the tent. He doesn’t recognize half the people there, and he glances up at Sirius, who has somehow managed to look cooler than pretty much anybody here with his dragon hide trousers and waistcoat.
Sirius is talking with a woman Harry recognizes as Director Bones, and Remus is standing at his shoulder.
Neville is chatting with Lionel, and Harry is glad that he can at least trust Neville not to be rude to his guest.
Susan Bones approaches them and says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you at one of these before, Harry, other than Neville’s birthday party.”
“My godfather wanted me to be here,” Harry explains. “I’ve been staying with him this summer, and I guess for good now.”
He hasn’t really spoken much with Susan in the past, but he now realizes that she’s related to Director Bones, head of the DMLE, and he’s therefore likely to be seeing quite a bit more of her.
Susan smiles, although she looks a little confused. “Who do you normally live with?”
“My aunt and uncle,” Harry replies. “They’re Muggles.”
Susan makes a face. She’s pretty in an understated way, her long, blonde hair pulled back from a round face in a braid, wearing a summer dress. “I’m glad I can stay with my aunt, although she’s pretty strict.”
“Having an aunt who’s head of the DMLE will do that,” Neville jokes.
Susan laughs. “True enough. That’s her, and I recognized your godfather from the picture in the Daily Prophet after he was exonerated. That must have been a relief.”
“Huge relief,” Harry admits. “He’s pretty great.”
Daphne Greengrass approaches next. “Potter. Are the rumors true?”
“Sirius is claiming his title, and naming me as his heir?” Harry asks. “Yes, that rumor is true. This is my friend Lionel Deschamps from France.” Sirius had told him that he could always fall back on his manners. “Lionel, Daphne Greengrass.”
That distracts her, and she eyes Lionel with interest. “Do you go to Beauxbatons, then?”
“I do,” Lionel replies. “Harry was kind enough to invite me when Sirius said he could get tickets.”
“I thought you’d attend with Wesley if you attended at all,” Daphne comments in an arch tone.
Harry isn’t about to get into his current relationship status with Ron. “I probably would have if Sirius hadn’t been able to get tickets. Are you staying overnight?”
Daphne tosses her hair. “Camping? No, we have a portkey for after. What about you?”
“Same,” Harry admits. “I think Sirius is worried that there might be trouble.”
“Gran said the same,” Neville agrees. “She said there’s usually some problem after a World Cup, and things can get intense.”
Susan nods. “Aunt Amelia isn’t letting me camp either for that reason.”
“Are you staying here until the game?” Daphne asks Harry as Theo Nott sidles up to their group, looking as though he’s not sure whether to join in or stand there acting superior.
He shakes his head. “Just until after the announcement. I told Ron and Hermione that we would meet up with them after.”
“Oh, do you mind if I tag along?” Susan asks. “I don’t really know anybody here.”
“I’m sure that would be fine,” Harry replies. “Neville? What do you say?”
Neville smiles. “Sure, that would be great.”
And just like that, Harry’s social circle has expanded. He thinks about his vague plans to prank Snape by ensuring everyone does so well in Potions that Snape can’t pass out poor marks, and figures he’s made a good start.
Remus comes up to Harry and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Harry, Sirius is ready for you.”
Harry nods, and then glances at Lionel. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Lionel is clearly relaxed with the other kids, and Harry sometimes envies his easy way with people. Of course, having met Lionel’s family, Harry thinks it might be genetic. “Go do what you need to do, Harry.”
Harry makes his way through the crowded tent, catching the looks and whispers as people recognize him. For the first time, Harry doesn’t mind it, because they’re looking at him because he’s the heir of the House of Black, not because of some stupid moniker foisted on him by the press.
He feels steadier when Sirius puts a hand on his shoulder, proud to be known as Sirius’ heir, and he says as much. Sirius’ gray eyes nearly glow with pride in him, and that feels good, too.
“Duty done, Pronglet,” Sirius whispers after he makes the announcement to a faint smattering of applause.
Harry makes his way back to Lionel and the other kids. It looks like Theo Nott has actually decided to join them, as well as another boy Harry doesn’t know well, but he thinks he’s another Hufflepuff, since Susan is speaking with him animatedly.
In a moment, the name comes to him: Devon O’Dell. Harry realizes that he doesn’t know him because he’s in the year behind them, is a ‘puff, and has never been a prick to him.
Harry feels like he should probably cultivate more relationships with those people.
Remus presses Harry’s shoulder as they pass. “We’ll be here until it’s time for the match,” he says. “We’ll come find you, but if you need us sooner, you know where to find us.”
“Thanks, Moony,” Harry murmurs. “Look after him for me, huh?”
“Always, Harry,” Remus promises.
At first, it’s fun. They walk out of the tent in a big crowd, and while Harry has never really cared about being popular, it’s nice to be in the midst of his peers under the bright August sun, all of them jostling and laughing. For the moment, with the excitement of the World Cup, their Houses don’t seem to mean as much.
They run into Seamus and Dean briefly and exchange speculation on the match and the likely outcome. Both of them are supporting Ireland, of course, and Dean asks, “How has your summer been, Harry?”
“Really good for a change,” Harry replies, more willing to be honest now that he’s out of the misery.
“I’m glad your godfather got exonerated,” Seamus adds. “How is it living with him?”
Harry shrugs. “Really fun. I’ve been flying all summer, so I think I’ll be able to really step up my game in Quidditch this year.”
“Can’t wait to see it, Harry,” Dean replies.
The group breaks up after that, with Daphne and Theo spotting some other Slytherins, and Susan and Devon going off to join a group of ‘puffs who are there. Neville sticks with them, though, and they run into Ron and Hermione, who are also moving through the crowd of vendors with Ginny.
“Harry!” Hermione calls. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Harry says briefly. “Hey, Ginny. This is my friend, Lionel.”
Ginny waves shyly, and Lionel smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, Ginny.”
They come across someone selling omnioculars, and Harry says, “Does anybody want a pair? I’m buying.”
Lionel perks up. “That would be lovely, Harry, thank you.”
“I don’t need anything, Harry, but that was a nice offer,” Hermione says, and Ginny echoes her.
Ron, on the other hand, says something under his breath that Harry can’t quite catch. “Do you want a pair, Ron?” Harry asks, maybe a little impatiently.
“No, I can see quite well with my own two eyes, unlike you,” Ron says snidely.
Ginny glares at him, as does Hermione whereas Neville and Lionel just look disappointed.
Harry takes a deep breath, controlling his temper with some effort. “Nev?”
“That would be lovely, Harry, thank you for the offer,” Neville says politely.
Harry pays for the three pairs of omnioculars, glad that Sirius had given him sufficient spending money. He’s tempted to buy a pair for Ron anyway, just to shove it in his face, but he refrains.
He passes the omnioculars to Neville and Lionel, and then Lionel says, “Oh, Harry! Look!”
At this point, Harry doesn’t really think about whether he’s speaking French or English. He and Lionel switch off easily, and while Harry’s go-to is always going to be English, Lionel’s mother tongue will always be French. So, when Lionel says something in French, Harry naturally responds in the same language.
In this case, Harry responds in French without thinking, seeing the vendor selling stuffed, animated dragons as mascots of the Bulgarian team. “Those are awesome.”
“Seriously?” Ron demands. “You’re too good for English now? Are you going to go to Beauxbatons so you can speak French with your friend?”
He says that last work like it’s a curse, and Harry can feel his hands ball up into fists. “I’m still the same person I’ve always been, Ron. I just have a family now.”
“Oh, yeah, some family,” Ron sneers. “You think you’re too good for us, so you’re going to replace your friends with some French twat?”
“Don’t you call him that!” Harry snarls, his temper rising. Both Lionel and Neville have taken Harry’s arms, preventing him from physically attacking Ron.
Hermione puts herself between Ron and Harry. “You couldn’t just be happy for him?” she demands, poking him in the chest. “Harry has a godfather who’s looking after him properly for a change. Sometimes it’s not all about you, Ronald. And if you don’t stop acting like such a wanker, I’m telling your mother.”
“I think we should go find Sirius, Lionel,” Harry says stiffly.
Neville stares at Ron in a disappointed way. “I’ll go with you, Harry. I should find my gran. The match will be starting soon anyway.”
Harry really isn’t sure that his relationship with Ron will recover, and he knows that with his changing circumstances, it may very well mean that some of his relationships don’t survive. He hopes that’s not the case, though, and that he can at least maintain a relationship with some of the Weasleys, even if Ron insists on being a prat.
In spite of the altercation with Ron, though, it turns out to be a pretty good day. Harry has fun with Lionel, and he feels as though he’s built a real alliance with Neville, too. He and Lionel take their portkeys to Louise’s house, and Harry sleeps next to Lionel that night.
“I’m sorry about Ron,” Harry says, feeling as though he needs to say something about what happened.
“Just promise me that you won’t forgive him too easily, Harry,” Lionel replies in French. “He was rude to me, but worse to you.”
Harry sighs. “I’m sure he’s just jealous.”
Lionel reaches out and grips Harry’s wrist firmly. “Promise me.”
Lionel’s skin is warm and smooth against his own, and Harry takes a deep breath. “I promise.”
It’s that promise that helps Harry to hold Ron accountable when he does try to apologize on Diagon Alley with a gruff, “You know I didn’t mean it, right?”
“No, I don’t know that,” Harry says sharply. “And that’s not a real apology. You were rude to my friend and cruel to me. I can’t help being rich, or being the Black heir, you know.”
Ron goes red in the face, but he does manage to say, “And I really am sorry for how I acted. Dad spoke to me about it. It was out of line, and I don’t have any excuses.”
That’s the real apology Harry had asked for, so they shake hands, at peace for the moment.
Harry spends the afternoon with Ron and Hermione, and it’s like old times again. They’re at Flourish and Blott’s, and Harry is going over his list for a third time to make sure he has everything when Ron peers over his shoulder.
He lets out a low whistle. “This have anything to do with you being Sirius’ heir?” Ron asks.
Harry shrugs. “A bit, I guess. We talked at the beginning of the summer about what I might want to do after Hogwarts, and he said there were careers that would require these subjects.”
Ron shakes his head, giving Harry a pitying look. “Dad said you were taking on a heavy burden,” he comments and claps Harry on the shoulder. “Better you than me, Harry.”
Harry is pretty sure he’s actually lightened his burden, rather than the other way around, what with having his godfather, and getting the piece of Voldemort removed from his scar. But if Ron wants to pity him, rather than feeling jealousy, Harry will take it.
“I suppose so,” Harry says ruefully, and lets it go, although he shares a look with Hermione, who rolls her eyes.
But he thinks that he and Ron are okay for now.
~~~~~
After the events at the World Cup, and getting some idea of what inter-House cooperation could look like, Harry is more certain than ever of the prank he wants to pull. And if Sirius had taught him nothing else that summer, it’s the value of planning.
So, he starts on the train.
Harry and Hermione find a compartment, followed closely by Neville and Ron. The Weasleys had arrived last minute, as usual, so they’re lucky to find an empty compartment at all.
“All right there, Harry?” George asks, poking his head in.
“Yeah, brilliant,” Harry replies. “Actually, I wanted to know if you two would help me with a prank.”
Fred and George squeeze into the compartment and sit down on either side of Harry. “A prank?” Fred asks.
“Do tell—“ George continues.
“We’re always happy to help the great Harry Potter,” Fred finishes.
Harry smirks. “It’s a plan to drive Snape crazy.”
“We’re all ears,” Fred and George say in unison.
Hermione, Neville, and Ron are also looking interested. “How do you think Snape would react if all of his students started getting their potions perfect right off the top?” Harry asks.
Hermione’s eyes widen. “You’re not thinking about cheating, are you, Harry?”
Harry shakes his head. “No, of course not. I’ve been working on studying the theory this summer, and it’s helped considerably. What if we put together a study group with older kids helping the younger ones? Sirius and Remus told me how to find a place in Hogwarts that could provide a practice Potions lab.”
Fred and George nod, their heads bobbing. “I know the room—“
“—you’re talking about,” Fred finishes.
“We’ll need ingredients, though,” Hermione says, fretting a bit.
Neville shakes his head. “That will be the cost of joining the study group. Most parents would be happy to send supplies if it means improving grades. I know my gran would. I’m in. If I could practice the potions ahead of time, maybe I wouldn’t get so nervous around Snape.”
Ron frowns. “This doesn’t sound like much of a prank. It sounds like a lot of bloody hard work.”
“You think—“
“—we don’t put—“
“—work into—“
“—our pranks?”
Fred and George sound terribly offended.
Ron frowns. “But that’s one of your pranks.”
“Never underestimate—“
“—the power of—“
“—a long-term plan,” George finishes.
Hermione looks excited, but Harry thought she’d probably be the easiest to convince. Hermione always likes plans that involve studying. “Just think, Ron. Snape won’t have done anything different, of course, but if we can get enough people to participate, it will appear as though everyone got smarter without him!”
Ron scowls. “Well, count me out. It sounds like a lot of work for not much pay-off.”
“I think it’s a great idea, Harry,” Neville says. “I can ask a couple of people to help.”
Harry nods. “It would be nice to have students from each House. It’s less likely that Gryffindor would be accused of cheating, and it would be a better prank that way.”
“What about Quidditch?” Ron demands. “You’ll have practice and games. You’re not going to have time for a study group, too.”
Neville shrugs. “Harry doesn’t have to do all the work if we can get enough interest. In fact, we can do it for other classes, too, get people who are good at each to help others.”
Ron still looks mutinous, but the others clearly see the aim of what Harry is trying to do. It’s a small start, but it’s a start for sure.
~~~~~
Harry looks out over the ten or so students they’d managed to gather for their first study session. They have several first year Gryffindors, and it’s clear that Neville has taken his gran’s lessons to heart, and has made connections with people in other houses, because Susan Bones is there, along with several other ‘puffs and a couple of Ravenclaws.
He’s expecting everyone to look to Neville or Hermione, but all eyes turn to him.
“Oh, um, welcome,” Harry says when he realizes they’re waiting for him to speak. “Thanks for coming. We’ve started a study group for anyone who wants to come, mostly to help with Potions, but with other classes as well. If all goes according to plan, we’ll get more students, everyone will get an O in Potions, and we’ll all watch Snape’s head explode.”
There are giggles, especially from the first years, who have already had their first taste of Professor Snape.
“There’s only one rule,” Harry says. “What House you’re in doesn’t matter here. We compete against each other outside this room, but inside, we help each other. We might compete for the House cup, but we all know that our OWLs and NEWTs are an individual achievement, and it takes nothing away from us to see others do well.”
“Well said, Harry,” Susan says cheerfully. “I know my aunt will be pleased if my Potions grade improves.”
“Sirius and Remus worked with me this summer to improve on the theory, but for first and second years, it probably makes sense just to memorize what to do,” Harry says. “We’ll help them, then each other.”
Harry had spent the summer mostly focused on catching up on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but Remus had worked with him on the theory of practical brewing.
The lessons are fresh, so Harry spends extra time with the first and second years, helping them with the next few potions in their texts.
Harry notices that Neville is good with the younger ones, so he helps them while Susan and Hermione start working out the potions for their next class. By the time the younger ones are well set and practicing, Susan and Hermione have worked out their next assignments.
Susan smiles smugly. “Well, when we all get perfect grades on our next Potions assignment, that will be a fine advertisement for this study group.”
“You and Hermione will probably take top scores,” Harry says easily. “But hopefully, Neville and I won’t be far behind.”
“I feel much better about Potions now, Harry!” Colin Creevey says enthusiastically. “This was a great idea.”
Colin had about driven him crazy in his second year, but he’s grown on Harry—like a fungus—since then. “Thanks, Colin. Everyone, spread the news to your friends, and if you know someone who’s particularly good at a subject, please invite them to join in and help out.”
Everyone other than Hermione and Neville leave soon after, and Harry is a little surprised to see a fireplace form, and three squashy chairs appear in front of it.
“I did speak to Ron, Harry,” Hermione says gently. “He said he’d think about it, but—“
“He was playing a game of Exploding Snap with Seamus and Dean when we left the common room,” Harry says. “Ron can do what he likes. I think this is important.”
“Bloody hell, Harry, my gran will probably nominate you for an Order of Merlin if I even manage an E,” Neville says. “I never even thought about how helpful it would be to practice. I don’t know why the school won’t let us do that.”
“I’m not sure it’s the school, Neville,” Harry says wryly. “I’m fairly certain it’s Snape. In Muggle schools, they have labs that let you practice things.”
“Plus, it’s not like Dumbledore ever interferes in how professors teach their classes,” Hermione mutters. “If he did, Professor Trelawney would not still be teaching.”
“No kidding,” Harry agrees, although he says it with a laugh.
Neville shrugs. “My gran always says that Divination isn’t useful unless you have a true gift.”
“I’d believe that,” Harry says. “I’m just glad that I’m well out of it. We won’t be able to help people improve their Divination marks, but hopefully, we can work on everything else.”
Hermione reaches out and rests her hand on Harry’s arm. “We will, Harry.”
And Harry appreciates her faith in him.
~~~~~
They have Potions with the Slytherins as usual, and after two practice sessions in the Room of Requirement, Harry feels pretty good about his chances. He’s resolved to lay low this year, to let the prank play out over time. It would be better if Snape doesn’t suspect Harry of anything, so he can’t accuse Harry of cheating.
Snape sneers as Henry enters the Potions lab and says, “I think perhaps you should work with Longbottom, Potter. Weasley, find a new partner.”
“It’s okay, you can partner with me, Ron,” Hermione says in a whisper.
Snape probably thinks it’s a punishment to split him and Ron up, and have Harry partner with Neville, but Harry thinks Snape is going to be surprised by the results.
Harry shares a grin with Neville while Snape’s back is turned, and Snape writes, “Dreamless Sleep” on the board. Harry could make Dreamless Sleep in his—well, in his sleep, actually, because he’d brewed it several times over the summer.
“This isn’t one we practiced,” Neville says, sounding a bit panicked.
Harry whispers, “Nothing I haven’t done before, Nev. It’s one that Remus taught me this summer.”
Neville relaxes at that. “I’ll let you take the lead then, Harry.”
Snape snaps his cape. “If done incorrectly, this potion can have the opposite effect and give nightmares. Get it wrong, and you’ll be drinking it yourselves.”
Neville’s expression suggests that panic is starting to crawl back in, and Harry gives a quick shake of his head. He’s heard that threat from Snape before, but as far as Harry knows, he’s never carried it out. Harry thinks that Dumbledore probably would intervene if he did.
Besides, Harry really does know what he’s doing. He directs Neville with quiet instructions, remembering how Remus had shown him to chop and crush ingredients, comparing potions-making to cooking, and following a recipe. If you know the theory behind cooking food, and what ingredients do, then you can make pretty much anything.
When he and Neville stopper their potions and bring them up to Snape, it looks exactly as Harry remembers it from the summer.
Snape stares at the two of them suspiciously and inspects the potion. “It appears correct,” he says, not particularly graciously. He takes out the stopper and sniffs cautiously. “Did you cheat, Potter?”
Harry forces a pleasant smile on his face. “No, Professor. I brewed it several times this summer for my godfather, so I’ve had practice.”
Snape nearly snarls at them. “Dismissed.”
“Wow, he really hates Sirius, doesn’t he?” Neville asks as they leave the classroom.
“He really does,” Harry agrees. “But I think we should practice a bit more often. Dreamless Sleep wasn’t the next potion in the textbook.”
Neville nods. “First Potions class where I haven’t been in a panic, and that was nice. I can’t wait to tell Gran that it went so well.”
Harry claps him on the back. “We’ll get through this year together.”
The problem, of course, is that Ron chalks up his own success to Hermione’s usual brilliance, and reiterates his lack of interest in their study group.
“I just don’t see why you’re doing it, Hermione,” Ron says with a full mouth while they’re eating dinner. “You already spend enough time studying.”
“But I like helping others do well,” Hermione says patiently. “Especially the younger years. I remember how overwhelming it was for me in the beginning.”
Ron frowns. “You did fine, though. You were first in our year.”
Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes, because he remembers the troll all too well.
Hermione frowns right back. “Surviving is not thriving, Ronald.”
To Harry, at least, it’s clear that Hermione has decided that she’s not going to put up with any of Ron’s shit. Harry hopes that he’s not going to be responsible for a breakdown in their relationship, but maybe Hermione will civilize Ron somehow.
“When’s the next study session, Harry?” George asks.
“Yeah, we want to come,” Fred adds.
“Pass on our pranks to the next generation,” George says.
“Corrupt young minds,” Fred finishes.
Hermione frowns at them, too, but Harry says, “You two have to be really good at Potions, Transfiguration, and all that, right? Your help would be welcome.”
Hermione subsides at that, probably because she knows Harry is right. Fred and George aren’t top of their class, but they could be if they applied themselves to their coursework, rather than their joke shop.
Harry is rather hoping that his godfather will agree to invest in their endeavor.
Ron just shakes his head. “It’s too early in the year to be worried about that. You’ll change your tune soon enough.”
They add one more study session per week and are starting to see real results, which is about the time when Malfoy starts stepping up his harassment. Harry feels as though his prank is really starting to gain momentum, and so it makes sense that Malfoy would try to curse him in the back.
The first time it happens, Harry is on his way to Arithmancy with Neville and Hermione, and he hears a whisper of sound behind him. It’s hard to forget Professor Moody’s imprecations of CONSTANT VIGILANCE when he shouts it every time they have DADA, so Harry moves instinctually, pulling Neville and Hermione along with him.
The curse goes wide, and Harry sees Draco with his wand out, Crabbe and Doyle flanking him. Harry’s wand is already in his hand, but Hermione is just as quick on the draw lately, and Harry wonders if she hasn’t done some practicing of her own. She sends a Jelly-Legs Jinx toward the three of them, and they just barely manage to dodge that.
Harry follows it up with a Stinging Hex that has all three jumping. Neville also hits them with a disarming spell that misses Draco, but does send Goyle’s wand flying.
The whole thing only takes a few seconds, and then Professor Vector comes into the hallway. “What’s going on out here? Dueling in the halls?”
Malfoy glares daggers at Harry, and Harry says mildly, “No, Professor. We were just having a contest to see who was the fastest draw. Turns out that it’s Hermione.”
“I’ve been practicing,” Hermione says modestly.
Professor Vector raises her eyebrows, and it’s clear that she doesn’t believe them, but when she turns her disbelieving gaze on Malfoy, he mutters, “It’s true, Professor.”
Probably because he’d be the one in detention if she found out Malfoy started it, Harry thinks.
Vector nods sharply. “Well, class is starting shortly, children.”
Harry takes that as the cue it is and hurriedly seats himself in the classroom next to Hermione.
Since arithmancy is an elective, and not always a popular one, all of the fourth years who are taking it are in the same class. It’s early in the year, but so far Harry has been able to keep up with his classmates, even if he does spend an extra long time on his homework.
He really doesn’t mind, though. Sirius had explained over the summer how he and the other Marauders had created the map of Hogwarts that had come into the Weasley twins’ possession, and then Harry’s, and it had involved transfiguration, arithmancy, and ancient runes.
As Sirius put it, knowledge is power, and the more Harry knows, the more helpful he can be.
Which reminds him: he really ought to call Sirius to wish him luck in his first real Wizengamot session, and to maybe see if Sirius will send potions ingredients. Sirius had said that Harry could call any time he likes, although he knows the communication mirrors are also there in case of an emergency, so they don’t have to wait on an owl.
Harry misses both his godfather and Remus, although he’s glad that they have each other.
After dinner, Harry takes stock of his homework and decides that there’s nothing absolutely pressing. “Are you going to the library, Harry?” Hermione asks.
Harry shakes his head. “Maybe in a bit, but I wanted to call Sirius to wish him luck tomorrow.”
“Luck in what?” Ron asks, chasing the last bit of treacle that’s on his plate.
Harry manages not to sigh. He supposes he ought to be grateful that Ron hasn’t stopped speaking with him, and instead has limited himself to snide remarks about Harry’s new studiousness. With the announcement about the Triwizard Tournament at the beginning of term, Ron can’t point to Quidditch as a likely distraction for Harry either.
“It’s the first Wizengamot session where he’ll have taken his seat,” Harry explains. “He’s going to be introducing a couple of proposals, too, so it’s a big deal.”
“Did he decide to start with the foundation, then?” Neville asks.
Neville, of course, knows all about it, since he’d been there while Sirius and Augusta planned their strategy in Paris.
“That’s the plan,” Harry replies. “I don’t think it will be an issue. And he’s going to announce a private donation to the DMLE for additional Aurors.”
Ron frowns. “I don’t know why you’re so interested in the Wizengamot, Harry.”
“I’ll take the Black seat one day,” Harry reminds him.
Ron scoffs. “That’s what Percy is obsessed about. Everything is about the Ministry.”
Harry suddenly realizes that Ron is lumping him in with Percy, what with Harry’s new focus on school and interest in government. Harry is pretty sure that one of his other friends would let him know if he had turned into a total prig, so it’s not really a fair comparison.
Besides, Harry has already decided to go ahead and do what he needs to do, and let Ron react however he wants.
Harry finds an empty classroom to call Sirius, and is gratified when Sirius not only answers right away, but is clearly delighted that Harry called just because he wanted to talk. And he does immediately offer to send potions ingredients so they can practice.
Harry comes out of the classroom and heads for Gryffindor tower, although he could go to the library. He thinks that maybe if he goes to the common room and encounters Ron, he can propose a game of Exploding Snap or Gobstones and help smooth things over that way.
Malfoy steps in front of him. “I know what you’re doing, Potter.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Malfoy,” Harry replies evenly, not reaching for his wand—at least not yet.
“Sneaking off to your little study group?” Malfoy sneers. “Just wait until Professor Snape finds out you’re stealing ingredients.”
Harry smirks. “Go ahead and tell him to do an inventory, and see what he finds out. There won’t be anything missing.”
“What’s the point?” Malfoy demands.
Harry shrugs. “We just want to get good grades, and if it promotes inter-house cooperation, then that’s all for the best. After all, with the Triwizard Tournament this year and no Quidditch, we all need to get behind the Hogwarts champion.”
Malfoy just sneers at him, then stalks down the hallway, deliberately bumping Harry’s shoulder with his own, half-shoving him.
Harry shrugs off the interaction. As he’d told Sirius, Malfoy is a prat. He’s always been a prat, and he likely always will be.
The common room is crowded that night, and apparently, even Hermione had decided to eschew the library. Ron is staring moodily at a chess board, playing against himself, and George and Fred have their heads bent over a piece of parchment.
Harry isn’t great at chess, but he thinks maybe giving Ron a chance to beat him will do even more to smooth things over.
He sits down across from Ron and waits for Ron to acknowledge him. He finally looks up with a sour expression. “I thought you had to study.”
“Not right now,” Harry replies. At some point, between the World Cup and taking the train back to school, Harry has realized that he doesn’t require Ron’s approval. It would be nice to have his support, and he’d like to have Ron’s friendship, but the fact that he has Sirius and Remus has given him more of a solid foundation.
“Do you want to play a game?” Harry prompts when Ron doesn’t immediately respond.
“You don’t even like chess,” Ron mutters.
Harry shrugs. “Not as much as you do, but I don’t mind it, and you like it.”
Ron’s face softens at that. “All right, but I’m not going easy on you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Harry points out.
Ron beats him handily, as Harry expected, but Ron’s markedly cheerful by the end of it, and Harry remembers what his godfather said about cultivating relationships.
It seems like Ron is no exception to that rule.
~~~~~
Harry is walking slowly down the hall towards the Transfiguration classroom, considering their next study session, and what he wants to accomplish.
He knows that he should be more vigilant in the hallways, since Malfoy has been a real prat lately, but he’s preoccupied with plans and the knowledge of the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Maybe it’s stupid, but he’s excited to see Sirius and Remus again.
A shout rings out in the hallway behind him. “You not hurt Master Harry Potter!”
Harry would know that voice anywhere, and he moves just quickly enough to avoid the curse that Malfoy has cast at his back.
Malfoy’s wand goes flying, causing him to curse and shake his hand, since it must have stung.
Of course, that brings Professor McGonagall to the hallway, and she immediately demands, “What is going on here?”
“His house elf attacked me!” Malfoy shouts. “That creature should be destroyed, attacking a wizard like that!”
“Malfoy tried to curse me in the back,” Harry replies, leaping to Dobby’s defense. “Dobby was just doing as my godfather asked, and protecting me.”
McGonagall executes a wandless and wordless summoning spell, and Malfoy’s wand slaps into her hand. She then swishes the wand, muttering something Harry can’t catch, and her face hardens. “You sent a cutting hex at Mr. Potter’s unprotected back, Mr. Malfoy. You could have done quite a bit of damage.”
Malfoy has gone even paler than usual. “Professor, I—“
“There is no excuse for cursing someone in the back,” she says severely. “Fifty points from Slytherin. You will serve detention with me every Tuesday night for the rest of the month, and you’re banned from the next Hogsmeade weekend.”
Malfoy’s eyes go wide. “What? That’s not fair!”
“Neither is cursing someone in the back,” McGonagall says. “It’s lucky that Mr. Potter has such a caring godfather, and such an alert house elf.”
Harry takes that as his cue to say, “Yes, thank you, Dobby.”
“I protect Master Harry Potter from mean people,” Dobby says forthrightly. “Harry Potter’s Paddy says so. Dobby be getting paid to protect Master Harry Potter.”
“Disarming those who are attempting to do harm is acceptable,” McGonagall warns him. “But please don’t hurt anyone.”
“Dobby would never!” Dobby replies. “I go get Professor Kitty if that be necessary.”
McGonagall unbends enough to smile. “Very good. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, I believe you both have class.”
Harry slips into the Transfiguration classroom and takes a seat next to Ron. “What happened, mate?” Ron whispers. “Professor McGonagall looks furious!”
“Malfoy tried to curse me in the back, and Dobby stopped him,” Harry whispers. “I’ll tell you the rest of it after class.”
“Glad you weren’t hurt,” Ron whispers back.
Harry takes a deep breath, and then brings his focus to the Transfiguration lesson. He really wants to become an animagus before next year, and he thinks it might be possible if he works hard.
Remus is safe enough with Wolfsbane, but Harry kind of likes the idea of being able to be around Remus even without it and still be safe. He knows it would make Remus feel better.
At lunch, Hermione appears incensed when Harry relates what happened with Malfoy, and Harry can’t tell if it’s because of what Malfoy tried to do, or if it’s because Dobby had been the one to stop it.
“I can’t believe you have a house elf, Harry!” Hermione hisses. “I mean, really.”
“I can’t help it!” Harry protests. “Dobby needed a bond with a wizard, and so he formed one with me. I didn’t know about it, or do anything to cause it. And besides, Dobby wants to be here. Sirius is paying him.”
Hermione is still frowning, and so Harry says, “Dobby, would you tell Hermione how much Sirius is paying you to looks after me?”
“One galleon per month,” Dobby says proudly, popping up right next to her. “Dobby is very grateful to Harry Potter’s dog-father.”
Hermione’s scowl loses a bit of its ferocity, and Harry makes a mental note to ask Sirius to send Hermione a book on house elves soon. He knows that Sirius had planned on taking on Winky, if he hasn’t already done so. “Well, that’s better.”
“Sirius said he’d send you a book on house elves,” Harry says. “I’ll remind him.”
Harry sees Moody and McGonagall leaning close together, and then Moody glances toward the Gryffindor table. Harry winces, because he certainly hadn’t been exercising CONSTANT VIGILANCE earlier.
“Why’s Mad-Eye staring at you?” Ron asks through a full mouth.
Harry hesitates, then says, “I got dueling lessons this summer. He’s probably disappointed by my lack of vigilance.”
Neville glances at the scoreboard that shows the house points. At breakfast, most of the houses had been pretty even, especially since there’s no Quidditch this year, and therefore no games to garner points. Currently, though, with Slytherin losing fifty points due to Malfoy, Slytherin is in fourth place.
Harry isn’t too surprised to see that everyone at the Slytherin table is giving Malfoy the cold shoulder, other than the ever-loyal Crabbe and Goyle.
“Looks like Malfoy didn’t do his house any favors,” Neville comments.
“Nice to see him facing some consequences for a change,” Harry replies as Moody starts clumping his way. “Uh oh.”
Moody stands over Harry, his false eye spinning crazily. “And whose idea was it to pay the house elf to watch your back?” Moody growls.
“Sirius’,” Harry admits. “A galleon a month.”
“Good,” Moody comments. “I’m glad one of you is thinking outside the box. Remember, Potter: CONSTANT VIGILANCE.”
The roar makes everyone in the Great Hall jump. “I won’t forget again, Professor,” Harry says.
“Nor will any of us,” Neville mutters, rubbing his ear.
“See that you don’t,” Moody mutters. “And you lot had best watch Potter’s back. I’d hate to see you take off someone’s wand arm, Potter.”
Ron looks almost impressed. “Could you actually do that, Harry?”
“He has the power,” Moody comments.
“We’ll look after him,” Hermione says stoutly.
Moody nods, as though that takes care of it, and maybe it does. Harry just resolves to not tell Sirius about any of this until he can see Sirius in person at the next Hogsmeade weekend, and Sirius can see for himself that Harry is just fine.
But he’s going to ask Sirius for a book on house elves for Hermione just as soon as he can.
~~~~~
Harry looks around the Room of Requirement, which has expanded to accommodate the twelve students who have shown up. There are six benches that will accommodate brewing, plus three tables of four chairs for the students who want to study instead.
Once again, all eyes are on Harry, and he takes a deep breath as he takes stock. Fred and George have come, and they’re the only fifth years, but there’s a sixth year Ravenclaw, Rodney Abramson, who had approached Harry with an offer to tutor the younger years because he thought knowledge should be shared.
“Rodney, would you work with the first and second years?” Harry asks. “Hermione, third years, if you think you’re good for the next Potions class.”
Hermione nods. “I feel confident, Harry.”
“All right,” Harry replies. “Everyone else, work on the next potion out of the textbook, and if you get into trouble, ask for help.”
Since Harry’s gained a better grasp of the theory, and a bit of a head start on the textbook, he helps those in his year, including Ron and Neville. Fred and George just jump in helping everybody, and while they bring a certain chaotic energy Harry doesn’t think is entirely helpful, they also keep everybody laughing.
Then again, the Weasley twins have a good grasp of both the theory and the practical aspects, so they’re able to help fifth years and below.
After a couple of hours, everyone is comfortable with their next assignments, and people start to congregate around the tables, or to drift out of the room.
Harry is the last to leave, knowing that the Room of Requirement will clean up after them. He just wants to make sure that no one has left anything behind that will end up disappearing.
He nearly runs into Snape as he steps into the hallway, and Harry can see Malfoy hovering behind the professor.
“Mr. Potter,” Snape hisses. “Mr. Malfoy tells me that you’re stealing potions ingredients.”
Harry feels a hot bolt of anger, but he throttles it back, knowing that this prank will work better if he keeps his cool. “If you’d check, Professor, you’d know that’s not true. Those in our study group get the ingredients from their parents. That’s part of the deal.”
“I don’t need to check,” Snape says silkily, moving closer to Harry, physically crowding him. “I know you’ve been cheating. That will be—“
“Severus!” McGonagall’s call cuts off whatever Snape is about to say. “What are you doing?”
Harry realizes that he’s backed up against the doors of the Room of Requirement, and Snape’s face is mere centimeters from his own. Snape quickly takes a step back, apparently realizing that bullying a student in front of the Deputy Headmistress is not a good idea.
Harry takes a deep, shaky breath as both McGonagall and Moody bear down on them. Harry spots Hermione behind them.
“Mr. Potter is cheating,” Snape snarls. “According to Mr. Malfoy, he’s been stealing potions ingredients to do so.”
“The last time I read our school’s bylaws, practice on school grounds is neither cheating, nor is it against the rules,” McGonagall says icily. “Do you have proof that he stole the ingredients?”
“He has in the past,” Snape says, just as icily.
Moody’s good eye narrows. “Do you have proof of that?”
Snape’s lip curls. “I don’t need proof.”
“I’m afraid you do,” McGonagall replies. “In order to take points, Mr. Potter would need to do something against the rules. Having a study group to help his fellow students is not one of those things.”
Snape is clearly incredibly frustrated. “He’s cheating.”
“By studying?” Moody asks incredulously.
Stymied, Snape says, “I’ll find proof,” before he sweeps away in a swirl of black.
Malfoy sneers at Harry, but then scampers away when McGonagall fixes him with a glare. She then turns her eyes towards Harry. “Please tell me that my faith in you is not misplaced, Mr. Potter.”
“I swear, Professor,” Harry says. “To belong to the study group, you have to bring your own ingredients. Parents have been sending them by owl. We’ve been very careful not to take anything so that Professor Snape wouldn’t have a reason to come down on us.”
McGonagall nods. “Well, if I were you, I would tell Sirius to give Dobby a raise. He’s the one who alerted Hermione, and she found me.”
Harry is pretty sure he’s never going to tell Sirius about this little episode, not unless or until Snape is no longer a professor here. He thinks it’s entirely possible that Sirius would do something foolish.
What, Harry doesn’t know, but he’s not willing to risk it.
“Are you okay?” Hermione asks as they hurry towards the Gryffindor common room.
Harry nods. “I’m fine. Snape was about to try to deduct points, probably because McGonagall took points because of Malfoy, but she got there before he could.”
Hermione frowns fiercely. “I wish he had tried! We could have challenged him, and we would have won, too!”
“Well, let’s be grateful that we don’t have to worry about that,” Harry replies. “And we’re not telling Sirius about this. I don’t know what he’d do, and I don’t want to find out.”
Hermione sighs loudly. “I really think you ought to tell him, Harry. He’d be supportive.”
“Yeah, and he’s just now starting his Wizengamot career,” Harry points out. “If he comes storming to the school to protect me, Malfoy could use that against him—Malfoy senior, I mean.”
Hermione grimaces. “Yeah, you have a point.”
“And I don’t want him to worry about me,” Harry adds. “Sirius knows about Ron, and about Malfoy being a prat. He knows that Snape has it out for me already, and nothing actually happened.”
“What about Dobby’s raise?” Hermione asks with a smile.
Harry laughs. “I’ll take care of that myself.”
When he gets to the common room, Harry is immediately surrounded by the rest of the Gryffindors.
“Did you lose points?” Ron asks.
“Did you curse Snape?” Seamus asks.
“Did you find Professor McGonagall in time?” That’s from Neville.
“What happened, Harry?” Colin asks.
Since that’s the last question, he says, “Snape accused us of stealing school potion supplies, and of cheating, and Professor McGonagall pointed out that studying isn’t against the school rules, and Snape needed proof of theft before taking points. So, guys, pass the word: we don’t use school supplies for our study sessions, not ever. No matter how good of an idea it seems at the time.”
There are murmurs of agreement around the room.
Dobby pops in, looking anxiously at Harry. “Dobby did good, Master Harry Potter, sir?”
“You were great, Dobby,” Harry replies. “And you’re getting a raise. And more socks.”
Fred and George start whispering, and then Fred says, “I say we take up a collection for Dobby’s socks.”
“I’ve got a sickle,” Seamus says.
That starts an outpouring of offers of knuts and sickles, enough to keep Dobby in socks for at least a decade. More than just the socks, though, Harry thinks the abject delight on Dobby’s face is an indicator of just how it feels for him to essentially be adopted as the Gryffindor house mascot.
And, apparently, Harry now has a bodyguard.
~~~~~
The problem with Snape pairing Ron and Hermione together in Potions is that Ron benefits from Hermione’s hard work, and will do so even if he doesn’t study with them.
A week before the Hogsmeade weekend, Ron is playing a game of Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus, who have come to a couple of the study sessions but so far haven’t shown a ton of interest.
“Are you coming, Ron?” Harry asks.
Dean and Seamus look at each other and snicker a bit. Ron shifts uncomfortably and says, “Sorry, Harry, but we don’t even have OWLs this year, and exams are months away. Besides, Hermione can go for the both of us.”
“It’s not like Granger’s going to let you get a bad mark when it would reflect poorly on her,” Dean comments.
Hermione has already left for the study session, so she doesn’t overhear them, but Neville does. “Better not let Hermione find out that you’re letting her carry you, Ron,” Neville warns. “She might stop.”
“You won’t be able to rely on Hermione when it comes time for exams, Ron,” Harry warns him. “If you do a little more work now, you won’t have to do as much later.”
Ron shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m not a swot like you, Harry. You’re only doing this because you don’t have Quidditch. Besides, it’s boring.”
Harry realizes that arguing would be counterproductive. “Fine. You know where to find us if you change your mind.”
They leave the common room, and Neville says, “I really thought he was coming around, Harry.”
“It’s not like Dean and Seamus are all that interested in studying right now,” Harry says. “And Ron is apparently taking up with them.”
“As you said, he can always come back,” Neville points out. “Although it might take both of us doing well in Potions to convince him it’s worth it.”
Harry sighs. “I’m pretty sure that Ron is comparing me to Percy.”
Neville scoffs. “No comparison. Percy never lifted a finger to help anyone else, not even when he was supposed to as a prefect.”
Harry might have cared at one point, but he’s not out to impress Ron right now. He’s more interested in showing Sirius that he can do well, and to make Sirius proud of him.
“I get it, you know,” Neville says. “I just want to make Gran proud of me. She really started including me in stuff this last summer, when Sirius got you involved. I mean, my parents will probably never…” Neville trails off.
It’s the first time Neville has spoken freely about his parents, and Harry wishes that he could do something for him. It’s not fair that they both lost their parents to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but Harry thinks it might be worse for Neville in some ways.
Harry’s parents are gone and beyond his reach. Neville’s are there, but can’t be present in his life. Harry can’t imagine that.
“I’m sorry, Nev,” Harry says softly.
Neville manages a smile. “I know you understand, Harry, and it was your loss, too.”
It’s a generous thing to say, and Harry bumps Neville’s shoulder with his own. “You know we’re going to have our own voting bloc, right? I figure we can get Hermione elected as Minister and take the world by storm.”
Neville laughs. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Sirius and Remus are coming to the next Hogsmeade weekend, and I’m going to meet them for lunch,” Harry says. “Hermione already said she wanted to come, but do you want to?”
Neville hesitates. “I don’t want to intrude on your time together.”
“I don’t mind,” Harry insists. “And we can get the inside scoop on what happened at the Wizengamot.”
“Sounds good,” Neville finally says.
They walk in front of the Room of Requirement three times, and the door opens. There are already a dozen or so students there, and several Hufflepuffs hurry into the room behind them, shepherded by Susan Bones.
“Sorry,” she says apologetically. “I had to round these guys up. They’ve been interested, but didn’t quite know how to find the room.”
Harry smiles at them. “Welcome. Next time, you can find an older student if you can’t find Susan, okay? What are your names?”
There are three girls and a boy, none of whom Harry is familiar with, and Harry pairs them off with a couple of third years who have a good grasp of theory, and can help them practice.
By this point, there are regulars who can help Harry, Hermione and Neville to keep things organized. Fred and George aren’t there, but they attend sporadically, depending on whether they have their own experiments going.
Although Harry had initially been disappointed at finding out that Quidditch is canceled, he’s kind of grateful now. Ron had been right about that; Harry would have struggled to balance everything had he been playing Quidditch.
And seeing Snape’s growing rage is hilarious in Harry’s eyes, especially since he knows he’s not doing anything wrong, and he has a bodyguard.
“All right, great job tonight, everybody,” Harry says a half hour before curfew. “We won’t meet again until the Tuesday after the Hogsmeade weekend.”
“And if you want sweets from Honeydukes, and you’re in Hufflepuff, let me know, and we can pick up what you’d like,” Susan calls.
The younger Ravenclaws and Gryffindors turn pleading looks towards those in their houses, and Rodney says, “Same goes for the Ravenclaws.”
“And the Gryffindors,” Harry says. “We can work it out in the common room. But we don’t want to break curfew, so let’s get going, everyone.”
Harry, Hermione and Neville usher the younger Gryffindors back to their common room. Harry knows that the word has gone out among the study group participants: no one is to take potions ingredients from the school stores, and no one is to leave the study group alone. There’s safety in numbers.
Harry is eagerly anticipating the Hogsmeade weekend, and he gets most of his homework done ahead of time so he can maximize the time spent with Remus and Sirius.
They’re putting on jackets and scarves, and Harry asks Ron, “Are you coming to lunch with us? We’re meeting Sirius and Remus.”
“Yeah, you said,” Ron replies. “Maybe. I’ll have to see.”
“Suit yourself,” Harry says, knowing that he sounds short. Ron has been ignoring him the last few days, pointedly talking to Dean and Seamus, or basically anyone whose name isn’t Harry Potter.
Harry is pretty sure he understands why. Ron is feeling guilty and torn, and he doesn’t want to admit to any of it. Or maybe Ron just doesn’t want to face Sirius, who doesn’t have a problem reporting bad behavior to his parents.
Not that Ron has done anything that needs to be reported to his parents, but if Ron feels guilty, he might not realize that.
So, Harry doesn’t say anything, and they stop in front of the Three Broomsticks. “Are you coming to lunch?” Harry asks Ron.
“I’m going to Honeydukes,” Ron replies. “I’ll meet up with you later.”
Harry exchanges a look with Hermione and Neville, and then says, “Okay, sounds good. See you later, mate.”
“Yeah, see you,” Ron replies, and slinks off.
“I already told him that I was expecting him to carry his weight in Potions,” Hermione says, sounding exasperated. “I don’t know what his problem is.”
“I do,” Harry says. “Ron knows that I have interests outside of him, and he’s having a hard time adjusting. He’ll be there when I really need him, but he has to get used to the new normal, you know? It’s fine.”
Hermione gives him a speculative look. “That’s remarkably mature of you, Harry.”
“I talked to Leo and my—my godfather about it this summer,” Harry replies, almost referring to Sirius as his father. More and more, Sirius is starting to take up that space in his head, and more and more, Harry is having a hard time not calling him that by accident. “From the way Ron responded to my summer plans, I figured he’d have a problem.”
“Besides,” Harry adds. “It’s not really about Ron, is it?”
Hermione tucks her arm through his. “I like this new leaf you’ve turned.”
Harry smiles at her. “So do I.”
They enter the Three Broomsticks, and Harry approaches Rosemerta. “We’re meeting my godfather, Sirius Black, as well as Remus Lupin for lunch,” he tells her. “Is there a private room?”
Rosemerta smiles brightly. “Yes, of course. I was that pleased to find out that Sirius was innocent. I was at school with him, you know, although a year or two behind. And he took his title! I never thought I’d see the day.”
Harry shrugs. “He thought it would be for the best.”
“Well, come on through,” Rosemerta says. “Would you lot like butter beers while you’re waiting?”
They all answer in the affirmative, and she soon brings back three bottles. “I’ll bring your godfather through when he gets here.”
“Thanks for coming,” Harry says suddenly. “I know it’s a bit weird.”
“What’s weird?” Neville asks. “Wanting to see your godfather during the school year?”
“No one else really sees their parents, except on the holidays,” Harry says awkwardly.
“If I had the chance to see my parents, I’d take it,” Hermione admits. “It’s not like you’re breaking any rules, Harry, and it’s not like you even had a whole summer with him, and no time at all before that.”
Neville grimaces. “Well, as much as I love my gran, I don’t really feel the need to see her on Hogsmeade weekends, but Lord Black is different. I can’t blame you for wanting to see him more often.”
Harry laughs. “Your gran is very formidable.”
“That’s one word,” Neville mutters.
Sirius and Remus arrive shortly after that, and Harry can’t resist the urge to give both of them a hug. He refuses to be ashamed of it, and both of them seem gratified.
Harry figures it’s a novelty for him to have anyone who cares about him, and Sirius and Remus regard all three of them warmly. Sirius looks at Harry as though he’s the most important person in the world, and it causes something inside Harry to relax in a way that he can’t quite explain, even to himself.
After they eat, Hermione and Neville leave to give Harry a bit more time alone with Sirius and Remus. When it’s just the three of them, Harry feels a bit more free to be honest about his feelings regarding Ron.
Sirius seems to understand at least, and doesn’t mind that there’s a part of Harry that wishes he could go back to not caring. But then, Harry hadn’t cared because he hadn’t thought he had a future, or that anyone would care either way.
Harry doesn’t want to go back to that, and he’s already started formulating a plan to go into healing with a focus on spell damage. If he could give Neville’s parents back to him, then he’d have done something worthwhile with his life that isn’t about a prophecy Harry has no control over.
And then, when Harry says as much, Sirius says, “You remind me so much of your mum sometimes.”
Everyone always tells Harry how much he looks like his dad, but no one ever talks about his mum, not really.
Sirius asks whether he still wants to visit his parents’ graves on Halloween. Harry can’t quite believe that no one had ever told him when they’d died. Well, he knows why the Dursleys hadn’t, but not everyone else.
Harry does want to see where they’re buried, though, and where they’d died, where he’d spent the first year or so of his life. And right now, Harry isn’t sure he wants to be at Hogwarts for the Halloween feast, not when there’s sure to be a celebratory feel as the Triwizard Champions are chosen.
Sirius reminds him of that, and Harry can’t quite put his finger on it, but he knows that Sirius isn’t worried about him insulting someone by not being there. Sirius doesn’t give a fig for insulting people. No, there’s something more to it than that, and whether he knows it or not, Sirius is clearly telegraphing that he’d prefer Harry not be around for whatever he has planned.
Sirius doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, though, so Harry doesn’t ask. He still wants to go to Honeydukes and pick up sweets; there are some orders to fill from the first and second years in their study group, and Harry wants to encourage them to keep coming back.
He bids farewell to Sirius and Remus, accepting their hugs, and then heading out. Harry is a bit surprised to find Hermione waiting for him, a bag from the bookstore in hand. “You didn’t have to wait for me,” Harry says.
“Nev is buying more quills, and the twins said they’ll meet us at Honeydukes, and we’ll all walk back together,” Hermione says firmly. “I saw Malfoy earlier, and he has his usual entourage. I know you’ve got Dobby, but it won’t be good for him if he’s forced to hurt a wizard, so we oughtn’t risk it. You’ll just have to deal with it.”
Harry takes her bag and lets Hermione take his arm again. “What would I do without you?”
“I have no idea, so let’s not find out,” Hermione says pertly. “I really do like Sirius, Harry. He’s been good for you, and you can see how much he cares.”
Harry is quiet, trying to figure out how to ask the question he wants to ask. He trusts Hermione more than just about anyone, even if he’s fairly certain that his feelings are platonic right now.
“It’s okay,” Hermione tells him. “You can say whatever you’d like.”
“Do you think it’s wrong of me to think of Sirius as my dad?” Harry asks. “I mean, I have a dad.”
Hermione is quiet for a long moment. “Please don’t be upset, Harry, but while you did have parents, you don’t now, and Sirius—and even Professor Lupin—are filling those roles.”
Harry swallows. “Yeah.”
“But I think it’s possible to have multiple parents, you know,” Hermione says, sounding determinedly cheerful. “I mean, plenty of people get divorced and remarried. I had friends in primary who had upwards of four parents, and while it didn’t always work for everyone, lots of them got on well with all four.”
She pauses, and then adds, “From what everyone has said, your parents loved you. I know if it were me, and my child, I’d want someone else filling that role if I couldn’t. I don’t think they’d be upset. Quite the contrary.”
“I’m going to visit their graves on Halloween,” Harry admits in a rush. “I’ve never been, and that’s the anniversary.”
Hermione glances over at him. “I don’t know what I believe about life after death, not now, having seen the Hogwarts ghosts, but maybe you should talk to them about it when you have the chance.”
“Maybe I will,” Harry replies. “Thanks, Hermione.”
Ron comes out of the bookstore as they pass, and he says, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I went by the Three Broomsticks, but Rosemerta said you’d already left.”
“It was long past lunch time when we did, Ron,” Harry points out.
“I lost track of time,” Ron says defensively. “I meant to meet you, really! But I was at Honeyedukes, and then Dean and Seamus invited me to go by the paper store, because I needed quills, and I just didn’t realize how late it was.”
Harry feels himself soften. “Fair enough. We’re going to Honeydukes now if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Ron says. “How were your godfather and Professor Lupin?”
“Good,” Harry replies, and he feels a bit better now, knowing that Ron had intended to join them and just lost track of time.
“Well, I am sorry,” Ron says. “I meant to be there, mate.”
“It’s all right, Ron,” Harry replies. “Could happen to anyone.”
And all is right in his world at that moment.
~~~~~
The thing about Ron is that he always does come around. After his cock-up at Hogsmeade, Ron makes more of an effort. He doesn’t turn up to every study session, but then a lot of people don’t. They do have a steady fifteen to twenty students at each session, and it’s almost more than they can handle. Daphne Greengrass is now a regular, though, and she’s quite clever and a very good student, so that’s a help.
With her, come more of the younger Slytherins who are apparently tired of being shown up by the Gryffindors in Potions, at least those who are attending the study sessions.
Along with Potions, Harry has expanded the lessons to DADA, using what he’d learned from Moody, Sirius, and Remus over the summer. The Room has expanded, offering up practice dummies.
“I heard your godfather is an animagus, Harry,” Colin says one night, a couple of days before Halloween. “Are you going to become one?”
“I’m going to try, Colin,” Harry says self-deprecatingly. “I’ve been meditating, but that’s also part of my occlumency lessons.”
Several of the younger years who have finished up their Potions practice clamor around Harry. “What’s occlumency?” Jack Bride asks, a Hufflepuff first year.
“It’s a way to protect your mind from outside influences,” Harry replies. “Come on. We’ll sit, and I’ll tell you about what I learned this summer.”
It’s not just the younger years who are interested; a number of the older students gather around as well, including Hermione. “You don’t think a Muggle-born is incapable of being an animagus, do you?” she asks.
Harry shakes his head. “From what Sirius has said, there are those who have a knack, but if you’re willing to work at it, I think anyone can get there, no matter your blood status.”
Daphne has apparently been listening in, and she says, “I know plenty of purebloods without the discipline to find their form. In some families, being an animagus is rather looked down upon, because it means you’ll have to register and air your personal business. I think it could be dead useful, though. Have you come close yet, Harry?”
Harry shakes his head. “No, not yet, although I think my form might have feathers. And I can help, but I’m no expert.”
“That’s all right, Harry,” Colin says. “You can just explain what it is you know.”
At that, everyone crowds around, even the purebloods, and when she sees Harry’s surprise, Daphne says impatiently, “I told you, Potter, this isn’t something taught in pureblood houses. There might be a few, but they guard that knowledge.”
Harry checks the time and realizes that they have about an hour left before they need to leave so as not to miss curfew. “Okay, well, the meditation exercises that Sirius taught me work well both for occlumency and for finding your animagus form. It’s okay if you’re rubbish at it the first time. I was. It just takes time, but I’ve found it helpful at night to help me sleep.”
He isn’t too surprised when Hermione struggles with the meditation exercises. She has a hard time clearing her mind. But Ron is there that night as well, and he takes to meditation easily.
That seems to do wonders for Ron and his general feelings about the study group, because he’s actually enthusiastic about it on the way back to the common room.
“Do you think I could become an animagus, Harry?” Ron asks. “It would be brilliant to be able to transform!”
Harry shrugs. “Maybe. It helps to understand the theory behind it, though.”
Ron grimaces. “Then I’ll work on it, because I think I’d like it. None of my brothers are animagi. I’d be alone in it.”
“If you put your mind to it, I’m sure you’ll get there,” Harry replies encouragingly. “You just have to keep at it.”
He thinks Ron will likely get bored of it, but there’s a chance he won’t. The novelty of being able to do something that none of his brothers can do might keep him focused.
“Are you still going to visit your parents’ graves on Halloween?” Hermione asks, probably in a bid to change the subject, since she hadn’t done as well.
Harry nods. “That’s still the plan. I likely won’t be back in time for the feast, but it’s hard to say.”
“You do what you need to do, mate,” Ron says. “If anyone asks, we’ll set them straight.”
“Thanks,” Harry replies. “I’m just not sure how I’ll feel when it’s all said and done.”
Snape is in a particularly foul mood when everyone in their study group successfully brews that day’s potion. The study group has worked ahead on the textbooks for all the years, and Harry’s been emphasizing theory, so even if Snape jumps around, he’s not going to catch them unawares.
It’s a great reminder for Harry that the study group is paying off. He and Nev brew a perfect Skelegrow potion, which Harry knows for a fact isn’t in the fourth year textbook, but Harry has enough of a handle on the theory at this point that he can manage, and Nev isn’t far behind.
“Merlin’s pants, Harry, but Snape keeps trying to kill us,” Neville mutters as they leave the classroom.
“I’d put ours against anything brewed from a healer,” Harry replies. “We’ll be all right.”
“You were right about the theory, Harry,” Neville says.
“Remus taught me that over the summer,” Harry replies. “He explained that it’s a lot like cooking, and once you know what all the ingredients do, and how they work together, you can cook about anything. Potions isn’t too different, and I’m not half-bad at cooking. I think I was mostly intimidated by Snape.”
“Too right,” Neville mutters. “What are you doing for Christmas? I know you usually stay here.”
“I’m not sure,” Harry admits. “I’ll spend it with Sirius and Remus, and I think we’re planning on spending at least some of the time in France, but beyond that, I don’t know.”
Neville nods. “I was going to say that if you planned to spend it here, you could always come home with me.”
Even if he’d probably never take Neville up on that invitation, Harry does appreciate it. “Thanks. I think we’ll be fine.”
“Do you want company?” Neville asks. “Visiting your parents, I mean. I never want company, but if you do, I’ll bet I could get Gran to write a note to excuse me.”
Harry smiles, and shakes his head. “No. It’s my first time, but maybe in the future? I know my parents were your godparents, too.”
Neville slings an arm around his shoulders. “We’re going to end You-Know-Who, Harry. With your godfather and my gran on the job, I don’t see how we couldn’t.”
Harry can’t help but compare how he feels right now with how he’d felt this time during second year. He wishes he’d known to cultivate friendships in other houses then. Maybe no one would have believed that he opened the Chamber of Secrets, or maybe he’d have just had a loyal cadre, but even that would have been better.
Halloween morning, Harry eats breakfast in the Great Hall, and he’s surprised but pleased when Hermione and Ron pull on their cloaks and accompany him down to the gate. Harry has worn some smart jeans and a thick, green sweater, and a coat over the top. When they reach the gates, Sirius and Remus are wearing something similar.
Ron says, “I know we’d get in trouble, but we’ll go with you if you want.”
Harry is touched by the offer, and he says, “I wouldn’t want you to get another Howler from your mum. It’s okay. I appreciate the offer.”
When the gates swing open, Harry steps through, and Sirius puts an arm around his shoulders. Sirius is still lean, but he’s put on weight since the summer, and he’s healthy now, and a solid presence next to Harry. Harry welcomes the warmth of Sirius’ arm and chest as he leans against him briefly.
Harry is certain that he needs this chance to see where he came from. He has the place in France, of course, and Grimmauld Place, but his childhood home had been Privet Drive, and he wants to replace that in his mind.
Sirius side-alongs him to Godric’s Hollow, right in front of the cottage where Harry spent the first year of his life. There’s obvious spell damage to the house, but Harry can see that it used to be quite a tidy little place. It would have been a place he’d have enjoyed coming home to, he thinks.
Sirius admits that he’d found his dad’s body at the base of the stairs, and his mum’s in the nursery. Harry can picture it because of the memories the dementors had dredged up the previous year. His dad shouting for his mum, and his mum shouting for him, and then the flash of green.
Harry hopes that his discomfort doesn’t show on his face, because he doesn’t want to have that conversation with Sirius, not right now, when his godfather is clearly on edge about something.
They find a few artifacts in the ruins—a teddy bear, a few books, photographs, and the toy broom Sirius gave him for his first birthday. To Harry, it’s evidence that his parents loved him, and made a home for him. He’d known that before, but now he can see it.
Here, he can feel it.
Harry wants to fix the place up, and restore it to its former glory. Maybe he won’t keep it, but he thinks leaving it as it is is a non-starter.
From the cottage, after they’ve sent Dobby and Winky home with their salvaged items, they head for the cemetery. There’s the monument, of course, and then the grave.
Harry kneels down in front of the stone and traces his parents’ names with his fingers. He remembers what Hermione had said about talking to his parents, and he asks, “Do you guys mind?”
Sirius and Remus have always been respectful of him and his desires, and they immediately retreat without argument. Harry sits down and just stares at the stone, at his parents’ names. Sometimes, he thinks everyone has forgotten hat they existed, except to bring him into the world.
“Hey,” Harry says, momentarily at a loss for words. “Hi. I’m sorry I couldn’t come before. I guess you probably know why, if you know anything at all. I just wanted to tell you that you made a smart choice. Sirius is great. I don’t—I don’t want you to think that I want to replace you or anything. I don’t. I remember you, at least a little bit, because of the dementors, which is awful, but I don’t know.”
Harry pauses to gather his thoughts. “I’d kind of like to call Sirius ‘dad,’ if that’s okay with you. He won’t replace you, but he’s doing a really good job. He’s trying, you know? And he’s just exactly what I need. I think he would have been the perfect godfather, but he’s a really great dad, and it would be nice to know that you wouldn’t mind.”
Harry doesn’t really expect a response, but he thinks that if he can just verbalize it, he’ll feel better.
And then he feels a breeze on his face, warmer than the air around him, and it’s—Harry feels a sense of peace. “Yeah, okay, thanks. I want to make you proud.”
There’s a sense that they approve, and he says, “I don’t want to celebrate on a night when you died.”
Harry definitely gets the sense that they don’t mind, they want him to spend time with his friends, and Harry feels as though they want the best for him.
It’s not like visiting the Mirror of Erised, which had been a fantasy; this feels real, like he’d actually made contact with his parents. Harry wouldn’t be able to explain it if he tried.
Thankfully, Sirius and Remus seem to accept Harry’s desire to go back to Hogwarts for the feast at face value, and Sirius side-alongs him right outside the gates.
“Have fun tonight,” Sirius says, but with an edge of wistfulness and worry that reminds him to call after the feast. Whatever Sirius is worried about, maybe Harry can lay that to rest.
“See you soon,” Harry replies, figuring that there’s another Hogsmeade weekend coming up, and Sirius and Remus are sure to come if Harry expresses interest.
Professor McGonagall meets him in the entrance of the castle, her expression kind. “How are you, Harry?”
“I’m well,” Harry replies.
“Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll have a cup of tea?” McGonagall says, and Harry takes it as the command that it is, rather than a suggestion.
Harry follows her to her office in Gryffindor tower, and she has tea all ready to go. “How did you know I was back, Professor?”
“The Hogwarts wards told me,” McGonagall says. “Has Sirius spoken to you about wards?”
Harry nods. “This summer when we were in France, he explained how they worked. It’s one of the reasons I got interested in ancient runes and arithmancy. I didn’t know what they were used for, or why they were useful, and now I do.”
“I’m very proud of you,” she replies. “You’ve shown a great deal of maturity this year.”
Harry feels himself flush with pleasure. “Thank you, Professor.”
“Now, how was this afternoon?” McGonagall asks warmly.
Harry hesitates. “I don’t know. I think I want to restore the cottage, although I don’t know if I’ll keep it. We visited the graves, too. It was comforting, more than I expected it to be.”
McGonagall hums under her breath. “The dead have their own ways of speaking to us, Mr. Potter. Perhaps your parents knew that you would need guidance.”
“Maybe,” Harry says slowly.
“Perhaps there’s something that I might help you with,” McGonagall offers.
Harry takes a deep breath. “You knew my parents, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she replies. “Although not as well as I would have liked.”
“Do you think they would mind if I thought of Sirius as my dad?” Harry asks.
McGonagall is quiet for a long moment, and then she says, “A godparent is selected to help raise a child, but also to stand in a parent’s place should something happen to them. I believe that James and Lily chose Sirius to be your godfather because they understood that there might come a day when you would need a parent, and they wouldn’t be around.”
“So, they wouldn’t mind,” Harry says.
She smiles. “I think they would have hoped for such a thing if they couldn’t raise you themselves.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry says.
“I’m very pleased for you,” she admits. “And Sirius has clearly been very good for you.”
Harry smiles. “I like to think so.”
“I’ll walk you back to the Gryffindor common room,” McGonagall says. “I wouldn’t like you to get caught in the hall again by someone who means you harm.”
“Sirius says that he’s spoken to Mrs. Malfoy, and she was to warn Malfoy off,” Harry says. “He hasn’t been as bad recently.”
“Even so,” McGonagall says. “I’d hate to see Dobby punished for trying to protect you.”
Harry grimaces, remembering Malfoy’s response to the minor wound that Buckbeak gave him. “True. Thank you, Professor.”
McGonagall walks him back to the common room, just as classes are ending for the day, and the other Gryffindors are coming back to regroup before the Halloween feast.
Hermione comes over and hugs him immediately upon entering. “How did it go, Harry?”
“It was good,” Harry replies. “I saw the cottage, and we visited their graves and checked out Godric’s Hollow.”
“Did you speak to them?” Hermione asks.
Harry nods. “And it felt like I received their blessing. I can’t really explain it, but I don’t think they’d mind. Professor McGonagall invited me for tea, and she said the same.”
Ron and Neville enter the common room, and Ron says, “I didn’t think you were coming back before the feast tonight.”
Harry shrugs. “I decided that I wanted to celebrate with my friends, and see who gets selected as Hogwart’s champion.”
“Well, glad you made it back, mate,” Ron says.
Neville gives Harry a sympathetic look, and Harry figures that if anyone knows what it’s like to have missing parents, it’s him.
No one wants to do any homework prior to the feast, too excited over the commencement of the Triwizard Tournament to concentrate. So, they sit around and play Exploding Snap and Gobstones until it’s time to go to the Great Hall.
Harry goes down with a crowd of other Gryffindors, meeting a crowd of Ravenclaws just outside. Several in Harry’s study group call out greetings, and one of the girls in his arithmancy class says, “We missed you today, Harry.”
Harry isn’t really sure how to respond to that, but he remembers what Sirius had said about family business remaining private. He just says, “It was family business, and my godfather required my presence.”
“Hey, Harry!” Susan Bones calls as she approaches. “I hope everything went well with your godfather.”
Harry nods. “Yeah, everything was good, thanks.”
They filter into the Great Hall and sit down at their respective tables. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students enter after everyone is seated, with Durmstrang sitting with the Slytherins, and Beauxbaton sitting with the Ravenclaws.
Harry catches sight of Therese, but since she’s sitting with the Ravenclaws, he’s not sure that he’ll have the chance to speak with her. He’s not even sure she’d want to acknowledge him, since he’s her younger brother’s friend.
Dumbledore kicks off the feast, and the food is even more spectacular than usual. Harry helps himself to coq au vin, having had it in France that summer and liking it quite a bit. There are also haricot vertes and really good bread.
Ron eyes Harry’s plate warily. “You like that stuff?”
“We had it in France over the summer,” Harry replies. “It’s quite good.”
That prompts Neville to try it. Hermione already has some on her plate, but Ron sticks with the roast beef. “Who do you think the champion will be?” Ron asks.
Harry shakes his head. “No idea. I’m not even sure who put their names in.”
“Angelina did,” Ron says. “At least, that’s what Fred and George said.”
“She did,” Fred inserts, plopping down next to Ron. “I just wish—“
“—we’d been born a little earlier,” George finishes. “Word is that Cassius Warrington from Slytherin and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff put their names in.”
“Can you imagine—“ Fred says.
“—having a Slytherin as a champion?” George finishes.
Ron grimaces. “Definitely not.”
“Well, I’m rooting for Angelina,” Harry says mildly. “But if she’s not chosen, I’ll root for whoever happens to be the Hogawarts champion.”
Unless Therese is selected for Beauxbatons, he thinks. In that case, he’ll probably keep his opinions to himself.
Harry doesn’t say that, though, and once the feast is over, and dessert has been eaten, the tables clear, and Dumbledore clears his throat, calling everyone to attention.
“The Goblet of Fire is now ready to choose the three champions!” Dumbledore calls, swishing his wand to extinguish all the lights except those in the carved pumpkins and the light of the Goblet itself.
The Goblet of Fire is glowing on one side of the room, and Harry is really glad that he isn’t old enough to participate. If he had been old enough, he knows he’d have been expected to put his name in.
Having one year where he’s not in the spotlight, when he can just focus on school, would be great.
The Goblet glows red, and the first strip of parchment is expelled. “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore calls.
There are cheers from around the hall, including from Ron, who’s still a big fan of Krum’s, maybe even bigger after the Quidditch World Cup. Harry also cheers.
The next champion to be selected is Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons, and Harry is relieved that it’s not Therese, since his loyalty won’t be torn that way.
The final champion is Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen the ‘puffs so excited. They scream and cheer and jump up and down, and Harry is pretty sure that Susan is crying.
Harry claps and cheers with everyone else as Cedric waves to the Great Hall as he goes out the same way as Krum and Fleur.
Butterbeers appear on the tables, and the whole Great Hall erupts into a raucous celebration. The students from all three schools are celebrating, and everyone from Hogwarts is united behind Cedric for the moment.
When things finally start to die down, and the professors start making pointed remarks about curfew, Harry sneaks off to his dorm room so he can call Sirius with the communication mirror.
The naked relief on Sirius’ face tells Harry he’d made the right decision. “I thought you’d want to know that the Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff.”
Sirius frowns at the mirror. “How’d you know I was worried?”
“You have a tell, Padfoot,” Harry replies, amused. “I don’t know why you were worried, but I could tell that you were.”
Not for the first time, Harry thinks that Sirius has caught a glimpse of some other future. There had been the business with the World Cup, and now Sirius’ worry over the Tournament, even though he knew Harry couldn’t and wouldn’t enter.
Harry supposes that someone else could have put his name in, and he has no idea who would. But Sirius clearly has someone in mind, even if that person hadn’t.
Still, Harry is just grateful that he’d been able to set his mind at ease, and he has classes the next day, so he says goodnight and closes the mirror.
“All right there, Harry?” Neville says as he enters the dorm room.
“Just fine,” Harry insists. “Sirius expressed interest in the Tournament, so I wanted to update him.”
“Makes sense,” Neville replies, beginning to change into pajamas. “How was it today?”
“I think it was good,” Harry replies. “I’m going to restore my parents’ cottage.”
“I think that’s good, Harry,” Neville replies. “You have to reclaim what you can. It’s why I stuck with my dad’s wand as long as I did.”
Harry hesitates. “I never asked you about that.”
Neville shrugs. “I don’t mind telling you. Gran warned me that I might not be able to use it, but I wanted to try, and at the end of our second year, I realized that I was just hurting myself, and Gran got me my own wand from Ollivander’s. It’s especially good for those who want to grow plants for potions ingredients.”
“You know,” Harry says slowly, “we could probably set up a business together. Or maybe you could partner with our foundation. There might be other potions that should be offered for free.”
Neville brightens at that. “We should discuss that more, Harry. I like the idea of giving back.”
Harry knows that he still has Voldemort to deal with, but he feels like his future is opening up more and more every day. “Great,” Harry replies. “We can definitely talk about it.”
~~~~~
The thing is, Harry is used to juggling schoolwork, threats from outside, and Quidditch. Quidditch is on hold due to the Tournament, Hogwarts seems safer than ever, and so all Harry really has to worry about is schoolwork.
It’s something of a revelation. Harry expands the study group to three nights per week plus three hours on Saturday afternoon, just to handle the demand, and Hermione creates a color-coded schedule to make sure that people are paired off with those who would give them the most benefit.
Even Ron is dialing in now, even if he only shows up to one session each week. Daphne Greengrass is there nearly every session, as are a lot of the Slytherin younger years. Students from the other three houses also regularly attend, and Harry finally goes to Moody shortly before the first task and says, “I’d like to start a dueling club, Professor.”
Moody’s artificial eye whirls. “A bit bored, are we, Potter?”
Harry blinks. “Um, maybe a little bit.”
Moody nods slowly. “Makes sense. You’ve been doing well with the younger years. Some of them are better prepared than the seventh years, at least in certain respects. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you private dueling lessons, and you can spread the knowledge, but under two conditions.”
Harry nods eagerly. “What are the conditions?”
“You don’t tell your godfather, and you keep the dueling club to the Room of Requirements, and off the books,” Moody replies. “Dumbledore would never approve.”
Harry frowns. “Why can’t I tell Sirius?”
Moody gives him a very unimpressed look. “Because two can keep a secret only if one of them is dead, Potter. Wouldn’t you rather no one know just how well trained you are?”
Harry has to agree that’s true. If he wants to present a challenge, it would be better if no one knows what kind of a challenge he can present. “I don’t like lying to Sirius.”
“If he asks you directly if you’re taking private lessons from me, you can tell him,” Moody allows. “If he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to know.”
“All right,” Harry says. “I agree.”
Moody nods. “Sunday afternoons. I’ll let you know where.”
Harry is going to wind up running an underground dueling club, it seems, but this year, he has the time.
~~~~~
The morning of the first task, Harry gets an understanding of just how much influence Narcissa Malfoy has over her son. He’s heading to breakfast, with only Hermione with him, when they see Malfoy coming towards them.
As soon as Malfoy sees them, he turns on his heel and walks rapidly in the other direction.
Hermione blinks. “Well, that’s certainly new.”
“Sirius said that his mum was going to have a word with Malfoy,” Harry says. “I guess that’s what happens.”
“I’d like to know her secret,” Hermione mutters.
Harry shoots her a sly grin. “Maybe it’s magic.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “That was terrible, Harry, even for you.”
Harry shrugs. He thought it was funny. “We both know that Malfoy will likely stop ignoring me when I do something that really angers him. Or when Sirius does something that angers his father.”
Hermione nods. “That’s true enough. Are you going to stay for the Yule Ball?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admits. “I can’t decide. What about you?”
Hermione shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel like I should go, but I doubt anyone will invite me, and I don’t want to go by myself.”
That’s probably the point where Harry could offer to go with her, but since she hadn’t offered to go with him, he’s not sure the suggestion would be welcome. Hermione is one of his oldest and best friends, but Sirius is also her magical guardian. He doesn’t want to make things awkward.
But the truth is that the buzz around the school is building around the Yule Ball. Girls cluster together in the common room and the Great Hall, whispering and giggling, occasionally looking at the boys.
The truth is, Harry really doesn’t want to go to the ball. He wants to go back to the farmhouse in France and see Sirius and Remus.
“I don’t think you can get out of it, mate,” Ron says. “Everyone from fourth year up is going to be there, and even some of the third years who get an invitation will be there.”
“Ron’s right,” Neville says. “Like it or not, you’re the Heir of the House of Black, which means that people are going to notice if you’re not there.”
“I know,” Harry says mournfully, stabbing his treacle pudding. “I just have no idea who to invite to go along with me.”
“Well, I’m going to go with Hermione,” Ron says firmly.
Neville raises his eyebrows. “Have you asked her yet?”
“No, but I’ll get to it,” Ron says confidently. “I doubt she’ll have that many offers.”
Harry frowns at him. “All it would take is one, Ron, assuming that they get there first. And didn’t Bill get you a new set of dress robes? So, it’s not like you have that excuse.”
Ron shrugs. “I’m not worried about it.”
Harry thinks that Ron is being stupid, but they’re finally at a decent place in their relationship, and he doesn’t want to rock the boat. “Well, on your head be it, I guess, if she gets a date before you ask her.”
The next night, Harry is in the library, looking for a book that will help him with his herbology homework, when he nearly runs into Krum. “Oh, sorry, excuse me,” Harry says. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Krum’s expression is dour, as usual. “It was my fault. I wanted to speak with you.”
Harry feels a spike of alarm and looks around to make sure the librarian isn’t watching them. “Er, okay?”
“Do you know if Hermione has a date to the Yule Ball?” Krum asks.
Harry knows that he’s in danger of really stepping in it. His loyalty to Ron says that he should tell Krum that Hermione has a date, or that there’s at least someone interested in taking her. His loyalty to Hermione demands his honesty.
“No, no one has asked her yet,” Harry says truthfully.
Krum nods slowly. “Do you think she’d consent to go with me?”
“I have no idea,” Harry replies. “But I think she’d really like to be asked.”
Krum nods. “Thank you.”
Harry feels a little weird about that exchange, but he finds his book and returns to the table where they’ve all set up. Ron has a transfiguration essay that he’s been putting off, and the rest of them are working on their herbology homework.
Harry has just sat back down and picked up his quill when his communication mirror vibrates. Sirius rarely calls him, so Harry pulls it out of his pocket.
Harry is immediately worried, but he knows that he needs a private place for the conversation with Sirius. “Can you talk, pup?” Sirius asks, and Harry is at least glad to see that he appears to be in one piece, and in relatively good spirits.
“Uh, yeah,” Harry replies. “I”ll call you when I’m somewhere private.”
Harry had been studying in the library with Hermione, Ron, and Neville.
“Everything all right?” Neville whispers.
Harry nods. “I think so, but I need to call him back.”
Neville immediately gets up. “I’ll go with you.”
Ron immediately protests. “I can go.”
“You need to finish your essay,” Hermione says. “Neville can watch Harry’s back this time. Leave your things, Harry. We’ll make sure they get back to Gryffindor Tower.”
“Thanks,” Harry says quickly, and Neville follows him out of the library.
“What do you think he’s calling about?” Neville asks as Harry heads for the Room of Requirement, figuring that’s the most private place he can select.
Harry shakes his head. “No idea, but he never calls, so it has to be big.”
They reach the hallway outside the Room of Requirement, and Harry paces outside the door three times, focusing on needing a private, secret place where no one will disturb him.
“I’ll be right outside,” Neville promises.
Harry nods. If he weren’t so worried, he probably would have told Neville that he doesn’t need someone to watch his back, since Malfoy is intent on ignoring him these days. But Harry is worried, and there’s no time to argue.
The Room looks very different when Harry enters, filled with stacks of books and furniture and other detritus, as far as his eye can see.
Harry shakes his head, sometimes amazed at what magic provides, and pulls his mirror out. Sirius immediately asks him about his location, what’s been going on, and then delivers a pep talk on how to get a date for the Yule Ball.
Sirius sounds cheerful, even when he’s being stern about what Harry needs to do to get a date, and Harry is momentarily distracted from his worry. Sirius sounds like a dad, his dad.
“What else?” Sirius asks after Harry gives him an update on how classes are going.
“I should be asking you that, since you were the one who called,” Harry points out, although he figures if had been something truly terrible, he wouldn’t have engaged in small talk.
Of course, Harry isn’t expecting to hear that someone had put a hit on Sirius.
Sirius tries to downplay how serious it is, but Harry knows better. “It’s not a maybe. You wouldn’t have said anything if it was a maybe.”
Sirius promises that he’ll be wearing armor and training with Director Bones, and Harry has to be content with that, although he does extract a promise that they’ll spend the Christmas holidays together, at least after the Yule Ball. He trusts that Sirius will make that happen.
And then Sirius asks him to look around, and Harry immediately starts tracking. Sirius doesn’t think it will work, but Harry has been practicing his charm-work, and he makes an educated guess as to what might be hidden among the junk.
“Accio Rowena’s diadem.”
The silvery tiara flies at him, and Harry catches it, and then immediately drops it. He doesn’t want to touch it with bare skin again; it felt awful, but also compelling, much like the diary. To Harry, at least, there’s no question he’d found another missing Horcrux.
Harry follows Sirius’ instructions and wraps the diadem up in his school robe, then promises to contact Sirius as soon as he’s rid of it.
Neville frowns as Harry leaves the Room of Requirement. “What happened, Harry?”
“Well, someone put a hit out on my—on Sirius, and I found a dark artifact hidden in the Room,” Harry replies wryly. “I need to take this to Professor McGonagall.”
Neville’s eyes are wide. “All right. I’ll go with you.”
Harry pulls out the map to figure out where McGonagall is, and sees that she’s in her office. He heads directly to her office and knocks on the door briskly.
Professor McGonagall answers the door, and looks surprised to see him. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, how can I help you?”
“We found a dark artifact in the Room of Requirement, Professor,” Harry replies. “I was speaking with m—with Sirius on a communications mirror, and he said I should wrap it in my robe and bring it to you. The Headmaster knows about it.”
Her eyes narrow. “Yes, the Headmaster has given me some idea of what’s going on. Mr. Longbottom, I will take it from here. Five points to Gryffindor for excellent teamwork.”
Neville glances at Harry, as though to make sure Harry doesn’t need him, and when Harry nods, Neville says, “Thank you, Professor.”
McGonagall looks at Harry. “You do seem to find yourself in the most extraordinary of circumstances, Mr. Potter. Come. I can feel the malevolence, and I want it out of the school.”
She leads him to the statue guarding the Headmaster’s office and says, “Chocolate Frogs.”
The gargoyle moves aside, and Professor McGonagall waves him on ahead. Harry trudges up the stairs, the robe in his arms feeling incredibly heavy.
Dumbledore is behind his desk but stands when Harry enters, and the twinkle in his eyes is significantly dimmer. “What have you brought to me, Harry?”
“Rowena Ravenclaw’s missing diadem, sir,” Harry says. “And I know what Voldemort made out of it.”
Dumbledore gestures to his desk, and Harry dumps the diadem out of his robe. It sparkles, but the malevolence rolling off the object makes Harry sick to his stomach.
“I see,” Dumbledore says gravely. “Where did you find it?”
“It was in the Room of Requirement,” Harry replies. “I wanted a private place to speak with Sirius, and I found myself in a room I’d never seen before. I think you know that we normally use that space for our study group.”
Some of the twinkle comes back to his eyes. “Yes, I do, and I’m quite impressed with your results to date.”
Harry shrugs. “When Sirius figured out where I was, and what the room was probably used for, I tried accio, first on a horcrux, and then on the diadem. The second charm worked.”
“I see.” Dumbledore doesn’t look terribly happy, but Harry figures that probably comes from the fact that there had been a horcrux in the school without Dumbledore knowing about it.
“The Room of Requirement exists outside the wards,” McGonagall says. “And he probably knew that.”
Dumbledore sighs. “We’ll need to deal with it.”
Harry clears his throat. “If I may, Headmaster, Sirius has used Bill Weasley’s services in order to dispose of dark objects. I’d like him to deal with his one, too.”
Dumbledore nods gravely. “And not incidentally, Mr. Weasley will gain a commission on destroying it. Very well. I will contact him. Is there anything else, Harry?”
Harry shakes his head. “No, thank you, Headmaster.”
“Is there anything wrong with Sirius?” Dumbledore asks.
Harry shakes his head, figuring that knowing there’s a hit out on Sirius is probably private, family business. “No, we were just talking about the upcoming Yule Ball, sir.”
“I hope you’re planning to attend, Harry,” Dumbledore says.
Harry nods. “Yes, of course. I want to be there to support Cedric.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Dumbledore replies. “I think you know about the prophecy, don’t you?”
Harry hesitates. “Sirius said there was one, but he didn’t know the full contents.”
“No, he probably wouldn’t have,” Dumbledore admits. “Your parents knew, because I was there to bear witness to the seer who had the vision, and I told them. The prophecy states that a child would be born to stand against the Dark Lord.”
Harry knows that much, anyway. “I understand that’s why Voldemort wants to kill me.”
“Harry, I think it’s very important for you to consider going back to the Dursleys, at least for part of the summer. There are blood wards there that will grant you more protection than you’ll have under Sirius’ roof. I think you experienced that protection first year.”
Harry remembers Quirrell, and he shudders. He’s noticed that Dumbledore uses his first name a lot when he’s trying to convince Harry to do something he doesn’t want to do. “Thank you, sir. I will consider it.”
He doesn’t mean it. He has no intention of going back, nor would Sirius allow it, but he figures the promise will at least get Dumbledore off their backs.
“That’s all I ask, my boy,” Dumbledore replies. “Thank you. I imagine there will be at least one or two other horcruxes, probably things that have some importance to Voldemort, possibly to his magical inheritance. Please let Sirius know that I’m continuing my research.”
“Of course, sir.”
Harry heads back to the library, but his friends have already left, and his things are no longer there. It’s close to curfew, so Harry heads to the common room and finds them waiting for him.
“What the bloody hell is going on, Harry?” Ron bursts out. “Neville says you found a dark object.”
“Remember the diary?” Harry asks wearily. “It was something like that. I can’t talk about it further, Ron. I promised Sirius that I wouldn’t.”
Ron leans back on the couch. “Merlin’s pants, there was another one of those objects? Inside the school?”
“I’m pretty sure Dumbledore felt the same way,” Harry replies. “But yes, and your brother is going to get another nice commission off of it.”
Ron shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, glad everything is okay, mate. Think I might head to bed.”
“Sure thing,” Harry replies. He knows that Ron is sensitive to any reminder that Bill’s success means that the rest of the family has more money.
“What else, Harry?” Hermione asks. “Sirius wouldn’t have called you for no reason.”
“Someone put a hit out on him,” Harry replies. “And he gave me a pep talk for how to ask someone to the Yule Ball.”
Hermione looks a bit wistful. “Who are you going to ask?”
“Therese, probably,” Harry replies. “She’s Lionel’s sister, so even if she turns me down, I think she’ll be gentle. Speaking of the Yule Ball, Viktor Krum asked me if you had a date yet.”
Hermione blinks. “Who?”
“The Durmstrang champion,” Harry says. “He’s interested in you. I wanted to give you a heads up in case he asks. You’ll be prepared.”
“He actually was interested?” Hermione asks, sounding a bit stunned.
Neville frowns. “Of course, he’d be interested. You’re smart and pretty.”
“What he said,” Harry adds. “I wasn’t surprised at all, other than at the fact he wanted to talk to me.”
Hermione nudges Harry’s leg with her foot. “You’re the great Harry Potter.”
Harry snorts. “Please don’t.”
“What are you going to do about Sirius?” Hermione asks.
Harry shrugs. “What can I do? I’m here, and he has Remus watching his back. He promised to wear armor and be careful, you know? I’ll do what I always do.”
When the others go to bed, Harry casts a privacy charm and calls Sirius, assuring him that the horcrux had been taken care of, and that he’s fine. Sirius makes a tasteless joke about them both having a price on their heads, and Harry laughs.
He goes to bed, and doesn’t dream, which surprises him, especially having had contact with the horcrux, but whatever Andres had done to banish the thing in his scar had done a lot to help him overall. It’s not that Harry never has any bad dreams—he does, mostly of the cupboard under the stairs and the Dursleys, which is why he never intends to go back—but not of Voldemort, and not of his parents being killed.
Harry wakes up, and he knows that today is the day he needs to talk to Therese. He wouldn’t put it past Sirius to call and check up on him. Besides, the sooner Harry can get it done, the sooner he can stop worrying about it.
Harry waits until dinner that night, since that’s when all the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students join them. Harry knows one of the Ravenclaw students from the study group, so he approaches Rodney first.
“Do you know if Therese has a date to the Yule Ball?” Harry whispers.
Rodney shakes his head. “I think a few people have approached them, but I don’t know that any invitations have been accepted.”
Harry takes a deep breath, and knows that Rodney understands etiquette. “I know Therese’s brother, and I’ve met her before, but—“
Rodney nods. “Of course, Harry.”
He leads Harry over to the Beauxbatons contingent and clears his throat. “Excuse me, ladies, but may I present Harry Potter?”
Fleur Delacour turns an icy blue gaze onto Harry. “Ah, the famous Harry Potter?”
“I don’t know about famous,” Harry replies in French. “But I count Lionel Deschamps as a good friend, and wanted to be polite.”
Therese smiles at him. “I had wondered whether you would gather your courage and approach us, Harry. Many are intimidated by Veela.”
“And more are intimidated by beauty,” Harry replies.
There’s laughter, but it’s not unkind. “Is there a reason you gathered your courage tonight, Harry?” Therese asks.
“I am planning to go to the Yule Ball, and I thought I’d see if you needed a friendly escort,” Harry replies. “And if you’re already engaged, then I would ask if there’s anyone else who might be willing to put up with my company.”
“I had no idea that Hogwarts boys could be so charming,” Fleur says. “If I’d known, I might have held out for him.”
“He was my friend first, Fleur,” Therese says, mock-scolding her. “And I would be happy to accept your offer, Harry.”
“Then I would be happy to escort you,” Harry replies.
“Come, sit,” Fleur invites. “You speak better French than most here.”
Harry shrugs. “I can’t take credit for that. Therese’s grandmother did a language transference spell this summer with her brother, Lionel.”
There are exclamations. “Oh, I wish I’d been able to do one,” one of the girls says. “I had been hoping to meet someone here and convince them to visit me over the summer. But then, being here has helped, too.”
“Well, I’m happy to provide whatever assistance I can,” Harry replies, switching to English.
Some of the Ravenclaw students are staring at Harry as though he’d grown a second head; others are looking impressed. Some appear to be doing both at once.
“Is the spell difficult?” Rodney asks. “Because if not, we could probably figure out how to do it. The whole house could be speaking fluent French before the Yule Ball.”
Harry is rather amused by the typical Ravenclaw reaction. If there’s knowledge to be obtained, the Ravenclaws are going to be all over it. Harry promises to check with Sirius and Remus on the difficulty of the spell, invites Fleur and Therese to the next Hogsmeade weekend, and heads back to the Gryffindor table with a sense of accomplishment.
“Well?” Hermione asks when Harry sits down. “Were you successful?”
Harry smirks. “I was. She agreed to go with me, at least.”
Ron is staring at Harry. “You just—went up and asked her?”
“She’s Lionel’s sister,” Harry says. “I’d met her before, and she was nice, and we’re just going as friends. She needed an escort, and I fit the bill.”
“But she’s surrounded by Veela,” Ron hisses. “I can’t even form words around them.”
“Sirius warned me about that before the World Cup,” Harry replies. “If you practice occlumency, you can filter that out. You just have to be prepared and work on it.”
Maybe that had been too glib, because Ron flushes. “It’s not that easy for some of us.”
“I didn’t say that it was easy, Ron,” Harry retorts. “Just that you have to work on it. You’re every bit as capable as I am.”
Ron mutters something about needing to go to the library, and Fred and George roll their eyes in unison. “He’s just jealous,” Fred says.
“Because Therese is so pretty,” George adds.
“And because you got the courage to ask,” Fred comments.
“We’ll talk to him,” they say at the same time.
Harry shrugs. “He can feel however he feels. I have a date for the Yule Ball, and my godfather has been proven absolutely correct in his advice. I’m happy to pass that advice on to anyone who wants to hear it.”
“I’d like to hear it,” Neville says. “I haven’t asked anyone yet.”
Harry holds up a hand, ticking off the points in the order that Sirius had given him. “Ask if she has a date, offer to escort her as friends, be charming, use good manners, and don’t be a prick if she’s already engaged. If she is engaged, offer to escort one of her friends. Then, on the night in question, pay attention and be a gentleman.”
Neville looks thoughtful. “You know, it sounds so easy when you put it like that.”
“It’s a winning strategy,” Hermione admits. “I think most girls would prefer that sort of approach, although there might need to be a little more wooing if you want to go as something other than friends.”
“I’m too young to woo,” Harry jokes. “I still have a lot of field left to play.”
Hermione rolls her eyes, but the rest of the students laugh, at least those who overhear him. Harry knows that Ron is kind of irritated with him, but Harry is running high on his own success at the moment. Sirius had given him advice, Harry had followed it, and now he has a date to the Yule Ball. His classes are going well, he’s making friends in the other houses, and he has people who will check up on him.
It hits him suddenly: Harry honestly can’t remember being this happy. He presses his hand agains the pocket where his communication mirror still rests. He knows why, too.
The promise that Harry had felt when Sirius had broached the subject of Harry coming to live with him has been fulfilled, and in spades.
It’s exactly as brilliant as he’d hoped.
~~~~~
Harry glances up from his Arithmancy homework, realizing that Hermione has been gone longer than what it would have taken for her to grab the book she’d been looking for. He’s not too worried, but it’s Hermione, and Harry feels protective of her.
He’s about ready to go looking for her when she emerges from the stacks with pink cheeks and a glow in her eyes, hugging a book to her chest.
Harry raises his eyebrows when she sits down across from him. “Well?”
“You were right,” Hermione whispers. “Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball.”
“And?” Harry prompts.
Hermione nods, and Harry grins at her. “Good going.”
They get shushed by Madame Pence, but Harry mouths, “Hope you bought a stunning dress.”
Hermione flushes even deeper and mouths, “I did.”
When they leave the library later, after finishing their homework, Harry bumps her shoulder with his own. “Did he woo you?”
“He didn’t need to,” Hermione says pertly. “It’s just a dance, you know? Viktor is in his last year at Durmstrang, and he’ll probably go play Quidditch after, and I still have three years after this one.”
“Still, it’s pretty cool that you’re going with one of the Triwizard Champions,” Harry says.
Hermione nods, but some of the happiness in her face dims. “I don’t want to put you in the middle, Harry, but do you know if Ron even—well, if he thought about asking me?”
Harry winces. “Well, yes, but I’m pretty sure he just assumed you’d go with him when he got around to asking you.”
Hermione looks absolutely incensed. “He thought I wouldn’t have options?”
Harry shrugs. “Honestly, Hermione, I’m not sure he did think. He told me he was planning to ask you, probably trying to warn me off asking you myself, and just assumed—you’d be waiting around for him.”
Hermione’s eyes narrow. “Don’t tell him about Viktor, Harry.”
Harry holds up his hands. “If I tell him anything at all, it will be to get off his arse and stop faffing about.”
“That would be a good start,” Hermione mutters. “I can’t believe him!”
“But think about the look on his face when he finds out!” Harry says encouragingly. “He’ll probably swallow his tongue.”
That seems to dim her ire slightly. “True. Well, I plan to keep it a secret for as long as I can.”
“I think you should,” Harry replies. “Let Ron figure it out when everybody else does.”
Hermione looks at him. “You’re a good friend, Harry.”
“I’d have asked you,” Harry says. “Even if Ron wanted to, but it didn’t seem like you wanted me to take you.”
Hermione smiles. “I’d have gone with you in a heartbeat, but I wouldn’t want you to put more strain on your relationship with Ron.”
Harry hesitates. “Well, if I ever did ask you to something like the Yule Ball, I’d put some effort into it, because you’re worth it.”
Hermione flushes. “I really am going to have to send Sirius a thank you note. Some of his charm has definitely rubbed off on you.”
“Or maybe I’m just happy,” Harry admits. “And have broader horizons.”
“I’ve noticed,” Hermione replies. “You haven’t even complained about Quidditch being canceled once!”
“I have an epic, year-long prank,” Harry points out. “And dueling lessons with Professor Moody, and a heavier class load. Let Cedric take the lion’s share of the attention for a change. I never wanted it anyway.”
Hermione laughs and loops her arm through his. “Well, you’ll probably get a parade if your prank has its intended effect.”
Ron sees them coming though the portrait together, and he glares at them.
“Oh, relax, Ronald,” Hermione says crossly. “We were just studying together, and Harry is being amusing.”
Ron scowls. “Why is Harry suddenly so popular?”
“Because I’m less worried about being murdered than I have been in years past,” Harry says bluntly. “And my godfather is all about making friends and influencing people, so I’ve made that a priority.”
Ron gives Harry a look. “You have us, mate.”
“Yeah, I do,” Harry replies. “But I have enough room in my life for more than just you. That’s a good thing, Ron.”
Ron’s face goes through a complicated set of emotions, and he finally says, “Yeah, I know.”
“So, are we good?” Harry asks.
Ron’s expression softens. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Harry replies, and he wants to tell Ron to do better, but he figures that goes without saying.
“Harry, would you help me with my Potions homework?” one of the first years, Maya Stanton, asks.
Harry has improved his Potions knowledge enough to be qualified to help the first and second years, and he’s noticed that more and more of them are coming to him for help with their lessons of all sorts. Harry doesn’t mind really. He remembers what it had been like, and how lost he’d been, just feeling his way along. Sirius and Remus had helped him considerably over the summer, and Harry wants to pass that along.
He spends the rest of the evening helping the younger years, and Hermione and Neville pitch in. Ron is less interested in the younger kids, unless it involves teaching them jinxes and hexes to use against the Slytherins in the hallway.
It gets late, and they all go up to the dorm room. Harry asks Neville, “Have you managed to get a date for the Yule Ball?”
Neville nods. “I did, actually. You’ll have to pass my thanks along to Sirius. It was useful.”
“Who’d you ask?” Dean asks as he strips out of his uniform and starts to pull on pajamas.
Ron is in the bathing area for the boys, and so out of earshot, and Harry understands why Neville looks around before he says, “I asked Ginny, and she agreed to go.”
“Makes sense,” Seamus comments. “She wouldn’t be able to go without an invitation from an older student.”
Neville shrugs. “It’s just as friends, but that’s why Harry’s advice worked so well. I think Ginny appreciated it.”
“What did my sister appreciate?” Ron asks, coming into their room.
“Some advice on getting a chance to go to the Yule Ball,” Neville replies blandly.
Ron frowns. “What? Are you taking her?”
“That’s the plan,” Neville replies. “We’re friends.”
“Well, that’s all right then,” Ron replies. “I know you’ll be a gentleman, Nev.”
Harry exchanges a look with Neville, and he supposes that neither of them quite know whether Ron meant it to be insulting or not.
“Who are you taking, Ron?” Seamus asks.
Ron shrugs carelessly. “I suppose I’ll take Hermione.”
Harry bites his lip to keep from laughing.
“Have you asked her yet?” Dean looks dubiously.
“No, but I’ll get to it,” Ron says. “There’s no one else who will ask her.”
Harry holds in a groan, and he wonders if he ought to clue Ron in, no matter what he’d promised.
Seamus gives him a deeply unimpressed look. “Even if that were the case, mate, my mam always tells me that a girl likes to be treated as though she has a choice, even if you’re the only one asking.”
“Yeah, what about you two then?” Ron asks. “Who are you taking?”
“Who says we need to take anyone?” Dean asks. “We’re not champions; no one cares if we have dates. We’ll go and dance with any witches who don’t have their dance card filled.”
“Not like Potter there,” Seamus says with a teasing look. “Or Longbottom. As heirs of Ancient and Noble Houses, there will be people reporting on their dates. They actually have to be presentable.”
“He has a point, Nev,” Harry comments. “We’ll have to look our best.”
“I’m up for it, Harry, if you are,” Neville says.
Ron glares at both of them. “Very funny.”
“I’m just saying,” Seamus says. “If you want to take Hermione, best to get that taken care of sooner, rather than later.”
Ron shrugs off the advice. “Hermione knows I’d like to go with her.”
“Doesn’t matter if she gets asked by a better prospect first,” Neville mutters under his breath, loud enough for only Harry to hear.
Harry waits until Ron isn’t paying attention, and whispers to Neville, “Krum asked her, and she accepted.”
Neville shakes his head. “Well, that will be a surprise. No bet on who Ron’s more jealous of.”
Harry has to laugh at that, although he turns it into a cough.
He’s not terribly surprised that Ron has to learn the hard way.
~~~~~
The day of the first task dawns, and Harry wakes up in his nice, warm bed and is incredibly grateful that he doesn’t have to face it. He knows that Sirius had been worried about Harry being forced to participate, and Harry figures he might have a good reason for that, even if he isn’t able to tell Harry why.
But Harry isn’t the Hogwarts champion; he’s a spectator. He gets to wake up, dress in his warm clothing, and wear one of the buttons that someone in Hufflepuff had been passing out, proclaiming his support for Cedric Diggory.
On the weekend, Harry plans to go to Hogsmeade with his friends, old and new, and see his godfather and Remus, and tell them all about the first task.
Harry rolls out of bed cheerfully, quickly washing up, then dressing in a pair of smart jeans, a collared shirt, and a heavy sweater to keep out the late November chill.
The other boys in his dorm are still asleep, so Harry creeps out with his boots in hand. Dobby pops in as Harry is lacing them up. “Harry Potter needs his Dobby today?”
“I think I’ll be safe enough,” Harry replies. “But stay close, okay? Malfoy has been ignoring me, but it’s best not to tempt fate.”
Malfoy really has been ignoring him—not looking at him, not talking to him, and turning in the opposite direction if they meet in the halls. Harry is still rather stunned every time it happens, since Malfoy has never been indifferent to him.
Every time it happens, Harry wonders just what kind of magic Narcissa Malfoy possesses, and whether he’ll even have a fraction of it.
“Dobby watches Master Harry Potter’s back for dog-father,” Dobby replies, just as Hermione comes into the common room, dressed much like Harry, in warm clothing.
“Oh, hello, Dobby,” she says cheerfully. “How are you getting on?”
“Very well,” Dobby replies, holding out a foot, encased in a brightly colored sock. “Dobby has many, many socks now.”
Hermione smiles. “That’s great, Dobby. Do you need anything else?”
“Oh, no, Miss Hermione,” Dobby replies. “Dobby be getting paid now.”
“Well, you’re doing an excellent job,” Harry says firmly. “Thank you, Dobby.”
Dobby beams, pulls at his ears, and then pops away.
“Is everyone else still asleep?” Hermione asks.
Harry shrugs. “It’s a bit early, but I was awake, and it makes for a nice change, being a spectator.”
“I suppose it would,” Hermione says. “Has Ron found out yet?”
Harry shakes his head. “No. Neville knows, but I’m not sure anyone else does. We all told him that he ought to get off his lazy arse, for the record.”
Hermione shakes her head. “He’ll find out when he finds out, but thank you.”
“We’ll both have a good time,” Harry replies. “Are you planning on having lunch with us?”
Hermione nods. “Well, Sirius is my magical guardian, isn’t he? I feel as though I ought, and I like him and Professor—well, Remus. I really am so pleased for you, Harry. It’s like having parents, isn’t it?”
“Not having had the experience before, at least not that I remember, I can’t say,” Harry replies. “But it’s everything I thought having parents might be like.”
Hermione leans against him, and Harry wraps an arm around her shoulders. It’s comfortable, cozy, and Harry is increasingly grateful that he and Hermione are on the same page.
Then again, looking back, he and Hermione had always been aligned, at least since the troll.
“Do you want to go down to breakfast or wait for the others?” Hermione eventually says.
Harry’s stomach growls at that moment, and he laughs. “I think breakfast.”
It’s early enough that no one seems interested in sticking to the house tables, and so those present from the study group all gather at the Gryffindor table. Daphne Greengrass even unbends enough to sit with them, as do Fleur and Therese, along with a couple of the other Beauxbatons students, Krum and another Durmstrang student, and Cedric and Cho Chang.
“Do you know anything about the task?” Harry asks.
All three Champions look a bit shifty, and Harry suspects they’ve all received some sort of information on it, even if they shouldn’t have.
“It’s meant to be a secret,” Cedric finally says.
“Meant to be,” Hermione echoes. “Doesn’t mean it is, though.”
No one really replies to that, so Harry determinedly changes the subject. “Who’s going home after the Yule Ball?”
Therese clears her throat. “I’d planned on it, actually. I was hoping we could coordinate, Harry.”
“Yeah, I’ll talk to Sirius about it,” Harry replies. “He promised we’d spend the holidays together.”
Cedric looks momentarily confused. “I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other. Where’d you meet?”
Harry shrugs. “When I went to live with my godfather this summer, we mostly stayed at his old family property in France. Therese’s brother, Lionel, was spending the summer with their grandmother in the same town, and we flew together a bunch.”
“And then our parents had them over to dinner before they took Lionel to the World Cup,” Therese says, a teasing note in her voice. “I’m still disappointed that Harry didn’t invite me.”
“Well, if I’d known you’d be my date to the Yule Ball, I might have,” Harry replies with a grin. “But that’s how we know each other.”
“Are you a pureblood, then?” Daphne asks.
Fleur tips up her very aristocratic nose. “We don’t ask such questions at Beauxbatons.”
“Blood status isn’t nearly as important as magical potential,” Therese says, and Harry can see her trying to be diplomatic. “That’s what we focus on.”
Hermione gives Daphne a look. “That’s probably for the best. After all, magical potential is not dependent on blood status.”
Daphne’s expression suggests she wants to argue about it, but she’s in the presence of Hermione, a Muggle-born, and Harry, who’s a half-blood. It would be a bit hard to make the argument that they have less magical potential than a pureblood, given their performance.
“Well, I’m planning to go home after the Ball,” Cedric says. “My dad’s planning something big to celebrate me being the champion. I don’t know what it is, though. He says it’s a surprise.”
“I’ll be going home as well,” Fleur says. “My younger sister is quite excited.”
Krum shakes his head. “I won’t be going home, alas, but my parents are quite proud of me.”
That gets the conversation onto safer territory, as they all speak of their holiday plans. It’s the first time that Harry has been able to participate in such a conversation, and although he has no idea what the Christmas holidays will look like with Sirius and Remus, he figures it will be enough if they’re together.
When the rest of the students start to filter into the Great Hall, everyone heads back to their respective tables. Krum looks a bit wistful as he leaves, looking as though he’d have preferred to stick close to Hermione.
“Why was Krum eating breakfast with you all?” Ron asks as he sits down next to Harry.
“There weren’t many people around, so we were all eating breakfast together,” Hermione replies. “I imagine the champions preferred to be distracted. I wouldn’t blame them for being nervous. They’re meant to go into the first task blind.”
Harry snorts and takes a sip of his tea. “They knew what it was, or at least had a rough idea. They got shifty when you asked them.”
Ron shrugs. “Well, I’m sure one of the professors would have found out, and they probably told their champion, and then the word spreads.”
“Nothing to do with us,” Harry says cheerfully. “We can just go and enjoy the show.”
The champions have to go down to the staging ground near the lake early, so they have time to go for a walk. They run into Hagrid on their way, and he says, “Harry! How are you?”
“I’m well, Hagrid,” Harry says cheerfully. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m good, I’m good,” Hagrid says. “It’s all quite exciting, innit? Are you lot going to cheer on young Diggory, then?”
“That’s the plan,” Ron replies. “We’re rooting for Cedric, but Krum is a strong contender. Don’t know about Fleur.”
“I think Fleur stands a chance,” Hermione protests. “You’re just counting her out because she’s a girl.”
“I’m not!” Ron protests. “But I’ve seen Krum and Cedric fly. I haven’t seen Fleur do anything.”
Harry wants to get away from that argument. “Come on. We’d better go if we want good seats. We’ll see you later, Hagrid.”
“See you,” Hagrid replies cheerfully. “Hope you enjoy the sight!”
Hagrid is clearly excited about whatever is coming next, and Harry wonders what that means.
They make their way to the stands that have been set up, and it’s bustling with people—not just students, but people from the Ministry, outside visitors of various sorts, and what Harry assumes are important people. He thinks he catches a sight of Minister Fudge, but he’s not certain, and Harry would prefer to go unnoticed.
They find seats, and Neville comes to sit next to them, along with Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and a few others from Gryffindor.
In deference to Cedric’s house affiliation, no one in the stands is wearing house colors other than the ‘puffs, and they’re all wearing the buttons that to show support for Cedric.
Harry can see a knot of blue in the stands, marking the Beauxbatons students who had shown up to root for Fleur, and the black and red robes marking those from Durmstrang.
He feels the excitement welling up as Ludo Bagman casts a sonorous charm and says, “Welcome to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament! We will start shortly, and I’m sure you’ll all join me in cheering for the champions!”
It doesn’t take long to find out what the first task is going to be, and Hermione mutters, “Dragons, really.”
Harry wholeheartedly agrees. “It’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Ron comments. “It’s a real challenge.”
“Yeah, a real challenge that could wind up with them being dragon food,” Hermione says.
“It’s why you had to be 17 in order to enter,” Harry says. “And I’m pretty sure Sirius would have forbidden me from participating if I’d been old enough.”
“Come on, Harry,” Ron says as Bagman announces that the first champion to participate will be Cedric. “It’s honor and glory!”
“And if I died, he’d never forgive me,” Harry replies, and then begins clapping as Cedric emerges from the Champions’ tent.
Harry leans forward, wondering just how Cedric plans to get past the dragon to steal the golden egg, and he can’t help but think about how he might have done it. He thinks that Cedric is rather clever, transfiguring a boulder into a Labrador in order to distract the dragon, a Swedish Short-Snout, while he steals the egg.
Cedric does well, getting the egg with a bit of dodging.
Next up is Fleur against a Common Welsh Green, and she tries to charm the dragon into a trance. The dragon does go quiet and placid, but only up until Fleur snatches the egg, at which point the dragon grows alert and breathes fire, and Fleur’s robes catch. As far as Harry can tell from the stands, she’s uninjured, but she won’t score as well as Cedric.
“Still think I’m wrong about Cedric?” Ron asks Hermione, raising his voice to be heard.
“I never said you were wrong,” Hermione replies. “I just said I thought you were discounting Fleur because she’s a girl.”
“Probably,” Ginny adds, rolling her eyes. “Ron always discounts me.”
“I don’t,” Dean says promptly. “I think you know more hexes than the twins.”
Ginny bares her teeth in a fierce grin. “I do.”
Harry keeps his mouth shut, amused. He always enjoys seeing how the Weasleys interact with each other.
Krum is the last to go, up against a Chinese Fire-Ball, and he casts some sort of curse on the dragon’s eyes.
Harry frowns at that. He knows it’s a contest, but the dragon thrashes around, damaging her actual eggs, even though Krum manages to snag his prize. The dragon hadn’t done anything wrong, other than getting chosen for a tournament, and yet she loses her eggs?
“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asks.
Harry shakes his head. “I’m fine. I just think it’s a shame the other eggs were damaged, that’s all.”
“It’s just an animal, Harry,” Ron says.
Harry shakes his head. “They were still her eggs, and she was still a mum. She didn’t ask to be involved in this mess.”
Maybe he’s unreasonably angry about it, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t share Hagrid’s fascination with dragons, but Harry knows what it’s like to be dragged into something that’s beyond his control.
Neville pats Harry on the shoulder. “Maybe they’ll be able to find other eggs for her, mate. I’ve heard they do that sometimes, if a dragon abandons their own brood.”
That doesn’t actually make Harry feel better. He still thinks that it’s stupid that they’d put real eggs in danger for no reason other than the entertainment of those watching the Triwizard Tournament.
Harry tries to put that out of his mind when the scores are announced, and Cedric takes the lead. It’s still a close race, but the Hogwarts students erupt in excitement, Harry included, although he figures he’ll commiserate with Fleur and Therese later about Fleur’s singed robes and slightly disappointing performance.
The celebration continues throughout the day and into the evening in the common room, and Harry is happy to participate. He puts the destroyed dragon eggs out of his mind for now, focusing on the win, as well as the fact that he’ll be seeing Sirius soon.
Maybe he’ll ask Sirius to take up the protection of dragons at some point.
Love your writing! I’ve just binge read all your QB stories. Thank you!
Thank you very much!