Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, the setting, and some parts of the plot.
Chapter One:
The Viewing Gift
As the bell ending the Seventh Years' last Transfiguration class ever rang, Professor McGonagall was still talking over the zipping of bags and the rushing to hand in final exams.
"Now remember, your Seventh Year Depositions are to be presented in front of the faculty one week from today. Your presentation times will be drawn at random tomorrow and you will receive them at the Graduation Feast tomorrow evening in the Great Hall. If any of my students still need help I'll be available for last minute consultations during –"
The door to the classroom slammed, and Professor McGonagall jumped and looked up from her empty planner to an empty room. Well, she thought. I suppose that might be good. At least it doesn't look like they're behind schedule.
The Seventh Years' Depositions were a tradition at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Every Seventh Year student was required to write and present a paper on a political or historical aspect of the magical world. The student's Depositions and N.E.W.T. scores were examined by the faculty at Hogwarts for final grades, and then sent on to the Ministry of Magic, who decided whether or not to license the student as a qualified witch or wizard. More or less, students from Hogwarts were licensed. As she left her classroom for lunch, Professor McGonagall could only recall one instance in recent history in which a student who had passed at Hogwarts had been denied license by the ministry. She smiled sympathetically at the pitiful Mr. Filch as she passed him in the hallway and winked at his cat, Mrs. Norris.
********** * **********
Harry Potter sipped thoughtfully at his pumpkin juice as he listened to Ron vent about his Deposition. "I didn't even realize that was in a week! What with Quidditch practice and all, I've just been so busy..."
Harry smiled inconspicuously to himself. Ron wasn't even on the Quidditch team. During their sixth year, the team had decided to make Ron an honorary "Team Manager" since he came to all the practices anyway, and he did get to play in a game once during fifth year when Gryffindor's new beater, a stocky third year named Marcus Williams, was injured by a bludger, but that was about all the action Ron saw on the Quidditch field.
"Merlin, have mercy, Ron! It's only two rolls of parchment? Oh but Dumbledore said it had to be at least five, and you've only got a week left!" Hermione was almost as frenzied about Ron's paper as Ron himself. "I'll help you," she finally resolved. "I finished my Deposition last month. All I have to do now is cut it down so I can fit my speech into twenty minutes."
Ron stared at her with disgust. "Last month? That's just bloody ridiculous!" The redhead shoveled another spoonful of Magically Mashed Potatoes into his mouth before turning his attention to Harry, who until this point had been amused just watching the two of them banter. It had become a favorite past time of his. "Are you finished with yours, Harry?"
Harry, unlike Ron, waited to swallow his food before he spoke. "Almost," he answered. "I still have to write my conclusion."
Ron, seeing that he was alone in his peril, gulped. "How many rolls of parchment is it?" he asked quietly.
"I'm on my sixth right now."
"Ah, six rolls? Merlin!" Ron exclaimed. "I picked a bad topic. There's just not that much to say about Quidditch, unless I copied straight from Quidditch Through The Ages."
"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "You wouldn't!"
"No, I wouldn't," Ron replied exasperatedly. "Which is why I'm going to fail this stupid paper!"
"Failing your paper, Weasel? It's hardly a surprise." The aristocratic snarl came from behind Ron and Hermione, but Harry didn't have to look to know who it was.
"Why don't you mind your own business, Malfoy, you bloody b – "
"Ron," Hermione warned.
"What, Mudblood? Don't think he could handle insulting me?" Draco's eyes twinkled evilly as he slurred at Hermione. "Just let him try. Once, before he's denied his license and gets his wand blasted apart by the Ministry. He'll never see me again after that, will he? Probably go and live with the Muggles." He looked pointedly back and forth between Hermione and Ron before turning to pass the table with his goon-like bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, but Harry stopped him.
"And what's your paper called, Malfoy? How to Become a Death-Eater in One Easy Lesson?"
Draco turned back, and to Harry's surprise, he smiled. "You just wait, Potter. I think you'll be quite, er – shocked – at the topic of my paper." With that, the three Slytherins strolled away, Draco smirking undeniably to himself while Crabbe and Goyle grunted their laughs behind him.
********** * **********
The week went by quicker than any of the Seventh Years had thought it would. It was Tuesday night and Harry was in the Gryffindor common room playing Seamus Finnigan in Wizard's Chess in an attempt to relax before presenting his Deposition on Unforgivable Curses. They had fascinated him since his fourth year when he learned that his parents were killed by one – Avada Kedavra – that he survived, and since he'd seen two of them in action during the Triwizard Tournament. His Depositions was to discuss his position that he didn't believe they should be taught – or even discussed – in schools because of the danger they posed to the magical community. He was zoning out and thinking about his parents and Cedric Diggory (another boy that had been killed by Avada Kedavra) when he heard Seamus' voice echoing through his thoughts.
"Uh, Harry? Harry, it's your turn. HARRY!"
"Oh, right." Harry jumped at the sound of his voice and blinked furiously. "Sorry, Seamus." He glanced down at the board for no more than a few seconds and commanded his one remaining knight to move. The knight glanced back up at Harry, shook his fist, shouted a few unkind words, and maneuvered grudgingly to his death. Harry, in turn, slapped his forehead hard and mumbled a cringing "Sorry" to the broken pieces.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Seamus was asking. "I've never won at chess before. Something must be wrong." When Harry didn't respond, Seamus looked back down at the board, took Harry's knight, and his eyes got wide. "I don't believe it," he said quietly, returning his wide-eyed stare to Harry. "Check mate. I've just beaten you at chess. Bloody hell."
Harry didn't even look up. For the love of Merlin, he told himself; you've just lost to Seamus. Get a hold on yourself, man!
"You aren't worried about your Deposition, are you?" Seamus asked him a few moments later when his shock at winning had died down.
"What? Oh, yeah. A little," Harry lied. His Deposition was the last thing he was worried about. He could recite his speech while riding backwards and upside down on a broomstick with the snitch fluttering around in his pants – on a Comet series broomstick at that! No, it was something else.
He let his eyes wander around the Gryffindor common room. In a few days, it would all be gone. He would no longer have a place to live in the wizarding world, he would no longer have a place to be with his friends, no more Transfiguration lessons, or DADA...Hell, he might even miss Potions and that horrid Professor Snape.
Harry's eyes stopped at Ron and Hermione who were lazing cozily by the fire. Hermione had her head in Ron's lap as she read a book and Ron was just stroking her hair. Even though they weren't officially a couple, seeing them together made Harry lonely. He knew they were in love and that one day they'd admit it to themselves – and maybe even each other – but he himself still had no one. Well, sort of.
"Seamus, I'll see you later, all right?" He found himself saying suddenly. "I'm gonna go over my speech a few more times, just to be sure, you know..." But Seamus wasn't listening. He was already setting up another game of Wizard's Chess with Neville Longbottom. He might be able to win again, Harry smiled to himself.
He climbed the stairs to the Seventh Year dorm rooms quietly, trying not to attract attention, and shut himself into it when he finally got to the top. He glanced around for a bit, making sure that no one else was around, and then finally reached into his trunk. When his hand emerged, he was holding a balled up pair of socks which held a small round lump. He pulled the lump out carefully, but soon shoved it back into his trunk when he realized it was only his Sneakoscope. Why do I still carry that around? he mumbled to himself, reaching for another pair of balled up socks. Finally, his hand curled around what he was looking for.
He held he small, cloudy-looking glass ball in his hand at sat down on his bed. This was one of his most secret and valued possessions. Not even Ron or Hermione knew about it. It was called a Viewing Gift because that's exactly what it was. It had to be a gift for it to work right, because the only thing its sole power was showing the gift's giver to the receiver, wherever he or she may be, without the giver knowing about it. Harry stared into his precious gift for a moment, then finally, with a flourish of his wand, muttered, "Compare datoris!"
