Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended. The story and chapter titles come from the Edith Piaf song of the same name, and do not belong to me, either.
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien
Chapter 2: Non! Je Ne Regrette Rien
"Harry!"
Harry turned around when he heard his name called as he was leaving the hallway that housed the Headmaster's office.
"Sirius!"
"Harry, I have to go right back up, I just wanted to say I'm sorry that you won't be able to stay with me this summer."
"It's alright. Wait, not at all?"
"What?"
"I won't be able to go to your place at all this summer?"
"I don't know, Harry. But the way things are going, probably not."
"Can you please just ask? Please?"
"Alright. I'll ask. I'm not sure how much it'll do. What with the Order meeting there, I don't think it would be good to have you there."
"You mean you think I'd just get in the way."
"No! I mean, well, others might see it like that, but I never would. It's just that people will be going in and out at all hours, and they might disturb you, you know? And there'll be a lot of unfamiliar people there."
"And you won't have to ward against me when you have your meetings."
"Oh, Harry. Please don't think of it like that, I couldn't stand it. I would personally love to have you this summer. Just, I think that Dumbledore won't agree. I'll still ask though." Sirius's eyes were pleading. It seemed something transferred over from his animagus form, because his puppy dog eyes were killer. Harry folded.
"Alright, Sirius. It's alright. I've survived before, right? No big deal." Harry smiled for Sirius, although he didn't feel like smiling at all.
"Harry, I should go back inside, I told them this wouldn't take too long. But, I think Dumbledore might be sending me on a mission soon."
"What?? So soon?" Harry was shocked to say the least. He had hoped to spend the summer with Sirius, and now here he was saying goodbye. Harry wanted to curse Dumbledore. Couldn't he just let things be? And of course, he hadn't said anything when Harry was in the room. He had a niggling suspicion that the Headmaster was sending Sirius out just to quiet Harry— or at least to prevent Harry being able to stay with Sirius over the summer. But that part was quickly squashed as being too cynical. He was just in a bad mood, and prone to think the worst of everyone. He thought he had quieted that part of his brain when he entered Gryffindor.
"Yeah. He hasn't said anything yet, but I am just getting this feeling. Of course I'd be undercover because I'm still on the run, but, especially after tonight, I think he will. I mean, I've been asking to get out from house arrest for so long. I think he'll let me take a mission."
Harry frowned.
"Harry, I don't know when I'll leave, or when I'll get back. I just— I just wanted to let you know that I am so proud of you and I love you."
"I love you too, Sirius." Harry wished that they hadn't been having this rushed heart-to-heart in a hallway.
"I'll see you as soon as I can, alright, Harry?"
"Yeah, take care of yourself."
"You too, kiddo."
"Bye."
"Bye." Harry walked away, looking back occasionally. Sirius stood at the foot of the stairs until Harry turned the corner.
ooooooooooooooooo
By the time Harry made it to the Hospital Wing, the lights had already been dimmed. In the low light he could see a number of occupied beds at the far end of the ward. Through the windows the sky was slowly lightening. The sun would rise in an hour or so. From the looks of it, Hermione, Ron and Luna had been subjected to some sort of sleeping potion as they were lying silently in bed. Hermione and Ron must have been in some sort of healing sleep, as they looked to have been the worst off of them all. Ginny was sitting up in bed, staring off into space, and Neville in the bed beside her. Harry was proud of both of them, but especially Neville, tonight. He had held his own, been a fierce fighter, and faced Bellatrix Lestrange, the torturer of his parents. Mr. Weasley, sitting in a chair next to Ron, only looked up at Harry when he came in, a wan smile on his face. Tonks was already gone.
Harry walked cautiously over to Ginny and Neville. They both acknowledged him with small smiles.
"Hi, Harry." They both greeted him quietly.
"Er, hi, guys. How are you feeling?"
"Good, I can't sleep with my ankle healing, it just feels too funny," whispered Ginny. If healing a broken ankle was anything like re-growing the bones in your arm, he could sympathize.
"I'm sure. Neville, how are you?"
"Not too bad, Harry. I broke my nose. Pomfrey healed it pretty quick. But she put me under some Cruciatus curse, so they have to keep me to make sure I'm okay." Harry heard the underlying worry that he would turn out like his parents, in a hospital, unaware of anything. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, they sent me to get a checkup, but I'm fine. I don't need to see Pomfrey." There was an awkward pause in which Harry sort of wished he hadn't said that, especially looking at his two best friends that were lying unconscious in beds not too far away. Here they all were in the Hospital Wing and he, who had led them to danger in the first place, was perfectly fine. They didn't know, or need to know, that the reason he was fine was because he had been too busy having sex with Lucius Malfoy to get injured… Well, beyond the obvious rug burns and slight pains in his lower back and anus. It was actually the reason why he didn't want to see Madame Pomfrey. It would be pretty obvious what had happened that night— and the fact that he had lied— if she were to see what sort of healing he needed.
"Yeah, well… that's good." Said Neville, a little awkwardly.
"So when is everyone getting out?"
"They say I can leave later today if everything's alright," said Neville, "Luna and Ginny should be fine in the morning. We don't know how long Hermione and Ron are going to stay, because nobody really knows what happened to them."
Harry felt really bad. Nobody knew what was wrong with either of them, or how long it would take to heal. He wouldn't even sure if they would be healed by the time school let out, because he had to go home the next evening. Harry glanced at Mr. Weasley, who had his head bowed over Ron's prone form. He looked lost, almost. Harry recalled Mr. Weasley's own time in the hospital a few months prior. It seemed like yesterday, but a world away at the same time.
"What happened to them, I mean, that you do know?" Harry asked. He also wanted to know what happened to them after he was chased off by Lucius Malfoy, but he was afraid to go into that just yet. It was still too fresh. Maybe if Ron and Hermione were up before he left later that day.
"Well, Hermione was knocked unconscious by some sort of curse. I don't know what it was." Neville answered.
"And Ron was Confunded, and then he summoned a brain of some sort, and it attacked him."
Both of them looked like they wanted to ask him what happened to him, and how he got off unharmed, but had come to the same conclusion he had, and decided it was too soon. Harry was glad, because he couldn't help but thinking If they knew, if they knew what really happened, they would be so bitter and angry. And that is not to mention very betrayed.
"So you were talking to Professor Dumbledore for a long time," Ginny said.
" Yeah, they wanted to know what happened tonight, and also we talked about some other stuff, like me going back to the Dursleys this summer."
Ginny and Neville, who didn't really know about the treatment he received at home, beyond the fact that he always came back from summer a little skinny and more subdued than usual, both gave neutral responses.
"So I have to leave early to go back home later tonight," he said, because he had to get away from this awkwardness, even if he would be deserting his friends. "If Hermione and Ron wake up, tell them I'll be by before I have to leave."
"Alright."
"And, er," he continued, because he felt that he couldn't just leave it at that, "I'll try to sneak away, meet everyone at King's Cross when you all come in. To see how everyone is, and to say hello, okay?"
"Sure, Harry, that sounds great," Ginny said, but it sounded a bit forced.
"Okay, I'll see you later."
"Bye, Harry"
Harry walked over to Ron and Mr. Weasley. Hermione lay on the bed on the other side of him.
"Hi, Mr. Weasley."
"Oh, hi, Harry." Mr. Weasley seemed very subdued, and a little disorientated.
"How are you?"
"Well, as good as I can be." His response made Harry feel worse, because it was his fault, really, that Ron and Ginny were here. It almost made it seem as though he blamed Harry, though Harry hoped this wasn't the case. Even if he had saved Mr. Weasley's life earlier in the year with his vision, he had also almost cost him two of his children.
"Er, where's Mrs. Weasley?"
"She should be on her way. She was fire-calling the other boys last I heard."
"Oh."
"How are you, Harry?" Mr. Weasley gave Harry a quiet smile.
"I'm good, Mr. Weasley."
"Oh, that's good."
"Yes…" Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. He had never been good at small talk, nonetheless in awkward situations.
"Had quite an adventure last night, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for all this, Mr. Weasley."
"Oh, don't you worry about that, what's done is done, Harry. Everyone gets into a bit of mischief once in a while."
"Yes, sir," Harry paused, "Listen, I should go; it's getting late."
Mr. Weasley merely nodded.
"Tell them hello if they should wake. And tell Mrs. Weasley hello for me when she gets here."
"I'll do that, Harry. You take care."
"Thank you sir, you too."
Harry slowly turned around and left the Hospital Wing. He wasn't actually tired. It had been an incredibly tiring day for him, but he was fine, and he didn't quite feel up to going and lying in bed yet. He decided to go see Hagrid, who was back by now. As he was turning down the hallway from the Hospital Wing, he spotted Mrs. Weasley hurrying down the hallway, a handkerchief clutched in her hands, and her face wet and blotchy from crying. Her face was screwed up, as if she was trying to hold back more tears. As soon as she spotted Harry she made a beeline for him.
"OH! Harry! Dear, how are you? You look fine! Are you fine? I heard that you weren't hurt. What a terrible thing to happen!" Mrs. Weasley had hugged him fiercely, and was holding him out at arms length by now. "I don't blame you, you know. I mean, I owe you so much after what you did to help Arthur this past Christmas."
"Uh…"
Mrs. Weasley kept talking right through him, her voice shaking. "And everything's okay, I hope, at least. I mean, everyone's still alive, aren't they? I just hope Ron and Hermione end up alright." Her demeanor changed, and she was suddenly in Molly Weasley, mother of seven mode. "But, Harry, what were you thinking, leading everyone on a wild goose chase? That is to say, dear, I don't mean to be horrible, but you can't just go running about like that, throwing yourself into danger! Think of what could have happened! If not for yourself, for your friends. Well, I suppose it's not my place to say those kinds of things, but I do think of you like a son, Harry dear. Someone should be a mother to you. I think that someone ought to have a talk with that aunt of yours. Anyway, I should be going. Mr. Weasley is in there all by himself, you know. I just know he is taking this poorly. Ginny has always been his favorite, you know. His little girl. Well, I'll see you later, though. Take care, dear."
And like that, the whirlwind that was Mrs. Weasley had breezed past him into the Hospital Wing. Harry was astonished. The entire monologue had taken her about a minute. He supposed how she was acting was testament to how distraught she was. He pushed it out of his mind, and continued walking to Hagrid's. He decided to take the long way about. He was still in a bad mood, the visit to the Hospital Wing not having helped much besides to give him something else to be depressed about.
He felt so alone right now. He was so confused. He had lied to everyone, and he had led his friends into danger, and now he was the only one that wasn't hurt. It was because of that lie that he felt so confused. He wished he could confide in somebody. But he couldn't go to Sirius, whom he would usually turn to with everything. He couldn't bear it if Sirius was disappointed in him, or even angry at him. But it was his fault. He was the one that lied, and there wouldn't have been anything to lie about in the first place if he hadn't led his friends into danger, if he hadn't had sex with Mr. Malfoy. And he had pushed his friends away, which made it all the worse. He had been so angry, so volatile all year. And now, last night, he had totally ditched them in the middle of a battle.
Harry was almost to the entrance hall when he spotted a familiar shock of white-blonde hair. Malfoy was striding towards him, a letter clutched in his hand. His robes swished agitatedly around him as he strode swiftly around the corner. He looked confused and bewildered and frustrated all at once. Part of Harry was raring for a fight with his nemesis. There was a small part of Harry, though, that suddenly realized how like his father Malfoy looked and that couldn't be angry at all.
"Malfoy!" he shouted, once he was close enough to hear.
Malfoy looked a little unsure of how to respond, "Potter," he said neutrally.
Harry was surprised by his response. "What the fuck, Malfoy?"
"Absolutely nothing that is any of your business, Potter."
Harry wanted to say something, anything, to get Malfoy riled. He wanted a fight. Something to take out all his aggressions with. He wanted to hurt something. He was so angry and disillusioned with so many different things right now that he needed an outlet. He could always count on Draco Malfoy to be the one he could spar with, verbally, magically, and sometimes physically. But not right now, it seemed. Malfoy seemed to be, if not holding back, at least trying to stay neutral. Harry searched for something to say, but the only thing he could things he could think of were insulting his father. And then those thoughts led to a taunt that he would have loved to say if only to see the reaction: "I fucked your father," but it was really more the other way around and that wasn't nearly as much of an insult.
"Where are your two dim-witted bookends, Malfoy, they get sick of you?"
"Shut up, Potty."
"Make me, Ferret-face."
Malfoy was clenching his jaw, "Potter, don't push me right now."
"What, too scared?" It was a taunt Harry knew worked every time. He stepped up close to Malfoy, "Maybe I want to push you right now."
Something flashed in Malfoy's eyes, and he said, "Fuck you, Scarhead," and pushed Harry aside. Harry grinned in satisfaction and pushed Malfoy back. It devolved into a shoving match, no words or punches, just shoving and sliding back and forth in the narrow hallway. Harry's insides were singing. He drove Malfoy back into a wall, pinning his shoulders. Malfoy paused and looked Harry square in the face.
"What the hell, Potter?! What is wrong with you? You're crazy. You are seriously cracked. Stay away from me." And with that he shoved Harry away from him and strode away, only looking back, his face blank, as he was about to turn the corner at the end of the hallway. It was only later that he realized what an odd time it was for Malfoy to be out on a stroll.
A couple corridors later, Harry heard his name being shouted again. "Harry!"
What was it, Weasley night? Granted, there were like fifteen of them. "Hi, Bill."
"Listen, can we talk?"
Harry's stomach fell, just a little bit at that. But he was more curious than anything. "Uh, yeah. Here, in here." They entered an unused classroom.
Bill set up locking and silencing charms and also some wards. It was amazing to see. Harry didn't know what some of the wards did. Considering his job as a curse breaker, Harry was sure that this entire conversation would be private.
"Harry. I wanted to let you know that your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone what I saw. Ever."
Harry smiled, relieved, "Thanks, Bill."
"Everyone else thinks that what Remus smelled was just the room. No one even doubts it."
"Good."
"I think you're almost an adult, and you can make your own decisions. I remember what it was like being smothered. Heck, I still am. Mum and Dad forget that I'm not one of the kids anymore, and it drives me crazy." Bill paused, "And I don't agree with how you're being treated, Harry."
What was he referring to? The Dursleys?
"You are being expected to fight our fight, and kill the Dark Lord while most people sit in their homes. You shouldn't be made to fight. And Dumbledore—" Bill broke off, his face pinched.
"Can I trust you, Harry, to not say anything to anyone about what we're talking about tonight?"
"Yeah, of course. You're keeping my secret."
"Dumbledore is a master manipulator, Harry. I've found out some things about him that make my skin crawl. He— I don't want to say too much, but he does things for 'the greater good' but he has no regard for people. Look at you, he keeps sending you back to the Dursleys and he knows they don't treat you well. And—" he stepped closer to Harry and began to whisper, "and I know you've been on some adventures since you've gotten to Hogwarts. I've heard from Ron. And Dumbledore didn't do anything to help. He knows everything that goes on in this castle, Harry." Bill looked different than Harry had seen him before. More angry, more intimidating than ever. He had a grimly serious expression on his face.
Harry's mind was whirling. Bill was right.
"Oh, my God."
Dumbledore had known, his first year, when Harry was going to see the Mirror of Erised, though he had been wearing his invisibility cloak, but yet he didn't know about Quirrell? Or the Basilisk? Dumbledore had even been in the school the first time it was released, and he didn't know what it was or how it was getting around? Even Hermione at age twelve had figured it out the first time. And speaking of the Chamber of Secrets, if Fawkes came with the damn Hat, couldn't he have told Fawkes to save Ginny in the first place? Why wait for Harry to get there, and instead of saving them, give them a fucking Hat? What if he hadn't been able to get the damn sword out of the hat, anyway? And he hadn't stopped Sirius in third year. Granted, Sirius had knowledge of the castle's secret passages, but Dumbledore had been in the school for how long and he hadn't found secret passages that his father had? The thoughts kept tumbling haphazard out of his brain, over and over again. He had to stop thinking about this now, or he might do something stupid. He was already in a bad mood from earlier, and that confrontation with Malfoy hadn't helped at all. The thoughts kept going, though. It was like putting a puzzle together, when one piece clicked and everything else fell into place. Harry took a deep breath, and consciously directed his thoughts to where his things were that he needed to pack. Bill stood in front of him, peering at him worriedly. He vaguely heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.
"Wow, I just realized a lot of things."
"Yeah, quite an epiphany, huh?"
"Yeah. Wow. Holy shit. I— Thanks. I've got to think about a lot of things now, though."
"I understand. If you need to talk, or have any questions, let me know. I can listen any time, Harry."
"Thanks, Bill."
"No problem. And hey, you might be coming to the Burrow for the last part of summer. We can talk more then."
Harry desperately wanted to ask what other types of things Dumbledore did, but decided against it. First, he would think about his own life.
"Listen, I should go. We've been in here for a while. I need to go see Ron." Bill was taking down his wards with fast flicks of his wand.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I'm always getting him into trouble."
"It's alright, Harry. He really likes you, we all do. He's just being a friend."
"Yeah. I'll see you later."
Bill walked out. And then, watching him walk away, Harry realized that he had referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord, and not You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or even Voldemort. Odd. He recalled the boom of thunder from earlier, and quickly ran to his dorm for a thick cloak.
