Choices
Chapter Two
By: Nyra II
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and there is something seriously wrong with you if you think I'm her.
A/N: Just to let you know, I'll be 'speeding up' first year. It'll go a lot faster than the book. Some of my dear readers actually threatened to harm me if I killed Hermione. Especially one of my friends. I had no idea she could be so violent... And keep in mind that my Hermione Granger and J.K Rowling's Hermione Granger are going to be two different people.
Angst-filled chapter comin' up. It's long, too, so be happy. :) I know I am. Chapter 1 got 12 reviews! 12! I couldn't believe it!
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Harry and Draco quickly got to the Great Hall, and they sat down at the Slytherin Table. Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor Tale. Part... well , most, of him didn't care if something had happened to Ron or Hermione. A very, very small part actually cared, if only because they were interesting company. He wondered if they were alright. If they were, good. If not, too bad. He didn't really care either way.
When all of the students had filed into the Hall and taken their seats, Dumbledore stood up, looking pale and very grave, the normal twinkle in his blue eyes disappearing completely.
Harry wondered who had been stupid enough to let a Troll, of all things, into the castle. It couldn't have been a student. They wouldn't have been able to control it, it would have killed them quite quicklyHe glanced at the Professor's. It had to have been one of them... but who?
McGonagall appeared to be holding back tears, and failing rather miserably. Sprout was watching Dumbledore with wide, horror-filled eyes her normal fly-away hair more wild than ever before. Flitwick looked frightened and astonished. Snape appeared indifferent, though he was paler than normal, and Harry noticed that the Potions teacher's eyes kept sweeping up and down the Slytherin Table. So Dumbledore hadn't told the teachers the identity of the unfortunate student yet? How odd. Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, was openly crying, looking even more frightened than Flitwick.
Hagrid was looking more worried than frightened. He too kept looking up and down the Slytherin Table. Quirrel was paler and more twitchy than ever before, his eyes darting through the room, rather than looking at Dumbledore like everyone else. Harry frowned. He had had a bad feeling about Quirrel ever since their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. But the man was such a pathetic wimp...
It could be an act, Harry realized, He could be faking it, to get Dumbledore to trust him...
He filed that interesting bit of information away. He'd have to tell the others about it later. He turned his attention back to the Headmaster. The Hall, which had been filled with worried mutterings, silenced immediately as Dumbledore stood, and took a long look throughout the room.
"As you may or may not know, you were called here because last night a student was killed by the troll, and another was injured. Eliza Trohns was in the fourth floor corridor, and did not know about the troll. It killed her as she was making her way downstairs to the Feast. She was a Third Year Hufflepuff student. We will honor her memory, and ensure that nothing like this ever happens again." said Dumbledore gravely.
It was then that, very suddenly, Harry noticed that instead of the usual House colors, the walls were covered in black drapes, and that the Hufflepuff table looked to be in an extreme state of depression.
The students; well, the ones who cared about their friends only and hadn't given a crap about Eliza, anyway, looked relieved. Harry rolled his eyes. Obviously none of them had heard Dumbledore say 'and another was injured'.
Some people are incredibly stupid...
Dumbledore cleared his throat, regaining the attention of everyone in the room.
"Another student, as I said, was injured. First Year Hermione Granger was in the second floor bathroom, and was cornered by the Troll."
Harry looked quickly over at the Gryffindor Table, looked up and down it several times, and was still unable to spot Ron's red-orange hair. Was Hermione in the Hospital Wing? Was Ron with her? Why had no one told him?
"Miss Granger is now in the Hospital Wing," continued Dumbledore, confirming Harry's suspicions, "Classes for the rest of the week are canceled."
Most of the students looked rather cheerful as Dumbledore sat back down and breakfast food appeared on the Tables. Sure, they were more subdued than usual, and there was less happy chatter, but for the most part it appeared that nothing had changed for the people who hadn't known or cared about Hermione and Eliza. Not many of them cared about the Know-It-All First Year with the horrid hair, or the pretty Third Year Hufflepuff who had been almost as talented in Charms as Flitwick himself.
Harry shot them angry looks. How pathetic were they? A Dark creature had broken into the school, killed a student and injured another, and they didn't even care?! Well maybe if they were beaten to a bloody pulp they might not be so cheerful-
Draco speaking snapped him out of that furious though mid-sentence.
"- go see Granger?" he asked, "I know she's a Mudblood, but she is pretty smart. It would probably be best to stay on her good side."
Harry nodded in agreement, though he wasn't entirely sure if that was how he would have put it.
"Yeah," he said, standing up, "Lets go."
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They made it up to the Hospital Wing quite quickly by using a few of the secret passages they had discovered, and were soon standing in front of the doors.
The doors were open, but Draco hesitated, obviously regretting making the suggestion that they visit Hermione. Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and calmly walked inside.
The sparkling white, spotless walls hurt his eyes a bit, and he couldn't guess how anyone could stand to stay in the room for a moment, much less actually get healed... well, not without wearing sunglasses, at least.
Ron was sitting in a white, clearly uncomfortable chair, at the bedside of -
"Hermione?"
The bushy-haired girl nodded, smiling slightly, but clearly in a bit of pain. Ron looked up in surprise upon hearing his voice, and the two Slytherin's cautiously stepped a bit closer.
"What happened? Dumbledore said that the Troll -"
Hermione nodded again, shifting to sit up a bit straighter.
"I," her voice was slightly hoarse, "I was heading down to the Feast when- when that awful Seamus Finnegan cornered me and..." her eyes were slightly bright with tears, "He said that I shouldn't be a Ravenclaw. That I didn't deserve to be one. That if I was going to talk to 'filthy snakes' and be a 'useless, attention-seeking Know-It-All' then I should-" she looked to be holding back sobs, "Then I should just 'go back to the Muggles.' because 'at least they could put up with me.'"
It was clear Finnegan's words had greatly affected her. Ron, who, judging by how murderous he suddenly looked, had not heard this before, and stood up.
"I'll kill that -"
"Shut up," snapped Draco, interrupting him, "Can't you see she's not finished yet?"
Hermione sent him a slightly surprised, but thankful look, before continuing.
"So I ran into the bathroom, and cried for a really long time. I remember, when I finally stopped I thought I had missed the Feast. I was about to leave and go see if the Great Hall was empty, when- when-" her eyes had filled with tears again, "I thought I smelt something odd, and there was a strange noise in the hall. I looked out and... That thing, the Troll, it saw me, and- and... it came into the bathroom..." she paused and whispered, "I was so sure that I was going to die."
Ron, Draco, and Harry were all standing by her bedside now. Even the two Slytherin's looked a bit concerned.
"And then... I tried to hide. I went into a stall and locked it, and screamed for the Professor's... It destroyed the stall with it's club, and a piece of the wood from it hit my arm," she carefully showed them the arm, which was heavily bandaged and in a sling, "It broke a bone and made a pretty deep cut."
Harry frowned. He knew what it felt like to have a broken arm, and it wasn't fun. Poor Hermione. It was her right arm, too, so she wouldn't be able to do any schoolwork until it healed. She'd probably go mad by then.
"I crawled into another stall, and it smashed that one, too. I guess it thought it killed me, because it left. I was so scared that I stayed there, on the floor, for what seemed like forever..." she wiped her tears away with the end of her bed sheet, "I know now that it went up to the fourth floor and- and killed poor Eliza Trohns. The Professor's found me... I guess they'd heard the noises. I told them about the Troll, and McGonagall brought me here while the others went to look for it."
Ron looked horrified.
"That's awful, Hermione..." He turned to Harry and Draco, "How d'you think the Troll got in?"
Draco shrugged, looking completely stumped.
"It doesn't matter," said Harry, "It was Finnegan's fault Hermione got attacked in the first pace."
Ron nodded, looking angry at the thought.
"I still think we should murder the pathetic little -"
Draco cut him off again.
"We should torture him first, if we kill him." he said. At their surprised looks, he added, "Granger's smart, for a Mudblood. And I suppose she's not too awful."
"We can't kill him," said Harry regretfully, "We'd get kicked out of the school before you could say 'revenge'."
Hermione had been listening in silence, but spoke up quietly, "I -" she looked unsure, but continued, "I don't think we should just let him get away with that, though. I- I want him to regret it." She looked slightly shocked by her own words, but also firm.
"Think of it this way," said Harry, smirking, "We have about seven more years at Hogwarts."
Ron, Hermione, and Draco all looked confused for a moment, before Draco nodded, also smirking.
"We have seven years to make Finnegan's life hell." he said.
Ron grinned. Hermione still looked hesitant, but nodded.
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The next Monday morning, classes resumed again. It was almost like nothing had happened.
Hermione was allowed out of the Hospital Wing just before breakfast that morning, and seemed to be almost completely over her traumatic experience. Her right arm was still in a sling, and according to Madame Pomfrey it would have to stay that way for three weeks. In the Muggle world it would have taken far longer to heal. Hermione was taking three potions a day, which were healing her arm the magical way. The sling and small cast were only there to keep the damage from getting worse than it already was.
"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster wishes to speak with you."
It was McGonagall's voice, and Harry could hear the irritation in it. The First Year Gryffindor's and Slytherin's were heading for the door of the classroom, as Transfiguration had just ended. Harry was easily able to cast all the spells McGonagall taught them, and his grades were rivaling Hermione's, but it was far from being his favorite class. McGonagall had never liked him much, and he suspected that it was because he was in Slytherin instead of being in her House. He remembered the completely shocked and slightly betrayed look on her face after he was Sorted. It had been quite clear that she, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, had fully expected him to be a Gryffindor.
Harry turned around, nodded to McGonagall to show that he had heard, said goodbye to Draco, Hermione, and Ron, and headed for the Headmaster's Office. He had been there once before with Ron, Hermione, and Draco because they had pulled a nasty prank on a Slytherin Sixth Year who had insulted Hermione about two weeks into the school year.
"Lemon Drop?" he guessed.
Thankfully it was still the password, and the gargoyle opened to reveal the spiral staircase up to the Headmaster's Office.
Why couldn't wizards and witches just use electricity, if they imitated it so much? It would make things so much easier... He snapped out of the annoyed thought when he got to the tall oak door, and the staircase stopped moving. He was about to knock on the door, when Dumbledore's voice called, "Enter."
Harry still didn't trust Dumbledore one bit, but he hid it well. He walked into the Office with a calm, polite smile in his otherwise emotionless face.
Dumbledore almost winced when he saw Harry. It wasn't that he didn't like Harry or anything, but Harry was like Tom Riddle in so many ways it was almost frightening.
But, the Headmaster did his best to ignore it.
"Harry, I called you here because I have been meaning to talk to you for some time about what life with your relatives is like." he said. They had had plenty of reasons to suspect that the Dursley's abused Harry, but none of it was confirmed.
"Fine, professor." lied Harry.
"Are you sure?" continued Dumbledore, leaning forward slightly, and looking rather like some dorks favorite Grandpa, "Because you are welcome to tell me anything."
Harry frowned slightly. It was clear to him that Dumbledore really wanted to know the answer to that question. But why? According to Hagrid, Dumbledore had been the one to leave him with his relatives and never once check on him. Somehow, that really didn't seem like a caring action to him, so he had no idea why the Headmaster would suddenly be so concerned. If he was so interested on life with the Dursley's, why had he never even tried to visit, in 11 years? Or sent a letter. Or called. Surely wizards couldn't be dumb enough not to know how to use phones?
"Everything is fine." Harry repeated, feeling annoyed at his own lack of answers.
Dumbledore nodded, seeming to accept that answer. For the moment.
"I was a very close friend of both Lily and James, Harry," he said, smiling that 'you-can-trust-me-with-anything' smile again.
Harry blinked, feeling confused. Who were Lily and James?
Oh. My parents. Right.
He suddenly felt angry. How dare Dumbledore try and bribe him into giving up his secrets by talking about his parents?! That sick, twisted, manipulating son of a-
Instead of voicing that thought out loud, he smiled politely again.
"So?" he asked.
Dumbledore frowned.
"They were you're parents, Harry," he said, "I would greatly enjoy telling you about them some time. You must have so many questions -"
Harry dearly wished to get up, shout every foul word he knew (and growing up with Uncle Vernon, he knew quite lot) and storm out of the room. Instead he forced down his temper and kept smiling. Something told him not to look Dumbledore in the eyes. The Headmaster had to have put some sort of Trust Spell on his eyes or something. They invited everyone to spill all of their secrets, to trust him beyond all else, to tell him everything... Like if he met Dumbledore's eyes, the Headmaster could see into his mind, somehow...
"I'm going to be late for class, professor. Can I go?" Harry asked as politely as he could.
Dumbledore nodded, an odd look in his eyes. He had some serious thinking to do.
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Later that afternoon, Harry was sitting in the Library, reading a Second Year DADA book, when Hermione plopped into the chair across from him, careful not to jostle her broken arm as she did so. She was almost completely back to her normal self and perfectly cheerful. She seemed only a bit annoyed that she couldn't do any schoolwork. Harry, Ron, and Draco silently thought that she was trying to make up for her lack of coursework by reading the entire Hogwarts Library before Christmas. Over the last few days she spent every free moment she had in it, and even Harry was starting to get concerned.
"Ron told me that Draco told him that you had to go to the Headmaster's Office earlier. Did you do something that I don't know about?" asked Hermione, snapping him out of his thoughts and looking disapproving.
"No. I had to go because he wanted to know how life with my Aunt and Uncle is." replied Harry truthfully, reaching for a Defense Against the Dark Arts book from the pile of different books piled on the desk in front of him. He wondered if the spell on Dumbledore's eyes was Dark, but pushed the thought from his mind. Dumbledore was a Light wizard. He wouldn't use Dark Magic.
Hermione looked interested.
"And how is life with them?" she asked, as casually as possible. Harry had never talked to them about his relatives, and she was very curious to find out why he always changed the subject when they were mentioned. She had a strange, bad feeling about them, but couldn't figure out why. They had raised Harry. They had to be decent people. Dumbledore wouldn't have let him live with unfit guardians.
...Would he?
"Fine." said Harry shortly, not looking up from his book. He really didn't want to talk to her, to talk to anyone, about the Dursley's.
"Then why would the Headmaster want to speak with you about it?" asked Hermione, a slightly bossy tone creeping into her voice as her I-Must-Know-All nature began to take over again.
"Because it's widely known, to him at least, that my relatives aren't particularly…fond…of magic. He was worried that they might do something to me, but they never have."
This time he met her eyes, and even though it was a complete lie, he looked perfectly sincere. Hermione studied him for a moment, obviously trying to make sure that this was true, then she sighed.
"Alright, I believe you… Why are you reading a Second Year Defense book?" she asked, changing the subject. She silently promised herself that, some day, she would find out why he didn't like to talk about them. But for now, she wouldn't press him, as she got the feeling that it wouldn't make finding answers any easier. Most likely the opposite.
"Because I've read the First Year book so many times I could recite it word-for-word." he said, rolling his eyes.
Hermione nodded. "I know how you feel... do you think I could borrow that book when your finished?"
Harry smiled slightly.
"Sure." he said.
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Late that night, Harry woke up. He had had a nightmare about the blinding green light. Again.
It was horrible, but it had haunted his dreams for years now, and he knew that the nightmarish memories wouldn't stop any time soon.
He got up and went to sit in the common room, grabbing a Second Year Potions book as he went. The book turned out to be rather boring and didn't help get his mind off of his parent's fate at all, so he decided to go and explore Hogwarts instead.
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He had been wandering around for a while when he decided to sneak into the library. He had been wanting to get some books out, but the old, frail librarian, Madame Pince, kept looking at him oddly. As though she expected him to go on a killing spree at any moment. Every time he went into the library, she would stare at him, wide-eyed, as though seeing someone else entirely. He wasn't sure what her problem was. He hadn't wanted to check out any books for fear of her falling over dead from fear or something.
He was so lost in his thoughts, and the corridors were so dark, that he got extremely lost on his way to the library, and he was searching the unfamiliar corridors for any sign of what part of the castle he was in (heck, he'd be happy just to know what floor he was on) when a voice he instantly recognized spoke,
"Where are they, Mrs. Norris, where are they…" it was Filch, and he was getting closer.
Talking to himself, I suppose, or talking to that damn cat! thought Harry. He looked around and saw a door not far away, and he dove through it a moment before he heard Filch come around the corner.
He could hear Filch walking through the corridor, footsteps echoing loudly. He froze, as the footsteps stopped, right outside of the room he was hiding in.
"Is someone here, Mrs Norris?" asked Filch.
After several moments of silence, there was a meow, and he heard Filch curse.
"Alright... we'll catch them, Mrs Norris, they were here..." As Filch's footsteps started again and began to fade away, Harry finally got a good look at the room he was hiding in.
It was obviously some sort of unused classroom, as it looked almost completely identical to the Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA rooms. It was filled with unused, dust-covered desks, and, oddly enough, there was an extremely large mirror up against one wall.
Harry slowly walked forward, reading the letters engraved in the top of the mirror.
"Erised stra eh ru oy tub ecafru oy ton wohsi"
It didn't make any sense, …but if you put it backwards...
"I show not your face but your hearts desire"
Odd, he thought, stopping when he was right in front of the mirror and turning to face it.
In the mirror was himself, wearing expensive looking black robes. He looked rather like dark royalty.
As he watched, two people appeared. The people were both adults. The woman had long red hair and green eyes which were identical to Harry's own, and Harry resembled the man. They, too, were wearing black, expensive-looking clothes. After a few moments, he suddenly realized who they must be.
Mum and Dad. he thought.
He walked up to the mirror and placed his hand upon it's cold surface, and his mother did the same with her hand in the same spot his as own. For one joy-filled moment, he almost believed that he would feel her hand touching his, but the surface remained cold.
But he stayed there, face-to-face with his parents, for a long time. He snapped out of his daze when there was a loud noise a few corridors away, and he whispered, "I'll come back."
And he hurried out of the room.
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A/N: REVIEW! If I get enough, I'll put the next chapter up early!
