Same old, same old: I don't own Harry Potter the character, the computer game, the board game, the amusement park, or the person. I don't own anything containing the words 'Harry' or 'Potter'. I have hair and I own some pots, but so far, neither has earned me any money.
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3. King of the Castle
It was an emotional end to a roller-coaster of a day – the joy of the train ride with his friends, the adrenalin rush of the attack, the apprehension of attending an Order meeting openly, and then the anguish of his talk with the Unspeakable. Safely secured on their sofa back at Hogwarts, Albus and Harry finished their hot cocoa in comfortable silence. Placing his empty mug back on the tray, Albus ushered the boy into bed with the promise 'tomorrow would be a new day'. As Harry awoke with those same words in his mind, his first thought was, 'well, duh'.
But as he dressed for the day, he realized what Albus had really meant. It was a new day; the sun had come up, as it always did, and life continued. And strangely, Harry felt better than he had in a long time. Certainly better than he had since the ill-fated invasion. Entering the family room, he found both Minerva and Albus already seated at the small dining table, laughing over some private joke. They must have been waiting for him to begin breakfast because as soon as he appeared, so did the food.
Noticing the amused looks on their faces, he couldn't stop himself from asking what was so funny. Minerva explained she had been sharing some of the more memorable answers her First Years had given on their year-end exams. Harry was horrified at first, concerned that they had shared similar laughs over some of his own early work. However, hearing the outlandish things some of the students had written, he was soon laughing along with them. Really, how could any student think that a fish couldn't be transfigured into a candle because it would be too wet to light?
Finishing her meal quickly, Minerva excused herself, adding that she wanted to get her classroom cleaned out today. Harry and Albus bid her good day – Albus promising to send some requested paperwork to her office – before settling more comfortably into their seats. Noticing the strong brew Minerva insisted be available in the morning, Harry decided to give the coffee a try. He was busy adding his second spoonful of sugar when Albus began speaking.
"I am afraid I have a somewhat full day, leaving you on your own for the most part. Therefore, I thought it would be best if we went over a bit of housecleaning, so to speak."
Harry swallowed his drink to respond. "Of course," Harry offhandedly agreed, reaching for the milk. "I imagine I'm hiding out again?"
"Quite," Albus chuckled. "As with last fall, I must ask that you keep yourself out of sight, which unfortunately means keeping to our rooms for today. Most of the staff is finishing up their year-end work in hopes of leaving before Friday. It has, in fact, become somewhat of a competition to see who can get finished and leave the castle the quickest. I believe last year's winner was Professor Flitwick." Albus leaned forward in his seat as if to keep from being overheard. "Between you and me, I think he uses Disillusionment Charms to hide any work he hasn't completed in order to leave quicker. I have never checked his classroom for the charms, but when passing by I have noticed that it appears too neat. Fortunately, I have never been asked my opinion, for I would not want to appear to choose sides in that particular contest. Your Professors, Harry, take the race very seriously, only those who stay year round – and Minerva – are immune. And I'm not completely certain of her," he added with a grin.
Harry would have smiled at the joke, but he was trying to decide what to add to his coffee to make it drinkable. He opted to add a touch of cream, and as he stirred the mixture he pictured Professor Flitwick rushing around his classroom, wand flicking furiously, in an attempt to show up the other Professors. With a laugh, he agreed to stay out of the halls so the Professors could compete in peace. His smile disappeared behind his mug as he took another sip of the strange-tasting concoction in his cup. 'more sugar maybe' He still intended to go to Gryffindor Tower today, but there was no need to let Albus know that. After all, he had found a secret passageway to the common room last year, and he planned on using that one well during his summer stay, and maybe even find a few more.
Albus stayed quiet as Harry added yet more sugar to the coffee, not needing Legilimency to know he was plotting something. He watched as the boy stopped stirring and took another sip of his drink, taking in his appearance for the first time. "Might I say, you are looking well rested this morning. I take it you were able to find some peace in yourself?"
"Yeah, I suppose I did. You were a real help last night." Harry couldn't help but avert his eyes, choosing to watch his coffee mug as he continued. "I, well, you know Edgar and I talked about that archway in the Death Chamber. I … I feel better about what happened to Sirius. I mean, now that I know that he isn't suffering somewhere." He took another sip of his coffee, which might be what gave him the courage to look up. "Edgar said it was probably quick and painless – a good way to go, I guess. And he sort of confirmed what I already knew, that there are voices there, spirits trying to talk to us … not everyone can hear them, but they really are there, just waiting for us to join them.
"That's what he thinks, anyway," he added, with a wave of his hand. "It really helped, talking with him. And you, of course." He added with a small smile, before turning back to his coffee and adding just a drop more cream. When he'd finished stirring, he looked up and asked, "Do you think it would be alright if I sent him a thank you note? Or would it get him in trouble?"
"I think a simple note stating your pleasure in making his acquaintance would be innocent enough to pass scrutiny," Albus assured him.
Harry had taken another sip from his mug, and had to force the unappetizing liquid down to reply. "Great, I'll get right on that. Hedwig will appreciate having something to do."
"No doubt," Albus replied, "especially since she normally has so little work, and I am about to make it even less."
Harry was instantly on edge. "Please don't tell me I'm not allowed to write to my friends this summer," he implored. He couldn't be cut off from Ginny – they had plans to make.
"Relax, Harry. I only meant that you will no longer need to write to one particular friend. I believe you will remember this." With a flick of his wand, a brown-wrapped package floated from a nearby shelf to Harry's waiting hands.
Pulling the paper away, Harry recognized the shiny object as the mirror Sirius had once given him. He tenderly ran his hand over the smooth – and very much repaired – surface. Turning it over in his hand as he inspected it, he realized that one small chip in the upper corner was the only reminder that it had once been broken. He looked up to see Albus watching him fondly, and with a small smile he whispered "thank you, Seba."
"You are very welcome, Harry. I took the liberty of sending its mate to young Miss Weasley. I imagine you thought I had forgotten my promise to fix it for you; but in truth, it proved to be a more difficult task than I had anticipated. I finally admitted defeat and had Professor Flitwick help." Seeing the incredulous look on Harry's face, he winked as he added, "We can keep that little fact between the two of us, I hope. It wouldn't do for people to know that I am not as omnipotent as I appear."
Harry laughed as he agreed, and carefully set the mirror on the table before picking up his mug. He had nearly taken another sip when he realized that the strange brew had made him feel a bit queasy, and he instead set the cup away from him and picked up a piece of previously ignored toast. Glancing at Albus, he saw that he was busy freshening his own cup of tea. Swallowing his bite of toast, he broached a new subject. "There was one thing I needed to tell you about."
Having gained Albus' full attention, Harry described the 'vision' he'd had the night of the Leaving Feast; the one where he had felt Voldemort's sadness. He could tell by the look on the other's face that he too had a hard time believing that Riddle was still human enough to feel such emotion. By the end of the tale, Albus was sharing Harry's concern for the snake – not that either especially cared about Nagini, but the Horcrux they cared a great deal about. Realizing they could not solve the mystery today, Albus suggested that Harry allow him to worry over the matter. Harry readily agreed, despite knowing that he himself would continue to worry, but appreciating the sentiment behind Albus' words.
After being reminded to meet Albus in his office tonight for his weekly appointment, Harry was excused. He watched as the Headmaster left their quarters to attack the mound of paperwork that he claimed was currently trying to devour his desk. Remembering The Monster Book of Monsters, Harry was left to wonder if it really was. Once confident that the man was engrossed in his work (desk intact), and would therefore not be coming to check on him any time soon, Harry strode over to the bathroom door. He reached out and twisted the middle hinge, and yanked the door open to reveal the short hallway leading to Gryffindor Tower.
Harry swept into the empty room, enjoying the thrill of being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. He made his way to one of the couches and plopped onto the cushions, lying lengthwise with his head on an armrest. He wiggled his body until he was comfortable, then bent his knees while placing his feet flat on the couch. With anticipation he reached into his pocket for the mirror … which wasn't there. Cursing under his breath – despite the fact that there was no one to hear him, he still felt he needed to behave appropriately – he considered his options. He could return to his rooms to get the mirror, but he had just gotten comfortable. He could summon the mirror, but he had closed the doors behind him, thus blocking its path. He could summon a house-elf, but he wasn't supposed to be here and so decided he didn't want to give his position away.
Briefly he considered conjuring a mirror, but he quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it wouldn't help. Conjuring made something out of nothing, and since you couldn't 'create' magic so to speak, any conjured mirror would be a perfectly ordinary, non-magical mirror. Impulsively, Harry pulled his wand, held it over his outstretched left hand and twirled it in a circle, all the while thinking about his mirror. Seconds later, a smile crept onto his face as a mirror materialized in his hand. He carefully inspected his mirror, proud of his work. Harry had worked especially hard in Charms last year, confident that he could achieve an Outstanding if only he applied himself.
It was when he noticed that the mirror had a chip in the upper corner that Harry perked up. He had conjured an exact replica of the mirror! 'Wouldn't Flitwick be excited.' Deciding he had nothing to lose, he called "Ginny Weasley"; but of course, nothing happened. He called again, a bit louder, with the same results. Giving it up as a lost cause, he stuffed the mirror into his robe pocket. He lounged on the couch a while longer, daydreaming about what his girlfriend was probably doing that very moment. But, raging hormonal teen that he was, his over-active imagination soon had her soaking in a hot bath, leg extended above the water, stroking a sponge along her calf.
Groaning, he realized the image he'd created had been a bit too vivid. For a split-second he considered doing something about his growing problem – he did have the place completely to himself – but with a sigh, he realized he couldn't corrupt the sanctity of the common room. Rising from the couch, he walked aimlessly around the room, all the while thinking cold thoughts. When that failed he pulled out the 'big guns', a memory from just before he had gotten his first Hogwarts letter. Uncle Vernon had forgotten to lock him in his cupboard and he had snuck out to the sitting room, wanting to see the telly. Instead he got an eyeful of his Aunt Petunia in just her underclothes and heels, kind of shimmying around while she said dirty things to his Uncle. 'Yep, that got the job done!'
Feeling more comfortable – but now slightly nauseated – he continued his trek around the common room before finally coming to a stop at the base of the stairs to the girls dorms. Once again giving in to his impulses, he crouched down before leaping up to the third step. He landed soundly, and lifted his foot to step up, when the whole thing turned into a giant slide and he landed on his rear end on the floor. He stood up, rubbing his sore posterior, and laughed; he hadn't thought it would work. But now he was determined. He would get up those steps; he had all day to try and more importantly no witnesses to his failures.
He watched as the steps reverted to their natural state. Moving closer, he rested his right foot on the first step, his left not leaving the floor. Nothing happened. He switched feet, so the left was on the step and the right on the floor. Again, nothing happened. Moving several yards back, he took a running start and lunged up the stairs. His right foot caught the sixth stair, but before he could place his left foot, the steps melted away again. This time, since his body had already been moving in a forward motion, he felt his knees hit the stone even as the rest of him continued forward. He turned his head at the last second, and his cheek made contact with the unforgiving stone as he slid back down to the floor. He gingerly moved into a sitting position as he checked himself. His cheek was throbbing, his knees both hurt, and one wrist was sore. Feeling the mirror in his pocket, he pulled it out and was relieved to find it still in one piece. He looked at his reflection, and saw a bright red mark and scrapes where his cheek hurt. When he got back to his room, he would have to see if there was any healing salve in the medicine cabinet.
Getting comfortable on the floor, he relaxed as he thought this through logically. His plan to skip the first few steps had failed, so apparently the whole staircase was charmed. He considered using his broom to fly up the steps, but easily discarded that idea. For one thing, he didn't think he could maneuver the racing broom through the tight space. It was made for high speeds, and he honestly didn't think he could make it go that slow. Besides, he wouldn't want to be seen ascending the stairs, and flying with his invisibility cloak on would be near impossible. He would have to fly near the ceiling to avoid people, but anyone under him could look up and see him from underneath.
Perhaps his best bet was to combat magic with magic. Last year he had worked on levitating himself. It was something that wasn't taught at Hogwarts as it was quite difficult magic, but he had managed to float about six inches above the ground. Standing firmly at the base of the staircase, he cast the charm on himself and was pleased to feel his feet leave the ground. With a slow, arcing wave of his wand, his body started to float up the staircase. He had made it up to around the eighth step when the stairs (which he had been careful not to touch) again changed into a slide, but this time the change was accompanied by a powerful whoosh of air. The force of it was enough to knock him out of the air, and he once again slid down to the floor. It would seem the Charmer had been clever enough to anticipate that magical boys might think to use magic.
He stood again, taking stock of his now grungy jeans and robe, and the small scratches he'd accumulated on his hands and arms from his tumbles down the slide. His cheek was still sore, too. He glared at his new nemesis – the girl's staircase. He was The Boy Who Lived, the defender of helpless school girls and barmy Headmasters; there was no way a pile of stone was going to get the best of him. Gritting his teeth, he continued to stare, as if willing the answer to come to him. And it did. If his classmates had been present, they might have been frightened of the very Snape-like smile that crept onto his face – the one the git always had just before he deducted twenty points and assigned a detention.
Harry was connected to Hogwart's magic. 'How could I forget that?' Last year he had discovered the connection when he had been pulled toward the old guardhouse, which he quickly, and quite accidentally, discovered was a portal to the abandoned chapel on the school grounds. Since then, he'd experimented enough that he had been able to find a secret passageway from his (well, technically the Headmaster's) rooms to the common room – the very one he'd used today, in fact.
Standing straight, he put his right foot on the first step. He grasped the handrail on the right, and said aloud "I want to go up, please let me." He moved up two steps and paused for a second, repeating himself. A part of him felt a bit goofy 'speaking' to the castle, but he remembered Vernon speaking to his car on many occasions, and Ron often did the same with his broom during Quidditch practices. At least with the castle, there was a chance that what he was saying could have an effect.
As it became clear to Harry that the steps would remain steps, he quickened his pace, making it to the landing in front of what should be Ginny's dorm room. With a wicked grin, he strode into the room he had often dreamed of and thoroughly inspected the area. He walked to the bed farthest from the door and beside a window, instinctively knowing it was Ginny's bed. It was good to know where the bed was in reference to the windows; one never knew when one might decide to fly around the tower.
After exploring the whole of the girls' dormitories, Harry returned to his own rooms feeling rather pleased with himself. Ducking into the bathroom, he found and applied a healing salve to the bruise on his cheek and his sore wrist. Going to the dining table, he recalled that Albus was having a farewell lunch with the staff, so he settled in for a solitary meal. He tried to take his time, but with no one to keep him company he finished faster than he'd expected. With nothing else to garner his interest, he begrudgingly pulling out his list of summer work. Since he had to cram another year and a half into Arithmancy next year, those assignments – yes, plural – consisted of a series of essays and projects.
Harry had already decided he would settle for nothing less than an Outstanding on his Arithmancy O.W.L., and so he chose to get to work on those assignments first. Hermione would have been proud as he began outlining the order he would tackle the assignments and made a list of outside resources (mostly books from the school library) that he would need. He'd been so engrossed in his work, he hadn't realized the time that had slipped by until he heard the door open. He looked up, expecting to see his guardian, but was somewhat disappointed it was Minerva who entered.
"I am sorry, Harry," she said, as if she knew what he'd felt, "but Albus needed to go with Hagrid to check on some new animal of his. He asked me to see to it that you remembered to eat dinner and get ready for your appointment. I hope that is acceptable?"
Harry agreed, but then looked at the table that he and Albus normally ate at, which was lost in a sea of parchment and books. Seeing his dilemma, Minerva smiled as she pulled her wand and easily transfigured the sofa into a beautifully carved dining table, with legs that appeared to be overgrown in ivy. She asked Harry to move the chairs to the table while she summoned an elf and ordered their meal. Giving in to his muggle instincts, he stared to drag one of the chairs around, but when Minerva cleared her throat and gave him a pointed look, he understood and pushed both chairs into place with his wand.
As he moved to take his seat, he couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship on the temporary table. His no-nonsense Professor normally forwent the aesthetics in lieu of practicality. Her transfigured or conjured chairs, for example, were often plain and hard - the exact opposite of the colorful and cushy chairs Albus always made - so this ornate table had taken Harry by surprise. Minerva openly laughed as she watched him admiring her work. "I can be fancy, Harry, I'm a transfiguration professor, after all. But 'fancy' wouldn't much be keeping with my strict persona, now would it?"
Harry joined in the laughter as he agreed with her, and proceeded to ask a few questions about her technique as they began their meal. Like had often happened when Minerva dined with the family, the meal turned into an impromptu lesson, and by the time Harry was finishing his treacle tart, he was eager to try transfiguring something into carved wood. Minerva had also enjoyed the discussion, and told him so, which lead into a discussion of Harry's improved schoolwork.
With a smile, Minerva commented, "I was quite pleased with your effort this year, Harry. Your hard work is certainly reflected in your grades; Outstanding in Defense and Charms, and Exceeds Expectations in Arithmancy and Transfiguration. And based on Professor Snape's grumblings, I suspect you would have earned an Outstanding in his class were you graded."
"Not likely," Harry snorted, "everyone knows there's no 'O' in Gryffindor."
Minerva looked confused, "yes there is."
"Oh, not the way Professor Snape spells it, I think he puts a 'T' in its place."
Minerva chucked as she nodded along, although stopping short of agreeing with his assessment. "Now you be nice, young man, or I'll not share with you the unofficial N.E.W.T. results I saw today." Harry immediately quieted and sat up straight as if he were in her classroom and she had just called for order. "As you know, five students attempted the Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. Only four passed," and she added under her breath "though how anyone can fail that exam is a mystery to me." She cleared her throat and continued, "Four students, then; one with an Exceeds Expectations and the other three all with Outstanding. Sixty percent achieved Outstanding, which happens to be the same failure rate Dolores Umbridge had as a Professor. I shall have to remember to point that out to Hagrid." Instead of continuing Minerva fell silent, seeming to be more interested in watching the tea in her cup.
When he couldn't take the suspense any longer, Harry blurted out, "Are you going to tell me which I was?" … and she carefully placed the cup on the table … "I was one of the O's, wasn't I?" … frowning, she turning the cup so the handle was perfectly aligned … "Or was I?" … with an 'aha', she tapped the cup with her wand, and it changed from a floral to tartan pattern… "Well?"
Minerva finally put him out of his misery. "Of course you earned an Outstanding. Anything else would have been shocking considering we told you exactly what to study." As the two continued their discussion, Albus finally made his appearance, but only to ask Minerva to escort Harry to his appointment so he could finish some year-end figures for the School Governors. She agreed, and after a brief conversation, in which Albus actually scolded Minerva for telling Harry his N.E.W.T. result instead of letting him do it, the three went their separate ways; Albus back to his office and Harry and Minerva toward the great outdoors.
Harry walked under his cloak until they had exited the castle, then whipped it off to enjoy the night air. They passed no one on their way to the main gate. As the two shared comfortable small talk, Harry remembered his unease back when his strict teacher had arrived at his new home last summer for an extended stay. Since then, he had seen the personal – as opposed to professional – side of Minerva, and he had found he enjoyed their time together (detentions aside, of course). Considering all the clues that pointed to a more than friendly relationship between his two elders, he supposed it was natural for him to have grown closer to her.
Their ease together was reflected in the way Harry excitedly told her how Albus had agreed that he could invite his friends to visit this summer. In return, Minerva shared her own plans to visit her sister Helena as soon as her year-end work was finished. But since the Deputy-Headmistress' work was never done, she would be popping in from time to time if that was alright with him, which of course it was. They continued to talk of their summer plans until they had arrived outside the gates. As Minerva turned to take Harry's arm so she could side-along Apparate him, he gave her a cheeky grin, said 'see you there', and disappeared without a sound. Shaking her head, Minerva soon followed.
The walk to the Doctor's office was also filled with conversation, but more of the 'of the all irresponsible things' variety. Harry had had to reassure Minerva that there would be no Ministry trouble since he was Untraceable. Realizing his error the moment he had said as much, he tried to back track, but it wasn't hard for Minerva to guess how the underage wizard had come across the illegal Tracager Potion. Harry begged her not to say anything to his guardian lest he get in trouble for sharing their secret, and she eventually agreed when he promised to help her with her summer mail. Too late he realized that as Deputy Headmistress, her summer mail included all school supply and First Year enrollment letters.
His session with Doctor Tony went as most had of late. They discussed his continued guilt over the accidental death of Rodolphus Lestrange last May, for which Harry alternately felt regret ('I mean, he's dead, and I did it') and satisfaction ('at least he's not going to destroy anyone else'). Uncomfortable as he always was with the topic, Harry purposely changed the subject by telling Dr. Tony about his emotional breakdown over Sirius the night before. The Doctor knew what Harry was doing, but allowed the switch, correctly guessing that Harry needed to talk about his godfather just now.
As Harry left the inner office to see Minerva waiting for him, he was relieved that he hadn't been reduced to crying – he wouldn't want her to think he was weak. But as they made their way back to the castle, he admitted to himself that she had to know what kind of doctor Tony was. She was an intelligent woman, after all, and he was not the first Hogwart's student to have to make these trips. Without thought, he found himself telling her about his problems last summer; about why he was seeing a 'Muggle shrink'.
Minerva didn't often show surprise, but tonight she did. She stopped walking and turned to look him over as if there was some physical marker to be seen. She nodded once, as if she had come to a decision, and pulled him into a tight hug. For a second he thought she was going to get all mushy on him, but when the hug was over, she simply turned back and continued her walk. It was when they reached the castle doors that she simply said, "Albus is not the only one who cares, nor the only one that can listen. Don't forget that, Harry."
He thanked her and pulled on his cloak for the stealthy trip back to his rooms. As he began to cross the hall Professor Snape appeared from around a corner and called to Minerva. Harry quietly made his escape from the area as Snape launched into some changes he wanted to make. Back in his bedroom, Harry pulled out his map and saw that the two Professors were still standing in the entryway. He took a few minutes to check in with Albus, before announcing that he was going to turn in early.
Harry changed into sweat pants and a comfy t-shirt, planning to try contacting Ginny with the mirror. In his excitement, he didn't pay attention to what he was doing as he pulled the mirror out of his robe pocket. Getting comfortable on his bed, he called 'Ginny Weasley', and seconds later the surface of the mirror rippled, and his fiancée's face appeared.
They spoke for over an hour, about all the things young couples speak about, before deciding to call it a night. They agreed to talk again tomorrow at the same time, and after they had each said the word 'goodbye', Ginny's image faded from the mirror. Harry carefully placed the mirror on the table next to his bed, then stood and stretched. He wasn't especially tired, but he'd had his fill of school work for the day. Spotting his schoolbooks, however, had given him an idea. Moving to the small bookcase in his room, he reached for one of the paperback books pushed to the end of the lowest shelf. He took off his sweat pants and climbed into bed, sitting against the headboard with the covers pulled over his lap. This was, after all, one of his favorite stories.
** end chapter **
Notes: Tracager Potion, for those that forgot, removes the Ministry Trace from underage witches and wizards. It's not illegal to use it, but it is illegal to have it, make it, or sell it.
I decided not to go into detail about Harry's 'issues' from last summer because I covered that pretty well in the first half of Follow the Phoenix, and figured that anyone who read that story (and you all have, right?) would easily recall the details. Besides, Harry's past all that, and he gets upset when people bring it up. He's sensitive that way.
Harry's higher grades are the product of two things: 1- finally wanting to get good grades (as opposed to wanting to pass) and 2- less classes, which gives him more time for study and homework. Oh, and did you catch that trick with the mirror?
