FOR ALL THE GHOSTS THAT ARE NEVER GONE:
Harry wasn't feeling as winded after the circuits he went on with Kingsley as he had the previous week, and to him, running was fast becoming a substitute for occlumency. He thought of nothing anymore when he went out in the morning, and now in the evenings; he just simply closed off his mind not wanting to think about everything and how bad he and a select few had turned it worse. How far he ran exactly he didn't know as Kingsley had never told him and kept him on a track that basically circled Privet Drive, Wisteria Walk, Magnolia Crescent and Chrysanthemum Street; he hadn't had the use of a pedometer, his wand or even his conscious thought of how many paces it was from one corner to the next so he could do the math later on in his enforced exile.
Kinglsey gave Harry an invisible pat on the back for his effort this morning and silently took up his post of guard for the morning and early afternoon shift at number 4. He had reported on Harry's progress to Albus and the member's of the Order who had expressed concern over Harry; all he had had to say was that the boy was quiet, healthy and growing, he failed to mention exactly how Harry was growing and everyone made their own assumption. On a personal level, as an Auror and senior member of the Order of the Phoenix, this assignment was a slap in the face; no matter who made the call that he was one of the members selected for guard duty. His opinion was that he should be out with the rest of the reconnaissance team, at least doing something semi-helpful for the wizarding community instead of standing guard over one of the people He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had a personal vendetta against. He held suspicions of course, as to why the protection of Harry Potter was so important, but suspicions were all they were as evidence to support any of his theories had yet to surface.
Harry hadn't yet spoken a word to anyone since the incident with Dudley's hanging bag, though his eyes to most would seem to only be asking questions in return to people questioning him and becoming frustrated with his lack of compliance. He sat on the stoop to the front door of number 4 after finishing his stretches and watched the sun quickly rise to prominence in the sky; this appeared to Kingsley to be the only time when he would see Harry show any sign of outward emotion since the gym accident; no one could figure out why Harry was smiling at the sun back at headquarters when Kingsley had made note of this to Albus, who sadly smiled when he heard this.
The warmth of the sun surrounded Harry, and for a while, Harry sat there enjoying being able to be somewhat alone on vacation; basking in the sun and imagining he was somewhere else entirely.
The front door Harry was leaning against jerked back and he slid to the right to allow his uncle to pass by without noticing him sitting there.
Either Vernon Dursley completely missed seeing his nephew sitting on the steps outside his house, or he ignored him. Harry knew however, that from the front seat of his car, Vernon had clearly seen Harry by the abject look he was shot with. Harry only blinked his eyes without concern, watching as his uncle shifted speedily into reverse out of the driveway and then sped off towards his company for a long day of administrative business involving the sales of drills.
With his uncle gone, Dudley still asleep, and his aunt in the kitchen afraid to near death of the sight of him, Harry ascended the stairs and took a shower before returning to his bedroom for a long morning, afternoon and early evening of filling his time with what he could.
After a quick shower, Harry returned to his room to find that Hedwig had still not returned from her latest delivery; making Harry question whether or not he should have sent her and making himself worry about his friend, his first friend. He threw his towel over the broken door to his cabinet, changed into a pair of denims and plopped down into his chair and opened the latest book he had received.
In all, Harry had received four books in response to his letters for advice. The foot-notes that made reference to the original source of material, found at the bottom of the pages of his text-books seemed as good a place to start as any, Harry reasoned. Seeing as he had no money, save for three galleons, two sickles and five knuts, no way to get to Gringotts to retrieve more and Flourish and Blott's against accepting order's on I.O.U.'s from some wizard claiming to be the Harry Potter (like someone hadn't already tried that scam on them before); the only option left to him was to ask for help. Even though he couldn't figure out whom to ask that would help him and that's when he finally noticed the footnotes and took a chance on sending off letters to the authors of the original texts. A day later, the first book had arrived, 'Method's and Practice of Lancastrian Dueling'; he hadn't received a return note and did not know who had sent it, but after spending the day up until his evening run he nearly finished half the tome, he was so enthralled. Over the course of the week the other three had arrived, 'Deadly Dishonor: The Duel and the Honor Code', 'World Techniques Applied', and 'That Damned Thing Called Honor'. The second had been the most recently produced, so recent in fact that in truth it was hand written by whomever had sent it, it read more as a personal diary than anything but as a specific manual that explained the theory, practice, and uses (specific to the culture who developed the magic and how it could be applied to situations throughout the world)- Harry had had a good laugh in the loo when he read about the drunk elephants staggering around the plains that the author had written about and explained in great detail. The third just made him think of the title being something that Seamus would say, but nonetheless the text was brilliant, the strategies outlined, most from Auror training guides throughout Europe and Australasia, and the counterattacks that whoever had written this decimated them by ignoring certain rules of engagement and formality that had been ingrained in people's minds for centuries. Then, there was 'Deadly Dishonor', a book that in no uncertain words throughout the first half of the tome instructed the reader on how to destroy your opponent (Psychologically/Spiritually and Physically)… Harry studied it reluctantly; the second half consisted of dueling stances, wizarding traditions to engage a formal or informal duel, rules and regulations, collection of titles and wagers, laws and bi-laws to the amendment written for the sanctioning of duels set forth in the Ministry of Magic's Article's of Independence from Muggle British Rule.
In the week that Harry had been in possession of these tomes, he had tried absorbing every page in what he thought to himself as classic Hermioneism. Although it did him little good, as he was unable to practice any of the magic, he did what he was able. Every day he practiced his dueling stances, mimicking the instructional pictures on the pages as best he could and trying to improve every day. His wrist movements and his drawing technique he practiced with a branch he fashioned after his wand with a knife he nicked from the kitchen, specifically so he would not accidentally force the hand of the ministry.
Haphazardly the thought of Hermione brought up conflicting emotions inside of him. He was glad that she and Ron were together and away from him, but at the same time he felt the same betrayal he had felt last summer- even when he knew that they had no say in this. He let the feelings go with the thought that it was something best dealt with later and went down to the gym in the back garden.
The hanging bag had been repaired, and there wasn't a grain of sand anywhere on the ground to have ever given away a trace of evidence that what had happened, happened. Harry started his free weight routine with the thought that in an hour and half he'd be back upstairs improving his Dacian and Angevian forms. His only gain in advice from Kinglsey so far had been to check the side of the benches for the usual instructions, and when Harry had checked... reluctantly, he found them and made use of them. He barely weighed in under ten stone and one hundred and seventy seven centimeters tall. He was proud of the weight that he was able to work with in the gym, nothing spectacular but nothing too small as Dudley had told him.
Harry wiped down the benches he had used, took another shower and was back in the smallest room upstairs, again.
Hedwig had returned, but without a return message or parcel and catching the sullen look that Harry was trying valiantly to hide from his familiar, she flew to his right shoulder and perched herself; assuming the title of owner belonged to her at this moment. Harry was pleased with the company and familiar weight that he had missed over the last couple of days and went about the few chores he wanted to accomplish getting done before he started; he changed the lining of Hedwig's 'quarter's' as he was calling them now as cage earned him a calculated amber eyed wordless berating, replenished the depleted water dish and set out a few owl treats for her and then he pulled the bedclothes back up on to his bed where they belonged and he was finished.
He took a step away from his bed and got down on his knees to access the hidden compartment under the loose floorboard where he kept his books. The books flew behind him and up onto the desk as he tossed them over his shoulder while he pulled them out of their hiding space one by one. Why he was hiding them here he didn't really know, he assumed that Professor Dumbledore had someway to monitor his presence while in the room or anywhere in the house; a sort of Marauder's map of the Dursley's house, but he still wasn't sure exactly how close Professor Dumbledore was watching him.
There was a soft knock at the door, one that to Harry's ears sounded reluctant and then the answering voice of his aunt that carried through the first floor of the house with, "coming Emma."
Harry knew that Mrs. Preston was his aunt's usual gossip partner and paid no mind after hearing the name of who was at the door, and went back to his studies, opening 'Method and Practice' to page fifty-four.
Even through the closed door he heard the hushed ominous tones of his aunt, "get out."
Harry dropped his practice wand onto the desk and opened his door intent on going downstairs to see which order member had decided to make their presence known.
Standing in the foyer, directly below Harry at the foot of the stairs stood none other than Remus Lupin. Appearing to have been to every pub in London, and smelling as such, he turned his head to the right and up to look directly into Harry's eyes.
The cold dead look in Remus' eyes instantly made Harry's own eyes shy away, and a new wave of guilt that he had been holding at bay starting rushing his inner walls.
Remus spoke first, ignoring Petunia's incessant ranting on how could someone in his state show up at their door, "Hello, Harry."
Harry's first instinct was to go for his wand. The controlled way in which his old professor had spoken to him suggested he was reining his true emotions in; this only succeeded in frightening Harry.
"Hello, Professor," Harry replied monotonously.
"I will not have this… ," Harry and Remus heard Petunia speaking, but neither paid her any mind and Harry turned to go back upstairs followed by Remus.
Remus closed the door while Petunia's language took a turn for the worse and she showed just how un-lady-like she could be.
Harry gestured for Remus to have a seat at the desk chair, and he decided to sit on the edge of the bed. He had thought for a moment to close his books, but Remus had just as little reason to talk to Professor Dumbledore as he did and he didn't see the harm. Perhaps he could even ask a question or two on something that he was having a particularly hard time learning.
The older man's eyes scanned the room, or to him what he saw as the storage room of the home he was in. His inner rage increased when he started to think of how Lily and Jame's would have taken the news of their son living 'here' of all places, and then he saw the books on the desktop, 'Method's and Practice', 'Deadly Dishonor: The Duel and the Honor Code', 'World Techniques Applied' and there was another text he was sure of but the title was obscured by pieces of parchment lined with Harry's untidy and completely illegible scrawl.
Harry felt decidedly better about having his old professor in his room when the older man began to laugh, and then he began to think that Professor Lupin was laughing at his attempts to learn and turned angry.
"What!" Harry snapped, incensed that his old Professor would laugh at something he was doing.
Remus ignored Harry's anger, and through his laughing and grimacing when he clutched hurt ribs he managed, "I could… never… read your assignments."
Harry was obviously shocked, that was the last thing he had expected Professor Lupin to say and he couldn't think of anything to say in rebuttal; thankfully Remus kept laughing and explaining.
"Had to get Lily's old transcription spell out, you write just like James, I swear it," and Remus wiped at the happy tears in his eyes, glad for once that melancholy had been lifted for a few moments.
Harry stared dumbfounded at Remus. No one had ever told him that he had written like his father. There had been comments where people would say that he looked almost exactly like his father, and he appreciated those comments more than he would let anyone know; but this odd connection of sharing the same penmanship with his father made him feel like there was another part of him that was still around... when the rest was with his mother. He wanted Remus to keep talking about his father, and offered a blushing smile when he kept thinking of having another trait that belonged to his father.
"And Sirius," Remus added laughing, and then stopped when he mentioned the name. "Well… he was no better."
Harry's attention was drawn to the pattern of the hardwood floor in his room that he had never taken the time to study, and Remus' eyes were fixated on something arbitrary as well while silence filled the room and each one of them searched for the right words.
"I'm sorry," Harry managed, when he looked up hoping to meet Remus' eyes and found the older man staring out the window.
Remus turned his gaze away from the street lamp he had been fixated on and sighed when Harry apologized.
Silence drowned the room while they stared at one another. Harry hoped that whatever Remus was searching for as he stared at Harry, that he would at least find his sincerity.
"We all are," Remus finally spoke.
Harry let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in and looked down at his shoes, unable to think of anything to say.
"Where did you get these books," Remus asked, now holding 'Method's and Practice' and flipping through the pages.
"Dunno," Harry answered truthfully. "I wrote a few letters and these were all that came back. I figured the order is monitoring my post, and if these made it through then they must have been safe to open."
"I wouldn't know about the post," Remus clarified for himself, still rifling through the pages with interest.
Harry nodded his head; at least he knew that Professor Lupin is having nothing to do with keeping him completely sheltered from the rest of the wizarding world.
"So, what's being going on with the Order?" Harry asked, trying desperately to mask the eagerness for information he was feeling. "What's Voldemort up to?"
Remus never looked up from the text in his lap when he answered, "I wouldn't know."
"Wouldn't know, or you can't tell me?" Harry inquired for clarification.
Remus finally looked up from the book, finished flipping through from front to back.
"How much of that," Remus pointed towards 'Method's and Practice', "have you read?"
"All of it," Harry answered. "Those other three as well."
Harry did not care at all for the scrutinizing; or rather appraising eye's with which Remus was focusing on him, "What?"
"You could have only had them for no more than ten days, Harry," Remus deduced.
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, there isn't a whole lot for me to do around here. Kinglsey makes me run in the mornings, then I read and revise all morning and afternoon, sure I'm allowed to use the gym downstairs for about an hour and half, but after that its just more studying and then another run and then more studying," Harry declared at length.
Remus smirked, happier than he had been in a long while and finally seeing the James in Harry that Sirius had seen and just exactly where the line was drawn.
"What!?" Harry asked in frustration and kicked one of the chair legs next to Remus' right calf.
"Come," Remus ordered and stood up. "Let's go out back."
Harry stared confusedly up at his old professor, unsure whether or not Remus was still on the piss. He followed, nevertheless.
Remus waved a nonchalant hand in Harry's aunt's direction when she turned around from a sink full of soapy dishes and opened her mouth to start a tirade. She closed her mouth without a second thought, but glared daggers at Remus before returning her yellow rubber gloved hands to her previous task. She hadn't even seen Harry.
Harry's eyes opened wide at the interaction between Remus and his aunt, wondering what Remus had been like as a young man in his prime and what his father, Sirius and Remus all would have been like together as men of means and intelligence.
Out of nowhere a fist sailed through the air when Harry stepped off the porch and into the back garden. Harry instantly pulled himself back, away from the blow, only to see Remus throw another at him as he dodged the second.
Harry tried to throw up his arms to block the punches and kicks that kept coming at him, but even blocking hurt. He didn't know what he had done, or why Remus was doing this... maybe this was because of Sirius, and he started to drop his natural reaction guarding.
"Keep your hands up," Remus growled and lunged at Harry.
"Why are you doing this?" Harry asked lamely, jumping as far to the left as possible to avoid Remus' grasp.
"Stop me," Remus commanded, kipping up and causing Harry to lose concentration as he wondered how Remus had just done that without a wand.
"How?" Harry asked, searching the back garden for anything he could use to defend himself.
"Think of something," Remus offered and tossed a clump of grass and dirt at Harry's face to make him concentrate on that instead of his actual attack.
Harry was suddenly caught with a punch from the right, just under his chest and barely an inch away from his solar plexus that would have downed him. He fell back onto his bum and scurried back to his feet, scanning the yard again; desperate to find something as he knew he couldn't take Remus with his bare hands.
"Do… something," Remus commanded, not overly proud of Harry's lack of creativity.
"What do you want me to do?" Harry panted, taking a punch to his forearm and jumping to the right, putting him up against the wooden six-foot garden fence and collecting splinters. "I can't beat you without magic, why are you doing this!?"
Remus stopped going after Harry and took a breath, and Harry dropped his hands to right above his knees breathing deeply.
"Stand up, Harry, you'll breath easier, put your hands above your head, like this," Remus instructed, and Harry started to feel less winded; even the runs he had been on with Kingsley hadn't prepared him for using every part of himself like this. "Listen to me; you will not always have your wand, Harry. Sometimes you have to rely on what you alone have inside you or what you can scrounge up."
Harry glared at his former Professor for pointing out the obvious.
"Now, fourteen inches, analyzing this little instructional and what could have been done on your behalf to have beaten me, due tomorrow."
"Huh?" Harry eloquently questioned.
"You yourself said you lacked activities with which to keep yourself occupied. I've only set you a task to provide you with something productive to hold you over," Remus stated.
Harry stared open-mouthed for half a minute before replying without thinking, "Yes, professor."
Remus turned on his heel and let himself out through the gate to the back garden rather than going back through the house; although he would have liked to have seen Petunia's face when he traipsed mud and grass through her home.
Harry stayed in the back garden for a good hour after Professor Lupin had left, rubbing his arms and legs, wincing every time he grazed a bruise that he forgot was there. Most of the time he spent there he contemplated what he could have done to have beaten Remus, and there had been a few idea's that came to mind. But nothing came to him that was really capable of stopping a person that possessed werewolf enhanced abilities.
He got up when his aunt had called through the window above the kitchen sink that dinner was almost ready, and he felt shamed that he had lost so much time sitting outside in a daze. He groaned and grumbled to himself about the beating he had taken simply from defending himself and not even having mounted a counterattack, all the way to the back door to number 4 and then planted himself with an unceremonious plop into his usual seat at the dining table.
Harry's uncle, Vernon, and cousin, Dudley, were already seated at the table, each engrossed in something Harry could have cared less about. Vernon was busy reading the latest publication of 'The Independent' and Dudley was concentrating all his attention on the television broadcast that involved a man dancing with a mannequin. Petunia had finished putting the food on the table and when she sat, Vernon set his paper down on the floor beside his chair and for the first time in a long while, Dudley himself used the remote to turn the box off.
They ate in relative silence, but the tension could still be felt. So, Harry ate the roast and vegetables as fast a he could without making himself sick, then excused himself. He rose from his seat, rinsed off his plate and utensils, set them in the dishwasher and disappeared upstairs.
Back in his room, Harry had a debate with himself whether or not to run this evening, as his legs had protested the climb up the stairs after they had experienced this afternoon's activities with Professor Lupin.
Harry decided to run, and after changing into a pair of sweats, and starting his assignment for Professor Lupin so he could digest his food a bit, he set off followed closely by a different member of the Order of the Phoenix; Harry could tell from the breathing pattern that it was not Kinglsey under the invisibility cloak behind him.
**************************************************************
Harry woke the next morning feeling almost exactly like he had the first morning he had woke up after starting to run... objecting to the feeling of consciousness. His whole body, which had not been used in such a collective fashion as it had been yesterday, was trying to make the decision for him to have a nice lie in this morning. He had almost given in to the want for more rest and closed his eyes, but there was a cold breeze wafting through his open window; which, even with his threadbare blanket was cause enough to get out of bed and go for a run to warm up.
He pulled himself from his bed, laughing at the sensation of goose flesh appearing on his arms and legs and dressed in his sweats, trainers and a t-shirt instead of sweater as he'd get to hot half-way through and have to take it off and carry it the rest of the way.
The front door to number four opened and Harry stepped out in the darkness that was five forty-five in the morning and began his warm-up stretches. He said a quick hello to whomever had been unfortunate enough to draw the early shift of 'guarding' him but there had been no reply so Harry decided to just keep to himself rather than have a completely one-sided conversation.
His run had been casual, although he had picked up the pace on the return trip. He had thought he was turning into Mad-Eye for a moment when he looked across the street and thought he saw Professor Lupin waiting for him, casually leaning up against a brick wall.
The sun had finally risen above the rooftops of Little Whinging while Harry sat on the lawn in front of number 4 stretching out his muscles and reining in his breathing pattern. Harry's uncle had left the house for work without a word to his nephew as usual, and he was starting to think that he might just start being congenial in the mornings to offset his uncle.
The funniest thing that Harry had seen in a long while, and probably something that would have caused Mad-Eye Moody to apparate in and destroy something out of an inability to curse the order member, was the sight of whoever was wearing the invisibility cloak. The person concealed by the cloak was breathing so deeply that they were raising the hem of the cloak up above their shoes, and every few seconds Harry was able to make out black trainers that appeared from no where and were cut off above the laces. So, laughing lightly and sweating profusely, Harry left the panting Order member in hopes of a hot shower upstairs.
His shower was quick, and the extra time before noon was devoted solely to the assignment that Remus had set him. There was no reason to actually complete this assignment, as they both knew that it was nothing more than a random task to take their minds off of 'unsavory' topics.
Harry's mind started to drift to having Remus in the room yesterday and the happy revelation that his handwriting was another similarity he shared with his father, and his quill was stayed at prior to the final sentence he was completing for Remus. His quill remained ready to write, but his mind was otherwise preoccupied with thoughts of what his father had been like. He was curious to know if his mother and father would be proud of him, and yet for a reason that escaped him, he was unable to keep from feeling that they were the ones to disappoint; he stopped that thought from progressing any further and shook himself from his musings and finished his essay.
He pushed his glasses up to their proper place on his face and eyed his work, thinking that the entirety of it was nothing more than a long drawn out explanation of, 'I should have hit you over the head with a rock.' He started to laugh at his rough summation and set his essay aside to focus on 'Method's and Practice' prior to Remus' arrival, whenever that would be; and that would no doubt be whenever he heard the scream from downstairs.
'Any man suddenly finding himself committed to a trial by combat might naturally seek out professional instruction to maximize his chances of victory. On the continent, such teachers were known as free-fighters or free-lancers.'
Harry wondered aloud, "Would it still be possible to hire professionals?"
Then, as soon as the thought entered his head, he questioned how he would afford such private instruction and if Professor Dumbledore would even allow a substitution of courses for the coming term on his behalf. Never-mind his O.W.L. score's, every-day Hogwart's lessons would have to be set aside.
Harry wrote a note to remind himself to ask Remus for his advice when he arrived, and then returned to his reading of past duels and strategies famous duelists had applied to achieve victory. Currently he had only made it to account of the duel between 'La Chastaignerie and Jarnac' and the history was interesting enough, but their techniques had been his true interest.
Hedwig frantically started to flap her wings in an effort to get Harry's attention, and when he looked up from the tome to see what all the commotion was about he was shocked to see a smooth rock flying through the air and aimed directly at his head.
Harry's eye's bulged and his instinct took over. Instead of dodging the rock he caught the stone, and with his seeker abilities catching the object did not pose that much of a challenge.
The stone connected with his palm creating a slapping sound, and Harry looked at it queerly, trying to figure out why there was now a rock in his hand. He stood up from his seat and looked out the window trying to see who was out on the front lawn, and there, standing looking disappointed, was Remus.
"Oi, what's the big idea!" Harry shouted and returned the favor.
Remus shook his head and moved out of the way of the rocks trajectory, "Did you stop to think for one moment that the stone could have been a portkey?"
"Forgive me for not thinking..."
Remus cut his explanation off and with an air of neutrality he proclaimed, "No, now start using your head."
Harry understood the implied message in what Remus said to him and acknowledged, "I get it, alright."
Remus nodded curtly and started walking towards the gate entrance for the back garden, and Harry knew that he was meant to meet him there. Harry gathered up his assignment and descended the stairs and practically flew out the backdoor past his aunt's empty scolding.
"You're assignment," Remus requested, holding out his right hand palm up and open.
Harry handed over the parchment and Remus didn't even look at it before crumpling it and throwing it over his shoulder.
Harry's eyes narrowed, "What was the point of that?"
"To keep you busy, and to give me a something to annoy you with," Remus answered and conjured two polished sticks out of the air with an incantation Harry had never heard before.
Remus tossed one of the sticks to Harry and gripped the other in both his hands.
Harry thought it was odd that although Remus appeared to be gripping the bottom of the piece of the wood so tight and indenting the shape of his palm into the timber that his hands seemed so relaxed, as well as the rest of his body's posture.
Harry had barely gotten a grip on the stick Remus had tossed him before Remus knocked it from his hand and onto the grass.
Harry stared at Remus with an expression that expected an explanation.
Remus' eye's darted to the stick with his own expression that explained Harry was to pick it back up.
Harry bent down, taking his eyes off of Remus, and reached out for the stick. The moment his eye's left Remus' Remus brought his weapon above his head and swiftly swung in a downward arc towards Harry's upper torso.
Harry heard rather than saw Remus move, and threw himself to the ground, grasping the shaft of wood in his hands and rolling forward to avoid the impact of Remus' weapon with his ribs. Harry's eye's caught the view of the heel of Remus' right boot in front of his face, he instantly let go of his weapon and with both hands grabbed Remus' foot and pulled it toward him, throwing Remus off balance and onto his back. Remus landed with a thud, but did not let go of his weapon. Harry rolled back and onto his feet, holding his weapon out in front of him on pure instinct. Remus kipped up and Harry stared at him like he knew he had already lost and started to think of the duels he had been studying and how he could apply what he had learned.
Harry feinted to the left, which Remus did not fall for and pulled Harry's weapon out of his hands and leveled both his and Harry's weapons at him menacingly.
"Do not let go," Remus instructed. "Stay light on your feet."
Harry glowered at Remus, but expertly caught the stick when Remus threw it back to him and allowed Harry to see exactly what he had meant.
"Take it," Remus mocked and held his weapon out for Harry to grasp. "If you can, of course."
Harry gripped the tip of Remus' weapon with his left hand while his right maintained a tight hold on his own weapon; the whole time he wished desperately that he could use magic and banish Remus across the lawn and into the hydrangea bushes.
Harry pulled on the weapon and Remus took a step forward, pressing the tip of his weapon against Harry's chest.
Harry roared in rage and in a movement faster than Remus had seen, Harry's own weapon moved in an upward crescent pattern that broke Remus wooden sword in two.
Remus backed slowly away as Harry advanced on him and demanded in an infuriated tone, "Is this what you wanted!"
"Professor Dumbledore mentioned you were capable of great things," Remus replied calmly and with the flick of his wand the broken pieces of wood and Harry's sword disappeared.
Harry backed away and the rage that had previously fuelled him flowed out and away from him, "What... did he say?"
"It would be best if you were to ask him yourself," Remus answered noncommittally.
"Would…?" Harry started to ask, and then stopped himself.
"Yes?" Remus asked with his curiosity peaked.
"Never-mind," Harry whispered, backing away and taking a seat at the patio furniture.
Remus followed Harry to the outside seating and asked, "Mind if I take a seat?"
Harry smiled, "Depends on whether or not you plan on attacking me to make me learn something."
"On my honor," Remus declared and crossed his heart.
"I guess that will have to do," Harry chuckled and gestured for Remus to take a seat.
"Your generosity knows no bounds," Remus chortled and took his seat, crossing his legs.
"Mind telling me what all this is about?" Harry asked, showing off the grass stains on his clothes.
Remus smirked, "Your recent endeavour into studying dueling inspired me. It has been quite some time since I was your professor and you could say that I missed it."
"My favorite professor, I might add," Harry mentioned with a silly grin of a boy having a friendly chat with a mentor figure.
Harry suddenly turned very serious, "This doesn't have anything to do with Sirius, does it?"
Remus said nothing and continued to not look at Harry.
Saying nothing said more to Harry that Remus probably could have properly articulated, and all Harry could do was file away another case of someone's life he had destroyed.
"Well, are you going to tell me how I accomplished what I just did, at least?" Harry pressed airily.
"In all honesty I'm at a loss," Remus said directly, ignoring altogether Harry's previous question. "We, that is to say those in the know, were made aware of an instance where a wall at a well known inn vanished."
Harry looked everywhere but at Remus, "What's happening to me?"
Remus gave Harry a hard look, although there was amusement in his eyes, "You are growing up, you are aware of that aren't you?"
Harry barked out a laugh, "Bollocks, I doubt Ron is going through anything comparable to this."
"No, I rather suspect Ron is dealing with a rather different growing pain," Remus grinned, thinking of Molly's last confession that Ron's dreams were causing her to do more laundry than ever before.
"Huh?" Harry asked, expecting a different answer.
Remus gave Harry a toothy grin, "Don't tell me…"
"Don't tell you what?" Harry asked, confused.
"Never-mind," Remus chuckled, and Harry threw his hands up in the air in an act of his frustration.
"So, what, I'm getting more powerful as I get older?" Harry asked, thinking this might just be part of the prophecy.
Remus sat up straighter to provide himself with a posture of the professor he was about to become for the next few moments, "As a wizard grows, around you age, on average a little older, they begin to experience fluctuations with their magic. Certain attributes with magic will become easier, area's that you might have once struggled with you might find becoming much easier."
"Er, sort of like puberty for the magical," Harry summed up.
Remus stared at Harry confused, the boy had not understood his joke about Ron's nocturnal emissions and yet he knew something about puberty… strange.
"That is the only relative parallel, yes. Take Fred and George for an example, they've come into adulthood and yet they are no more powerful than they were when they were fifteen, does this make sense, then again maybe you're just weird," Remus answered.
"So I could be?"
Remus started to look worried, "You should talk to Professor Dumbledore."
Harry sighed at the lack of a straight answer again, "I don't think he's too keen on speaking with me."
Remus leaned forward and folded his hands together on top of the glass patio table, "Why do you think that?"
"Never-mind," Harry said quickly, thinking they were each saying that more than they should. "I've got another question to ask you."
Remus raised an eyebrow, curious to know what Harry was about to ask, "Yes."
"I was wondering earlier, when I was reading… "
"Why it hurt?" Remus asked seriously and then started to laugh.
Harry glared at Remus but gave a small smile, "Could I hire tutors?"
Remus leaned back in his chair considering what Harry had just asked.
"I don't see why not," Remus answered after a few moments of silent contemplation.
"I don't know if I have the money to do it, and I was wondering if I could use whatever is paid to Hogwart's for it. You know, get tutors instead of the professors already on staff," Harry said in a hurry.
Remus reached out and put a hand on top of the one Harry had lain on top of the glass table, "Slow down Harry, why do you want to have different professors first of all?"
Harry stood up quickly, causing the chair to tip over behind him, "I'm not going to learn what I need to know by attending Professor Binn's History of Magic, or even Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures and definitely not in Snape's dungeon. I need to learn how to destroy him!"
Remus stared at Harry.
"… and Professor Dumbledore has me stuck here, without even giving me a hint as to how I'm supposed to destroy Voldemort…"
"Destroy Voldemort!?" Remus whispered incredulously and nearly fell over in his chair.
Remus silently mouthed the words, 'destroy Voldemort,' once more before Harry spun around to see the reaction on his former professors face.
Harry winced, "I guess I assumed Professor Dumbledore would have said something."
Looking gobsmacked, Remus muttered, "Perhaps you'd care to inform me."
"Remus, you aren't that dense," Harry deadpanned.
"It isn't possible," Remus whispered to himself, but Harry clearly overheard him.
"You said that about Wormtail as well," Harry coldly countered.
"That's the real reason then?" Remus asked his lap.
"What reason?" Harry inquired quickly.
"Why…," Remus started and then shook his head as if clearing away the confusion, "never-mind."
Neither Harry nor Remus had much to say after that, and they both sat in silent contemplation eyeing each other. It had seemed like an eternity but Remus was the first to stand, and when Harry thought they might continue their interrogation of the other, Remus disapparated with a mild cracking sound.
Harry returned to his room, determined to contact at least one free-lancer.
He sat at his desk with his quill sitting in the inkpot trying to figure out who he should write too. He wanted more than anything to write free-lancer on the front of the correspondence envelope and hope that the message reached a suitable destination; and if the destination was any sign of the trouble that he was having the request for help itself he saw as his doom. What in the name of Circe was he supposed to write, 'Dear Sir or Madam, I am in dire, no, DESPERATE need of your expert tutelage and the current curriculum made available at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry leaves something to be desired in courses designed specifically to educate students in how to deal expeditiously with a Dark Lord.'
Harry actually wrote that out as a joke to himself. Hedwig, seeing that he had finished writing and having grown impatient with a lack of use for her over the previous day, made a dash for the post with every intention of flying into the sky looking for someone to deliver the message to. Harry had made the catch of his life as Hedwig was halfway out the window with the post clutched between her talons and he snatched it right out of her grasp to her great chagrin and amber eyed glaring that he was forced to endure now.
He flipped to the back of each book that had been sent to him and found no bibliography, or as he had hoped to find, a registry of current free-lancers.
Muggle curses that were centered more or less on Remus were heard in Harry's room for a good half-hour before he decided to fish through his rubbish bin to see what the Ministry of Magic had written him... out of boredom.
M.o.M.
Magical Games and Sport
Mister Harry James Potter
Cc: Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Mr. Potter:
This notice is being sent to inform you that, in accordance with Educational Decree number 25, legislated by former Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and former High Inquisitor/Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Dolores Umbridge, ratified by Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge, your lifetime prohibition of participating scholastically in Quidditch has been recorded with the Ministry of Record's.
Subject to the stipulations of Educational Decree number 25, the declaration of a lifetime ban on the sport of Quidditch is a contradiction of the legislation and cannot be enforced in entirety. The High Inquisitor/Headmistress had only been invested with the power to, 'have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members.' As the decree is only applicable to students of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry your ban will be enforced solely while you remain a student at the aforementioned educational institution.
However, the validity of the decree's scribed by former Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and former High Inquisitor/Headmistress of Hogwarts Dolores Umbridge and invoked by the Minister of Magic Cornelius Oswald Fudge have come to the attention of the High Court of the Wizengamot; which is currently sitting in session overseeing the possibility that the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, exercised power not afforded him in the current charter for established powers and responsibilities for the offices of the Ministry of Magic- England. Should you so wish, you may contest the current ban on your ability to play Quidditch while attending Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Should you choose not to contest, said ban will remain in place until you have either graduated or terminated your stay at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
William Basil,
Interim Department Head of Magical Games and Sport
Harry crushed the post between his hands and binned it once more, and without thinking pulled his real wand from his front pocket and cast, "INCENDIO!"
Not only did the post and every other piece of parchment that Harry had discarded into the bin incinerate, but the bin itself melted into a pool of liquid plastic on the floor. Luckily Harry had the window open and the smell of burnt plastic was able to escape without the notice of his aunt.
Harry could have swore he heard laughter outside, and if he had to guess he would have been sure of the fact that there was an Order member outside sniggering away at Harry's lack of control and the pending possibility that he was about to be in serious trouble with the ministry.
Three hours later, in the early afternoon not one owl had been sent by the Ministry of Magic expelling him from Hogwarts. Not that expulsion mattered much to him at this point. Professor Dumbledore had not sent word, and no Order member or Auror had arrived to scold him. And finally ending the inner debate about whether or not it was the wizard or the wand, and how he had gotten away with it and why or how in the name of whatever deity oversaw his life the ministry had been able to detect Dobby using magic and use that against him while he had just started a small fire in his room; he gave up, he didn't know and assumed that he wasn't going to find out.
Not being aware of the how or why was just fine with Harry though. If no one was willing to give him information, well then, he wasn't going to share information with anyone else. Harry pulled out his wand once again and opened 'The Duel and the Honor Code' and laid into it with as much intensity as possible.
**************************************************************
"Hermione, please, I'm begging you," Ron pleaded, trying to drag Hermione out of the library. "Come practice with Ginny and me."
"I'm busy Ron," Hermione said, not looking up from the tome that sat in her lap obscuring the better half of her upper torso.
"You've been reading that bloody thing for days," Ron countered, he knew that Hermione's track record for consuming a book was under forty-eight hours, and with nothing else to do at Sirius' place all she had done was read.
Hermione closed the book but held her page with a few of her fingers and looked Ron in the eye, "Look, I'm busy with this right now, so go fly with Ginny without me."
Ron stalked off, muttering loudly enough for Hermione to hear although she assumed she wasn't meant to hear what he said.
Ron always knew how to anger Hermione greatly these days, even if she was aware there were side-affects still lingering with him. It was almost Harry's birthday and he was the last of them to turn sixteen and she hoped that she would be able to present him with a gift that no one would be able to top. She still dreamt about that night at the ministry, particularly the look on Harry's face right before she was struck with that purple curse. Hermione hadn't told Ginny yet, but the way that the younger girl talked about Harry and his heroism made her think that she was on the same brain-wave as Ginny when it concerned Harry, though not as infatuated only with the image.
"Hermione!" Ginny called out before she turned the corner and entered the Black Family Library.
Hermione gave a fake smile, "I'm sorry, I'm really involved right now."
Ginny had a book of her own tucked under her arm 'Advanced Arithmancy: So You Want to Ace Your O.W.L.'s' and plopped down into an armchair across from Hermione.
This time Hermione gave Ginny a genuine smile when she saw that she was borrowing her O.W.L. preparatory text.
Ginny winked back at Hermione, "He's… "
Hermione had reopened her book and found where she had left off, only offering an, "mmhmm."
Ginny's smile turned to a frown when she heard faint traces of complete insouciance in Hermione's reply, but she didn't press and opened up the text to the introduction.
Ron crossed the double-door entrance to the Black Family Library and then doubled back with his Cleansweep in hand asking himself and the hallway, "Where'd Ginny go?"
A mirror that hung outside the entrance showed in his peripheral vision that there were two girls, not just one in the library and he looked extremely relieved to have found Ginny.
"Ginny, c'mon let's go," Ron sounded almost crazed.
Ginny flipped the page nonchalantly, "Can't, busy."
"You're both mad," Ron fumed, but both girls found his behaviour easily ignorable at the moment.
"Ron," Ginny called softly, setting the book down in her lap. "If you don't mind, this is a library and we're trying to read."
"GAH!" Ron shouted and hopped on his broom, flying out of the library and down the halls until he was in the back garden.
"Too easy," Ginny professed.
Ginny heard Hermione snort.
"OI!" Fred called out to Ron who was flying high over number 12 with the enhanced ability of a 'sonorous' charm.
Ron dived straight down, and at the very last second that he thought he was safe with, pulled the broom out of the dive and came to a halt in front of his two brothers. Both of whom were dressed as swish as they had been every day since he had gotten off the train.
"WE NEED…" Fred started and then covered his mouth with both his hands while George doubled over laughing and Ron covered both his ears and fell over his broom.
Fred pointed his wand at his throat and in a normal voice that was supposed to be a whisper incanted, "Quietus."
"Geez," Ron shouted, unable to hear the level of his voice properly, "trying to give me a heart-attack?"
"Mate," George began, throwing his arm around Ron's shoulder's which instantly put Ron on guard, "brains couldn't take you from us, what do you think that little beating lump inside your chest is gonna do?"
"Prat," Ron insulted, and tried to punch his brother in the stomach. "So what do you want?"
"What do you want?" George repeated disbelievingly.
"Automatically assumes we came to him because we want something, listen ickle-Ronnie, we've want for nothing now," Fred added, pulling at the gleaming red dragon hide vest he was sporting that would have made Charlie bonkers.
Ron was confused to say the least, Fred and George only ever came to him if they wanted something. More often than not it was to test something on him and that was something he wasn't too keen on at the moment.
"We came to ask you if you want a job," George stated when he saw that Ron wasn't going to speak.
Ron figured it out quickly, "Mum's been talking to you hasn't she? Told you to two to give me a job and keep me occupied, is that it?"
Not one to beat around the bush George started mournfully, "That's the short…"
"… and long of it, yeah," Fred finished cheerfully.
"C'mon, make your ol' mum proud and become a workin' man," Fred added seeing that Ron was about to decline.
George knew how to clench this deal and get their mum off of all their backs, "We'll pay you a handsome sum."
Ron's eyes lit up and Fred and George both knew they had him. He had wanted to buy something nice for Hermione for her upcoming birthday and now with a job where he was earning real money instead of just working for his brother's because they were family, he'd be able to afford something nice.
"I'm in," Ron thrust out his hand to shake on it.
Fred grabbed Ron's hand first and shook it rather vigorously, "Glad to have you on board, you start at five a.m. tomorrow."
Fred let go of Ron's hand, pleased with the shocked look in his eyes. His little brother hadn't seen that one coming.
"Spot-on, really spiffing to have you. Oh Fred, can you believe it, our little Ronnie is growing up so fast," George mimicked his mum.
Ron's mouth was still hanging open, he couldn't believe he was expected to be at the store in Diagon Alley at five in the morning, much less be awake any earlier to get ready to go to work. He'd been had, and he knew it and there was no getting out of it now.
George, not being able to resist, quickly delved into his pocket and retrieved a white hard-candy and expertly shot it into Ron's mouth.
Fred and George stayed around just long enough to watch Ron turn into a little fluffy white bunny rabbit.
Ginny came strolling into the back garden at just that moment with Hermione in tow, having heard the twins they had come to see what was new with them.
"Oh look Hermione," Ginny cooed. "It's a little bunny rabbit. Come here little one."
Fred and George shared a look, and then turned their heads in Hermione's direction to find her not only smiling but using her eyes to glare daggers at them at the same time. However much Hermione was about to rip into them though, they couldn't resist, "Ginny, that aint no ordinary bunny!"
Hermione broke down into a fit of laughter and Ginny turned to star at her like she was a complete loon.
Ron popped back into existence looking rather upset by Hermione's laughing.
"What!?" Ron shrieked, his voice not completely with returned proper.
Hermione pointed at Ron from on the ground where she was holding her sides from laughing so hard and managed to get out, "He's got huge, sharp... eh... he can leap about... look at the bones!"
Fred and George fell onto each other in howls of raucous laughter and Hermione was raised several notches in their estimation.
Ron and Ginny looked more confused than ever and in unison they asked, "What?"
Hermione managed to pick herself up off the lawn and brush the loose grass from her denims and t-shirt, "N-nothing, nothing at all."
Fred and George grinned at her and disapparated.
"What was all that about, Hermione?" Ginny asked, upset that her brothers had not let her in on the joke.
Hermione snorted, "A muggle film, nothing important."
Ron opened his mouth to say something, clearly still upset that he had been laughed at, but Hermione cut him off, "How's your training coming along."
Ron started to stammer, "Oh…er, it's coming along, uh… well."
"Well, alright," Hermione sighed. "Just curious to see how your progress was coming, and it seems that you're coming along well enough."
Hermione turned on her barefooted heel and went back into the house. She did not see Ron staring at her retreating form or Ginny shaking her head.
"I've got a job now," Ron said after a few seconds of silence and still Ginny had yet to say a word to him.
Ginny's eyes widened, "Not with the twins?"
"Spot-on," Ron deadpanned and touched his nose with his index finger.
"Oooh, you're so dead," Ginny teased.
Ron audibly gulped, "I know."
"This is mum's doing, isn't it, she wouldn't let it go that you've got nothing do with O.W.L.'s not being here yet?"
"It's not so bad, at least they'll be paying me," Ron assuaged himself.
"If Harry were here things would be different," Ginny added, thinking that if Harry were here there would be no need for Ron to be sulking all the time and her mum to be worrying her head off about her surrogate son.
"If Harry were here, you'd be following him around like a lost puppy," Ron mocked. "And Dobby would be following you around wiping up the drool."
Ginny jumped her brother, who was a good two and half feet taller than she was and wrestled him to the ground by the ear.
"Dear brother," Ginny said slowly to make her point, and twisted Ron's ear until he tapped the ground in defeat, "if I wanted Harry, he'd be mine."
Ginny got off her brother, but when he stood he was grinning from ear to ear.
Which of course only irritated her more, "What!?"
Ron's full out smile turned into a smirk of triumph, "Thanks for proving me right."
Ginny advanced on Ron again, ready to tear into him, but Ron barely escaped by hopping on his broom and flying away laughing the whole time.
"You have to come down sometime!" Ginny screamed, and stormed back into the house.
**************************************************************
Harry was alone in the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive, as usual. This evening however, after he had returned from his run he came up to the room with a glass of water in his hand and raised it in toast towards the stars.
"Happy Birthday, dad," Harry toasted, mostly to himself.
There wasn't a warm invisible touch that gripped his shoulder, or any sign of acknowledgement, and a part of him was upset that he had never done this before. He had stolen his birth certificate from his aunt Petunia's personal records to get himself a library card and found out his parents birthdays from the same tattered piece of paper that was crumpled.
He took a drink of the water, upset that he couldn't toast to his father with something more becoming, but it was all he had. Harry set the glass down on the desk in the bedroom and grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a shower.
The hot water washed away the sweat and blood, he had taken to using the parks' jungle gym for rudimentary training, he had managed to acquire in the process. He still couldn't believe that Remus hadn't returned yet, Professor Dumbledore was unwilling to answer his owl's and his friends hadn't written to him yet; although he was sure that that was something beyond their power. There had been no return post from the messages he had sent out to the same people he had asked about the books asking about free-lancers, but that had not discouraged him from self-instruction. He ran, he read all of his old text-books and new books, practicing what he thought was relevant and he worked out in Dudley's gym, which was starting to pay off a little as he no longer looked completely emaciated.
Harry returned to his room and threw himself onto his bed, not in the mood to study any more or write any more posts asking for help that he was sure was not coming; or, Professor Dumbledore was preventing from coming. He was the one losing faith in Professor Dumbledore now, it was no longer the other way around. And for the life of him he couldn't understand what he was still doing at number 4. He had thought that maybe this was all some lesson that would add up in the grand scheme to teach him patience and self-reliance but after realizing that eleven years of thinking that there wasn't any such thing as hope and being alone had taught him both self-reliance and patience he threw that rationalization for why he was still here... out the proverbial window. Blood protection was what Professor Dumbledore had explained to him, but it didn't make any sense to him. What difference did it make if he was protected by his mother's sacrifice here than if he was hidden by the fidelius somewhere else with a trustworthy secret keeper? Harry didn't understand and it was tearing him apart that he didn't have the answers and that no one was talking to him… again. He was about to go out of his way to cause trouble for the Dursley's so they would at least acknowledge him and give him something to do; no matter how meaningless a thing it was.
He put his confusion aside with the thought that his father would have been turning thirty six this evening, and his mother would be having her birthday before the year was done. Harry lost himself in dreams of what life would have been like if they had lived and were still a family. Would he have a brother, or a sister to look out for, or maybe both? Would his father have taught him how to be a chaser instead of a seeker? Would his mother have started his schooling early? Would they talk to him... about anything?
Harry had dozed off, only to wake himself up early the next morning; earlier than usual at three a.m. He had had enough and came to the conclusion that there wasn't anything keeping him here. His trunk was packed in record time thanks to a spell he learned from 'World Techniques Applied' and he cast a near weight-less charm so he wouldn't have to do magic outside of the house... that had been the only conclusion he could come to in order to discover how he was able to practice magic away from Hogwarts.
He told Hedwig where to meet him, transfigured her cage into a pocketknife and said good-bye to his bedroom.
The front door opened with the turn of the handle and Harry stepped out into the morning air, confident that an Order member would stop him. Harry stood on the front steps of his relatives home, waiting for an order member to take notice of him with his trunk and tell him to go back inside, but when there was no such order he started walking to the park where he summoned to Knight Bus and had Stan take him to number 3 Grimmauld Place in London.
Fifteen minutes later, the Knight Bus devoid of any other passengers at this early hour except for Harry, pulled to a stop in front of number 3 with as soft a bang as possible for the giant purple triple-decker.
Harry paid Stan the wage he owed and carried his own trunk off the bus. He stood on the curb waiting for the bus to disappear before he started walking towards number 12. The usual pitch black night had a subtle blue hue to it, which contrasted nicely with the brightness of the stars, and Harry found himself thinking of past astronomy lessons and naming the constellations. Then, Firenze came into his memory with his centaur reading of the stars and Harry started smirking before he realized he was standing in front of a completely materialized number 12.
There was a moment of hesitation when he thought of going into Sirius' old home, but he was a Gryffindor and he was already here; and there was definitely no way that he was going back to number 4 for a second time this summer. So, with his courage mustered and his mind prepared for the memory of Sirius to hit him like a lorry rounding the corner at thirty kilometers per hour, he turned the black-iron door handle and pushed the door open.
He breathed in deeply the scent of the Burrow, which was odd considering… and then he took a good look at his surroundings. Gone were the tattered and broken walls; they had been rebuilt and painted in a neutral white. The floor beneath his feet had been polished to a high shine and even the furniture that had once been like the hard leather furnishings of the Slytherin common room, had been replaced by comfortable accoutrements that reminded him of Gryffindor Tower's own.
Harry was jerked by the collar and thrown against the front door that had just closed behind him.
"Get off me," Harry said calmly to whoever still had a hold on him.
"How'd you get in here," a voice he did not recognize questioned, and he felt the tip of a wand press against the back of his neck.
"Through the front door," Harry answered mockingly.
The hand holding him by the collar pushed him forward and Harry whirled around with a swift fluid motion that brought his wand out and trained it on the invisible guard.
Wordlessly the invisibility cloak was lifted off the guard, and Harry thanked his reading when the guard foolishly tried to grab the cloak instead of keeping his wand trained on his target. Harry summoned the guards' wand to him and asked with both wands aimed properly, "Who are you?"
"Harry?" a concerned voice asked from the stairwell adjacent to where Harry was standing. "What are you doing here!?"
Harry didn't turn to look at who it was. He was just thankful that someone recognized him. He didn't think that he had changed that much in only a month.
"Why are you attacking Emma?" the female voice asked quickly coming closer.
Now Harry recognized the voice as belonging to Ginny, "She grabbed me first."
Emmeline smirked, and Harry blushed at feeling like a very young school child trying to place the blame on someone else.
Harry tossed Emma's wand back to her and she caught it with grace.
"Thanks," Emma greeted and stuck out her hand in greeting.
"Harry Potter," Harry shook her hand, happy that this order member didn't decide to act impressed.
Emma pulled Harry close to her by the handshake and Harry fought to maneuver out of the grip, but she was more skilled than he was, "a little notice next time, Mr. Potter?"
Ginny pulled Harry away from Emma, hoping to avoid the fight she saw was about to start in the foyer, "C'mon Harry."
Harry allowed himself to be led upstairs and into the second floor drawing room where the fire was still blazing in a manner only befitting a fire that had just been lit.
He disengaged himself from Ginny and took the nearest seat he could find to the fire, happy to be out of the cold morning air. His trunk landed with a thump next to his chair and Ginny sat on the sofa across from where he was sitting so they could talk.
"You going to tell me what you're doing here?" Ginny asked, trying to get a better look at Harry.
Harry smiled and turned to face her, "This place is better than the Dursley's."
Ginny gave Harry a lopsided grin that almost made him start to laugh, "So you left at three in the morning to come here?"
"Yep," Harry answered. "What are you doing up this early?"
"Couldn't sleep," Ginny replied and broke eye contact to look into the fire.
"A bad one?" Harry asked.
"Not so much," Ginny answered, unaware that she had just said that. She hadn't answered anybody's questions about her nightmares. Not even Hermione who was the one to wake her usually.
"Did you know that it was my dad's birthday yesterday?" Harry asked to take her mind off of a subject he knew she wouldn't want to talk about.
Glad that he hadn't pressed Ginny shook her head, "No, sorry."
"It's alright, I didn't even know until last week when I found my birth-certificate," Harry told her.
Her own nightmare forgotten, she looked sadly at Harry and knew what he saw when he closed his eyes must be much worse. Harry caught her looking at him like that.
"Please don't," Harry said. "No comparisons… please."
Ginny looked back at the fire to keep her eyes from his.
"I should go," Harry whispered and stood up.
Ginny titled her head up to look at him properly and take in the changes he had made, "It's ok, you don't have to go."
It wasn't that he felt uncomfortable around Ginny, though he hardly knew her. He was just tired, "no, I'm actually pretty knackered. I think I'll just go and find my bed."
Returning her gaze to the fire, Ginny replied in a soft voice, "ok."
"Unless you want me to stay and keep you company," Harry offered, thinking it was the right thing to do and she would decline and tell him to just go to bed.
"I could really use the company," Ginny said quickly before she could keep herself from saying it.
Harry concealed his sigh well enough for her not to notice and sat at the opposite end of the sofa she was on. The afghan tossed over the back of the sofa caught his eye and he pulled it down over him and toed off his shoes.
"Thanks for staying," Ginny muttered, but still didn't look at him.
"Anything you want to talk about?" Harry asked, hoping that all she wanted was to sit in companionable silence.
Ginny drew in a deep breath and let it out, confusing Harry as to whether that was a yes or a no or she thought he was too dense to get it.
"Or would you rather just have a shoulder to lean on," Harry inquired with a cheerful grin to try and bring her out of her melancholy state.
Ginny didn't answer but she slid down the couch next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, then pulled the afghan over herself as well.
Harry's mind shot off like his Firebolt, firing a thousand questions a minute in his direction and he felt more lost than he had ever felt before. His instinct told him to wrap his arms around her, but his mind told him not to, otherwise he'd give her the wrong impression; not to mention if her brothers happened to walk in at that particular moment if he did decide to put his arm around her.
"Thank you," Ginny whispered. "This is nice."
Harry tried desperately to think of something calming to say but he ended up blundering it with, "Um, yeah, it is."
He felt Ginny go slack against him and he thought that she had fallen asleep, but when he tried to get up to leave her arms wrapped around his torso and refused to let go of him.
Harry wondered if he should risk using magic and seal the doors so Ron and his brothers wouldn't find them like this. He succumbed to his fate though and leaned back against the sofa and fell asleep with his head tossed back over the top of the sofa.
