Chapter 3

Snape really had a talent for silencing the students with one glance, Harry thought amused as he half-listened to the teacher's instructions. It was so still that you could have heard a pin drop. While brewing the required potion, he tried to size up his classmates. No one spoke. All were completely busy with the task that had been set.

Sighing, Harry concentrated on the ingredients that lay in front of him. Since he had brewed potions rather seldomly, he realized, to his dismay, that it was far from being as easy as he had believed it to be. Theoretically, he knew what to do, but to make use of his knowledge was an entire other matter.

It looks like I have to practice a bit, Harry thought, as he watched the light orange liquid turn into a dark blue, something he knew that should not happen. Recalling the various steps, he found his mistake quickly. Cursing, he regarded the remaining ingredients. Even if he finally succeeded in saving the potion, he knew that Potions was definitely a subject where he had to catch up on the material.

Not exactly thrilled by his realization, he followed Ron and Hermione to their next class. He squinted at his time-table, finding that it was Defence against the Dark Arts. On the way, Damian Graywood came towards them. While the Head Boy greeted them, Harry merely nodded and waited for Hermione, Ron and his friends. The teacher for Defence was already present. At their entrance, he looked up and Harry's and his eyes locked. Involuntarily, Harry stopped.

What he saw in the face of the other was not dislike; it was pure hatred, and the teacher didn't even try to conceal his feelings. As he sat down, Harry leaned forwards and whispered,

"Who's that?"

Hermione, having taken the seat in front of him, turned her head and followed his gaze.

"Professor Skirrow. He recently retired as an Auror. Why?"

Harry shook his head, and as Skirrow finally averted his attention from him, he studied the tall wizard. Dark brown hair fell into a broad, energetic-looking face. The bushy eyebrows were the most conspicuous. Harry was certain that he had never seen Skirrow before. So why did he hate him so much? There surely couldn't be a reason for it.

As Skirrow called their names and got to Harry's name, his voice became as cold as ice. Harry was overcome with the creeping feeling that this subject would cause him difficulties.

Pale blue eyes swept over the class.

"Though the war is over, the ability to defend yourself will be always valuable to you. What the future might bring, no one can say. That's why I'll teach you how you can defend yourselves against any enemy, so that you are able to survive any unfriendly encounter. Today, I want to fight each one of you to test your knowledge. To simplify matters, we'll go in alphabetical order. While each person is fighting me, the rest of the class will open the book to page 21 and read."

After Skirrow had disappeared into the adjoining room with a girl named Hannah Abbot, Harry listlessly leafed through the book. The first half of the double lesson passed slowly, far too slowly. As Skirrow called his name, Harry, who had begun to do his homework for Flitwick, looked up, irritated. Slowly, he put his feather aside.

"Now, come on, Potter. Others want to have their turn as well. You aren't afraid, are you?"

Harry pressed his lips together and stood up.

"No. You?" he icily asked.

"Five points from Slytherin. You'll show me the respect I deserve."

Harry followed him silently. He had barely closed the door as Skirrow attacked him already. Blocking the curse just in time, it quickly became obvious that Skirrow's intention was to hurt him. Harry, who became angrier and angrier as the situation continued, reluctantly decided not to hold back any longer, and to end this stupid fight as suddenly a grey fog enveloped him. He couldn't see anything anymore.

Spinning around, Harry forced himself to remain calm. His magic surrounded him and protected him, but he didn't like not knowing what would happen next. After trying out three spells, he finally managed to get the fog to disappear. Harry looked around. The view that greeted him made him speechless. Skirrow lay sprawled out on the ground. For a moment, Harry could not move.

He was rather sure that he hadn't used any dangerous curses. Carefully, he crossed the room and kneeled down. His eyes wandered over Skirrow. He seemed to be unconscious. Harry put his wand aside, hesitantly stretched out a hand, and shook the other wizard lightly on the shoulder. He couldn't see any wounds, so what had happened?

His teacher recovered so fast that Harry fell backwards.

"How dare you to attack me in such a way? Accio Potter's wand. You'll pay for this. I'll take care of that."

Before Harry could rise to his feet, Skirrow had reached the door, flung it open and hurried to the chimney. He shouted, "Dumbledore's office!" and one moment later, he was gone.

Harry stood up and couldn't believe what had just happened. It didn't take much imagination to know what Skirrow had intended. The reason for this strange behavior, however, worried him. What could the Auror have against him? As far as he knew, they had never met before. The only ones who were well-advised to fear and hate him were the followers of Voldemort, at least, all those who had not yet been captured by the Ministry.

Deep in thought, Harry left the vast room and found himself exposed to the curious and questioning gazes of his classmates. That moment, the bell rang and everyone began to pack their things.

"What happened?"

Harry briefly looked at Hermione and shrugged.

"That, I'd like to know myself."

Hermione cast him a glance, but fortunately, she didn't ask any further questions.

While the others went to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry fell back. Striding down the corridor, he set off towards the kitchen. The few meals he had taken at the Slytherin table had been enough for him. As he reached one of the staircases, he realized that he had gotten completely lost. Before he had decided which way to go, a quite noise warned him of the presence of another. It was a house-elf.

Bowing, the little creature squeaked, "You are to immediately come to see the headmaster."

Harry nodded, not particularly surprised.

"Can you show me the way?"

As Harry entered the headmaster's office a little later, he was relieved to find that Skirrow was nowhere in sight. Dumbledore was alone. On his desk, Harry saw his wand. Dumbledore regarded him for a while. And Harry stared straight back.

"Please sit, Harry. Would you tell me why you attacked Professor Skirrow?"

The piercing blue eyes looked sad.

Harry sat down and forced his anger back.

"I did not attack him. I merely defended myself as he – how did he put it – 'tested our level of knowledge.'"

Dumbledore supported his chin on his folded hands.

"And you thought it appropriate to use the Cruciatus Curse against Professor Skirrow?"

"The..."

Harry stopped, while eyeing his wand.

"Harry, listen to me. I'm willing to overlook some things where you are concerned. I know that you have many things to learn, considering who raised you. But I will not allow you to use Dark Magic. For this time, you will get detention. Since you're of age, I won't inform your father. But should I ever find out that you've used one of the Unforgivable Curses again, I will not be so lenient."

Sighing, Dumbledore handed him his wand.

"You may leave."

Harry did exactly this, not wasting any time saying anything. With long steps, he left the office, cursing his slowness and wondering whether Skirrow would try once again to bring Dumbledore so far as to expel him from the school. Without casting a glance back, he dragged the door shut and leaned against it.

"Prior Incantado," he whispered. As he had expected, the Cruciatus Curse was indeed the last curse that had been performed with his wand. In order to avoid attracting even more attention than he already did, he had used his wand in lessons, thinking he shouldn't show too obviously that he didn't need one. But that had probably been a mistake. Though, had he not, who knows what Skirrow would have had come up with.

"Skirrow will hardly understand that you've only given Potter a detention."

Harry, who had just wanted to go, sank back and pressed his ear against the door.

"I know, Minerva. But what should I have done in your opinion? It was indeed a duel. Harry told the truth. He likely forgot himself a little bit. Nortus didn't sustain any lasting harm. Harry may have upheld the curse only for an instant. We must have patience, Minerva. I do think the danger that Harry becomes the next Dark Lord is slim, whatever Nortus might believe. If Harry had really wanted to hurt him, then he would have done it, and Nortus hardly would have been able to come here and bring me Harry's wand."

After a slight pause, he added, "We have to give Harry time. I firmly believe that he will settle in."

Forgotten? He had surely not forgotten himself, Harry thought angrily as he hurried downstairs as quietly as he could. Sure, Dumbledore had helped him with the Ministry, and it was probably due to his intervention that he hadn't had more difficulties with the Ministry, but Harry had the strong suspicion that he had done it mostly because of the feelings of guilt he harboured.

Recalling the conversation he had overheard between Dumbledore and his father one evening in summer, when Dumbledore had come to Godric's Hollow to ask James for his forgiveness so many years ago, it seemed to be the most plausible explanation.

Or, it could have been out of fear of what I could become when angered too much. The thought flitted through him before he could stop it. Though he told himself that it shouldn't bother him, it somehow did.

Quickening his pace, he shook his head. For years, he hadn't wasted any thoughts on the feelings of the people around him. So why should he start now, of all times?

A glance at his watch convinced him that there was no point in going to look for the kitchen anymore, so he went hungry to his afternoon lessons, further worsening his mood. Professor McGonagall was late, and as she finally appeared and went through the attendance, her gaze rested unusually long on him. Harry found it hard to listen to her, and the double-lesson began to drag on.

After the lessons were over, Harry unceremoniously called a house-elf to him and, this time, he memorized the way to the kitchen. He ate quickly and then went to his secret chamber. The stony vault by now had changed into a comfortable and homely quarter. Magic undoubtedly had its advantages. A little later, Harry sat in his chair, regarded a sheet of parchment, and indignantly frowned.

Even if he had only gotten through two school days, the amount of homework he had jotted down so far had increased considerably today. He didn't have any difficulties completing the homework. Skimming over the piece of parchment, he found he knew the answers and explanations to all the tasks.

His eyes drifted to his snake, who got ready to slide onto the arm rest. Again, he wondered why he was here. Since his arrival, he had asked himself this question several times. Nothing that the teachers taught was interesting to him – the years he had spent reading every available book in the huge library in Voldemort's headquarters had made sure of that. He could not learn anything new.

The only lack in his knowledge, he openly admitted, was Potions, at least if he considered the practical side. Whether he knew something about Divination or Muggle Studies did not matter to him at all. And now, he could add the unexpected matter with Skirrow to that list.

His father had told him he needed to graduate, and he was probably right, Harry mused. But he had no idea what he wanted to do next year. Never before had he thought about it, while living in the Castle of Death.

Great, now after having defeated Voldemort, I'm bored out of my mind, and I have to watch out for an Auror who hates me for whatever reason and wants nothing more than to have me expelled, thought Harry.

He didn't like the idea of still having to endure countless more hours of school, at all.

His thoughts wandered to Ron, who, as he had noticed, had been passing notes with Hermione in History of Magic. Though, Harry thought and chuckled softly, it hadn't looked like Hermione had been exactly happy about this.

Things might have been different if he had friends, but he didn't. Those Slytherins who didn't hate him, feared him just as much as the rest of the students. Ron and Hermione were also wary of him, but they at least talked to him.

While Hermione tried to be friendly, Ron was, as he suspected, only civil to him because of Ginny. And he hadn't forgotten the words Ron had shouted to him in the train. If only Ginny would have been in the same year! But unfortunately, she wasn't. Today, he had only had the chance to see her for a few minutes at breakfast.

Perhaps, he mused, the last few weeks had just been too exciting. Within a week, his life had changed completely. Perhaps, he just needed time to adjust to his new life.

Casting a glance at the piled up books, he set to work. He was relieved as he wrote the last sentence. Clapping the book shut, he wondered again why he even bothered to do the homework so thoroughly. He would have been finished much sooner if he hadn't written down all he knew.

"I know you will do great, Harry. And I will be proud of you," he heard his father's voice say in his head.

He tried to push the thought out of his mind as he went to go meet up with Ginny, but he still knew deep down that his Dad was one of the reasons he came to Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. I had to help Hermione bring her things over to the head's quarters, and it took longer than I thought."

Harry gave a dismissive gesture.

"It's alright," he said and, drawing Ginny into his arms, he kissed her. How he had missed her. As he looked at her more closely, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...everything's fine."

Ginny avoided his gaze.

"Come on, let's go for a walk. The weather is beautiful outside," she said quickly, freed herself from his embrace, and hurried across the hall. Harry followed her, bewildered. They stepped through the portal and sauntered in direction of the lake. While silently walking next to each other and savouring the warm sun, he casually asked,

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Ginny flinched. With wide eyes she stared at him, before shaking her head and looking away.

"I just couldn't sleep well," she said. Looking at him again, worry crept into her eyes.

"Hermione told me you had difficulties with Professor Skirrow. She had to go to Dumbledore's office before lunch. What exactly happened?"

Harry came to an abrupt halt. Not knowing whether to be amused or angry that Dumbledore had questioned Hermione, he shook his head and finally walked on. Casting a glance at Ginny, he complied with her wish to change the subject. Even if he wasn't convinced that Ginny was truly alright, there would be enough time later to find out what dream had prevented Ginny from sleeping the previous night. Reaching one of the benches, he finally fell silent.

Ginny sat down and stared at him with an unbelieving expression.

"But he's an Auror! He is famous for catching some of the most dangerous Death Eaters. And you defeated Voldemort. Why should he hate you?"

Harry inclined his head.

"Yes, why? I don't have the slightest idea. But he does, believe me," he said and sat down as well.

"Why didn't you tell Dumbledore the truth? Now he thinks that you really did use the Cruciatus Curse."

"He wouldn't have believed me. Should I have offered to take Veritaserum? It's not so bad. From now on, I'll be on my guard."

"I just can't believe it," Ginny said.

"And I thought he was nice."

The indignation in Ginny's voice caused warmth to rise in him. Gratitude. He bent down to her and kissed her gently. Ginny returned the kiss, but then pushed him away. Questioningly, he looked in her serious face.

"You will take care of yourself, won't you? I don't want you to get expelled."

"Don't worry. Skirrow can't do anything to me. If I survived Voldemort, I'll survive this school year, too."

Ginny laughed, but it didn't completely reach her eyes.

"Not bad, by the way, Harry, to land yourself a detention on your second day. Do you know already what you have to do?"

"No, but I'm sure I will find out soon. My father will be thrilled when I tell him. Judging from what he told me of his school days, he and his friends were often in detention. Once, they got detention barely an hour after their arrival. But they quickly learned to leave no evidence of their pranks."

"That reminds me of Fred and George, but I don't think that they ever managed to land themselves in detention on the day of their arrival."

"What did they do?"

Harry smiled, and, to his surprise, he longed to be back in Godric's Hollow for a moment. Life in Godric's Hollow had been hard for him at the beginning. It had taken time until he had been able to let down his guard in the presence of his father and his two friends to the degree that he had told something from himself and had been able to show his feelings.

Only now, in retrospect, did he realize that he had come to appreciate having a family even more. And not only his Dad was part of this family: Sirius, too, had seen to it that they played Quidditch. Though the games had become scarcer as Sirius and his father accepted positions in the Ministry. In the evenings Sirius had still tried to persuade them to play a game, ignoring his own tiredness after hours in the Ministry. In a way, Sirius had been determined to bring Harry and James together.

Remus, on the other hand, whose character stood so totally in contrast to Sirius' temper and exuberance, had been careful around him in the beginning. Harry had only realized what Remus feared after the full moon. Since Harry had not treated Remus differently the following days, their relationship had also eased up, and Remus and he had kept each other company in the hours where James and Sirius had worked in the Ministry.

Ginny's hand on his arm brought Harry back to the presence.

"Well, while Sirius and Remus made some distraction, my father slipped beneath his invisible cloak, stole the Sorting Hat and replaced it with an old hat that insulted everyone who set it upon his head and spoke quite a lot of nonsense."

Sharing some further stories about the deeds of the twins and the Marauders the time flew. As their laughter trailed off and the sun had disappeared behind some clouds, Ginny turned to Harry and asked, "Will you show me the secret garden you found?"

"Of course, let's go."

Taking Ginny's hand in his, he brought her towards the castle. He noticed that several pairs of eyes followed them, but one glance from him caused all students to turn away their heads. He smiled mockingly.

As they finally stood in front of the portrait, he softly hissed and then he led Ginny into the chamber he had found.

Curiously Ginny looked around. She was impressed as she saw the arm-chairs, the different book-shelves, the tables and the carpets. Through the half-open door, she could see into an adjoining room where a comfortable bed stood, half hidden by a black curtain.

"Did you do all this?"

Harry nodded.

Awed, Ginny gazed at him.

"Then you must have been rather tired yesterday."

"Oh, I was. But don't you think that it was worth it? Here, no-one will disturb us. It's just perfect for our training, and I don't have to sleep in the dormitory. But now come on, I'll show you the garden."

Ginny, however, didn't move.

"But why did you have to make most things black? Everything just looks so gloomy," she said and remembered Harry's rooms in Voldemort's headquarters. "Don't tell me that your favourite colour is black."

Harry shook his head.

"No, not really," he said, and, looking around, he suddenly gave a little laugh.

"Probably habit. But you can help me make everything a bit more colourful, if you find that it's too gloomy."

Ginny nodded, smiling, and while following Harry into the garden, she already pondered which colours would look prettiest. As soon she stepped into the garden, however, she forgot Harry's dark decor for the time being. Her gaze shifted to the flowers and settled on Harry's phoenix, who sat on one of the little trees. Softly trilling, she flew over to them and landed on Harry's outstretched arm.

Ginny raised one hand and stroked the velvety shimmering feathers. They sat on the bench, and, while leaning against Harry and still petting Rainbow, she felt a strange peace in herself.

"Shall we begin with the training later?" Harry asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

After a slight hesitation, Ginny said, "Not today. It's just so nice here."

"As you wish. But will you tell me of your dream that kept you from sleeping?"

Ginny froze. Staring down at the shimmering feathers, she whispered, "Please, Harry. I don't want to talk about it. It was just a bad dream, nothing more."

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he tightened his grip and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"You are safe, Ginny. It's over."

"Yes," she said, relieved that Harry let the matter rest and tired from the lack of sleep the previous night, she leaned her head against Harry's shoulder and closed her eyes. The warmth of the phoenix gave her a feeling of security and yet, deep in her, a trace of coldness seemed to linger.