Chapter Three: To Observe the Oblivious

Harry soon began to see his hidden life at Hogwarts as a game. He could quietly observe the students without them being aware of his presence, which made it easier for him to see their true natures. He moved in shadows and watched in silence. He would observe them quietly while hiding in the small nooks and crannies of the school, making sure to draw no attention to himself. He noticed that several things Ginny had told him about her school were very true.

Such as the majority of the Ravenclaws having quiet, studious demeanors, while the Hufflepuffs were loyal and kind. The most of the Gryffindors had brave and outgoing tendencies, and from what Harry could see, the Slytherins were just as mean-looking and cruel as Ginny had said.

But Harry knew that it was a mistake to judge a book by its cover. So he began to look deeper into certain students that had caught his eye. There was a rather strange Ravenclaw who always looked as though she was surprised and eager to discover new and wonderful things. There was a red- haired Hufflepuff girl who seemed pretty handy when it came to healing. There were several Gryffindors who seemed a bit arrogant and full of themselves. And there were a few Slytherins who hung back from the main group, as if unsure where they fit into the scheme of things.

Unlike the majority of their house-mates, who tended to avoid mingling with other houses, they seemed more comfortable about talking to people outside of their houses. This made Harry wonder if, perhaps, they shared a common interest. Looking even deeper into their behaviors, he realized that they did.

Their hatred of Voldemort was what locked these students into a bond that Harry suspected went beyond simple respect for one another.

Deciding to look deeper into this later, he turned his attention back to the whole picture, including the other students and even some teachers. Two teachers especially.

James and Lily Potter.

James Potter taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, while his wife taught Muggle Studies. They seemed to be very good teachers and well loved by the students, but Harry could not gain either a hatred nor a liking for them, no matter how hard he tried. Severus had often told him of the conditions he had been raised in as an infant, and Harry saw no reason to try to rationalize the past behavior of the people who had created him. The fact would always remain that they had favored one child, neglected another, and didn't seem the least bit regretful, save for the few times one of their faces would slip and reveal the lurking pain that still filled their souls at having lost a child.

They didn't interest him terribly, but there was one person from his past life that did. In the few dreams that Harry still had about his infancy days (when he was younger they had come frequently and had been frightening), more often than not he would see a man with wavy coal-black hair and twinkling black eyes. This man was a comforting aspect in the dreams, and the dreams often depicted him leaning over a crib, gently tickling a baby that could only be himself. The man seemed quite attached to him, and it made Harry wonder who this man was, and why he had treated him so well when his family had not.

Harry often found himself searching the halls for the presence of the man from his dreams. Sometimes he would even catch traces of it, but it always disappeared before he could pinpoint it's location. He would then berate himself for his foolishness and go back to studying the students, his thoughts on the man forgotten.

September 27, 2004

Dear Delian:

Lately, I have been having a strange, reoccurring dream. I'd like to share it with you.

In the dream, there is a little boy running down a long hallway. I can't see what he looks like, I only know that it is a boy and he is young. The boy eventually stops at a door and I come up behind him, watching as he pushes it open. A flash of light blinds me, and when I open my eyes, I find myself looking out into a huge indoor garden. It is a gorgeous garden, filled with trees and vines and flowers. Paneled glass walls and a glass ceiling are the only things keeping it from the outside. A stream trickles through the garden as well, and I can hear birds singing.

I don't understand why I can see this so clearly, and not the boy, but I can. Then the boy bends down and picks a flower. I hear him laugh, and then hear him speak.

"Wait patiently, my love. I will soon come to you." He says. Then I wake up. It never gets any further than that, and it's driving me crazy. For one thing, he is just a little boy, but he says that to me. For another, I feel like I know him, somehow, but for the life of me, I can't place him. Plus I have never seen his face, so that stops me, too.

What do you think? Any comments?

I miss you! Please respond soon!

Love,

Ginny

October 2, 2004

Dear Ginny,

Here is my theory, Ginny. You can believe it, or laugh at it, but I think it might help you.

I think that the boy is someone you have met before, or perhaps even someone you know quite well. His age may represent the time that you met him, or something else significant. The words he spoke may be telling you of your own feelings for this person, or their feelings for you. And the garden may represent the growing love you hold for him or that he holds for you.

Don't shun this idea, Ginny. It could be that you are in love with someone, but you refuse to see it or are repressing it for reasons unknown to me. The only thing I know is, this is no ordinary dream, nor is it something to take lightly. Look deep within yourself and I'm sure that you will find the meaning of the dream.

I hope this has helped you, and I hope that you are well. Please respond soon.

Love,

Delian

Poor Ginny Weasley.

When she received this letter, she collapsed down on to her bed with wide eyes, and stared at the letter in shock. She had wished for an answer, but not one that nearly revealed her entire heart like this, slowly peeling away the layers that she had formed so carefully around her heart, to keep him from suspecting anything.

When she had written her letter asking him for answers, it had been early in the morning and she had woken from the dream only moments before. Desperate for some answers, she had dared to write to him to tell him of it and ask him for help. And he had responded with an answer she was not sure she was ready to accept.

Falling back onto her bed, she stared up at the red fabric above and sighed. Closing her eyes, she thought about how she had come to this. They had known each other for so long, almost to the point where they could anticipate each other's thoughts. But this was something she had not foreseen. That he could pull her apart so well, and reveal just what it was she was feeling...was overwhelming and frightening.

She did care for someone...and her feelings for him grew by the day. But she had hidden it and tried to convince herself that it was just a crush...that it would fade. But it hadn't. Every day it grew stronger and tore at another piece of her heart.

And he knew. Perhaps not everything, but he knew what she was feeling. She should have realized it. He was part fairy, after all, and from the books she had read, fairies were quite in tune to the emotions of those around them. He could have easily translated her words into emotions. But did he really know everything? Could he possibly know...

...that he was the cause of it all?

Harry lay in bed, his bad temper curling around him like a cloud. Annoyance and pain seared at his heart, and his eyes flashed with so many emotions that it was impossible to tell one from the other.

In short, Harry was steamed.

Ginny's letter had made reality hit him, hard. Just because she was his mate, didn't mean that she would feel the same for him that he did for her. She was a witch, and not ruled by the firm bond that held him so tightly to her. Since she didn't have the same blood-roots that he did, she could not possibly feel the bond between them as easily as he did. In fact, it would be surprising if she did at all.

It was rare for a fairy to have a wizard or witch as a mate, and even rarer for a veela. Therefore, it had come as no surprise to Harry when his parents had been stunned by his chosen mate. But this new development would make things even more difficult to overcome.

Not only was she a witch, but she was also in love with someone else!

Harry growled and turned onto his side, wrapping the green-satin sheets and eiderdown blanket tightly around himself. Usually their comforting woodsy scent calmed him, but not this time. Fury at the thought of Ginny in someone else's arms caused him even more agitation, and he finally could take it no more.

With a snarl, he rose from his bed and proceeded to stomp outside to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Once there, he fell back onto the lush grass and took deep breaths of the cool night air, working to calm his nerves. With closed eyes, he listened to the calming night sounds. His mind whirled with thoughts of Ginny that refused to leave him be. Sheer desperation filled him with a new reason for being here, and hardened his resolve to win her heart.

After half an hour of this, a sudden rustle jostled him out of his pensive mood. His eyes flew open, and centered on a large, dark figure emerging from the forest. A familiar presence overwhelmed him, and he realized that his suspicions were confirmed.

The man from his dream was real, and he was here at this very moment.

Except this wasn't a man. It was a large dog that stared back at him furtively, ready to run if need be. Harry immediately knew that this was no ordinary dog. It was an Animagus. And the man that he had been searching for resided within its body. It seemed as if the dog recognized him as well, because he sniffed the air, stiffened, and then let out a whimper. Harry smirked lightly.

"Your false form doesn't fool me, wizard. You might as well change back." He murmured casually, closing his eyes and crossing his arms beneath his head. There was a pause, and then Harry felt a shift in the air nearby. The man had changed into his normal form.

"How did you know?" The voice was harsh and rough, quite unlike it had been in his dreams. Harry opened one eye and stared at him calmly, though his heart was pounding. It was the man! The face was the same...and the deep black eyes.

"Your presence was not that of a dog. It was of a human." Harry answered. The man's face relaxed the smallest amount.

"Who are you?" He demanded. This time, Harry opened both eyes and then stood up. Seeing as he was an inch or so taller than the man, gave him a slight edge to the conversation.

"I am Delian Harold, Seventh-year Gryffindor. Who are you?" Harry returned. It was the first time he had actually acknowledged the fact that he was now a part of Hogwarts School, even to himself. The man seemed to relax even more, but his eyes were still suspicious.

"Sirius Black, former-Gryffindor and Marauder." He answered. Harry grinned.

"And obviously that means you were a rule-breaker. There are no legal dog- animagus' on record, therefore you must be illegal."

"You're too smart for your own good, boy." Sirius muttered, causing Harry to chuckle a bit, then grow serious.

"I need to be." He retorted. Sirius snorted and then turned away, eyeing him out of the corner of his eye.

"He would have been your age." He finally said, more to himself than Harry. But Harry automatically knew what he meant.

"Yes, he would be."

"You look like him."

"So people say." Harry mumbled, remembering what Severus had said so many times. His human form looked similar, though not identical to, how he would have if he had never gained his fairy and veela blood.

"You don't know who I'm talking about, boy." Sirius growled, facing him again. There was a pain in the man's face that Harry couldn't ignore.

"Harry Potter."

"How did you know that?" Sirius asked, startled. Harry allowed himself to smile a bit.

"It is written all over your face. You cared about him, didn't you?"

"He was my godson. Of course I did. He was the only son I ever knew." Sirius admitted, looking away again. Harry frowned, feeling aggravation filling his chest.

"Then why did you allow them to neglect him?" He asked softly, his eyes on the forest trees. He didn't see Sirius's head turn sharply at this.

"How...how did you know that? And what could I do? James and Lily were his parents, and I was their best friend. Who am I to tell them how to raise and treat their kids?" He snapped. Harry glared, still not looking at him.

"Obviously someone who doesn't care enough. A real friend would have pointed out their faults. And if they didn't listen, a real friend would get help, one way or another."

"Are you suggesting that I should have called the authorities on them?" Sirius asked, appalled.

"In situations such as that, it would have been the right thing to do. If you cared so much about the boy, it would have hurt you to see him in that condition. If you had truly loved him, you would have done something about it." Harry's voice was sharp as he turned to stare into the older man's eyes. Sirius' shoulders slumped, and he gazed guiltily at the ground.

"I was young. I didn't know what to do...and why do you care anyway? Harry's long gone." He spat, his pain clear in his voice. Harry felt slight remorse fill him for bringing up such a painful subject. But to suddenly learn that he had had a godfather, who had done nothing but watch as he was mistreated by his former parents...that was hard to forgive.

"And how do you know so much about him?" Sirius added, looking up with a sudden realization. Harry let out a breath he had been holding and looked at the man.

"If I were to tell you that Harry was alive and well, would you be able to accept that and not ask further questions?" His voice was low, but the stunned Sirius heard it.

"Wh...what? Harry Potter is alive? Do you know him?" He asked frantically, a look of desperation creeping onto his face. Harry held up a hand.

"I asked you a question." He watched as Sirius thought a moment, then with a pleading look in his eyes, he nodded.

"Harry is alive and well." Harry said calmly, turning away and walking back toward the school.

"Do you...do you think he could ever forgive me?" Came Sirius' broken voice. Harry dared not turn around.

"He already has."

With this, Harry disappeared into the darkness, his worries over Ginny forgotten and his thoughts replaced by a man whose guilt had long eaten away at him, who was now finally able to heal.

Harry's release from his thoughts only lasted through the night. By the next morning, his mind was whirling with confusion again, and his body was struggling with the urge to go find whoever it was that Ginny liked and strangle them to death. He had found her letter on his bedside table, where he had put it down last night, and immediately read it again.

Sure, he had sent her a response...what else could he do? He could deny her nothing, no matter how much pain it took him to obtain it. And it had taken a lot for him to write that letter.

His mind entirely on her, he finally managed to make it to the greenhouses where Professor Sprout had set up an area where he could complete his lessons in peace. She had also given him free reign of the greenhouse to do whatever he wished in his free time. After re-potting the six mandrakes that she had set out for him, he quickly took a lavender plant that he had potted a few days before from the shelf it was on, and checked its water supply. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the purple flowers of the plant.

This was the one plant that could send him into both fierce pleasure and (just recently) excruciating pain. It had been the first type of flower that Harry had given Ginny, when he was only seven years old. He had picked it and then taken it apart with extreme care, placing the tiny individual purple flowers into her hair as he did so. She had giggled with delight when he had magicked up a mirror and shown her the reflection.

Ever since then, he had always presented her with a bunch of lavender, at least once during their short times together. It was almost a sacred ritual between the two, and remembering it now was both sweet and sour to him.

A soft noise jolted him out of his thoughts and Harry looked up as someone came through the doorway of the greenhouse. A boy had just entered, about his age with mousy hair and a nervous face. The boy shot him a startled look as he caught sight of him.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..." He trailed off, uncomfortable and looking quite miserable, as if he were waiting for Harry to yell at him. Harry immediately recognized this as Neville Longbottom, a boy Ginny had described in one of her letters. Apparently the boy was viciously teased by many in the school and had few friends. But Harry also knew that he was the third worthy candidate for Voldemort's previous downfall, and that made him worthy in his eyes.

"That's alright. Come on in. I don't mind the company." Harry said in a soothing voice he knew would calm the boy's nerves. It worked. He shot Harry a weak smile and set down the plant he was holding.

"Thanks. I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Delian Harold. I am new here. Is that yours?" He asked, nodding towards the plant.

"Yes. It's sick and I was hoping Professor Sprout might be able to help." Neville sighed. Harry smiled.

"Perhaps I can help. I know a few things about healing plants." He moved closer, putting his hands out over the plant. Closing his eyes, he focused his power on it.

"Fungus on the roots. Some powdered Beadstem will fix that." Harry stated, opening his eyes. Neville stared at him, openmouthed.

"How did you do that?" He gasped. Harry grinned.

"Easily. You can to it as well. Just focus your power on finding the hurt...or in this case the burn the plant is feeling. That tells you where it is sick and what is doing it. The plant will let you know. It likes you. They all do." Harry motioned at the other plants around the greenhouse, ignoring Neville's bright blush.

"They do?"

"Yes. They trust you. You are their friend."

Neville seemed to think this over for a while, running his hands affectionately over the pot of the plant.

"How do you know that?"

"They tell me...in a way. It is the way they react to your attention. Unlike some people, they do not die in your care. They live for you, because you want them to."

"Oh...so you're new here, huh?" A red-faced Neville asked, effectively changing the subject. Harry smiled.

"Yes. I attended Beauxbatons up until the start of this school year. My sisters and I transferred here."

"Why aren't you in any classes?"

"I'm a little ahead of my class, so I have to wait to go to lessons." Harry answered, going back to potting the lavender. He motioned to another pot and then to a strange looking bush nearby.

"Professor Sprout said she'd like that re-potted. Would you like to help?"

He didn't have to look up to see Neville's delighted smile. The boy did as he was asked, and together they worked in silence for the rest of the afternoon.

Every day after that, Harry and Neville met in the greenhouse to work with the plants. During this time, Harry discovered that Neville have been raised by his grandmother and that his family had originally thought him to be a squib. Harry, in turn, told him about his family and Neville's eyes lit up when he mentioned Hestia.

"Oh! She's that new Ravenclaw." He commented, glad that he knew someone that Harry did. They talked about the little things, and the more personal. Neville, though he never said it, was happy to finally had someone to understand and listen to him...even consider him a friend.

Another development was Harry's reintroduction to Draco Malfoy. Being a Slytherin and Severus's favorite student by far did not raise or lessen Harry's opinion of the boy. He was determined not to make any judgments until he met him again. And he soon got his chance.

A few weeks after his first meeting with Neville, Harry found himself down in the dungeons, helping Severus with a difficult potion that took two people to stir it at times. There was a light atmosphere in the room, due to Harry's entertaining story about Camenae's past attempt to keep a Cornish Pixie in her room. The laughter was interrupted, however, when the heavy dungeon door swung open and a blonde figure came into the room.

"Professor, do you have a minute?" The young man asked, his grey-blue eyes scanning the room.

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy. Anything you have to say will not leave this room." Severus assured, standing up. Draco's eyes flickered over Harry, and Harry stared at the boy he had known so long ago. The sleek blonde hair was the same, as were his eyes and pale skin. But at that moment, Draco had lost his cold demeanor and a look of almost-panic had replaced it. His eyes stayed on Harry, untrusting.

"Oh, Draco, you remember my nephew, Delian, do you not?" Severus asked offhandedly, as he turned to tend the potion. Draco's eyes widened slightly, and Harry smiled.

"It is nice to see you again, Draco." He said calmly, standing up and extending his hand. Draco eyed it, then took it and shook it gingerly.

"You as well. It has been a long time."

"Indeed. That aside, there was something you wished to tell my uncle?"

"Yes. Professor, it's started. He is calling for new recruits and father said I must get the mark after Christmas." Draco said. A vile of sheep's blood slipped from Severus's hand and shattered on the floor. Harry's gaze became stony and his hand clenched into a fist.

"He is trying to take over the Wizarding world..." Draco sighed.

"Voldemort is a monster, and nothing more than a bad smell in this world. He is hardly strong enough to life, thanks to Jayden Potter's blood, and his madness is the only thing that surpasses his greed for power." Harry said softly, though his eyes were flaring dangerously.

"Calm down, Delian. Yes, the man is evil. We are all quite aware of that.' Severus sighed. Harry smiled guiltily, but said nothing.

"Don't worry, Draco. We will think of something." Severus assured him. Draco shot him a weak smile.

"Thank you."

Two hours later, Harry and Draco emerged from the room, talking amiably.

"Mother divorced father just last year, and there are still some arguments over who gets me. Father's won for a while, but as soon as school is out, I'm planning on going with mum." Draco stated firmly. Harry nodded.

"That must be tough."

"Not really. I'm just glad she finally got away from the bastard. She got a pretty hefty fortune out of it, too, so she'll be comfortable."

"And now your father is trying to take advantage of her absence." Harry filled in the rest. Draco only nodded to this.

"Where is your mother staying? Does she have somewhere safe to stay?" At Harry's question, Draco snorted.

"She is safe from father, yes. Severus is allowing her to stay in his guest- house."

Harry looked up as he said this, startled. The 'guest-house' was Severus's code word for the Four Realms! He used it so no one would suspect his relationship with the Realm's people. A slow smile came to Harry's lips as he realized just what his uncle had done.

"I wondered why he never took a mate." He murmured, too softly for Draco to hear.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. So have you visited there?"

"No. She usually comes to visit me. She looks relatively healthy, so it is doing her some good as far as I can tell.' Draco commented.

"I'll bet it is." Harry chuckled. Draco eyed him strangely then grinned.

"So you've seen it too?"

"Seen what?" Harry asked, playing dumb.

"The attraction between them. Mum and Severus like each other."

"Great deduction, Captain Obvious." Harry teased. Draco shot him a friendly glare and they walked on in silence.