Disclaimer: I do not own Susan Bones.
Chapter-04: Presents and Patroni
August arrived on a good note for Harry. When he turned down a party of his own—they just had one for Neville the day before, after all—his friends turned their attention to birthday gifts. Which was why, when Harry woke up in the morning on the last day of July, he found himself buried with presents. Grinning ear-to-ear he tore into his gifts happily.
Ron sent him a large birthday cake but also an old book, succinctly named Curse-Breaking, which belonged to his eldest brother Bill. The gift was uncharacteristically insightful, Harry mused, as he was experiencing difficulties studying counter-cursing with Madam Pomfrey at the moment. Hermione sent him sugar-free snacks (her parents were dentists) and a Muggle book on first-aid techniques. These were delivered by a handsome grey owl, Troy; he was pleased that the young witch had taken his advice to heart and purchased her own owl. This was in fact Troy's first delivery. Susan bought him a book on advance Arithmancy, while Neville and Hannah gave him a book on medical and magical herbs. Harry sighed at all the books he was getting, and began to understand Professor Dumbledore a little better. He made a mental note to send the Headmaster a nice pair of socks for Christmas.
Fortunately, the adults he knew did not give him more books. Hagrid sent him a pair of arm guards and what looked like a chest plate; Harry supposed these were Quidditch equipment, but these seemed to be unusually tough even for the dangerous sport. Hagrid's present came with a note, detailing some of his (mis)adventures in Greece, and that he'd be back in Britain soon. Madam Pomfrey sent him a leather bag. It was no larger than his school bag, but had four times the capacity thanks to Wizarding space; it would serve as the basis of Harry's personal medical kit. He decided to stock four of the five compartments with various medical supplies and potions, and the last for his school supplies. It would replace his old school bag. The school nurse told him that she was satisfied with Harry's progress, and that if he kept up the good work he just might make the trainee program. Harry thought her note an even better gift.
Sirius and Remus' present were a training Snitch and a penknife that was enchanted to be able to pick locks and untie knots. The Snitch was an old one his father played with back in the day (even though he was a Chaser). The knife was one of their many useful toys early in their Marauder days. Their missive was rather brief, however, and the message dampened Harry's high spirits: they found that a man matching Pettigrew's description was seen a few days ago, but the two Marauders had lost track of him. They would keep looking, of course, and told Harry not to worry; the Rat was no match for either of them.
Nonetheless, Harry had difficulty sleeping for the next few days.
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Harry said his goodbyes to Susan at the front gate of Hogwarts, as she was meeting with her Aunt Amelia for lunch today. The grey-haired witch greeted Susan with a warm smile and a big hug; Harry found himself liking the square-jawed witch despite her serious personality and formidable reputation as the director of the DMLE. The older witch, in turn, seemed to eye Harry good naturedly, but also somewhat speculatively. Susan blushed for some reason.
"Come on, Auntie, let's go." The girl waved at Harry before walking off with Madam Bones. Harry couldn't help but wonder how nice it would be to have lunch with Sirius or Remus in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. For one glorious hour in June, he thought he could leave the Dursleys forever, to live with someone that actually wanted him, maybe even loved him. Wiping his eyes quickly, Harry took off for Hogsmeade and forced himself to think of lunch.
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Harry's attention was at the Honeydukes' display window when he ran into someone.
"Sorry!" He apologized immediately and offered a hand to the fallen girl. It wasn't until he readjusted his glasses that he realized who it was. "Cho?"
It was indeed the very pretty Chinese girl, a Ravenclaw one year ahead of Harry and a fellow seeker in Quidditch. Harry swallowed hard as his heart seemed to go into overdrive.
She was wearing what appeared to be Muggle attire, a short-sleeved blouse with dark blue jeans that showed off her figure very well. Her hair was tied in a long ponytail. In short, she looked stunning.
Harry was brought back to the realm of the living when Cho Chang gratefully took his hand. He pulled the girl to her feet, and reluctantly let go of her small, soft hand. "I, err, I don't expect to, err, see you around Hogsmeade at this time of the year."
Mentally he berated himself. He sounded completely clueless. Then again, he was clueless.
"I'm meeting a friend today, doing some shopping." The girl said, her blush matched Harry's own. She smiled timidly. "My mum bought a new broom for me, so hopefully I'll be a better match for you next year."
Harry seized the topic like a drowning man with a straw. "Really? That'd be great! I mean, I mean it'd be great to fly together! I've been taking summer classes and I fly around on my Firebolt after class. Would you like to try my broomstick sometime?"
He realized, a second later, what he just said. "Oh dear."
Fortunately, Cho was distracted by the appearance of another schoolmate. "Hi Cho, hello Harry."
It was Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Quidditch team's Seeker and a student two years ahead of Harry. He was also the only Seeker to ever beat Harry in a game—even Oliver Wood, fanatic that he was, admitted that he won fairly, despite the fact that Harry was practically assaulted by Dementors at the time (and lost his old Nimbus Two Thousand in the process). The older boy looked curiously at the two of them. "…Did I interrupt something?"
Cho smiled while Harry flustered. "No, nothing at all!" He was pretty sure he squealed the words. He forced himself to calm down. "I, err, was just going to lunch when I ran into Cho here—"
"Literally," said Cho, still smiling. Harry saw an opening, and gathering his Gryffindor courage, shouted out the next words.
"Would you like to have lunch with me?"
Cho and Cedric exchanged a look, half surprised and half bemused.
"Sure," they voiced together.
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Lunch turned out much better than Harry expected. Alright, he actually only asked Cho, but Cedric had always been friendly with him and his presence eased Harry's nervousness. They recounted their summer thus far, and told of their Quidditch experiences over the meal; Cho did not start flying or discover her talent in it until she began school, as her mother was often busy at work in the Ministry, and her Muggle father ran a chain of restaurants in Scotland (Cedric later told Harry that her parents were strained in their relationship, and Cho feared that they might divorce soon). Meanwhile, Cedric began flying as a child, but only played his first game in his second year after the starting seeker was injured. They both praised Harry's natural talent, but teased him because he always flew on superior brooms, first with the Nimbus then the Firebolt. All three complained about Slytherin's thuggish style and Malfoy getting on the team with his "donation" of Nimbus 2001 brooms.
"I still don't get it. You are the only Seeker I know that wear glasses—Muggle ones, not that it mattered either way—yet somehow you are also the best Seeker in the school." Cedric mused. Harry blushed profusely.
"That's not very impressive if you remember that I played a total of less seven games in my entire life." He countered. "You two are pretty good, too, and I'm sure there are other decent players in Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"I once played a pick-up game with Daphne Greengrass. She was quite good, actually." Cho said, taking a sip from her apple juice.
"With Malfoy around she'll probably never get to play a game." Cedric shook his head.
"Maybe that's a blessing in disguise?" Cho suggested, a smile adorning her face.
"I'd take real competition over that git Malfoy any day." Harry declared.
"Hear, hear," Cedric cheered, slamming his bottle of butterbeer against Harry's.
Cedric and Harry conspired to pay together when Cho left for the bathroom. They were unpleasantly surprised when they discovered Cho picking up the tab at the counter. The two wizards voiced their objections, to no avail.
"Men!" Cho rolled her eyes and muttered something about idiot boys and chauvinism. Cedric shrugged at Harry and the two shared a smile.
The Seekers next visited the local Quidditch equipment store. After a brief discussion with the clerk, Cho purchased a standard service kit for her new broom, while the boys drooled over the latest broom models (Cedric more so than Harry) and debated about the England National Team's chances. After that Cho whispered something in Cedric's ear, and the Hufflepuff dragged Harry next door, followed by the Ravenclaw, an amused look on her face.
"Your glasses looked like it was held together with Reparo and spellotape. Something has to be done." Cedric announced as Harry found himself in a store covered wall to wall with various types of spectacles. Cho rang the bell and the old storekeeper shuffled to the counter. He greeted the youngsters sleepily.
"Yes? What can I do for you?"
Cho and Cedric pointed at Harry, who grinned nervously at the man.
It didn't turn out too badly, actually. The storekeeper was a Muggleborn, who studied optometry in a Muggle university but returned to serve the Wizarding World. After some examinations, the optometrist declared that Harry's current prescription was off.
"The lenses can be fixed easily," he said, taking out a case of lenses in all sizes and shapes. "But the frame was in pretty bad shape and worst of all, it's too small for your head."
"My head is not too big!" Harry protested weakly. Cho suppressed the urge to giggle.
"Not at all what I said, Mr. Potter." The optometrist gave him a peeved look. "Here, let me show you some frames…"
"Look at this one, Harry!" Cedric said, picking up a thin, gold-wired frame. He held it up to Harry's face and nodded. "Very slick."
Cho picked up another and read the description. "This one has a charm that keeps it from slipping." She looked at the style, however, and made a face. "It looked weird on you, though."
"How about these ones?" Harry turned around, and the two roared in laughter. The frame was star-shaped and looked simply ridiculous.
The Seekers spent fifteen minutes looking at the different frames. In the end it went full circle as Cho finally declared that the black, circular style fit Harry best, and they found a new pair with anti-slip charms. The new lenses were not spelled to be waterproof, however; Quidditch rules decreed that spectacles must not be pre-enchanted to aid vision in anyway.
Harry was studying his reflection and admiring his new glasses when Cho walked behind him. He turned to face her.
"I had a wonderful day today, and it's all thanks to you, Harry." She smiled at him warmly.
"Me too, Cho. I, err, had a great time." Harry sputtered. The new glasses must be working; the girl in front of him looked lovelier than he had ever seen. He struggled to find the right words. "Maybe we should do this some other time?"
Cho blushed, but Cedric came to her rescue (to Harry's slight annoyance). "All right Harry, let's go."
The Gryffindor gave him a look that turned from confusion, to understanding, to outrage.
"You did not just pay for these!" He groaned as Cho beamed at Cedric.
"Maybe next time, Harry." The handsome Hufflepuff slapped his back. "I'll have you know, though, that my birthday's in two months."
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If the Dursleys noticed Harry's new glasses and clothes, they did not comment on them. In fact, the adult Dursleys had their attention focused entirely on Dudley. Aunt Petunia had caught him smuggling donuts into the house again; the huge row that followed woke up half their neighbours on Privet Drive. Harry stayed in his room throughout, working on his last Arithmancy essay. The exam was to be held in a week's time and Harry had a few questions that hopefully Hermione would explain when he went to the Burrow. Harry yawned and eyed his bed longingly. Ron told him that they're coming to pick him up on Sunday, which meant that he still had an entire day to finish the paper…
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Green light, sickly green light flew out of the wand, towards a horrified old man—
Harry Potter woke with a start, his heart beating furiously. He forced himself to calm down and took deep, slow breaths. Touching the scar on his forehead gingerly, he suppressed the low moan that threatened to escape his lips. The old scar felt like it had been opened anew; it hurt worst than he had ever felt in his life.
Harry grabbed his new glasses with one hand and turned on his bedside light with the other. Reaching into his trunk, he pulled a bottle of water from his secret stash of food and drinks; he still had most of his stock left from his shopping trip at the beginning of summer break. He poured some of the cool water on a cloth and rubbed his scar, before downing the rest. Feeling marginally better, he opened the wardrobe and found himself staring at a black-haired boy.
Harry leaned in closer to the mirror, to examine the scar on his forehead. It looked inflamed. Harry pressed the wet cloth on it again, and sighed with relief. It was the mark of the Killing Curse, a curse so Dark that it should have killed him immediately. On the night that he lost his parents, thirteen years ago, that curse somehow failed. It rebounded on the Dark Lord who cast it, destroying him instead, and left behind an infant with a lightning-bolt shape scar—a scar that made Harry James Potter instantly recognizable in the Wizarding World.
Sometimes Harry wondered if he would be better off if it did its job. But he didn't think like that anymore, nowadays. Harry Potter's life really sucked at times, but he wouldn't trade his friendships with Ron, and Hermione, and Hagrid, and Remus and Sirius and so many others, for anything in the world.
And most importantly… his parents gave their lives so that he could live. He refused to throw their twice-given gift of life away.
Harry sat down at his desk and stared at his Arithmancy essay. He threw it on top of Madam Macmillan's Guide to Household Charms. It's due on Monday, but he was in no mood to work on it right now. He was trying to recall that horrible dream, the dream that ended with the eerily-familiar green light.
In the dream he was speaking with a man, a man he thought he could recognize, he should recognize. Then there was the snake, slithering towards him, and he talked with her, too…and then the Muggle. Harry spoke to the old man before turning in his chair—and the old man screamed. And then there was the green flash, and the flash—
—had come from Harry's wand.
It was a dream, Harry consoled himself. He did not just kill someone. He couldn't have just killed anyone, especially one who he was certain had never seen before.
But was it all a figment of his imagination? It was so real.
And then there was the fact that his scar hurt, as if it were on fire. As much as Harry wanted to think so, it was unlikely that the two events were unrelated.
He believed in coincidences. He just didn't trust them.
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In the end, Harry decided not to alert Hermione or Ron about his strangely realistic dream. Instead, he would talk to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow at the office in Hogsmeade. Harry actually had the day off, as he was to pack in preparation for his return to the Burrow; Harry decided to do the packing now, as he was wide awake.
Harry was rather surprised when he entered the office the next morning. The school nurse was having tea with a visitor, which wasn't unusual; it was the identity of the visitor that was unexpected.
"Harry! This is a pleasant surprise." Albus Dumbledore greeted the young wizard joyously. Poppy Pomfrey summoned another cup and poured some tea. "As I recall, your training is in the afternoon.
Recall? Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to be suddenly very interested in her shoes. Realization dawned in Harry's mind.
A month and a half ago, Harry Potter might not have noticed, or understood, or cared about the Headmaster's slip-of-tongue. His studies of Arithmancy and Introductory Medicine, however, had taught him to pay more attention to details, to observe the subtleties. He was still an amateur, but he's learning fast.
So Dumbledore was paying attention to him, keeping an eye on him. Then again, the Headmaster was probably just concerned about his well-being. Harry was reminded of what Madam Pomfrey said, that trouble had a way of finding him. Harry held his tongue and pushed his darker thoughts away for now. In fact, given the circumstance that brought him here today, it might be a blessing in disguise.
"I come to see Madam Pomfrey today because I had a strange dream last night and my scar hurt." Harry told the adults. He proceeded to describe the dream as much as he could remember. The witch frowned, and for once the old wizard's eyes were not twinkling.
"You said you spoke with the man, then the snake, then another, older man." Dumbledore said slowly.
"Yes, but I don't recognize either man, I thought I should've the first but the second one, the old man, was a complete stranger." Harry replied, wondering if Dumbledore had discovered some vital clue.
"Do you remember what the conversations were about?" The Headmaster continued patiently.
"Not really; but I recall speaking with…disdain? Arrogance?" Harry searched for the right word.
"Do you recognize the language?" Dumbledore asked. Harry stared at him.
"English," whispered the young wizard. Madam Pomfrey gasped. "Both men I spoke with in my dream used English!"
Dumbledore's blue eyes were icily cold now. He stared at Harry intensely—but when he spoke, his tone was not unkind.
"I think it is time the—what do you call it, Harry? The Wolf and Dog Traveling Circus?—come home."
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After a few whispered words from the Headmaster, Madam Pomfrey left the room hurriedly, to give the two wizards some privacy. Nevertheless, Dumbledore erected several privacy wards before he spoke.
"I know that you stay at the school after class each day, practicing magic or flying your broom or studying in the library. I am very pleased that you are working hard but still enjoying your life. But know this, Harry—if what I suspect is true then you may be in greater danger since the fall of Voldemort thirteen years ago.
"I know you are going to the Weasley home soon. You should be safe there—they are capable witches and wizards, and they know they have to keep an eye out for you. You will also be safe at Hogwarts; I shall notify the ghosts and portraits and they will keep an eye out for you. But you must be alert when you are out, for you will have little protection then.
"You do remember that you had one count of underage magic in your file?" Harry nodded; the event with Dobby on his twelfth birthday was not something he'd forget anytime soon. "The wands of underage witches and wizards all have the Trace on them; that is how the Ministry keep track on underage magic. I will send them a message, to keep an eye on the spells you use. If ever you use a spell outside of Hogwarts' wards, they will be alerted and if the spell is one of combat use, they will know that you are in danger. They will send their Aurors—Magical Police, Harry—to find you immediately."
"I don't really know many useful Defence spells, sir," Harry told the older man, ashamed. "Aside from the Disarming Spell and the Patronus Charm."
"Then it may be prudent that you learn them." Dumbledore seemed to consider something. "Speaking of the Patronus Charm, Harry… how well can you perform it?"
"Expecto Patronum." Harry muttered the words and thought of Cho as she laughed at his star-shaped glasses. The silvery form of Prongs burst from his wand. The glowing stag strode leisurely around the room, staring curiously at the Headmaster before moving close to Harry. He reached out, as if to pat it, but the Patronus dissipated before his hand could touch it. He sighed.
"A corporeal Patronus at your age is a marvellous achievement, my boy." Dumbledore smiled at him warmly. "The next bit of magic is a recent development of my own, and quite ingenious if I may say so myself. Do you know that the Patronus can be used as a messenger?"
Harry shook his hand as Dumbledore continued. "It's true. In fact, given the uniqueness of Patronus forms and the speed they travel, it is a very useful and secure method of communication. I will teach you this now, but as this is a closely guarded secret I must ask you not to use it unless absolutely necessary."
The speaking Patronus, it turned out, used the same incantation as the standard charm. Being an intent-based spell, one needed to visualize not a location but the person receiving the message, then mutter into his or her wand the message itself, and then cast the charm. Its wand movement was the standard version plus an extra circle-and-jab motion at the end. Dumbledore demonstrated with his own phoenix Patronus; Harry couldn't quite get the hang of it, but after several attempts Prongs managed to say a few garbled words. Dumbledore simply told him to practice some more in his spare time; he had the basics down already.
It was nearly two in the afternoon when Professor and Student finished from their meeting. The Professor apologized to Madam Pomfrey and bade them both farewell. Harry called after him as he was about to leave.
"Thank you, Professor, for taking the time to teach me this. And thank you for watching out for me." He said in a clear voice.
The old wizard gave him a long look, which slowly turned into his patented twinkle-eyed smile. "Thank you, Harry, for thriving despite the adversity. As for the Charm…let's just call it a belated birthday present."
A/N: Events in this chapter take place between July 31st and August 23rd, 1994.