Author: George Weasley's Girlfriend
Title: The Boy Who Lived
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: The characters and settings in J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series belong to her and not me. All other characters and creatures belong to me. Don't use them without my permission. Otherwise, I might get a little wand-happy and being HP-obsessed, I know some pretty good spells.
Author's Notes: See end of chapter, but check out the first three parts: Part One: The Countdown, Part Two: The Burrow and Part Three: Jealousies.
The Boy Who Lived (4)
"Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome." -Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Part Four: Arrivals and Unexpected Surprises
September first dawned bright and early and the usual bustle and confusion presided at the Burrow. Just as they'd all gotten into Arthur Weasley's borrowed Ministry car, George announced that he'd left the rose for his girlfriend in the house and pushed his way out of the car to run back.
"Got everything, children?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a slightly irritated voice. Everyone nodded and they were off.
Once at King's Cross, the family piled out. Percy, who had fought tooth and nail with his mother that morning about coming to the station, got out with a frustrated noise and stood beside the car, arms folded across his broad chest.
"Be pleasant, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, patting Percy on the shoulder. Reluctantly, he dropped his arms and hugged Ginny goodbye. Giddy, the fourteen year-old girl skipping happily through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Laughing about something that sounded suspiciously malicious, Fred and George followed behind her. Just before Ron and Harry were about to go through, Hermione ran up to them, pulling her trunk behind her. At the end of the pervious year, she'd magicked wheels onto one of the ends and was now able to move the heavy object with ease.
"Let's go then," she said, smiling broadly. Harry went first. He started walking towards the barrier and, as always, sped up a little in anticipation. After living for eleven years believing in the laws of physics, walking through a stone barrier was a bit odd. When he opened his eyes, he was standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where dozens of Hogwarts students were already assembled. He looked down to check on Hedwig as Ron and Hermione came through the barrier a few moments later.
The three teens set their bags down and Harry moved to stand – but found something pulling on his sleeve. It took him a moment to work out what happened and he saw that the sleeve of his robes had gotten caught on a nick in Hedwig's cage.
"I can see it coming," Hermione said excitedly as Harry tried frantically to get his sleeve unstuck from Hedwig's cage. She went on rambling, but Ron, who was tying his shoe, stood up and looked at Harry, rolling his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, Hermione knelt forward to look down the track and stumbled on the front hem of her robes, pitching forward towards the tracks.
"Hermione!" Ron gasped as he stood in a flash. Before Harry could blink, Ron had Hermione in his arms and was pulling her from the edge. A split second later, a loud train whistle announced the arrival of the Hogwarts Express, a remarkable train with a gleaming scarlet engine, and the engine whooshed past the spot, the cars trailing behind it rattling.
"Wow… that was close," said Harry, his sleeve finally coming free. "Hermione, are you okay?" By now, Ron had let go of her and was turning slightly pink in the ears.
"Yes… yes, I'm all right," Hermione said a little breathlessly, brushing off her robes. She looked back at Ron to say something, but Mrs. Weasley rushed forward and stepped between her and Ron. Harry waited a moment for the scolding from Mrs. Weasley for being too close to the tracks, but it ever came. He let his breath out in a whoosh. She hadn't seen.
"Oh, Ron, dear, you forgot your..." Mrs. Weasley said, trying to read the names on the paper bags in her hands. The plump, red-haired woman looked rather frazzled, trying to keep track of all of her children at once. "Here, take your snack, dear." She kissed Ron's cheek affectionately and handed him a brown paper bag. "Now, don't be late. Be sure to send an owl if you ever need anything. It's rather cold at Hogwarts. Well, it was in my day..." She got a dreamy look on her face. "Anyway, let me know if you run out of sweaters."
"Mum..." Ron groaned. Every year, his mother knitted and sent him a maroon sweater for Christmas. Once Ron had joked that he clothe the entire Hogwarts student body in red Weasley sweaters.
"Have fun, but be careful!" she called worriedly, watching them head for the train. Ron smiled indulgently. If she knew half the things the trio did, she would have a heart attack on the spot.
The three happily boarded the train and sat in a compartment; Hermione and Ron arguing over the amount of butterfly wings a potion that was supposed to make someone's feet turn green contained.
An hour into the trip, a girl pulled aside the small door separating areas and stepped into their compartment. It took a moment, but Harry recognized her as the one he had bumped into in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Her steely blue-gray eyes held certain confusion, as though she didn't know where she was.
"Excuse me," she said, "But have any of you seen a small brown owl?" She smiled nervously. "I seem to have lost her." At first sight, it had seemed to Harry that she had purposefully come into this compartment and not just for a lost owl. There was too much determination in her eyes. He'd learned plenty about things not being what they seemed.
"Erm…" Harry began. Ron elbowed him hard in the ribs and gave him an odd look. Harry cleared his throat loudly.
"No, I don't believe so," Hermione answered with a shrug. "Sorry." She looked quickly between Harry and the girl, then back to her Potions book and began to leaf through it, apparently trying to find the concoction to end her and Ron's argument. The girl frowned a little and let the curtain fall back.
"What's wrong with you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "You look like you're positively going to faint." Harry shook his head and tried to concentrate on what his friend was saying.
"I know what it is," Ron said with a knowing grin. "Our Potter has fallen in love."
"Love?" Harry sputtered. "That's ridiculous. I don't even know her." Ron and Hermione just exchanged smiles. Harry scowled darkly at them. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, crossing his arms.
"Harry doesn't stutter for just anyone," George teased from a nearby seat. Oh, great, Harry thought. With the Weasley twins seeing all that, I'll never live it down. The twins went into a chorus of "Harry and his girl sitting in a tree..." At that point, all Harry wanted to do was to be left alone.
Harry remained silent for the rest of the trip, rather tired. The Weasley's resident ghoul had been up half the night banging on the water pipes. He tried to force the girl out of his mind and think about the upcoming school year. After all, they were taking their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) this year and he had a sneaking suspicion that they would be difficult.
Finally, a smile lit his face as the Hogwarts castle came into view. Situated on top of a mountain, its multiple turrets seemed to reach upward to the sky and the lake in front of it showed no indication of the giant squid that dwelled beneath its surface. The train came to a halt and all of the students (except for the first years, who took small boats across the lake) were loaded into carriages and started for the castle.
* * *
Harry sat heavily in one of the seats at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, where all the meals were eaten. He had Ron on his left and Hermione on his right, all three of them starving.
Silence filled the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and head of the Gryffindor house, came out of a small door and placed a tiny stool in front of the head table for staff. With her other hand, she placed a tall, but tattered hat with a wide brim on top. The eleven-year old first years looked at it, not sure whether to be terrified or joyful. The wide brim opened and a singing voice filled the Great Hall.
Created I was many centuries ago,
And was then assigned the task,
To place the children in their rightful Houses
Starting with the first and ending with the last.
In Gryffindor live the valiant souls,
Who place brave virtues above all others.
Hufflepuffs are the loyal ones,
Who would never betray sisters or brothers.
Ravenclaws are the brains of the bunch;
Their wits are unsurpassed.
Sneaky Slytherins want to triumph
And never consider last.
Successes can occur in every house,
No matter where one is placed.
Remember to be patient for an answer,
Such decision must forego haste.
So plop me down atop your head,
And be ready for an honest reply.
For no matter what you think of me,
The Sorting Hat can't lie!
The Sorting Hat was a magical cap that, when placed on first years and all other new incoming students' heads, would put them into one of the four Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Ron, Hermione, and Harry all belonged to the Gryffindor House and were very happy there along with several other of their friends, including Lee Jordan, the Quidditch announcer and Dean Thomas, an extravagant football fan.
Harry, Hermione and Ron watched the Sorting Hat place students into various Houses. The first years all looked apprehensive and excited and a few were downright beside themselves with worry. Harry had a feeling the visitor to his compartment during the train ride was a newcomer to Hogwarts and waited impatiently for her turn to come. In the back of his mind, he hoped she was in Gryffindor with him. Soon, the first years were completely sorted and there were only twelve new incoming students. Harry noted that one of them was the mysterious girl he'd seen now twice before.
"Tynen, Ruth!" Professor McGonagall called. Harry looked anxiously to see if the girl would move. No dice. Ruth Tynen was placed in Ravenclaw. "Bentley, Amanda!" Not her. "Hartman, Terrence!" Definitely not her. A loud bang off to his right distracted his attention for a few moments. He turned to see the Weasley twins snickering as they held up the broken end of a firecracker. Harry shook his head and focused back on the Sorting.
The girl who had come into his compartment looking for her missing owl was on stage, the Sorting Hat placed atop her head. Harry cursed himself for missing her name, but watched attentively. She was looking up at it, nervous yet determined. Just before the decision was made, she smiled slightly and lowered her eyes to her lap, where her folded hands lay.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat declared. Harry shrugged. It wasn't as though he even knew the girl, but she seemed nice enough. Strange that she was sorted into Slytherin. He turned back to Ron and Hermione to say something, but saw that their jaws were hanging open. He waved a hand in front of their faces and they turned to look at him, still stunned.
"What?" Harry asked slowly, wondering what had induced his friends' catatonic state.
"Didn't you hear her name?" Hermione whispered. Harry shook his head and Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.
"What was it?"
"Anya," Ron replied, in a half-choked whisper. "Anya Malfoy." Before Harry could properly respond, Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts, ignited several sparks from the end of his wand, calling all conversation to a stop.
"Welcome," he said, eyes twinkling, "to another year." A loud burst of applause filled the Great Hall. "I see a lot of familiar faces as well as many new faces." Harry could have sworn he saw Dumbledore glance off towards the Slytherin table. "I hope all of the students who are used to life here at Hogwarts help the new students get used to the old place." At this, he looked upward at the ceiling, which was enchanted to look like the night sky. As if he had some sort of power over his students, they all looked upward with him to see a shooting star streak across the sky.
Please let me see my parents one last time, Harry wished, closing his eyes. The wish had popped into his mind instantaneously. It was something he wished for every night before he went to bed and every morning when he woke up. If he told anyone, he'd be "poor little Harry Potter" in addition to "the famous Harry Potter." He didn't want to deal with that. After all, he was "the Boy Who Lived," the only one ever to survive Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse. What was a simple longing after living through that?
When Dumbledore looked back down, he had an unmistakable smile on his face. Somehow, Harry thought Dumbledore himself had made a wish of his own.
"Enjoy your feast," he said simply. There was a moment of silence before a burst of applause. The students looked down at their once-empty plates, which had now filled with food. Harry remembered how hungry he was and began to eat. He half-listened to Ron and Lee Jordan's conversation about Quidditch and used the other half of his attention to try and concentrate on his schedule, which had changed dramatically with his introduction into fifth year.
"I wonder whom our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is," Hermione wondered out loud. Harry looked over at her, surprised he hadn't thought of it sooner. Usually, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a major topic of conversation. So far, Harry had liked Professor Remus Lupin, who had been a very close friend of his late father, the best. But, because Lupin was a werewolf and werewolves were known to be less than trustworthy, he had resigned after the news leaked out.
Harry looked upward at the enchanted ceiling and saw the full moon. I wonder where Lupin is now, he thought. Was he locked in a room, his mind completely surrendered to the rage of a fully transformed werewolf? Or had Professor Snape, the Potions teacher, sent Lupin off with a potion to keep his mind during a transformation, but not his body? He tore his eyes away from the moon and looked back down at his nearly empty plate. With a sigh, he pushed it away.
"Are you all right, Harry?" a voice asked. Harry looked up and saw Ginny Weasley looking at him with concern in her eyes.
"No," he said quickly. "I… er… I'm just not feeling well."
"Oh. All right then," Ginny said, not pressing the issue. Harry silently thanked her and began to wonder… Who is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?
* * *
Harry whistled softly to himself as he roamed the empty halls of Hogwarts Castle. Ron had retired earlier, complaining of a headache and Hermione had followed, wanting to get a head start on the "loads of homework" that she suspected they'd get that week. How she could get a head start was beyond Harry, but there was no doubt in his mind that Hermione was headed for the library to try anyway. Harry was privately grateful for the time alone.
In his first year, he'd run across the Mirror of Erised, a magical looking glass that had shown what the viewer wanted most in the whole world. In Harry's case, it was his smiling form surrounded by his entire family. Since then, he'd kept an eye out for the mirror, with no luck. With extra time on his hands, he could not only watch for the mirror, but also just enjoy the feeling of being in the magical world away from the Dursleys.
Harry lifted his head as he turned a corner and ran smack into Professor Dumbledore, Hogwarts headmaster.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, fixing his glasses and rubbing his nose tenderly.
"Oh, Harry, just the person I wanted to 'bump into.'" Dumbledore smiled at his own pun. "I would like to discuss a private matter with you. If you'd follow me to my office…" Harry nodded and Dumbledore swept forward, leading him through the grand Hogwarts hallways.
Soon, they came upon a large statue of a gargoyle and Dumbledore stopped in front of it.
"Jekyll," he said by way of a password. The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside to admit the two wizards forth. Dumbledore bowed and allowed Harry to enter before him. Smiling, Harry bounded ahead; Dumbledore's office was by far Harry's favorite room in the entire castle. He pressed forward and opened the large oak door leading into the office.
The circular room was identical to the way Harry remembered it, minus shifted furniture here and there. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, was sleeping with his head tucked under his right wing in the cage on Dumbledore's desk. His beautiful gold and red plumage rose and fell with each soft breath from the sleeping bird.
Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and nodded for Harry to sit in the red chair.
"It has come to my attention, Harry, that you left your aunt and uncle a bit… prematurely," Dumbledore began, folding his hands together and fixing his twinkling blue eyes on Harry, who squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "I have been in contact with Arabella Figg, who's told me everything. There's no need to hide what happened." Harry let out a breath of relief.
"They weren't going to let me go visit Ron, Professor," Harry said. "They weren't even going to let me get my Hogwarts things."
"I've also been in contact with your aunt and uncle, Harry. As you can well imagine, they're a bit upset." Harry snorted and felt like giving Dumbledore the Understatement of the Year Award. "I feel that it is necessary, in your own best interest, for you to stay in the wizarding world during the summer holidays."
Harry's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. "I'll never have to see them again, then?" Harry asked slowly, not daring to believe what was happening.
"Well, don't sound too upset," Dumbledore said, hiding a smile. "There is quite some time between now and then, and I'm sure we can find a suitable place for you to—"
"Headmaster?" Harry turned to see his Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, standing in the doorway. The tiny man, who hardly came up to Harry's elbow, was looking enthused.
"Yes?" Dumbledore said, standing so he could see Professor Flitwick over the edge of his desk.
"The Knight Bus has been found," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "It's at the bottom of the lake."
* * *
"She's a Malfoy, Harry."
"Come again?" Harry's head snapped up and he looked at Ron who was packing something deep into his trunk. Harry went back to polishing his Firebolt furiously as he sat at the edge of his bed. Ron pulled his head out of his trunk and looked up at his best friend.
"Don't be a git," he said. "You know what I'm talking about. I saw you looking at her when she was being sorted. She's a Malfoy, Harry. A Slytherin. Rumor is going around that she's Draco's fraternal twin. Twin, Harry! How different can two twins possibly be?" Harry took the question as rhetorical and didn't interrupt him. "She used to be taught at home by her mother or something. Maybe she didn't even get invited to Hogwarts." He let out a short laugh and Harry glared at him.
"Well, then why is she here now?" Harry asked defensively.
"She could have been a Late Bloomer, you know. Oh… you probably don't know." Ron's ears turned a little pink. "It's when a witch or a wizard doesn't show any sign of magical powers until they're older. Maybe Anya was a Late Bloomer." Harry couldn't argue with this (He hadn't even known about it until that moment.) and went back to polishing his perfectly smooth Firebolt.
"Anyway," Ron continued, struggling to pull something out of his trunk, "Parvati Patil said that her hair used to be really light like Malfoy's, but now it's brown because of a chocolate spell gone wrong." He sniggered and Harry frowned again.
"Well, who cares about some slimy old Slytherin anyway?" Ron shrugged as the desired item came loose and he fell backwards with a thud. "Oof!"
"She's not… slimy! She's actually very nice. She helped me pick up my things when I dropped them in Diagon Alley."
"You hardly know her!"
"You're absolutely right. I don't know her and I'm not going to judge her until I do. Now let's change the subject before we get into an argument. By the way, have you made up with Hermione?"
Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Made up? Why? What did I do to her?" he asked a bit frantically. Harry shrugged.
"It seems as if the two of you are always in a row over something," he replied. Ron was now rubbing his forehead, trying to remember.
"I don't think so…" Rob began as another one of their roommates, Neville Longbottom, entered the room, lugging his large trunk behind him. After listening to about five full minutes of his grunting and straining, Harry pulled his wand out of his robes.
"Accio!" Harry said, pointing the wand towards the trunk. He guided it to the foot of Neville's bed, where it settled softly.
"Thank you," Neville panted gratefully. "Wow, did you two see all of the commotion out around the lake? Seamus Finnigan reckons the giant squid died or something. Wouldn't that be horrible?" Before waiting for an answer, Neville bounded out and raced down into the Gryffindor common room to join the other Gryffindors.
"The giant squid? Dead? Mum would be heartbroken," Ron said. "That's how she met my dad. He saved her from the giant squid. Of course, the poor creature was just trying to return mum to shore…" he broke off with a laugh. Harry momentarily wondered if his own father had ever saved his mother's life like that.
"It's the Knight Bus," Harry heard himself say. "I was in Dumbledore's office when Professor Flitwick came in."
"Wow… was that when you found out about not going to the Dursleys?" Harry nodded, remembering the looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces when he rushed into the common room to tell them. "That's mighty strange, Harry. What would the Knight Bus be doing in the lake? Who would've put it there?" His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Would Sirius think it was funny? Madam Rosmerta did say…"
"No way, Ron. How could he have done it? And why?" Harry shook his head absently. "Why would anyone do something that… odd?"
"Hogwarts is hard to get into without permission… and an entire bus along with you? Perhaps the person wanted to show how powerful they were becoming," Ron murmured. His eyes slowly went wide. "You don't think…"
"You-Know-Who? Steal the Knight Bus and put it in the lake? Surely there are more conspicuous things he could do."
"There are… but he's… Oh, I don't even want to think about it. And don't call me Shirley." Harry looked at him strangely, before Ron explained, "Muggle movie. Dad is mad for them. Forget about it. What do you say we go down into the common room and see if your chess skills have improved over the summer holidays?"
"Not likely," Harry smiled with a nod and began to follow his friend.
"Try to forget about Anya, too, all right, Harry? This is our fifth year! We're going to be bogged down with so much ruddy homework… plus your Quidditch practice!" Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry. By this time tomorrow, you'll have forgotten all about her."
* * *
Two days, fourteen hours and twelve minutes later, Harry Potter still hadn't forgotten about Anya Malfoy. She was in two of his classes: Potions, and Magical Music. The last subject centered on spells and curses dealing especially with music and notes. Luckily, Draco, who seemed to want to keep his sister away from most Gryffindors, had only Potions with him and Harry felt free to speak to Anya in Magical Music. That is, if he could work up the nerve.
One particularly cold Wednesday, Hermione and Ron were absorbed in an argument. Hermione thought the note scale for the Immobility Piece was A, D, D, C sharp, F, while Ron argued it was D, A, A, C sharp, F. Harry knew Hermione was right, but Ron wouldn't back down. Finally, much to Hermione's initial amusement, Ron stared at her defiantly and played the notes on the flute they had been given to use. Nothing happened, at first. Then Hermione slowly began to shrink. The class could hardly hold in their laughter and the tiny Hermione shrieked for Professor Sibtia to reverse the spell.
Concerned as they were, Ron and Harry could hardly contain their own laughter, which faded as Hermione turned back to her original size. She glared at Ron and went back to her notes. While Ron attempted to make up with Hermione, Harry continued to try (and fail) with the Immobility Piece with the small toad they had been given to practice on.
"Miss Malfoy, please help Mr. Potter," Professor Sibtia said dismissively, waving a hand over her shoulder as she tried to aid Neville Longbottom, who has somehow turned his toad into a canary.
"What's the problem?" Anya asked, stepping to Harry's side.
"Er...I... um… I can't get the toad to stop... er...moving," he stammered. He was never good with meeting new people.
"Try it again," she urged. "Maybe you're doing something wrong." Harry was surprised he didn't drop his flute as he played the notes. The most experience he'd ever had with a musical instrument was being hit in the head by Dudley's Play Time Sing-A-Long guitar when he was eight.
He finished the measure and the toad croaked happily at him and jumped into a solution of Hair Grower that Professor Sibtia had on her desk for their next lesson. Groaning, Harry plucked the happy toad out of the flask. Not only was his toad still moving about, but also it was hairy
"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered as he tried to hold the frog down with one hand.
"You're playing a C natural instead of a C sharp." Anya explained as she positioned his fingers over the C sharp. "Try it one more time." Harry did so and grinned broadly as the toad stopped moving mid-croak.
"Thank you," Harry smiled. Anya smiled and turned to leave, but Harry called out, "Anya Malfoy, isn't it?" Anya turned and looked at him. "Your name, I mean." She nodded.
"Yes, that's me. There probably isn't any need for me to ask who you are, is there?" she asked, her eyes flicking upwards to the scar on his forehead.
"My brother hasn't taken much of a liking to you, has he?" she said, hiding a smile behind her hand. Harry looked at her as though she was crazy.
"No, I... I guess not." He managed a small smile, puzzled that she wasn't going to look at him coldly or turn him into a cow.
"That's all right," she said quietly. "I think people should know each other before they judge." She looked at her feet and then met his green eyes with her own.
"Yes," Harry said, finding his breath.
"Could you do me a favor?" Anya asked rather sheepishly. Harry said he would. After all, she had helped him with his assignment. "Teach me how to play Quidditch!" Her eyes sparkled in the dim lighting. "Draco never would and Father says it should only be for boys...Mother goes along with Father. They wouldn't have to know, Harry. And I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"Er...of course. Meet me out there after your last class. You have a broomstick, right?"
"A Nimbus Two Thousand and One," she answered. "Draco got the new Firebolt so he gave me his old one." Harry groaned inwardly. He liked being the only Hogwarts Quidditch team member with the Firebolt, the newest and fastest broomstick on the market. "Thank you, Harry Potter!" As he watched her return to her workstation, he was sure he was blushing.
* * *
Harry hurriedly stuffed a sheet of parchment into his Divination II book, Clearing the Chaos: A Guide for the Inner Eye by Belisa Tewill. Hermione, never one to miss a rude comment about Divination, often suggested that it was their instructor, Professor Sybill Trelawney, writing under a pen name.
In any case, Harry was on his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, anxious to find out who their new teacher was. The job seemed cursed, as their first year teacher, Professor Quirrell, had been working with Lord Voldemort, their second year teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, had been an arrogant wizard who later lost his memory, their third year teacher, Professor Remus Lupin, had resigned and their fourth year teacher, Professor Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, had really been a Death Eater in disguise.
Harry skidded to a halt outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts room and reached out to open it. Suddenly, a sharp pain laced through across his forehead. Dropping his books, he clapped both hands over his forehead and sank to his knees. He clamped his mouth shut so as not to cry out. Yet as soon as the pain had come, it was gone and Harry shifted onto one knee, breathing heavily.
"Are you all right?" a quiet voice said from above him. Harry felt his heart nearly stop. Someone had seen him. He looked up slowly, dreading whom it was. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or embarrassed that it was Anya. "Harry, are you okay?"
"I... I..." he stammered. "Yes, I'm fine; my... I'm just not feeling well." Harry decided to stick with that cover so he wouldn't have to remember what he'd told to each person. She nodded, not believing him, but not wanting to challenge him on it, and crouched down, helping him pick up his things.
"Here," she said, handing him a quill and blushing. "I'll see you later." After Harry mustered a "goodbye," she smiled at him and started down the hall. Harry shook his head and opened the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room and gasped.
"Professor Lupin?!" Harry gasped, eyes as wide as saucers. It had to be some sort of mistake... or trick. It was the day after the full moon; the day when Lupin was supposed to be recovering from his werewolf transformation.
"I'm pleased to see you as well, Harry," Lupin smiled. "Please take your seat. I would like to speak to you after class." At that point, other students began to flow in and Harry sat, stunned. Soon, Hermione and Ron joined him, one on each side. Professor Lupin was back? Impossible.
"It's nice to be back and see so many familiar faces," Lupin said, smiling a bit at the class. "I daresay you've had quite an... 'adventure' while I've been away." There was a nervous wave of giggles, as they'd always thought Professor Moody was a bit on the odd side. "Well, I'm afraid I must regress into the mundane practice of regular teaching."
"This class was never boring when you were around, Professor!" Seamus Finnigan piped up. There was a murmur of approval, but just the same, there was still tension and nervousness in the room. People were glancing at each other and then to Lupin. Harry was wondering why everyone seemed so on edge when Lupin interrupted his thoughts.
"I suppose you're all wondering if the rumors about me being a werewolf are true," Lupin said dramatically, sitting on the edge of his desk. "They are." There was a collective gasp as Neville Longbottom and several others sitting in the front row shrank backward in their desks. "However, a cure has been developed by a very bright young man who is studying dragons in Romania. There seems to be a thirteenth use for dragon's blood: It is able to take the information - the DNA structure itself - that my body used for the werewolf transformation and exchanged it with my own DNA. So, in essence, I simply changed into myself again." There was a relieved sigh. Harry ran a hand to his always-untidy hair and slid his glasses back up his nose. So that was it. No tricks, no mistakes. Simply... a cure. "You see, however, this is still quite a secret to the main wizarding world, but I was their guinea pig, so to speak. I can trust you all to keep my secret?" The class nodded and Harry turned to see Ron's reaction, but only saw him slouched down in his desk tracing circles on a piece of parchment with a quill, ears bright red. Before Harry was able to ask what was wrong, Lupin cleared his throat. Harry looked past Ron to Hermione, who looked positively giddy with the newfound information.
"This year, we will move into a particularly difficult course schedule. We will however, begin easy, with shape-shifters. There is a very likely chance we will be working with Professor McGonagall to aid us in distinguishing a shape-shifter from a simple transfigured form." Harry heard Hermione make a noise and turned to see her looking like she'd just smelled one of the Weasley twins' Dungbombs. He narrowed his eyebrows in question at her and she whispered to him.
"The Slytherins have Transfiguration this hour," Hermione said. Ron couldn't resist rolling his eyes, a clear indication at the annoyance that Hermione knew everything.
Raising his voice, Lupin continued, "However, today will be a simple review. I'm not sure what Professor Moody taught you, so we'll review a few of the magical creatures this class learned in third year. Now, who can tell me what is most fatal to a boggart?"
The rest of the period went by quickly, most of it full of reviewing boggarts, hinkypunks, Red Caps and grindylows. The class listened attentively to incredible tales of run-ins with Red Caps and situations with slinkerpiffs, small otter-like animals with tongues that darted out like snakes. Due to its relation to the basilisk, also known as the King of Serpents, the story seemed all the more fascinating.
Time flew by and class ended. Grudgingly, the class departed from the room, Harry telling Hermione and Ron that he'd see them after seeing Lupin and that there was something else for him to tell them. Through the past four years, Hermione and Ron had confided everything in Harry and it was only fair for him to do likewise. His scar had hurt him - something that only happened when Voldemort was feeling particularly murderous towards Harry or if Voldemort was near. Harry quickly gathered his things and hurried to the front of the room.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?" Harry asked as he reached the desk. Lupin smiled up at him.
"I thought it might be a nice surprise," he said. Harry smiled back and noticed that Lupin was looking at him strangely.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"You remind me so much of your father. I suppose you hear that all the time." Harry nodded, urging Lupin to continue. He loved hearing about his father. "He was a great wizard, you know." Harry swallowed hard.
"Yeah, I know," he whispered. No crying. Fingernails into fists. No tears.
"Well, you'd better get going," Lupin began brightly. "You don't want to keep her waiting."
"Her?" Harry said. "Oh, Anya... yeah, I sh- Wait, how did you know?" Lupin chuckled before explaining.
"I was passing your Magical Music room when you made your date."
"It's not a date," Harry sputtered indignantly. "She wants me to teach her how to play Quidditch." Lupin continued to smile, amused.
"I remember another young Potter getting quite a bit flustered when talking about a certain Lily..."
"This is different," Harry insisted. He couldn't help smiling back, though.
"I'll see you at our next class, Harry. I have to go myself, as I have some business to discuss with my friend, Gandalf. Go on and enjoy the sunshine."
* * *
"Oh, no! Harry... Harry! Oh... I'm going to fall!"
"Calm down, Anya. We're only a few feet above the ground. I'm not going to let you fall." Never before in his life had Harry seen someone so frightened of leaving the ground. He privately had flashes of Neville Longbottom in his mind and felt guilty when Anya looked at him, terrified. "Haven't you ever flown on a broomstick before?" he asked. Anya shook her head, flushing.
"Mother never taught me to ride a broom," she said looking away from him, ashamed. "Father says it's supposed to come naturally and you're just supposed to know. I'm not really good at much anything."
"Not true," Harry said, shaking his head. "No one else could get their toads to stop moving in Magical Music. People do better in different things," he shrugged. "Perhaps broomstick riding isn't your best subject." They both had a laugh over this. The day Anya was able to fly a broomstick well enough to play Quidditch would be the day Professor Snape, the Potions master who loathed Harry, decided to award Gryffindor fifty points toward the Inter-House Competition. Anya clung to Harry's robes as Harry lowered both of them to the ground. "Are you all right?" he asked her.
"Yes...I think so." She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "One more go?" Harry sighed and Anya said quickly, "You don't have to stay with me or anything. You've done more than enough already."
"No, that's all right. I'm having fun. Never...er...quite seen someone fly that way." They both had another laugh and Anya stood next to her broom.
"Up," she commanded. For the first time, the broom leaped right into her hand and she grinned.
"I believe you're getting the hang of this." Anya mounted the broom and was soon soaring upward. Fast. Too fast. "Anya!" he called as she rose higher and higher. Quickly, Harry mounted his broom and soared upward after. Although Anya's Nimbus Two Thousand and One was zooming upwards, it was no match for Harry's Firebolt. He quickly caught up with her and saw her clutching the broom, frozen with fear.
"I...I don't know what I did," she stammered. "It just started to...to go and I...I..."
"It's okay, Anya," Harry assured her. "Just try to calm down. Then descend. It won't work if you're upset." Harry wasn't sure if this was true or not, but he decided the last thing he needed was someone to be hysterical a hundred meters in the air. As Anya nodded and closed her eyes, Harry had a feeling she was picturing herself on the safe ground. "All right. Now descend." He kept his eyes on her as the two of them descended in unison. Her eyes, however, remained tightly closed until they were about twenty meters above the ground. Then, they snapped open and her broom stopped descending. "It's okay. We're almost there. You were doing great," Harry assured her.
"No, that's not it," she said quietly. "I'd like to thank you for doing this and all I did for you was play a few musical notes..."
"Really, it's all right. I don't have much homework and I'd be rather bored in the common room right about now. Well, unless Fred and George had their Canary Creams being passed out."
Anya smiled. "Those two certainly are fun, aren't they?"
"Yeah, the Weasleys are wonderful. Like a second family." At the word "family," Harry could have sworn he saw Anya flinch but as soon as his mind registered it, he wasn't quite so sure.
"That's great," she said. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me." Harry's throat tightened as he looked into her eyes.
"Draco would have just laughed if he knew I couldn't ride a broomstick. Mother and Father all but pretend I don't belong to the family." It was amazing how much the Malfoys resembled the Dursleys, as much as the two families were different. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he was afraid his voice would squeak so he closed it. Anya was much closer to him now, he noticed. He looked directly into her eyes and, for some reason, he couldn't help leaning towards her.
"'What do yeh think yer doin' up there?!" a voice bellowed from beneath them. They quickly separated and looked down to see who had called. Harry grinned broadly as he saw Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper at Hogwarts and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, standing beneath him. Twice the size of a normal man, he almost looked regular-sized from twenty meters in the air. "Oh, 'Arry, it's you!" Temporarily forgetting Anya, Harry zoomed down to meet Hagrid. Before he could say anything, Hagrid wrapped his huge arms around Harry's middle, squeezing the air out of him.
"Good to see you, too, Hagrid," Harry gasped.
"Who's yer li'l friend?" Hagrid asked, black eyes twinkling. Anya popped back into Harry's mind and he flew back up and descended with her before answering Hagrid. "And a lov'ly lady she be," the half-giant said, taking his hand in hers and nodding politely. After releasing Anya's hand, Harry replied.
"This is Anya. She's new." After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Hagrid invited the two into his hut for tea. They politely went inside for a quick cup of tea, as it was getting a little dark outside. They sat down and Anya seemed to shrink each time Hagrid came near her. She almost fainted at the sight of Fang, Hagrid's boarhound. Fang, however, seemed to like Anya, and spent most of his time sniffing her ankles.
Hagrid began to make tea and Anya did something that surprised Harry - she offered to help. Not that he didn't think she was the type of person to help someone else in need (Magical Music had proven that.), but the fact remained that she had sat and trembled, overcome with her first impression of Hagrid and then of Fang. A little puzzled, Hagrid agreed and sat next to Harry at the table and Anya made the tea.
"S'bin a long summer wit'out yeh, Harry," Hagrid said. "But it's good ter see yeh back here at 'Ogwarts. Anythin' excitin' goin' on yet?"
"Nothing really. It's only been a few days and I can already tell we're going to have loads of homework." Harry sneaked a peek at Anya, who was nervously pouring the tea. She looked over her shoulder and mustered a smile at Harry. Anya came to the table with the teacups on a tray. Trying to help, Hagrid turned and accidentally sent the teacups crashing to the floor with his large, clumsy elbow.
"Oh, no!" Anya cried. "Hagrid, I'm so sorry. I broke your teacups. Oh, I'm so sorry."
"S'all righ'," Hagrid assured her. "I got plenty more where them came from." Anya began to pick up the pieces, murmuring about how sorry she was. After cleaning up, Harry quickly told Hagrid that they had to get back to the castle as Harry had Quidditch practice soon. They bid their good-byes, Anya still apologizing profusely, and they headed towards the castle. For a while, it was silent as they walked back, broomsticks in hand.
"I suppose Hagrid doesn't like me much," Anya said. "I broke his tea cups."
"It's all right, Anya," Harry said. "I was actually worried you were going to cut yourself on the shards..." With this, his face rivaled Ron's hair color and he looked away from her. Silence once again took over as a light drizzle began. "Oh, no." Water soon dripped over Harry's glasses and, no matter how many times he dried them, they would still show everything blurry. Anya took the glasses out of his hand without asking.
"Impervius," she muttered as she tapped Harry's glasses with her wand, which she slipped out of her sleeve. Harry slid the glasses back on. "A water repelling charm," she said. Harry knew this; Hermione had performed it once during a Quidditch match.
They reached the castle and Harry sensed it was time to part ways to their separate common rooms.
"Thank you, Harry," Anya said. "For everything." With that, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek lightly. She gave him a shy smile and a little wave, and then headed off, presumably to her common room.
"She's a Malfoy," Ron's voice echoed in his ears. "A Slytherin... Draco's twin." Then, louder, "Our Potter has fallen in love." Love? What nonsense.
To be continued…
Author's Notes: As always, my thanks go to my betas: Selphie Leonhart, Susie Q, Ms. J. Average, Krystyn Poe, poosh and Lady Christina. Yes, SIX. Eh, they take shifts… don't think I work them all to the bone, all the time. I'm not that mean. ::cackles:: Ahem. Without them, I would have a mess of words strung together with bleak verbs. Ick. I need 'em. BAD. And by the way, I know this seems like the clichéd "Potter falls in love with Death Eater's daughter/Voldemort's daughter/Snape's daughter/Malfoy's sister," but as you well know, things are never what they appear to be at first glance.
Thought of the day (appeared in a Quick Takes column, written by Zay N. Smith in the Chicago Sun-Times):
WATCH THAT RICOCHET
R.H., a Willow Springs reader, writes:
"I am really tired of your remarks about the NRA and gun control every time there is an accidental death. Yes, there shouldn't be any deaths from children getting their hands on weapons. But in the United States, well over 40,000 women, children and men die in alcohol-related accidents each year…"
You are right.
In fact, you may be on to something.
All we have to do is treat guns exactly as we treat automobiles: registration, special insurance, users tests, users licenses, minimum age.
Thank you for your suggestion.
~*~*JanaBelle*~*~
To Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived!
Who thinks beta readers are right up there with oxygen