A/N: Right. So, I suck at updating, but at least I'm willing to admit it. If I'm not mistaken, only one person is currently reading this fic, because all my readers from the prequel seem to have disappeared. While I do mourn this loss, it is not the end of the world, and I will continue to write this story, because it improves my writing skills and I've got the plot written out and everything. Plus, I like it. (It would be nice to get a review though, if you read, to encourage me). That being said, I will stop whining and get on with the story.
Check previous disclaimers. Don't sue me. Thanks and have a good day.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
One Last Hope
Chapter 25: Half-Hidden Secrets
The welcoming feast turned out to be much more welcoming for Amy than it had been last year. Last year, everyone had stared and gawked at her, and she had learned about the darker side of magic. This year, she was greeted by her roommates, Carry and René, as well as some of her other friends from the DA. People still stared, but their eyes weren't as noticeable when she was surrounded by those who had come to be her family within Hogwarts.
The Sorting Ceremony, which had seemed so nerve-racking and exciting last year, was now boring, and more (as Erin put it) a prelude to food than anything else. The food, when it finally came, was just as Amy remembered it – magnificent. Hogwarts had never felt like home to her more than at this moment, as she took in the familiar sight of the entire school eating contentedly under a starry sky.
Nothing really eventful happened until Amy was reaching for a second helping of chocolate ice cream. Suddenly, everyone was looking towards the entrance to the Great Hall and Erin was elbowing her in the stomach, very nearly knocking her hand into the ice cream.
"What?" hissed Amy, looking around, but what she saw made an answer from Erin quite unnecessary.
Harry was walking quickly down the hall to sit next to Ron and Hermione, avoiding all of the gazes that were now upon him. Near the Slytherin table, Snape also strode up the hall, taking his place at the teachers' table before too many people could take notice of him.
"What's going on?" whispered Amy.
Erin sent her a look that clearly said 'how the heck should I know?'
Amy craned her neck to see Harry (and she was not the only one doing so), wondering why on earth he had shown up so late – and in the company of Snape.
"Hey," said Nick, squinting in the same direction as Amy. "Is that blood on his face?"
"What?" Amy hadn't been able to get a good look at his face, since he had kept it down. Twisting uncomfortably, she was finally able to see him conversing with Ron and Hermione. "I don't see any blood."
Nick frowned. "But I could have sworn his nose was all bloody."
"Maybe Hermione knows a spell to wipe it off," Erin suggested logically, shrugging.
Amy stared moodily down at her ice cream, and was not at all disappointed when it vanished from the plate. She had only been back for a few hours, and already Harry Potter was shrouded in mystery once more.
Dumbledore stood up to make his start-of-term speech, and the hall quieted down immediately, everyone's eyes turning to him. "The very best of evenings to you!" he said, looking out at the students and customarily opening his arms in welcome. Amy expected the familiar gesture to lighten her mood again, but then she saw Dumbledore's hand – his blackened, shrivelled hand – and a feeling of dread swept through her.
She was not the only one to notice Dumbledore's hand – the entire school gasped at the sight of it, and immediately, whispers and murmurs broke out amongst the students. Erin and Nick put their heads together, undoubtedly already debating what could have caused the hand of the greatest wizard alive to, well, die, but Amy continued to look at it (or where she thought it should be, for Dumbledore's sleeve had covered it up). Dumbledore had fought Voldemort last year, and Voldemort was no longer in hiding. Could they have…?
Lost in her thoughts, Amy missed most of what Dumbledore was saying until Slughorn stood up at the Staff Table.
"Professor Slughorn," announced Dumbledore, "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."
"Potions?" The word skipped through the hall, everyone looking at Dumbledore in shock, some of their gazes snapping over to look at Snape. Amy frowned in confusion; she'd thought for sure he would have been the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," continued the Headmaster, "will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Harry was heard shouting 'No!' from where he sat at the table. Erin cursed (or rather, she strung together a bunch of rather interesting sounding words and said them as though they were swears). "Fudging patty-cake…venomous toadstool droppings…popping snapfarts…"
"Erin," Nick sighed, exasperated. "If you're not going to swear properly, could you not swear at all please?"
"Well, I'm sorry," said Erin, though she clearly wasn't. "It's just that it looks like I'm going to fail Defence Against the Dark Arts again this year."
"You didn't fail last year," he reminded her.
"Well, very nearly. I couldn't be bothered to read Umbridge's stupid Ministry book and so I only got through by putting down answers I deemed as far from my common sense as possible."
Nick sighed. "It might not be that bad."
Erin looked at him as though he'd gone insane.
"I just mean that – well, he's horrible and everything, but at least he's a real teacher. And he's been after the post for a while, so maybe he'll do a decent job."
"If by decent you mean he'll fail everyone who's in Gryffindor, then yes," Erin muttered.
"I dunno," Amy addressed Nick, ignoring Erin's mutterings. "Snape just really creeps me out."
"He has that effect on almost everyone, Amy," Nick countered sympathetically.
"Yeah, but…" Amy trailed off, trying to pinpoint what it was about Snape that bothered her, other than his classroom bullying. "Have you ever noticed how he doesn't seem to look at me? Even when he's talking to me…He just never looks directly at me."
She would very much have liked to know what her friends had to say about that, but at that moment, Dumbledore called for silence, effectively ending their conversation.
After a very serious warning about Voldemort, the present times and possible safety measures, the Headmaster bid them goodnight.
It wasn't until they reached Gryffindor tower that Amy was able to talk to Harry. Sprinting across the Common Room, she grabbed hold of his arm.
"Wha -? Oh, hey Amy."
"Why were you late?" she asked quietly, aware that fellow Gryffindors were brushing past them on their way to bed.
"I," Harry glanced around, also aware of the others around him. "I got held up on the train," he muttered.
"Meaning?" asked Amy, a slight edge in her voice. Harry had told her last year that he would stop keeping her in the dark, that he would tell her more of what was going on. Looking up at his expression, however, Amy could already tell that he didn't intend to fill her in on everything. "You had blood on your face, Harry."
"Er, yeah, but I'm fine now."
"Well, that's good," said Amy, relieved, "but how did it get there?"
"I, um…I got into a fight, and, er, someone broke my nose."
"You got into a fight," Amy repeated.
"Yeah, I – don't look at me like that," Harry whispered, catching her glare. "Look, it's not really important."
"I thought you said you were going to stop hiding things from me this year!" Amy said in what could only be described as a whisper-yell.
"I'm not hiding things, I'm – "
"Protecting me?"
Several moments of tense silence followed her words, and eventually Harry's shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed. "Look, just promise me something, ok?"
"What?" Amy asked carefully.
"Just…stay away from Draco Malfoy."
"What?" Amy repeated, this time her tone baffled. "Why? I mean, I didn't plan on hanging out with him anyway," she continued quickly, seeing Harry's expression. "But why the sudden warning?"
Harry ran his hand through his hair, clearly irritated. "He's just up to no good, alright? I don't want you near him."
Amy frowned; he was playing big brother again, and skipping out on the details. "Well, that's obvious. He was on the Inquisitorial Squad last year. But what's got you so worried?"
"I don't…I don't really know anything for sure yet," he admitted (and Amy noted that it looked like a difficult thing for him to do), "But just promise you'll stay away from him, and Erin and Nick, too. Please?"
Amy looked at him. He seemed genuinely concerned, she just….
"Sure Harry, no problem."
She just wished she knew the reason.
Harry smiled at her and headed off to bed, but Amy stood where she was a little longer. Was it Malfoy who had broken Harry's nose? Was that why Harry was so wary of him? But that didn't seem to add up…Harry had fought Malfoy plenty of times before…
"Common, Airhead, let's get to our dormitory," Erin said, steering her towards the spiral staircase.
"Airhead?" Amy repeated, coming out of her thoughts.
"Airhead, Head-In-The-Clouds, same difference."
Amy laughed at this, but at the edge of the room she looked back. Ron and Hermione were by the fire, and seemed to be having a hurried conversation in low whispers. Amy frowned. What were they talking about that they couldn't tell Harry? Or what were they thinking Harry wasn't telling them?
………………………………………………………………………………………………
The first day of classes went fairly well for Amy. Her classes seemed like they would be fairly similar to last year's, and the familiar teachers greeted them with "how were your summers?" and speeches about how they were going to have to buck-up and work hard this year.
The next day, however, was a different matter. Second year Gryffindors had Potions in the morning, followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts right after lunch. To say that they were apprehensive about these two classes would have been an understatement. The general thought was that Slughorn couldn't possibly be worse than Snape, but Amy wasn't looking forward to him playing favourites – even though she was one of his "favourites" already. And everybody knew that Snape had been after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job for years but had never gotten it… Had it been for a good reason?
"Oho!" Slughorn greeted Amy as she entered the dungeon classroom. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Evans. Like Potions class much, my dear?"
"Er…" Amy struggled for something to say, Slughorn's eagerness and twitchy moustache throwing her off. "I supposed so, sir."
"Why don't you sit here at the front then, hm? I'll have you concocting excellent potions in no time."
Not really able to refuse his request, Amy sat in the front, Erin settling beside her while Nick sat just behind them; Amy knew he wanted to sit where he would attract less attention.
"All right, let's start with a little revision from last year," started Slughorn, addressing the class. Who remembers how to make a Forgetfulness Potion?"
A few people raised their hands tentatively, including Erin, who would of course remember, having an excellent memory and potions being one of her best classes.
"Oho! Quite a few of you, I see. Well, who can tell me the first ingredient, then, hm? How about you, Miss Evans?"
Amy blinked up at the professor, at a complete loss for what to do, having neither put up her hand, nor remembered how to make a forgetfulness potion in the slightest.
"Well, it's, um…" Amy wracked her brain, trying to remember, but knowing full well that that particular piece of information had flown out of her head as soon as she'd completed her exam.
"Gurdyroot," came a small whisper from behind her, so quiet she almost missed it.
"The first ingredient is Gurdyroot," she informed the professor, hoping this was the correct answer.
"Right you are, Miss Evans! Excellent! And the second ingredient, anyone?"
The second Slughorn's attention was no longer focused on her, Amy turned to look at Nick. She was about to ask him why he'd told her the answer instead of telling the Professor himself – he deserved credit, after all, for remembering something she hadn't – but stopped when she saw what he was doing. His full attention was focused on writing jot-notes on a scrap piece of parchment, some words crossed out, others circled.
When he was done, he turned to look at the teacher, concentrating on what Slughorn was saying. As inconspicuously as she could, Amy moved her head so that she could read what he'd written. On closer inspection, she recognised that it was the instructions for making a Forgetfulness Potion.
Sitting back in her seat properly, Amy listened to the class listing off the steps to make the potion, a feeling of excitement coming over her. Nick had remembered how to make a potion. Nick could never remember how to make potions. The fact that he had managed to retain that much over the summer was simply amazing, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for her friend. She sat there, waiting for him to put up his hand to answer one of Professor Slughorn's questions…
…but he never did. He kept silent throughout the whole class.
On the way to lunch, Amy followed Erin on a bathroom trip, but took her aside the moment Nick was out of earshot. "Did you see what he wrote during class?" she asked Erin, who nodded and said, "Most of his answers were right, too."
"So why didn't he put up his hand?"
"I dunno, Amy. Maybe he was just checking to see if he was right. He wasn't very good at potions last year, you know, so is confidence in the class isn't high. It isn't high anywhere else, either, actually."
Amy sighed, knowing Erin wasn't trying to be insulting – just honest. "I just wish he'd try, though."
After lunch, the second year Gryffindors trouped to Defence Against the Dark Arts, where they spent the first fifteen minutes being lectured about the dangerous, ever-evolving monster that was the Dark Arts. Amy had to admit that it was the least boring lecture she had ever received. Snape walked slowly around the room, showing them horrifying posters he had put on the walls and explaining details about them that made them shiver. He really knew his stuff when it came to the Dark Arts – and that made the students trust him even less.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, as taught by Snape, was very different from what they had gotten used to last year. Snape wasn't into the "wands away please, read this chapter" approach. After he was done scaring them sick, he had them grouped in pairs, practicing Expelliarmus on one another. Though this was a huge improvement, the class was similar to Umbridge's in one way – Snape also believed that there wasn't any real need for them to talk, other than to shout out the spell they were trying to cast.
Of course, he permitted himself to talk, criticizing one and all for their stupidity and lack of skill, completely ignoring those students who had been in the DA, who by now could all perform the spell perfectly. By the end of the class, most people had gotten the hang of it, though there were still some who weren't able to control the direction in which their opponent's wand went flying.
"I'm ready for bed," Erin admitted as they left the classroom.
"We haven't even had dinner yet, though," said Nick.
"I know, but Snape has this weird ability to suck away all my energy. His classroom is like this giant sponge, absorbing happiness like some sort of Dementor. And it's really weird to see him out of the dungeons for class."
"True, and I could do with some chocolate to lift my spirits about now," said Amy. "I wish the DA would start again. Harry always said 'good job' when we did really well."
"Plus, he didn't do that creepy oh-I'm-right-behind-you-all-of-a-sudden-when-you-turn-around thing," Erin added.
Nick raised an eyebrow at her.
"It creeps me out!" she exclaimed.
"Well, I doubt Harry will start the DA again," said Nick. "It didn't end well last time, and he's probably got enough on his plate at the moment."
And as Amy stared down at her own plate during supper, she wondered if what Nick had said was true, and if Harry would ever get around to telling her what he had on his plate other than mashed potatoes.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
"This is ridiculous."
It was Saturday evening, and Amy, Erin and Nick were in their usual spot by the common room window, attempting to finish their homework. The teachers had already started giving them more homework than they were used to, and Erin hadn't stopped complaining about it since McGonagall's first assignment.
Surprisingly, Nick stayed silent. He had been telling her off for the last hour and it finally seemed as though he'd gotten tired of it. Noticing this, Erin turned to Amy, smirking. "D'you wanna play a game of Gobstones?"
Amy sighed, looking down at her Charms essay, of which she had completed solely the title. "I think I should probably keep working…this is due on Wednesday…"
Erin looked only mildly disappointed. "I s'pose you're right." She turned back to her work and frowned. "This is ridiculous."
"You've said that at least five times in the last half-hour," commented Nick.
"And you've obviously found it more entertaining to count how many times I've said it than to do your homework."
"No…I'm merely multitasking."
"Doesn't that require an attention span of some kind?"
Amy sat there, neither listening to Erin and Nick's playful insults nor thinking about what kinds of charms could animate inanimate objects. She didn't understand why, but she just couldn't concentrate. She had this feeling that she should be doing something else, something more important…which was, of course, ridiculous.
She tried to begin her essay, but words kept failing her. This was extremely irritating, because usually she could write quite a good essay, and she'd already done her research in the library. Introductions had always been her weak point, but still…
"I'm going to bed," she announced to her friends, feigning tiredness. "I'm too sleepy to work."
"Oh, no, Amy! You can't abandon me! Next thing you now Nick will have me recite my times-tables!"
"I'm sure you'll be fine." Amy rolled her eyes at her friends as a way of bidding them goodnight, and then headed to the girl's dormitory, passing Harry by the fireplace.
"What's that you're reading?" she asked him, noticing the old, battered book he held.
"Oh," said Harry, looking up. "It's my potions book. I'm not exactly reading it, just looking through it."
"For homework?"
"No…just to see what's in it, really."
Amy raised an eyebrow. "You're reading a school book voluntarily? Is Hermione threatening you?"
Harry chuckled. "No, no. Take a look." He showed her some writing along one of the margins of the page he was on.
"What's so great about graffiti?" she asked, but something in her stomach tightened. The writing…there was something she didn't like about it. It was ordinary handwriting – rather nice handwriting, actually– but something about it felt off.
"It's not graffiti, it's comments!" Harry explained. "I had to borrow a textbook for Potions. The guy who had this book before me was a genius, look! He's modified the Potions to make them better, and I think some of these spells in the margins are ones he made up himself!"
Amy noticed that Hermione, seated opposite Harry, became increasingly irritated as he spoke, shooting the book dirty looks.
"Do you know who wrote all that stuff?" Amy asked, nervous for some reason.
"No…" Harry looked disappointed. "The only clue I have is this." He showed her something on the back of the book.
"This book is the property of – " Amy started to read, but stopped; her mouth had gone dry, and she seemed unable to form the next words.
"The Half-Blood Prince," Harry nodded, finishing her sentence. The name sent a cold shiver through Amy that left her feeling heavy and chilled. She shook herself, telling herself she was overreacting. After all, she had never heard of this person before. But when she slid her gaze back to the book, she felt a definite sense of foreboding.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, noticing her pale face.
"I – nothing," said Amy. "But, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I – I think you should ask for a different book."
Harry blinked at her. "Why? This book is great! My potions are a lot better when I follow the Prince's instructions."
"Sure, but…"
"But what?"
"I dunno…I just get a bad feeling about it, like something's not right."
Harry looked irritated. "Not you too! Hermione's been badgering me about it all week, saying I'm cheating – "
"That's not what I'm saying," said Amy, annoyed now. "I just have a bad feeling about it, alright?"
"How come?"
"I don't know! I just think you should get rid of it."
Harry looked at her a moment, a worried frown on his face, but Amy knew he was worried about her, not about the book. She didn't even know why he ought to worry about the book in the first place…
"I'd better go…" said Harry, glancing at his watch. "It's five to eight…"
"What's at eight?" Amy asked, noticing that both Ron and Hermione had perked up at his words.
"Er…" Harry looked hesitant. "Nothing really, I just have to get going…" He stood up as he spoke, pocketing his book and getting ready to go, but Amy didn't take the hint to leave.
"What's at eight, Harry?" Amy asked again, making each word clear.
"It's…it's – "
"A secret?"
Harry sighed, looking defeated. "Fine. But you can't tell anyone else okay? Not even Erin or Nick. This is really important."
Amy blinked, startled by the fact that it was something she couldn't tell her best – and trusted – friends. "Erin and Nick wouldn't – " she blurted quickly.
"I know, I know, but I'm not supposed to tell anyone but those two," said Harry, nodding at Ron and Hermione. "And it's really important," he repeated.
"What is it?"
Harry looked around cautiously, then said, "I'm taking private lessons with Dumbledore."
Amy let this sink in for a moment. That had been the last thing she'd expected. "Lessons on what?"
"I don't know yet," said Harry. "But I think it's got something to do with fighting Voldemort."
Amy's eyes widened, and a shot of fear splashed her insides, but all she said was, "So it is really important."
"Exactly," said Harry. "So that's why I've got to get going. I'll see you later, okay?" He gave her a small smile and walked past her, but Amy still had one more question to ask.
"Will you tell me what he teaches you?"
Harry looked back at her. "I'll ask him if I can."
And with that he walked quickly across the common room and climbed out of the portrait hole.
………………………………………………………………………………………………
A/N: Tadaa! Another chapter done (if extremely late --') my attempt at a sweat drop. Anyway, let me know how you liked it. The more you bug me (nicely – have mercy) the quicker I'll update.
Oh, and yes, some of the feast dialog is directly from the book and written by the lovely JK Rowling.
Tata!