Chapter 8: Confrontations
A week had passed since Miriam Strout's visit to the House of the Cliffs, and Harry was feeling better than ever. The Healer had left Harry several instructions, which included rest and a good diet, and sessions with Martha Meeker every two days.
The first of these sessions had been rough, because Martha had explained to him about Miriam's ultimatum for diagnosis.
First, she had said that this was the policy of St. Mungo's surrounding diagnosis, and while it was noted in his St. Mungo's file, it was not yet in the her personal notes on him. She preferred to be absolutely sure before making a decision, while St. Mungo's was looking for a cure, not a psychological solution that would make a lasting impression on his life overall. She had said, "I do not have any say in what St. Mungo's does or does not do, and they've handled far too many malpractice lawsuits for you to take their premature diagnoses seriously. While Miriam Strout is an extremely accomplished Healer, she is not a licensed psychologist or a psychiatrist, so she wouldn't know that some conditions are not curable, and that some have stigmas attached to them, and they are cases in which you would need a solution to adapt to everyday life. I think her rush to a diagnosis is very irresponsible and unfair to you."
According to the seasoned Healer, he was believed to have a disorder called borderline personality disorder, which meant that he was afraid of failure and abandonment, and that he tended to be reckless when it came to his friendships and relationships, and that he was apt to manipulate. Miriam also said that he was bipolar, which meant that his mood would fluctuate suddenly from 'manic' to 'depressed' for no reason and was completed outside his control.
Although Martha had suspected similar conditions during their first meeting and while she understood where the Healer was coming from given his medical history, she had stated that, unfortunately, the Healer's prediction of both conditions would negate him from ever joining the Auror department, and that a St. Mungo's diagnosis in this direction was enough proof to rule out employment from the Ministry of Magic altogether.
Predictably, neither accusation of diagnosis elicited a productive response from Harry, and only after many angry outbursts, questions of his self-esteem, and repressed tears, had he finally submitted to her care and began talking civilly to her again.
"I know it's not ideal, and I know that she's really interfered with your future, but there's still time to establish the correct diagnosis. I don't think you're as unhinged as St. Mungo's apparently does. I think you've been through a lot, and that while recovery may take a long time, it's certainly not impossible.
The second session had gone better. Harry and Martha did a lot of talking about his feelings, about the Malfoys, particularly Narcissa, and about the Weasleys, particularly Ginny. She encouraged Harry to feel less vulnerable around both of them. While Harry had made his feelings about Ginny, and his reluctance to speak to her in future, she had assured him, "Everyone just wants what's best for you, Harry. And those who do are on your side."
The third session had been quite nice, actually. Martha had said, "Did you think about the challenge I gave you during our second meeting? About different jobs?"
Harry had, in fact, thought about this, and he said, "I came up with three."
"Well, that's was I asked you to do, so that's good," said Martha, laughing jovially.
Harry grinned, and Martha's heart soared. A smile was very good progress, and he said, "First, I thought, maybe trying for professional Quidditch."
"You'd be great," said Martha at once. "You love flying, right?"
"I do, yeah."
"But," said Martha slowly, "It's a very potentially dangerous career. I would advise you to keep flying, of course, but professional Quidditch might be challenging for someone like you, Harry."
"Okay," said Harry, a little downcast.
"And there's another thing with Quidditch," said Martha shrewdly. "Eventually, your body will expire, and you'll need to look for a new career. I think it would be better for you to find something that you can do for a long time."
Harry knew she was right, and didn't protest. Besides, he knew that Ginny was planning on pursuing Quidditch after Hogwarts and didn't want to cross paths with her for quite a while.
"I've been doing a lot of reading," said Harry quietly.
"For leisure?" asked Martha.
"Yeah," said Harry, brushing back his hair. "I've been reading a lot of Muggle literature over the past couple weeks. I never knew I liked reading so much."
"Why didn't you know you liked reading?"
"Because I was allowed to know anything," said Harry abrasively.
Martha stopped, not wanting to discuss Harry's childhood until he was really ready. She said, "What have you read?"
"Most of Tolkien and Lewis Carroll," Harry said, smirking.
"Did you like Lord of the Rings?" said Martha, smiling back at him.
"Eh," said Harry, "It was a little dry, but it was good."
"I could see that," said Martha. "Did you consider being a writer, then?"
"Yeah! How'd you know?"
"Because I think you'd be really good at it," said Martha encouragingly. "Mind, it's not a consistent paycheck, but I think you'd be great. An author's life is a very private life. Perfect for you, really."
"But I've never written," said Harry, a little morosely. "Like, outside essays for school."
"Well, neither have I," said Martha. "But my sister has introduced me to plenty of authors, and the advice they always gave me was simple."
"What was that?"
"If you want be a writer, then write."
Harry chuckled. "No other hints, then?"
"Not one," said Martha nodding. She continued, "Well, that's two of three. What's the last job you thought of doing?"
"I thought," said Harry, pausing, "Maybe, teaching."
Martha peered at him thoughtfully, and said, "Harry, have you considered returning to Hogwarts? To complete your education?"
Harry blinked. In all the mad rush of the past couple weeks, this was not a thought that had occurred to him. He said, "I haven't."
Martha continued to look at him, her face softening, and said, "I don't think you should."
"I didn't want to," said Harry quietly.
"Because of the attention?"
Harry looked directly into Martha Meeker's eyes and nodded.
"Have you considered the other European schools?" asked Martha. "Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, that is?"
"No," said Harry, thinking of Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. "I can't see myself at Durmstrang. Or Beauxbatons."
"I see," said Martha. An odd look had crossed her face. She said, "Have you talked with anyone about continuing your education?"
"No," said Harry. "Who would I talk to?"
"Minerva McGonagall," said Martha in a flash. "I was in Ravenclaw, so I discussed things with Filius Flitwick, but Minerva would be a great advisor in this case."
Harry nodded, looking a bit resigned.
"Harry, you need direction. Forget everything that Miriam said about you, you need direction and goals, and a new start. I want you to finish your education, because I think it will help provide you with a new drive to live on. I think you just need a little push in the right direction, and I'm concerned that the world has been pushing you away for far too long. I want what everyone wants for you: happiness, success, and peace. I think that you will be those things someday."
Harry looked at her in silence, but his eyes were alight with a manic glow she'd never seen before. If one thing was certain, they were making progress.
oOo
Harry Apparated into the foyer of the House of the Cliffs, and he almost immediately heard the sound of someone banging loudly on the door. Neville skidded across the tile from the kitchen, looking alarmed. Clearly Augusta was doing some shopping in town, or she would be there, too. Neville looked out the peephole and dropped a quiet, "Fuck."
He gestured to Harry to go upstairs, and Harry obliged, thinking it was the press, and that they'd finally found him. He hid on the landing, and heard the door open with a crash below.
"HARRY POTTER! GET OUT HERE AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK YOU DID TO MY SISTER!"
Harry had never heard Ron shout like that. Clearly Ginny had spun him a long story about Harry's rejection of her, and, well, hell hath no fury like a brother scorned.
"Ron," said Neville shakily, unconvincingly. "Harry's not here. He went to see Martha Meeker this morning."
But before Neville had even finished the lie, Harry heard him bellow, "HOMENUM REVELIO!"
Harry felt a terrible swooping sensation slide over him, followed by Ron's whoop of incandescent rage. He heard Ron begin to thunder up the staircase towards him, shouting "YOU JUST WAIT, POTTER, YOU ARSE, UNTIL I GET MY…"
But he was broken off by Neville's roar of a spell that bounced off the hall to Harry's ears.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
Ron halted on the stairs, rigid as a board, falling backwards and banging down the steps. He came to rest at Neville's feet just as Hermione burst into the room, breathless and red in the face. Neville smiled evilly down at Ron, and he said, "I've wanted to do that one of you for years."
Hermione, who was looking concerned at the figure sprawled on the floor that was her boyfriend, couldn't help but suppress a chuckle at Neville, who smirked back at her. Harry peeked out from the upstairs landing down at them, and hesitantly made his made way down.
Neville said, "Well, I think we'll got have a chat in the library, shall we?"
Hermione waved her wand, quietly saying, "Locomotor Ron."
Ron floated a meter up from the ground, and Hermione gently floated him into the library. When they got into the room she leaned him up against a bookcase, and then sat down next to him, holding his rigid hand. Neville and Harry sat down opposite them.
Harry wasn't sure which was more unnerving: having a livid Ron advancing on him, or having a stationary Ron looking merely beside himself with anger.
Regardless, Neville and Hermione talked for nearly 20 minutes while Harry sat silent. They supplied each other with Harry's story, and Harry realized that he'd hardly had any time to himself over the past couple weeks. He had nearly always been with Neville or Augusta.
A few times, they asked him to confirm what they'd said, but otherwise they told a completely accurate story to the paralyzed Ron.
Not until nearly a half hour later, after the color had drained from Ron's face, did Neville lift the enchantment. Ron collapsed onto the floor, clutching Hermione's hand. He said, "But what about Ginny?"
"Ginny told you that Harry had abandoned her," said Hermione calmly. "But that's not what happened, is it, Harry?"
Harry shook his head, and said, very quietly, "I never meant to hurt her, Ron."
"Like hell you didn't," spat Ron.
"I really didn't," said Harry.
The pair looked at each other for a long time and Ron said, "I… I know, mate. I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not," said Ron apologetically. "Do you even know how much shit the Prophet gave the Ministry for rejecting you as an Auror? It's total dragon dung what they did to you, and you're damn lucky the press haven't found you yet. They saw you going to visit Malfoy Manor, too."
"Which, personally, is my greater concern," said Hermione. "Harry, the Malfoys?"
"All they want is what's best for me," Harry replied, intoning Martha's words.
"Dragon dung again. The Malfoys only want what's best for themselves," said Ron with a grimace.
"Why can't what they want for themselves be what's best for me?"
Ron looked thunderstruck again, and Neville looked comically shocked. Hermione was giving Harry a look of deep uncertainty.
"No, I'm serious," said Harry, taking advantage of their surprise. "They told me that I'm as good as family because I'm the heir to the Blacks. And it felt like I was welcome there, you know. Maybe a little bit more family is okay for me."
Ron and Neville still looked very concerned, but Hermione was giving Harry a look that he couldn't place. It was almost motherly, which felt strange, coming from her.
"Of course, Harry," she said, before the other two could say anything else. "You're right. Maybe the Malfoys have changed how they feel about you."
"No, Hermione, listen to yourself," said Ron. "People don't just change on a sickle like that."
Neville looked from Ron to Hermione and back again, and then to Harry, who was looking particularly resigned. Obviously he hadn't wanted to tell them about the Malfoys.
Neville said, "I think Harry's right."
Ron looked at him furiously, and then shot a look at Harry, who didn't even recoil. Ron gazed at him for a long while, and then said, "Whatever, mate. It's your decision. I can't support you on this one, but…"
"And why not?" said Hermione, crossing her arms, but Ron sent her a warning glance.
Harry thought he knew why they were being so cryptic. Ron was an Auror now. He said, suddenly, "Hermione, I've got a question for you."
Hermione, who had more or less been preparing for the usual jousting match with Ron, turned and looked at Harry concertedly. She said, "What's wrong, Harry?"
"Are you returning to Hogwarts next term?"
Everyone looked at him, and Hermione said, "Yes. I am planning on it. Why?"
Neville cut in, "I was planning on finishing up my education too."
Ron remained silent. The Ministry had other plans for him, apparently.
"Well, I was talking to Martha today, and she said that if I wanted to be… what you suggested I be, Hermione, that I'd have to finish my education," said Harry, not missing the satisfied grin that flitted across Hermione's face. "But she told me I shouldn't go back to Hogwarts because of all the attention."
Hermione looked thoughtfully at him, and said, "I think I'd have to agree. If not Hogwarts, where would you go?"
"I was thinking about talking to Professor McGonagall about it," said Harry quietly.
Hermione said, "That's a very good idea, Harry. I've read about there being old exchange systems established before the war, and apprenticeships abroad. Maybe she knows about some of those opportunities. In fact, I'd go with you to talk to her if you like. I think a year abroad would be fascinating."
Neville cleared his throat, "Actually, Professor Sprout sent me a letter last week, recommending that I apply for the Sonoran Institute of Herbology in America for next year, instead of returning to Hogwarts. It was where she studied, and she told me she'd write a letter of recommendation for me to go there. She said it was part of the American Exchange, or something."
"Yes, that's right, the American Exchange," said Hermione enthusiastically. "I've read about that one. It's probably the most well-known of the exchange programs, but, well, because of the war, no one's gone on it for years. Decades, even."
"Do you think I have a chance at that?" said Harry.
"Mate, give it a rest. You're Harry Potter," said Ron savagely.
"Ron," Hermione said, giving him a careful look. He was being very strange. He had a look of having been hardened somehow, far from the lanky, awkward teenage wizard he once was.
Neville seized the opportunity to speak, and said, "How was Australia, Hermione?"
"Oh," said Hermione. "It was fine. My parents were relatively easy to find; we'd always wanted to go to Australia, and my mum's family lives in Adelaide, so I knew where to look. They weren't entirely happy with me when they'd found out what I'd done, once I'd lifted the enchantment, but they were happy to hear that you're all right, and that we defeated Voldemort. The thing is… They're happy in Australia. My mum and dad have built up a great clientele in Adelaide, and we talked it over, and they decided to stay there. They even reconnected with my mum's family, who hadn't known they were living there for almost a year."
"And how're things at the Burrow?" said Harry quietly, not looking at Ron.
"Why don't you go ask us yourself?" said Ron smoothly.
"Well, that'd be obvious, wouldn't it?" said Neville coolly. "Look at the reaction you had to what your sister said. If I were Harry, I wouldn't be keen on going over there either."
Ron looked furiously at Neville, and then sighed and looked down in spite of himself. He looked at Harry and said, "I'm sorry mate. I shouldn't have barged in like this. I just… You've been so… quiet these last few weeks. I'm really, well, I'm really scared and concerned for you. We all are."
"Agreed," said Hermione. Neville nodded.
Harry looked at each one of them in turn, and said, "Thanks."
After quite a few moments of silence, Hermione said, "Well, now that's settled, I think we should be off. Harry, you should write to McGonagall. See if you can't meet with her next week or something."
Ron looked from Hermione to Harry and said, "Keep in touch, mate, please? I don't want to have to charge in like a bull every time we get together."
"Right," said Harry. "I'll do my best."
After hugs and waves goodbye, Ron and Hermione departed. Neville turned to Harry and said, "Well, I need to go tend to the Mimubulus Mimbeltonia. It starts giving me attitude when I don't give it attention on a daily basis."
Harry nodded. He raised his own wand, and said, "Accio."
Parchment, quill, and ink flew from the other room into the library, and Harry began to work on a letter to McGonagall.
Dear Professor McGonagall,
Could we please meet to discuss completing my education soon?
Harry
He knew it was simple, but what else did he have to say? It wasn't like she didn't expect to hear from him, especially after reading the Prophet.
He went and found Terence roosting on a tree in the garden in the late afternoon sunlight, and said, "Hey, buddy, I have a job for you."
The owl turned and looked at him, happy for the opportunity to spread its wings, and held out its leg proudly. Harry attached the let to his owl, and then, in a rush of wings, the bird took to the skies like a great paper airplane.
Harry found himself envious of the bird. He missed flying. He watched Terence disappear into the sky, and then approached Neville in the garden, who was now cuddling with the giant blistering cactus. Harry couldn't help but laugh, and it was the first real laugh he'd had in quite a while.
