And now we come to my favorite scene in the entire story! *grand music booms through the room* You may all think it must be brilliant, gleaming with literary genius.... I'm afraid you would be wrong. It's actually a rather simple account of poor Harry's birthday party, but I have yet to be able to read over it without giggling uncontrollably.
**~~***~~**
Tuesday afternoon, Harry and James were at Sirius's garage, their coveralls on, oil stained rags in their back pockets. Harry was just finishing putting the new tires on the Mustang.
"So, kid, is this swanky party of yours invite only, or can I bring a girlfriend?" Sirius was sorting through the tools on one of his work benches.
"When did you get a girlfriend?" Harry asked.
"Last weekend. I met her at a bar." Sirius looked at Harry then amended, "Not that I go to bars."
"You don't have to be a good role model," Harry answered distractedly. "Mom's not here." He tightened the bolt on the hubcap farther, then stood up straight, stretching his back. "And yeah, a girlfriend is fine."
"Do you know her name?" James asked with a wicked grin.
"Of course I do. Her name is Amy--"
"And she's a stripper who's only doing it to put herself through medical school, right?"
Sirius glared at him. "No," he said, sounding deeply offended. "She's a waitress."
"At a strip bar," James scoffed.
"Honestly, you have no tact. I believe they call them gentleman's clubs nowadays," Sirius answered self-righteously.
Shaking his head, Harry walked around the other side of the car and checked the air pressure on the front tire without comment.
"She really is a nice girl."
"How old is she?"
"Donno. Gotta be over twenty-one if she was working at a bar, doesn't she?"
"Only if she was drinking on break. She could be eighteen." Despite his questioning, James seemed to find the young girlfriend more of an amusement that an offense.
Sirius shrugged. "Still legal."
"You need a wife."
"Naw. You've got enough of one for both of us. Hey, how's that back tire looking?"
"I'm getting to it," Harry said moodily. "I'd be done if you were helping me instead of standing around, talking about girls. And ones that are too young for you, at that."
"You'll understand when you're older."
Harry rolled his eyes and went to the back tire. "Just, if you're going to bring her to the party, don't embarrass me, OK?"
"OK."
Tuning out the rest of James and Sirius's conversation, Harry finished his work on the tires and recoiled the air hose onto its hook on the wall. He began to wonder exactly how much younger than Remus Tonks was, and whether or not they knew each other. Somehow the idea of Remus with a younger woman wasn't as odd as Sirius, but that was probably because he was respectful and kind. Sirius just sounded like a perverted, old man who hung around schools to peep in on cheer leading practices. Not that Sirius looked that part. Anyone who didn't know him might think he was still in his twenties.
Harry spent the next few minutes cleaning the bay while Sirius and James continued to talk. When he had the floor swept and the lift raised, he said, "About ready to go?"
Looking around with mild confusion at the organized state of the space, James said, "Sure. You're finished already?"
Harry didn't answer.
Surveying the scene calmly, Sirius nodded a little and said, "Nice job," as though Harry had cleaned the garage upon his instructions.
Shaking his head, Harry stripped off his coveralls and hung them by the door.
"Maybe I should start paying you," Sirius mused thoughtfully. "Have you come around the end of the day for a couple hours and clean up. It would save me a lot of time and frankly, by the time I'm done with my cars, I don't feel like sweeping."
"That'd be cool," Harry said slowly. He hardly needed the extra money, but it would be more of a chance to get out of the house and he would be able to save up for his car faster--he had no intention of driving his grandfather Mustang around all the time. (Harry did get the distinct impression from conversations that his parents planned to buy one for him when the time came, but he wanted to be prepared.) He looked at James. "Is that all right?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't be, as long as you're keeping up with your other responsibilities."
Sirius grinned. "Great. Just drop in around seven in the evenings. We'll build you a good work ethic."
"My work ethic is fine," he retorted.
When James was ready, they said goodbye to Sirius and left the garage. James tossed Harry the car keys and climbed into the passenger seat.
Harry started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, his mind preoccupied with thoughts from practice earlier that day. It had been his first day in full manager mode, and he was sure it was going to turn into more of an arduous task than a fun extracurricular pastime. The entire time he was there, Snape kept casting him snide, superior smirks that told Harry very clearly that Lily had confided everything about his condition to the man.
On top of that, Draco seemed to be in a particularly nasty mood. He went out of his way to get into Harry's, and when Nott "accidentally" put his gear right where Harry would trip over it, Draco seemed to be conveniently watching when it happened. Harry didn't care very much if Draco was going throw a fit about their break up. He could do what he wanted. What annoyed Harry was that he could barely retaliate without Snape bearing down on him. He almost thought it would be worth it to punch Draco in the face and get thrown out of the team. It would satisfy both of his longings very nicely; however, there were his parents to consider. And that made doing anything other than taking Snape and Draco's abuse with nothing more than a silent glare nearly impossible.
When they got home, Harry gave the keys back to James, who congratulated him on a near-perfect drive home, and went into the house. Dropping heavily onto the couch, Harry propped his feet on the coffee table and turned the TV on. He sat like that until Lily called him to the dining room for dinner. After a quiet meal--during which his parents did more scowling at each other than talking--he mumbled a good night, and went to his room.
Yawning, Harry changed and climbed into bed. Between the tense mood at home (Lily was still refusing to apologize for having a late coffee with Severus), and soccer, it had been a very long day. If not physically, Harry was emotionally exhausted enough to sleep for days without waking. With the bliss of finding his parents were alive now fully worn off, he was starting to think life without the necessity to placate anyone besides Mrs. Weasley took a little more effort than he felt like putting in.
**~~***~~**
A sigh. "No. Think about the other one. We were just talking about it."
"Parliament?" Harry guessed randomly, completely sure he didn't know the correct answer.
Remus peered at him. "You didn't do the practice work I assigned," he accused flatly.
Normally, Harry would have tried to think of a good excuse for not having done it. However, he was still tired after a long, restless night, so what he ended up saying was, "I was busy and didn't get to it."
"Harry."
"What?"
After studying him for a moment, Remus closed the book and folded his hands on top of it. "What's bothering you?"
Besides Mom, Dad, Snape, Malfoy, and the fact that I have to play host for a party tomorrow that I'm only having because if I didn't people would think there was something wrong with me? he thought sarcastically. Oh, I'd say, about, nothing. "I just didn't sleep much last night."
Changing his tone, he asked, "How's managing the soccer team going?"
"All right."
"Your father can't lie to me convincingly either. Tell me what's going on."
Harry looked at the concern in Remus's amber eyes and sighed. "Snape keeps giving me a hard time."
Remus smiled a little. "You mean, more of one than he usually does?"
Bitterly, he sneered, "Mom thought he needed to know about my memory loss. I haven't been able to be within speaking distance of him for the past two days without him making some comment, or just smirking at me like I'm an idiot who can't understand anything." Building steam, Harry leaned forward in his seat and demanded, " I've been keeping the stat book for two days, right?"
Remus nodded.
"Well, I shouldn't know everything about it yet, should I? After only two days? But when I asked Snape about one of the shorthand meanings, he gave me this stupid, fake, sympathetic sigh and said, 'But you learned that after your accident. There's no reason for you not to know that one.'"
Remus frowned. "Have you talked to your parents?"
"I don't need them running off to defend me," Harry snapped defiantly.
Remus thought for a second then said, "Have you talked to Professor Snape about how he's been acting?"
"What's the point? He knows how he's acting. He's doing it on purpose!"
"Your parents would want to know about this."
"Yeah. Then Mum can have coffee with him again, and Dad can go and threaten him, and we'll all go back to our happy lives."
Narrowing his eyes at Harry's sarcasm, Remus replied, "You sound like your father when he's been drinking too much."
Harry scowled at him. "I haven't been drinking anything."
"I wasn't suggesting you were."
Harry glared out the window.
Sighing, Remus closed his book and leaned back in his chair. "Maybe tonight is a bad time for this. You should have some dinner, get some sleep, and we'll try again later. How's Friday sound?"
"Yeah, all right," he mumbled, still not looking at Remus.
Just as Remus was standing up, Lily walked into the room. Seeing him gathering his things, she asked, "Done already? That was quick. See?" she said, rubbing Harry's shoulders. "I told you you'd catch on quickly."
Harry's glare darkened as he waited for Remus to correct her, then for the subsequent lecture.
"Actually, I thought moving the session to Friday would be good. We're both a little on the tired side."
Looking concerned, Lily asked, "Do you need a ride home?"
"No, I'm fine to drive. Thank you, though. I'll see you Friday, Harry."
"Bye."
"Oh, honey, did you tell Remus about your party?"
"Naw. Forgot." His mood lightening a little, Harry looked up. "I'm having my birthday party this Saturday. You can come if you like."
"It's just going to be a small barbecue," Lily explained.
Remus smiled. "I'd love to come. Thank you."
Lily followed Remus out of the kitchen and walked to the door with him. After they were gone, Harry scooped his books into his school bag. Lily returned a moment later.
"Augusta called again this morning and I told her your invitation list was full."
"Thanks." Not looking at her, he put away his pen and zipped the bag.
"What's the matter, honey?"
"Just tired."
"Maybe you shouldn't go to the garage tonight."
Harry stood up. "It's fine. I'll only be a couple hours anyway." He was actually looking forward to spending some time by himself in the garage. Cleaning wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but it seemed better than having to make conversation when he wasn't in the mood.
"Only if you're sure."
"I am."
"Do you want a ride down?"
"I'll walk. It's not too hot."
Lily looked like she wanted to say something else, but she just nodded a little and went into the parlor.
Gratefully, Harry took his school bag and went upstairs. Once it was put away, he went back downstairs and put his shoes on. "Be back around ten," he called down the hall.
"OK, honey. If you want a ride home, call."
"I will."
"I love you."
"Love you, too," he called back carelessly before opening the door and stepping out into the evening heat.
Harry sighed deeply. He was starting to get annoyed at feeling so annoyed all the time lately. There had to be something he could do that would--
Harry's thoughts halted as he looked up one of the wide lawns he was passing. The house that sat at the top of a slight slopes was as broad as his own with the same style porch on the front. Standing on the porch was a dark-haired, miserable looking boy. Startled slightly at the differences he saw in the round face, he took several second to recognize Neville Longbottom. He was leaning on the railing, his oddly clouded eyes following Harry's progression up the street.
Once he realized who the boy was, Harry lifted his hand in a half wave, but dropped it when Neville turned and retreated inside without returning the gesture. Weird, he thought. Mom didn't mention the Longbottoms lived so close.
Feeling curious about who Neville was outside of his dream, Harry decided to make a point to see him soon, then continued on his way. As he walked, his mind strayed to thoughts of the DA, and how this Neville hadn't looked very much like the one he'd left behind when he woke.
**~~***~~**
"Happy birthday!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her arms around Harry's neck in a tight hug. She was holding a large package wrapped in blue paper.
Harry hugged her back for a moment, then stepped out of the way to let her in so he could close the door. "Everyone else is out back, if you want to go out."
"See you out there in a few minutes?"
"Yeah. I was just getting the hamburger buns."
When Hermione had gone through the parlor and disappeared through the side door, Harry went back to the kitchen and sifted through the bags on the counter. They were full of extra buns, sodas, ice, chips, paper plates, and plastic forks. When he found what he needed, he pushed the rest of the bags back onto the counter and headed towards the side door.
The backyard was littered sparsely with people. Ron was talking to Hermione by the drink table. Remus and Lily were watching Sirius play his spatulas on the cooking hamburger patties like they were heads on a drum set--he was wearing a long apron that read HOT BUNS, with a lithographed picture of a cheeseburger and looking completely ridiculous.
Standing close by was Sirius's shockingly blond, vapidly smiling girlfriend. (Harry had only spoken to her for a moment, but he was positive Sirius was right about her not having anything to do with medical school.) On the other side of the lawn, trying to set up a huge umbrella in the middle of the picnic table, were James and Peter, who had shown up with Sirius and Amy-the-Waitress quite unexpectedly. Harry wished he had said it was invitation only....
Harry brought the buns to the table where the rest of the salads, platters, and drinks were set out, then walked over to join Ron and Hermione. "Having fun yet?" he asked glumly.
"Yeah. It's real nice." Ron didn't sound too much like he meant it.
Hermione shot him a withering look, then said, "I, for one, think a nice, quiet evening is the perfect way to celebrate."
"Thanks, guys." Harry replied dryly.
The afternoon passed slowly as the party happened around Harry. It felt like people were interacting with him because they had to more than because they wanted to, but that was fine with him since everyone else seemed to be having a good time.
After several not-so-subtle hints, Ron realized that Harry wasn't going to change him mind and call Seamus, and grudgingly started to enjoy himself at a doubles game of Snakes with Hermione, Lily, and James.
Peter had stationed himself at the picnic table almost as soon as the umbrella was pitched and didn't seem to want to move. He made conversation with anyone close enough to talk to, but lawn darts seemed to take too much effort, and he only watched while James and Sirius took turns pretending they were going to stake each other. In their distraction they both lost spectacularly to Remus, who seemed to have a knack for party games.
The most entertaining thing about the evening for Harry was watching his mother trying to put up with Amy. No matter what Lily did Amy was close by, offering to help. When Lily finally expressed her ability to tend the food table alone firmly enough, the poor girl wandered over to Sirius's side. This added another dimension to the lawn darts game as she giggled distractingly every time Sirius got a point. James was friendly enough towards Amy, which only seemed to fuel Lily's annoyance with them both. Remus, ending the day with a no-loss record at darts, bowling and Snakes, seemed to be the only one Lily was not seething at as she poured out drinks to go with the main course. It occurred to Harry that he should have asked his mother's permission before telling Sirius he could bring Amy to the party.
The evening progressed and the cake (shaped and frosted like a soccer field) was cut, the presents (mostly gift certificates to athletic stores) were opened, and the thank yous (given dutifully) were handed out. When at last the food was gone and the sky had turned to a fiery red with the sunset, Sirius was the first to excuse himself.
"I told Amy I would drop her off at work and she has to be there at nine," he explained. "I'll stop to pick up Peter in an hour or so."
"Bye," Harry said.
"Bye, Harry! Happy birthday, again!" Amy said, smiling and waving at him.
Harry forced a smile. Looking around, he noticed Ron and Hermione sitting together on the other side of the yard. Their heads were bent together and they looked like they wouldn't want to be disturbed.
Lily was having Peter's help carrying things back into the house and James was dismantling the umbrella.
Surveying the pathetic ruin of the end of his party, Harry sighed. He could say, at least, no one had gotten drunk or stolen a car, if he couldn't say much else positive about the day.
**~~***~~**
Harry suppressed another sigh and rested his elbows on his knees. It was Sunday and he had been sitting in the stuffy clergy meeting room in the back hall of the chapel for nearly half an hour. There were five other boys--including Draco--sitting around him, and most of them looked about as happy as he felt. At the head of the class, Dumbledore was instructing them in some deaconly act which Harry had missed the introduction to in the several minutes he had spent staring out the window. Just as his mind was starting to drift so far out of the classroom that he wasn't even aware of the tones of Dumbledore's voice, the door opened, drawing his attention away from the tree he was watching.
Walking tentatively into the room, a thick book gripped in his pudgy hands, was Neville. He was wearing a suit that he looked very uncomfortable in, and his round face was red, small beads of summer sweat standing out on his forehead. His tie was pushed so close to his throat, it must have been choking him.
"Good afternoon, Neville," Dumbledore said warmly, smiling.
"Good afternoon, sir."
"Well, come in. Take a seat."
Even as Neville performed the act, Harry, too, scanned the room and found that the only empty chair was directly in front of his own. He noticed the hesitation that flitted across the other boy's face as Neville realized the fact as well.
After examining the room once more with deep trepidation, and finding no other seats appearing in another place to suit him, Neville walked slowly towards the chair in front of Harry like a condemned man to the gallows. He stared at the floor, not meeting Harry's eyes, then sat heavily.
From two seats to his left, Draco sniggered. A couple other boys did as well, but Dumbledore seemed unaware and continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.
Over the next several minutes, Neville kept peeking back at Harry over his shoulder, as though checking to either make sure he was still there, or hoping he might not be. When he met Harry's eye directly during his third or fourth covert check, Neville faced forward quickly, his shoulders tensing.
Perplexed at the odd behavior, Harry mused over the situation for several minutes. There had to be something wrong if he was acting so strangely.... A thought occurred to him.
God, he thought despairingly, dropping his head into his hands. I hope I'm not dating him, too.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up with a mild start, his expression one of pure misery. All eyes were upon him and he had no idea why. "Uh, yes?" he asked stupidly.
"Can you answer my question?" Dumbledore asked with great patience.
Harry glanced around the room and found the snide smirk Draco should have been giving him was disturbingly absent. Instead, there was a look of superiority that exceeded any Harry had yet received from him. "Sorry, but I don't think I heard it."
"Why is it that we, as a perish, following the organization of having deacons, even though it is not a wide practice among other Baptist sects?"
"I don't know, sir." Harry's face reddened at the stares from the other boys and he suddenly felt like he was in front of Snape rather than Dumbledore.
"He just said it, Potter," one of the others remarked.
"Thank you, Stebbins, for volunteering to answer the question."
The boy who had spoken looked slightly abashed before saying, "Because that's how the church was organized in the Bible."
"Thank you." Giving Harry a brief, meaningful look, Dumbledore pressed on with the lesson.
His embarrassment forgotten, Harry went back to musing to himself upon the nature of his relationship with this Neville. After several more minutes, he gave himself over to the idea that he would just have to wait until class was over and talk to him. He would much rather know than dread in ignorance.
When the closing prayer had been offered and Dumbledore dismissed the boys, there was a short scurry of gathering books and leaving the room. When they were the only two in the room besides Dumbledore, Harry stood and went to speak to Neville, but was interrupted.
"Harry, may I have a moment of your time?"
With a short glance at Neville, who was fighting the zipper on his book tote frantically, he said, "All right." Harry followed the man to the door, where he stopped briefly.
"Neville, would you mind putting the chairs in the storage closet?"
He looked as though Dumbledore might have passed him a death sentense. "Yes, sir."
Dumbledore continued to leave the room, beckoning Harry after him. As they walked down the hall, he began to speak in a low voice. "What did you think of class?"
Giving a half shrug, he replied, "It was good."
Dumbledore nodded with a pleased smile. "As you become familiar with the material again, you'll find more enjoyment in it. As it is, I would like to tell you how glad I was to see you here tonight. I confess, I had my doubts about whether you would come."
Harry shrugged again, still not sure how he felt about being there, and the two continued to walk down the hall. They turned first one corner in silence, and then another, until they had walked the loop of hallway that circled the main chapel area of the building. They were just coming back around to the chapel doors when Dumbledore stopped.
"Well, I will see you next week."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
With a last smile, Dumbledore went into the chapel and crossed to the clergy door at the back. He disappeared through it and Harry completed his round of walking, ending up back at the room they had class in. Walking sleepily, he went to the table and picked up his book. He was slightly surprised--though he supposed he shouldn't have been--to see Neville still in the back of the room, struggling to get the stacked chairs (which were caught on the door frame) to slide into the closet.
"Hi, Neville."
Neville jumped, banged his shin loudly on the chair legs, then turned to face Harry as best he could in his close quarters between the door frame and the stack of chairs.
Setting his book down again, Harry took a few steps towards the closet, and asked, "Need help?"
Neville's face burned crimson and he mumbled an inaudible response, shifting uncomfortably.
"It's just that you have this back leg caught." Harry pushed the stack to the right a little and Neville, not meeting Harry's eye, pulled it awkwardly into the closet. Harry stood at the door, holding it open. He was casting about his mind for something to say to draw the other boy into conversation when, from behind him, he heard an all-too-familiar voice.
"Fancy finding you two hiding in a closet together. Comfy?"
Turning, Harry shot Draco a withering glare. The two had gotten through the afternoon without so much as a word to one another and he had hoped it would stay that way.
Ignoring Harry, Draco nodded at Neville, who was still stuck in the closet because Harry was standing in his way of getting out. "I'd be careful if I were you, Longbottom. Being alone with someone like him."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Harry snapped, his annoyance mounting.
"Just that you're a real go-getter."
Neville looked confused and slightly more desperate to get out of his confining position.
"Always after what you want til it's yours," Draco continued, his grey eyes glittering with amused malice. When Neville only continued to stare and Harry's glare turned into a scowl, Draco, with a look of deepest sincerity and concern, leaned forward slightly and whispered loudly to Neville, "He thinks your hot. I wouldn't turn my back to him, if you know what I mean."
Neville looked terrified.
Letting go of the door so it closed on Neville, who still hadn't moved from the closet, Harry strode across the room until he was face-to-face with Draco, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "If you ever say anything like that again--"
"Oh, please," Draco interrupted coolly. "Don't pretend to threaten me." He peered at Harry like he was merely an amusing animal. His voice was a silky purr as he spoke next, and he could have been complimenting Harry for all his tone portrayed. "With your sex drive, it wouldn't surprise me to find you jumping little boys for a quick one in a chapel closet."
Abandoning the plight he had been on for the previous weeks to ignore Draco's taunts, Harry raised his fist before he could even think of what he was doing, and punched Draco in the face.
There was a momentary pause, as if neither Draco nor Harry were quite sure what had happened ready did take place. When the moment was over, Draco retaliated. The two scuffled for several seconds, each throwing punches and insults. They bumped the table, knocking several books to the floor. Sweeping his leg back behind Harry's, Draco tripped him. Harry, who had a fistful of Draco's white shirt, fell backwards, pulling Draco down as well. They rolled around the floor, bumping the table legs and grappling for an advantage. They were surprisingly evenly matched.
Harry threw punches fueled by pent up frustration he had been fighting back for weeks. Without a sense of consequence, he simply let his emotions take control, making his best effort to injure Draco in any way he could.
Draco, for his own part, seemed to be using wells of some emotion also, heightening his own response to Harry's uncontrolled attacks, returning each blow with a savage one of his own.
Though the fight lasted fewer than five minutes, hours could have passed, and neither boy would have known the difference. It wasn't until a harsh voice shouted, "What in God's name do you two think you're doing?" that they became aware of where they were, and that they had an audience.
Harry was hauled roughly off Draco and shaken by a fist holding tightly to a wad of his collar. His anger still out of control, he went to shove the hand away, when, turning, he found his own nose close enough to Tom Riddle's that they might touch if he moved even a centimeter more.
Frozen, his insides flipping back and forth between a writhing nausea and a cold numbness, Harry could only stare into the furious eyes. The need to get away over-powered his revulsion at having to touch the man, and Harry gripped the fist at the throat with clumsily prying fingers. In the process of trying to get away, Harry's nails must had dug into Riddle's skin, because he hissed sharply with pain and let go as if he had been burned.
Before Harry could make further defense, or try to get out of the room, he felt another hand fall on his shoulder. Jumping, he turned and stared for a moment, completely expecting to see Lucius Malfoy or some other Death Eater henchman, until he recognized James's face.
"What happened?" he demanded.
Some of the numbness and sickness wearing off at the sight of his father, Harry looked around. Neville was cringing in the closet doorway and Draco was standing by the wall looking angry and humiliated as he tried to straighten his shirt. He was nursing a flow of blood from his nose.
Not wanting to recount the insult that had started the fight, Harry opted not to answer in favor of occupying himself with wiping the blood off his forearm where he split it open on the corner of the table.
"And you!" Riddle bellowed suddenly, his terrible temper making him appear to tower over Draco, who, in fact, was about half-an-inch taller than the man. "I never would have thought it of you. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, Pastor," Draco answered, not looking at him.
"You aren't sorry yet," he replied in a furious hiss.
A cold chill went down Harry's spine and he had to choke back the urge to vomit as memories of that cold, hissing voice piercing the night air of a secluded graveyard overwhelmed him.
"I will see your father about this matter, and I expect you to be prepared for a personal interview with me tomorrow afternoon. This behavior is inexcusable." Turing his anger on poor Neville, Riddle yelled, "Longbottom!"
"Y-yes, Pastor?"
Seeing Neville cowering helplessly stirred something within Harry, causing him to speak, his voice strong and commanding. "Leave him alone. He had nothing to do with it." As the man looked back at him in mild disbelief, Harry glared defiantly. "He was just helping Dumbledore and happened to be in the room."
Riddle and Harry stared at each other several tense seconds, then James said quietly, "Pastor, it's getting late and I think Harry should get home and cleaned up."
Shifting his heavy gaze from son to identical father, Riddle said, "Of course. But I will want to see him tomorrow, as well. This is hardly the sort of thing that I will allow to escape disciplinary action."
James nodded, his grip tightening slightly. "He'll be here at two, if that's all right with your schedule."
"Dad--"
James silenced Harry's protests with a dark glare.
"That will be fine," Riddle answered stiffly. He gave Harry a contemptuous look of triumph, then turned his attentions back to Draco. "As for you, boy, to my office. Now. Longbottom, straighten the table before you leave."
"Y-yes, Pastor."
"Let's go, Harry." James maneuvered Harry out of the room and down the hall by the grip he had on his shoulder. He didn't speak as he reached around his son and pulled the door open, then guided him, not unkindly, down the steps and to the car. When they were both in the vehicle, he asked in a wearily voice, "What happened?"
"He insulted Neville," Harry mumbled in a half-truth.
James looked at him in astonished disbelief, as if Harry had tried to do something as stupid and futile as deny his obvious involvement in the entire matter. "Since when do you bloody yourself defending Neville Longbottom?" he demanded.
Harry shrugged. He was definitely getting the impression that he and Neville weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination, no matter how much the boy's grandmother might have thought Harry should invited him to his party.
Shaking his head, James put the key in the ignition and started the car. "I'm not going to say anything to that, but I hope for your sake you have better story for your mother by the time we get home."
A sense of dread fell upon Harry and he was surprised to find it felt entirely different, and somehow much worse, than that sense he had gotten from witnessing the merest edge of Tom Riddle's wrath. Lily was going to kill him.
The ride home was silent, and when James pulled the car into the driveway and turned it off, he and Harry just sat for a moment, neither moving to get out. After a minute, James said, "Well."
"Yeah," Harry replied forlornly.
Another moment passed, then James repeated, "Well," but this time, he pushed his door open, signalling to Harry that there was no more avoiding the inevidable.
Making a futile attempt at cleaning some more of the blood off his shirt, Harry followed James to the front door and peeked into the house around him before going in.
The glass kitchen door opened and Lily came out. "How was class--" The words died on her lips as she stared at her son. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then, she exploded. "What on earth happened to you?"
Harry looked at James, who gave him a look that clearly stated he was on his own. He stared at the floor by Lily's feet. "I sort of got in a fight."
"A fight? With who?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"Draco Malfoy? At church?"
Harry nodded, wishing she would stop repeating everything he said. It all sounded much worse the way she was shouting it. A long moment passed before he said, "I have to see Pastor Riddle tomorrow afternoon. He wants to talk to me."
Lily looked mortified. "The pastor knows about this?"
Staring even harder at the spot on the floor that he had been concentrating on since his mother had appeared through the kitchen door, Harry mumbled miserably, "He's the one who broke it up."
"Broke it up?" she asked slowly, her hands going to her hips as she processed the new information. The sudden calmness of her voice was the gentle breeze before the violent storm. When her horrified mind allowed her to understand that the fact that it had been Pastor Riddle who stopped the boys' fight meant he not only knew of it, but had witnessed it, she began to yell in earnest.
Not bothering to respond to the seemingly endless barrage of questions Lily was throwing at him, Harry merely peered at the floor as bitter feelings welled within him. The irony of the fact that his mother was yelling at him for upsetting Tom Riddle was slowly becoming overwhelming. Just when his anger had returned and he was sure he would start yelling back, Lily stopped.
She looked at him for several moments, finally at a loss. Shaking her head, she said, "Get cleaned up and go to your room."
Not looking up from the floor, Harry turned and trudged up the stairs. Despite how bad he was feeling, he was sure there would be more angry words the next day, after his meeing with Riddle. Resigned to not resolving the issue until then, he went to the bathroom in the upstairs hall and turned the shower on. All he felt like doing was washing off the drying blood and going to bed.
TBC
