Center of the Circle
MarauderMac.
All creative thoughts and ideas are credited to Ms. J.K.R.
Ch. 10Of Fixing and Meddling
Harry set out on the dawn of his second week with one clear and fast goal. His goal was to fix his relationship with his friends. He missed them, and he wanted them back. When he had first arrived home, he had been so excited to see Ginny that almost everyone else had fallen to the wayside. While he was building his relationship with Ginny, he had almost entirely neglected his one time best friend and brother, Ron. Now was the time to fix that.
Thinking back on their previous relationship, Harry tried to remember what had made them friends in the first place. Ron had probably been attracted by his fame, and Harry had simply been happy to have someone to be nice to him. Ron was finally stepping out of the shadow of his brothers and Hogwarts was his chance to do that. Everyone there knew that, but in the dorm and with Harry he was just Ron. Harry figured all that had changed this time around. Ron had gotten over Harry's fame and Ron had already began to step out on his own -- proved by the incident on the train. But no, those had just been the reasons they sat together on the train. There was a reason beyond that. There was a reason Harry stood up to Draco Malfoy for Ron, a boy he hardly knew. There was something deeper that the other reasons that had kept them friends through all the years.
Honestly, Harry couldn't figure out how or why Ron put up with him as a friend. Sure they had their exciting days, but those were often ones where either or both of them were in mortal danger. So, no, it wasn't for the excitement.
Until October when Ron and Harry had struggled with homework. They had gotten lost in the halls. They talked about Quidditch.
For today that was all Harry could think of for now. Harry decided over the next week they would do all those things. Harry also silently promised himself that he would not correct Ron too much. That was Hermione's job once she took up the mantel.
"Hey, Ron!"
"Hey, Harry," Ron said over breakfast. He sat next to Dean and Seamus but was mostly ignoring them in favor of his breakfast. Harry and Ron traded Quidditch stories and ideas for the rest of breakfast, and Harry left feeling slightly proud of himself. He decided that after class he would let Ron beat him a few times at chess and maybe get lost in the halls with him.
Harry then saw Hermione walking up ahead of him on her way to Transfiguration. Harry ran up and started walking next to her. She gave him a sidelong glance and then quickly looked back the way she was going. She quickened her pace. Harry matched it. Hermione quickened it again.
"You know, I'm determined to be your friend, so running away today won't get you that far."
"What? Why?" she said suspiciously.
"Well, I like Ron and the boys in my dorm well enough, but even I want to talk about something besides Quidditch every once in a while. I figured you might like to work on some of our assignments together in the library."
"Well, I like to do things early, so I can't help you if you like to do them last minute."
"Oh, I've been doing the assignments the same day we get them for the most part. Easiest not to fall behind if you're always ahead in your school work."
"Yeah, that's what I always say."
"Good. And about that thing on the train. I had just spaced out for a minute; I wasn't trying to offend you."
"Oh," Hermione said in a small voice. She looked at Harry, apparently trying to see if he was telling the truth. "They all laughed at me," she said barely above a whisper. She ended this statement with a pathetic sniff and then looked back to him to see what he would say.
"I- I didn't mean for that to happen. I felt stupid for staring off like that, and then they started to get mad at you for yelling at me, and I thought it would ... I don't know. I just said the first thing that came to mind," Harry told her honestly.
"Oh, well, I guess that's okay," Hermione said a little more brightly. What about after classes today? Do you want to work on the Potions homework?"
"Sure. That's probably my worst class-"
"What? I thought you were excellent. What you said about the sleeping potions and Drought of Living Death. That was really smart."
"Oh, thanks. No, the book stuff I do okay with, it's in class that I have a problem." All the while Harry said this he tried his hardest to maintain a calm and innocent exterior. There had been a literal witch hunt for the student or students who had cursed the Professor, but they had yet to find anyone to blame. A lot of people wanted to say it was the Weasley twins, but everyone who knew them knew they were not nearly pleased enough with themselves to have done it. They had been interrogated several times by the Potions master, but since they really didn't know what spell was used that made him loose his hair or cause his hair to attack him, they were perfectly within their loosely based moral perimeters.
Harry let out a light chuckle as he relived the twins' story of the last interrogation.
"Harry?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing," Harry said, but as he said this he burst into laughter for the third time that afternoon and had barely contained himself by the time they reached the library.
- - - - -
Harry was dreadfully bored but was trying to look serious and studious in front of Hermione. She was hard at work on her Potions work, and while Harry was no great shakes at the subject, he had finished the assignment an hour ago. Somehow six inches on the properties in the cure for boils was a lot harder when you were 11 then when you're 20... or 21; he'd lost count by now.
"Harry, you don't look like you're doing work," Hermione whispered.
"Well, I'm kind of done."
"Then you should do your Charms," Hermione said crisply.
"I kind of did that homework already too."
"You could read ahead in your books."
"I've finished them."
"You have?"
"Haven't you?"
"Well, yes. I just didn't think anyone else would have."
"Are you done with your paper? Do you want to switch?"
"Okay."
That was how Harry found himself reading a foot and a half on the properties of the boil potion. How or why Hermione wrote her papers this way Harry had no idea, but he decided to fix it. The first thing he did was extract a new sheet of parchment and copy Hermione's paper with a simple charm. He then went line by line and simplified each sentence. He found she would repeat herself a lot and often go off onto long tangents that were very loosely related to the given topic.
Hermione looked up from her editing of his perfect paper to see him scratching away and editing her much longer paper.
"What are you doing?" she asked frantically as she tried to snatch the paper from beneath his quill.
"Don't worry, this is just the copy."
"Bu- but what are you doing? Nothing was wrong with that assignment."
"It's too long."
"Well, I went a little over, but I couldn't fit everything in."
"I did," Harry told her simply. This was apparently a very wrong thing to say, because Hermione threw Harry's paper down and snatched her still clean parchment from next to Harry's elbow. She silently and carefully put the papers away in her folder and then put that and her books into her bag. She snapped it shut and left the library without another word to Harry.
- - - - -
Harry sighed as he watched her leave. That did not go well. He was only trying to help, only trying to show her something she was going to be learning for herself later on, he was only skipping a step. That was when it occurred to Harry what he was doing. He was being Dumbledore.
Not that he didn't love the old friend, mentor and teacher, but up until the end of Harry's fifth year Dumbledore had controlled every aspect of Harry's life. There were years of manipulations and lies that Harry had forgiven but never forgotten. Harry remembered sitting in his small room at the Dursleys the summer after fifth year. He remembered hating Dumbledore, he remembered feeling like a puppet and a tool. Lastly he remembered letting all of that go and making amends with the old man. On the very first night that the two had seen each other Dumbledore had tried to apologize, and Harry had done the same. By apologizing and forgiving each other they were able to really get to know each other that last year, and they were able to accomplish something. But that didn't mean he forgot the manipulations.
Now he was doing the same thing. He was trying to make everything and everyone exactly how it used to be, exactly how he remembered it. The only problem being that he was the only person who did remember. To everyone else this was all new. He was trying to force the situation, and the friendships instead of letting them naturally evolve like they were meant to. He had let his friendship with Sirius grow and change when he had been pardoned. He hadn't insisted everything be like last time. Harry had played his cards and let the chips fall where they may.
Harry left the library and went to go make his own friends with a new resolve -- but no plan; plan was another word for scheme, and that was for manipulators and orchestrators not friends. He would talk to whomever he wanted; he would be friends and enemies with whomever he wanted. He would let go of the memories and experiences that built his friendships the last time around and start from scratch.
- - - -
As Harry entered the common room later that night he was relieved to find Ron setting up his chess board. Harry sat down across from him and smiled at his friend.
"I've a plan this time. You won't beat me again," Harry told his friends as he threw a cocky grin across the small table. Ron just smirked and laughed at his overconfident friend. Even though Harry had extra years of being trounced by Ron for the past decade, he was still unable to beat his friend in chess. Harry took comfort in this small consistency and now loved losing at chess to his best friend.
- - - - -
Harry had just gotten out of a dreadfully unpleasant potions class in which he had lost 10 points for unnecessary rustling of his cloths, 5 for incorrect slice width of the rat tails he was slicing at the moment and was also docked 15 points for being 'late' which was code word for being the last Gryffindor in the room, forgetting the fact that half of the Slytherins were still filing into the room behind him.
Normally this would have bothered him, normally Ron would be ranting and raving about how 'that greasy bat' was being unfair and biased, but that was not the case today. Today potions was great because Snape was still bald. Bald. Bald. BALD! That simple and irrefutable fact lightened Harry's heart, it brightened his soul, it tickled his fancy, it even sounded amazing when he said it aloud.
"Snape is bald," Harry sad in a simple conversational tone. Ron looked over to his friends and immediately lost all composure, and for the next ten minutes the two friends were laughing hysterically and crying and almost got the point of wetting themselves before they could make it to the Great Hall for lunch.
Harry wasn't sure how much better this day could become but was shown as Errol came in through the upper windows and descended down towards Harry. Ron reached out an arm for the bird but after smashing into a bowl of potato crisps he stuck his leg out to Harry.
He felt a small smile creep across his face when he saw the curly letter spelling 'Harry Potter' in Ginny's girly handwriting.
"From . . .?" Ron asked from his seat across from him.
"Hmm, oh. From Ginny," Harry said absentmindedly as he broke the seal to the letter.
"WHAT?" Ron bellowed, spraying part of the roll he was eating across the table.
Ron, realizing his blunder, had the good sense to look sheepish and lowered his head in a vain attempt to hide his blush. Harry bent forward and asked his in less word that more 'what he bloody hell is wrong with you?' stare.
"You... you write to my sister?"
"Well, yeah. Of course I do." Ron looked down at the several sheets of parchment covered front and back with small writing.
"Can I read it?"
"What? No, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Because, if you want to know what's going on in Ginny's life you'll have to ask her yourself. I mean, have you even written her yet?"
"Well, I ... I've been busy."
"That's fine, but Ginny and the rest of you Weasley's were my first friends, so I'm not going to loose that."
"What do you guys talk about?"
"Oh, you know. Quiddich, the Burrow, her annoying older brothers -- normal stuff."
Ron gave a small snort of laughter at that and then returned to his breakfast like nothing had happened. Harry opened his letter and read the first few paragraphs before the bell rang.
The small and brief truce Harry and Hermione had reached that afternoon in the Library was nothing but a distant memory as October dawned. Harry had made multiple attempts to repair the damage but she refused him and seemed to have a sixth sense about his presence. She would already be packing up her bag when Harry entered the Library, or finishing her breakfast as Harry sat down to eat. Harry found this rather upsetting but was resigned to waiting for his moment.
Other classmates and even Ron were becoming suspicious of Harry's obsession with Hermione, so he eventually had to lay off. Things with Ron, on the other hand, were great. For the first time in this timeline he felt like he had his old best friend back. Harry found himself having the time of his life here at school. Sure he didn't have Hermione, or Ginny, or Sirius here with him, but all the same he and Ron were having a blast.
One day not too far into term Harry had locked and silenced his curtains and was talking to Sirius in his mirror.
"Still bald?" Sirius asked innocently.
"Yup."
"Good." Sirius replied. After Sirius had gotten over the initial shock of the situation and let it sit in, Harry found that the very thought gave his Godfather sincere and profound pleasure. Every time they spoke Sirius would very simply ask and Harry would update him and then they would move on, but Harry was sure that he was quietly savoring every minute of the ex-classmates humiliation.
"What else kiddo?
"So, are you ever going to get a job?"
"A job?"
"Yeas, it's that thing grown ups do to make money, or help pass the time in your case."
"Ha-ha. I know what a job is, but I don't need one."
"Aren't you bored all by yourself?"
"Nobody would hire me anyways," Sirius mumbled to himself.
"Well, what did you do before you got locked up?"
"Auror training."
"Well, can't you go back to that?"
"With all the young whelps? No, I'm too old to start that up again."
"Old, you say?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh shut it. Speaking of young whelps-"
"No, no, no. You're not getting out of this that easily. What about the Ministry? Talk to Mr. Weasley; he could help you."
"I'll think about it, MOM," Sirius said sarcastically stressing the last word.
"Hey! I actually understand that insult. I've met that horrid portrait of hers."
"Oh, yeah. Anyway. I found something the other day. I was going through the Black family vaults and found a book on the darkest of magic. Soul magic to be exact. I read a little of it, but to be honest it freaked me out, and I thought it's more up your alley than mine."
"Is it in the mail?"
"Are you kidding? No way. I left it in the vault. Just owning that book is enough to get me chucked back in Azkaban."
"Oh, I'll look at it during Christmas I guess."
"Good call."
"The other thing we can do over Christmas is get the ring."
"Really? Finally! We've been putting that off for... well since your first Christmas here."
"I know, but I found a book in the restricted section about the deadening curse. The one that took Dumbledore's hand last time around. So we can take the potion ahead of time so it won't kill our... well it won't kill anything."
"I thought the problem was we didn't know where it was."
"No, I do. The Gaunt's shack is in Little Hangleton."
"Harry?" Harry heard Ron's voice call out to him from somewhere outside his curtains.
"Sirius, gotta go. Talk to you later."
"Later cub. Oh, and you should really transfigure him into a fish. And take pictures."
"Ha! Bye, Siri." With that Harry packed up his mirror and intentionally mussed up his hair. He put a sleepy and confused look on his face and stuck his head outside the curtains.
"Huh?"
"Oh, sorry Harry. Do you want to play snap?"
- - - - -
Harry had a lot of titles. He was the Boy Who Lived, the TriWizard Champion, the Chosen One and a lot of others fashioned by the media that shed a less desired light on his persona. The one title he had always liked, the one he had secretly cherished, had been the one he had earned. It was the title he had to toil, work and sweat for -- unlike those others that had been thrust upon him.
He was the Youngest Seeker in a Century. Or at least he was once upon a time. That time, though, had come again, and it was his chance, again, to put his mark on Hogwarts history.
When the posting had gone up for flying lessons with the Slytherins on the coming Thursday, Harry couldn't keep a silly grin from splitting his face. Ron, having seen the notice as well, looked over to his friend and reciprocated that smile.
"Finally, something we know we're better than Malfoy at."
"Hey, we don't know that."
"Come on, you know you're awesome on a broom; I bet Malfoy talks himself up but can't do half the things you can on a broom."
"Well, we'll see," Harry told his friend quietly while silently agreeing with him. Harry was now trying to make a plan that would get him on the house team, while at the same time not making the Slytherin look like too much of an idiot.
While he certainly didn't like the Malfoy, there was no reason to antagonize him. If they could start the year on a better note, perhaps fate could be changed for the best for the young Slytherin.
- - - - -
Harry made a point of walking to the pitch with Neville and Ron, while making sure that his voice was easily overheard by a nearby Hermione who was also quite nervous about flying.
"Now the trick is to relax. Don't be nervous. The broom is made to be up in the air, and if you go slow and keep your movements smooth the broom will follow suit," Harry told the boy soothingly.
"Yeah, if you are nervous and jerk around a lot you'll fly up into the sky and fall off your broom," Ron told him offhandedly.
"Ha!" Neville surprisingly laughed at this and looked somewhat calmed by this statement. Harry was happy to see this but missed the unamused and petrified look the crossed Hermione's face.
"What? No, that won't hap-"
"Quiet down, quiet down," Madame Hooch said as she approached the front of the two rows of students. "What are you all waiting for?" asked the grey-haired, yellow-eyed flying instructor. "Everyone stand by a broom stick. Come on, hurry up. Stick your right hand over your broom and say 'UP!'"
"UP!" Harry said clearly and the broom immediately jumped into his hand. Harry looked around and saw that after a few tries most of the brooms were in their owners' hands.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch said. "Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle: three- two- one." Harry was slightly taken aback when Neville, while still unsteady and unsurely, rose slowly into the air a few feet. He didn't shoot off into the sky or show any indication that he would in the future.
Harry distractedly followed the flying instructor's commands and deftly rose into the air and maneuvered until he was once again on the ground.
What had changed? Were the few little tips he had given Neville on the way to the pitch all that was needed for the boy to loose his nervousness and excel instead of flounder? And more importantly how was he meant to make the Quiddich team now?
For the next hour the students including Neville and Harry followed the instructors every command. They practiced turning and hovering, changing altitude and coming to a stop. Harry was of course slightly bored by the exercises but complied none the less.
When Madam Hooch finally recalled all the students to her side, Harry gave a despondent sigh. He wouldn't get back on the Quidditch team this year, apparently. The students lined up to return their brooms to the shed and then started to talk excitedly on their way back to the castle. Ron and Harry were two of the last in line and talking quietly of missing their old brooms when it happened.
"Mr. Potter," Madam Hooch said from behind him. "I got the impression you were bored with my lesson."
"What? Oh, no Madam Hooch it was... it was very good. Educational," Harry told her in a very unconvincing manner.
"I see. What broom do you fly at home?"
"A Nimbus, ma'am."
"Well, would you care to take that old broom on a spin around the pitch? I'd like to see what you can do."
"Really?" Harry asked excitedly. He didn't wait for an answer though, because he was off like a rocket on his broom. He soared with determination up to the top of the stands and then made a sharp turn and did corkscrews down towards the ground; before he was too near he made a 90 degree turn and flew parallel to the ground for a while. He practiced trick turns, loops, and flips in the air and then did a few practice feints for good measure.
After fifteen minutes he slowly and lazily descended towards Madam Hooch and a broadly smiling Ron.
"Hey Ron, you want to throw the quaffle around? We can just transfigure something," Harry asked his smiling friend.
"HARRY POTTER!" A shrill scream came from somewhere near the stands.
"Professor McGonagall?"
(AN:
Hello all. Sorry for the delay, BUT never fear because 11 will be coming sooner than you think. I loved the reviewes and can't believe I have over 150 reviews! Amazing.
To Fickle Fiend, Black Blood Dragon Goddess, kehlencrow, Silver Warrior, Nutters4Potter, tlfsis, Sylkie, hpfananits, Nyleve, animeflunky, Hpnut1, PaganThunderGod, Fk306 animelover, PSTurner, cheekymonkey1994, AvidReader999, Bahjcb, pinkfreak411, Draven Skullwise, Bethy Ann, RBurrow, Azphxbrd, Shinigami-Sama1, That1 and lastly BarefootBohemian thank you for all the encouragement and reviews. A special thanks to all of you who reminded me of that story's name (it's Hiding by Volans by the by).
That's all.
Cheers,
Mac.)