Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Of course, if you're a movie fan, you'd probably think half the stuff here belonged to me, but nevermind.
Do read the books if you haven't though.
Chapter 10: First Days Were Never This Hectic
Ginny sighed as she curled into the armchair by the fire, the one which Harry generally occupied. Thankfully, nobody else sought to disturb her, but the Twins noticed her defeated look.
Exchanging a glance that spoke volumes, they strode forward together.
Ginny barely stirred as Fred and George popped down on either side of her, and flung an arm over her shoulders.
"Get away," she mumbled, staring into the fire.
"Ginny," said Fred, in an unusually gentle voice, "we know it hurts...give it some time."
She turned her head so fast her hair slapped George across the face.
"W-what are you talking about?" she asked defensively, trying to act nonchalant.
George rolled his eyes, spitting red hair out of his mouth.
"We're your brothers, Ginny," he said. "And frankly, we can't help but hope to get another brother in Harry through you –"
"What's Harry got to do with it?"
The Twins cocked their heads and fixed her with identical looks.
"Oh all right!" she said, throwing up her arms in defeat. "I have no idea what to do with the git! I thought something would happen this year, but I was sadly mistaken! I'd call him clueless, but no, he'll flirt with anything that walks on two legs and has breasts except me!"
"Calm down there, Gin," said Fred with a small laugh. "Let me tell you this little secret."
"You see," he began, "in Hogwarts, there is this rather common mentality amongst the students. All of you are midgets until your fourth years, even if you're Harry Potter. We could care less, who dates who – it's all just sappy childish explorations to us then."
"But, once you're in fifth year," said George, catching on, "everything changes. You're taking the OWLs, dealing with stress – you're legally an adult by Hogwarts standards. That's when the older years begin to take an interest in you, to scout you out to see if you're worth a date to the Three Broomsticks."
"Why do you think Cho Chang never asked Harry to take her to the Ball? She obviously liked both of the Hogwarts Champions, but she had just made fifth-year, she was in the cool and older club – she didn't want to ruin it by dating a fourth year!"
"Same with Katie," said George, "she's had a crush on Harry for ages –" Ginny's eyebrow rose. "But she had to wait till this year to make a move. It's an unspoken rule amongst the girls – wait until fifth year to make a move, so everybody gets a fair chance – according to Angie, that's apparently when boys get mature enough to actually 'train up'. That's just how it is, Ginny. Like it, hate it, but you can't avoid it. School comes with its own set of rules and if you don't follow them, you're an outcast immediately. And Harry, for all his trailblazing, can do shit about this age-old rule," he finished, "hell, like I said, he's part of it."
"Yeah, whether Harry knows it or not, he's been influenced by this mentality as well. Let's face it, every boy wants a piece of hot older ass while at Hogwarts, which is why they wait till fifth year too, to move in on the girls. That time, they don't even look at the younger ones – they're beneath their notice. It's like one of those funny Muggle traffic singles –"
"You're red until fourth year, but once you hit fifth – it's green lights, and open season!"
"Wow, Georgie," said Fred, wiping a fake tear, "that was surprisingly deep, even for us."
"Well," said Ginny smugly, "how do you explain the fact that Michael Corner is about to ask me out? He flirted with me all through the train ride, and once before dinner, too!"
"Ginny," said Fred, shaking his head, "unless you haven't noticed, Michael Corner is already kind of an outcast. The other Ravenclaw boys, Boot and Goldstein don't really spend time with him, so he's always alone at the library –"
"How do you know this?" asked Ginny suspiciously.
"Well, he was looking at you funny," protested George. "Of course we had to look into him – he could have Voldemort poking out of the back of his head for all we knew!"
Despite herself, Ginny smiled.
"Besides," Fred said, "he was without a Date at the Ball last year, too – maybe he finally got a wakeup call, and decided to move in on some girls – just the easier targets –" He stopped short, gulping as Ginny's wand tip poked into his throat.
"Did you just call me easy, Fred?" she growled.
"No, no," squeaked Fred. "I'm just saying he's hitting on you because you're a younger year student, and he basically lacks any chance with his own classmates or the older chicks!"
"So I'm not worthy to be flirted with?" she asked angrily.
"Don't put words in my mouth!" said Fred, getting a bit irritated. "I'm just saying; don't hold your breath on Harry. In fact, don't remain hung up on –"
"I'm not –"
"Yes you are," said George loudly, "and you have to accept it. It's been going on since you were eleven, and you still haven't moved past it. Have you ever thought that traces of your old hero-worship remains, and that's why you have this devotion to him?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but Fred carried on, his voice a bit louder.
"Look, Ginny, if you like Michael, date him. His reputation will suffer – not yours, I can assure you. And besides," he said, getting up, and George mirrored his actions, "if you had really loved Harry, would you have liked Michael in the first place?"
And they walked away, leaving Ginny to sink back into the chair, even more confused than she had started out.
"We need to stake out Dean Thomas," growled George, eyeing the dark-skinned boy. "He's looked at Ginny funny thrice since today morning...he's waiting to pounce, as well."
Fred nodded, and fixed the teen with an ugly look. Dean noticed and looked away, his face flushing.
Ginny, on the other hand, started chewing on the ends of her hair – an extremely bad habit she'd picked up on. She liked Harry, she really did. But did her feelings really carry traces of hero-worship with it?
After some more thinking, she realised, with a sinking feeling that it probably did.
Everything that she felt for him was tinted by the events of her first year. While it was natural for her to harbour some feelings because of the Chamber of Secrets incident – she realised that it reached out far more than that.
"Well, that won't do," she told herself, briskly, even though her heart was breaking inside. Hell, she didn't really talk to Harry until the end of last year, and before that, all she'd done was watch him from afar. With another sinking feeling, she realised that half of her attraction towards Michael Corner was the fact that he was a senior, and after the conversation with the Twins, a relationship with him didn't feel so appealing, any more.
Besides, even if she got together with Harry now, would it last? Harry didn't even know who she truly was, just like she knew jack about him. If she was going for the long haul –
"I need to be better prepared," she accepted. Screw Hermione and her terrible advice, she'd show Harry who she really was, and if he didn't like it, it would be his loss, not hers. Besides, she was a Weasley, and she didn't intend to lose...she'd sure as hell make sure he liked her.
She got up, promising herself to get to know Harry better, and see if she truly liked him. And even though her heart ached a bit, it was like a load had been taken off her shoulders. She was fourteen; there was more to life than just thinking about Harry bloody Potter. Besides, wasn't it best friends who made the best husbands?
"Growing up sucks," she said, as she made her way over the Twins, wanting to say goodnight before she made her way up to the dorms.
"That it does," said Fred, "though you might want to get a little taller before you can say that you're actually growing..."
Ginny rolled her eyes, "Goodnight, you gits." Her face softened a bit, though, "And...Thanks."
"Anytime for our favourite little sister!" said Fred with a grin.
"I'm your onl-" but she stopped midway, rolling her eyes.
"Good girl," said George, "night, Gin."
She was going up the stairs when Fred called her, "Oh, and Gin?"
"Yeah?"
"You might want to look into growing your hair out a bit more," said Fred, "I don't think Harry knows it yet, but he's definitely fascinated by it..."
She went back down the stairs and gave the Twins sloppy wet kisses on each cheek, making them yell in disgust and wipe at their cheeks as if repulsed.
She laughed loudly and made her way back up, her laughs subsiding to chuckles a few moments later.
She didn't know it, but she'd actually piqued the interest of people for the first time in her short career at Hogwarts, and not for the first time that year.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
It was 7:00 a.m. by his watch when Harry awoke the next day, stretching languidly, before he was on full alert.
Brushing his teeth, and taking a quick bath, he was on his way down to breakfast in fifteen minutes, even though he was appalled he'd forgone training that morning.
In my defense, thought Harry, I went to sleep at two last night.
He'd stayed up the entire night, thinking. All this mess, it came back to power...Voldemort returned because he wanted power, Fudge was too blinded by his power to see the truth, Dumbledore was too drunk on his own power to consider others in this War.
He had to change the game somehow, anyhow – the entire system in Britain was dysfunctional, held together by corruption and pseudo-dictatorship. Change had to be wrought, and someone had to come forward and take a stand.
He shook such weighty matters out of his head, concentrating on enjoying his breakfast before Hedwig arrived with his letter from Mr. White.
The others at the table gaped as he piled bacon and eggs onto his plate – about to eat more in that single breakfast than he probably ate every month at Hogwarts earlier, it seemed.
"What?" he asked defensively at Lavender and Parvati, "I'm a growing boy!"
"I'll say," said Lavender appreciatively, while Parvati giggled and nodded her assent. Harry winked at them, before continuing on with his meal; he paid no attention as they put their heads together and began to gossip.
"Harry," he heard the familiar voice behind him and saw Dean and Seamus standing there.
"Dean, hi!" he said, "how was your summer, mate?"
"Pretty good," said Dean with a smile, "Better than Seamus', at any rate..."
"Why, what happened?" asked Harry, concerned – he rather liked the excitable Irishman with his 'particular proclivity for pyrotechnics' as Professor McGonagall often put it.
"Me mam didn't want me to come back," said Seamus, his face expressionless, "she thinks the whole lot of you is barking, you and Dumbledore..."
"Reads the Prophet, then?" said Harry, who had no desire to have this conversation, and was looking regretfully at the forgotten bacon. "What do you believe, mate?"
This stymied Seamus for a bit. "W – well, I've known you for four years Harry, and you already seem pretty crazy to me – "
Harry couldn't help it, he laughed, while Dean said, "Damn straight!"
"But I don't reckon you're no liar," said Seamus, "thought so last year, and I was wrong, wasn't I? I'm not saying I believe you completely, but I'm content to watch awhile and see who's right and who's not..."
They stared at one another, eyes boring into each other, until –
"Bacon eating contest?" offered Harry.
Seamus' face split into a grin. "You're on, Potter!"
While the others laughed and cheered them on, and Dean refereed, Harry couldn't help but feel worried. Hedwig showed no sign of showing up yet, and she was always on time.
Seamus beat him handily in the end, "You mighta grown all big and strong this summer, Potter, but that doesn't mean you're gonna beat me at Bacon-eating!" boasted the Irishman. Harry grinned, and flicked his wand, and 'The Boy Who Defeated', appeared on Seamus' T-shirt, who crowed with laughter and stood up on the table so that everybody could see it.
"You've changed, Harry," said Dean a bit carefully, while Seamus made a show of his new T-shirt.
"Don't bother," said Neville, sliding into place next to Dean. "He'll feed you some bullshit about reinventing himself after all the bullshit he's been through."
"In other words, he's not going to tell us the truth, but do something fantastically stupid by the end of the year, but still manage to get us a load of house points so we win the Cup?" said Seamus, sitting down next to them, and the four of them shared a laugh.
Harry fell silent, though, as Ron and Hermione entered the Hall, before taking seats opposite each other at one end of the table. He took the opportunity to study his old best friends, especially Ron, who looked positively worse for the wear. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was mussed up.
"Prefect duties not sitting well with Ron?" asked Dean with an eyebrow raised.
"How come it wasn't you mate?" asked Seamus. "I mean, you're crazy, but Ron's just as crazy – better you than him –"
"Oh, this you want to hear," said Neville. "Harry crossed all limit of craziness yesterday –"
Harry groaned as Neville stuffed more toast into his mouth before continuing, and hastily excused himself from the Table.
He was intercepted though, by Angelina Johnson. He was starting to get worried about Hedwig – she was never tardy, and he didn't really have time for distractions.
He noticed the badge on her chest, and grinned, though, "Nice one," he said.
"Thanks," was the brisk reply. "Next Saturday, Trials. Be there."
"Complete team do-over, or just the Keeper?"
"Keeper," she said. "We're working fine as a team, no need to break that up?"
"So you're basically going to go with the same team as Wood?"
"Are you questioning my judgement, Potter?" she began angrily.
"No, no," he said hastily, raising his hands. "Calm down!"
"She did the same thing when I suggested it, Harry," said Katie as she walked up next to the new Gryffindor Captain. She ran an eye over Harry, "Wow, Harry, looking good there," she said with a mild blush.
"You know I only did it for you ladies," he said, and Angelina's face settled into the tiniest of grins.
"Don't let Fred hear you say that," she said, her lips twitching.
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Congratulations, he never got around to telling me."
"Not many hopefuls for the team, anyway," said Angelina, ignoring his comment, her brow furrowed. "There's Rosabella Carver –"
"Who?"
"Seventh – year, new student," explained Angelina, pointing down to the table. "She says she's been home-schooled, but had to come this year – you apparently need one entire year of schooling to take the NEWTs...according to her, she's quite good."
Harry followed her finger and did a double take.
"She wasn't sorted last night," he said. "I think I would've noticed!"
Katie glowered, but Alicia chuckled from next to Angelina. "Apparently, she did it privately in the Headmaster's office. You might want to set your sights lower, Harry, she turned down half the senior boys in the Gryffindor common room last year..."
"Well, half the boys weren't Triwizard Champions, or winners of the Tournament last year!" said Katie, jumping to his defense, while her friends threw her exasperated looks.
Harry, however, wasn't listening – he was too busy staring at Carver like a blind man seeing the light for the first time. He knew exactly what Sirius meant by a hot older piece of Hogwarts ass now -
"Angelina," he said fervently, grasping his Captain's hands suddenly and making her jump in shock. "I'll be there on Saturday. Trust me, I'll be there! Now, if you'll excuse me –"
He did a complete one-eighty and started walking in the direction of Carver instead, entranced by the girl – she put the Veelas from Beauxbatons last year to shame with her chiselled face, long lashes and full red lips.
She was surrounded by a group of boys when he approached, but with a flash and a bang, one of them was thrown back, landing heavily on his arse.
"Testa di cazzo! Bastardo!" she said, "feel me up again, and I will cut off il tuo testicolo!"
"Crazy Italian bitch," muttered one of the seventh-year Hufflepuffs who'd been surrounding her, as they scattered.
She sat back down, her pale blue eyes glinting. "Figli di puttana! Maiali!"
"Please don't stop," said Harry, as he walked up to her, trying to keep his wits about him – his interactions with Calli definitely helped. "Even if it's swearing, don't stop speaking –"
"You are Harry Potter, no?" she asked, her head tilting to the side, dark curls bouncing.
"Harry James Potter, at your service," he said, extending his arm. She did likewise, and he took it and kissed the knuckles, making her raise her eyebrows.
"What?" said Harry defensively. "Not all Englishmen are pigs! In fact, I even speak a bit of Italian..."
"Indeed?" she asked, and he found himself falling in love with the way she spoke.
"Well, I saw you, and then suddenly the words 'Ti Amo' struck me," he said with a grin. "Any idea what that means?"
She smiled, her white teeth flashing. "You are a funny one, Signor Potter," she admitted. "Are you here to get un piece of arse like all the others, or do you have some deeper mission?"
"Well, I came to ask you about your Quidditch skills, but the former sounds a lot more appealing, if you don't mind me saying..."
"It does, no?" she asked, flashing another brilliant smile. Before he knew it, there was a knife embedded on the table perpendicularly between his middle and index fingers. He blinked owlishly.
"Maybe you are not as different as you think, 'Arry Potter," she said vehemently, getting up from the table. "Just another little boy out for glory and a hot older woman..."
She got up, leaving the table, when Harry called out to her.
"Miss Carver," he said, and she turned to find him holding the knife, "you forgot your..." he knew he shouldn't have done it despite Calli's warnings, but he let just a bit of his magic into the knife, "rose," he finished, handing her the magnificent red specimen.
She stared at him for a long moment, seemingly wrestling with herself, before saying, "I will see you around Hogwarts," she said, and walked away, her lips twitching, but the rose in her hand.
As one, Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot stabbed their breakfasts with extra vehemence, making those around them jump.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
It was past lunch, and Hedwig still hadn't returned, and he was getting worried as he made his way over to the Charms classroom.
"Ginny?" he asked in surprise as he walked in, at the same time that Ginny asked, "Harry?"
They laughed, and Harry said, "You first, what're you doing here?"
"Flitwick called me for private Charms tutoring – he was impressed when I took out Draco and his cronies, I think."
"Together?" he asked, and was impressed when she nodded. "I'm here for the same reason," he said, when she cocked her head in question, "though it was because of my Patronus..."
"Ah, Patronus Potter," she said, in a perfect imitation of Malfoy, and he laughed.
"Excellent, excellent!" said Professor Flitwick, as he walked into a room. "Now that we're all here, and getting along, let us begin! I will be gauging your skills for a bit, so that I can decide if you will join the regular Charms Club, or the more...exclusive ones with me. Don't be disheartened if you fail, you can always try again – and besides, the Charms Club isn't something to sniff at, either."
"Now, Mr. Potter, if you'll begin –"
But Harry wasn't listening. He watched, with rising horror, as a white shape made its way across the horizon towards him, flying unsteadily.
"Hedwig!" he shouted, throwing open the window to the classroom, allowing her to fly in. She managed to do so somehow, wobbling dangerously, before crashing headlong into the table.
"No, Hedwig!" he shouted, trying to see what was wrong with her. Her feathers were bent at an odd angle. She hooted weakly.
"You were attacked?" he asked in horror. "Did you see who it was?"
Another hoot; and he was shocked to see a red blot appear below her chest.
"You best get her to Professor Grubbly-Plank," said Flitwick anxiously. "Fast, Mr. Potter!"
He nodded uncomprehendingly, not really listening. He set off at a run, nearly bowling over Professor Flitwick in his haste to get out of the door.
"Hang on, Hedwig!" he said, as he vaulted over the staircases that led to the first floor corridor before emerging on the landing of the Grand Staircase. He panicked as she gave another low hoot, her eyes almost closing. Desperate, he tried pouring some of his magic into her, trying to maintain her heartbeat.
He had no inkling if it was working based on his intent alone, and he had no time to find out. He took another shortcut, and crashed through the doors of the Teacher's staffroom, narrowly avoiding Rosabella and Professor McGonagall, who let out a shriek.
"Mr. Potter, what do you think you're –"
He paid no heed, instead, shouting, "Professor Grubbly-Plank! Help!"
She came over in a hurry, "What's the emergency, Potter?"
"My owl, Ma'am," he said, very close to tears, "she's been attacked – she's dying –"
The Care of Magical Creatures Teacher's eyes fell on the bird and she swore under her breath, before she pulled out her wand and rapidly started uttering spells.
"I put her under a Stasis spell," she explained, "now get the hell out of here and let me try and do my job, Potter! Out!"
"Professor, you have to heal her –"
"Come away, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, pulling him away. "She'll be fine –"
"She was my first friend, Professor, she has to be okay!"
McGonagall faltered in her shock; everyday Harry Potter revealed something about him that shocked her more and more.
"Take your letter, Potter," said Grubbly Plank, chucking it at him. He caught it even without turning his head, making Rosa's eyebrows rise.
"Mr. Potter is our Seeker," said McGonagall with a hint of a smile, "and he is the best Hogwarts has seen for many, many years."
He shoved the letter in his pocket, wanting to get out of there and do something, anything to get rid of the anger and fear that was welling up within him – his magic, which he was proud to say, had been on the surface the whole day, was now threatening to escape his grasp.
"Harry," said McGonagall, grasping his shoulders, her voice kind but firm, "sit."
He shook his head, "I need to get –"
"Sit, Mr. Potter," and he looked up at her face before nodding and sitting down – he knew he'd been pushing the lines with her recently, but there were some lines you did not cross when it came to Minerva McGonagall. To his surprise, though, he did feel a bit calmer once he sat on one of the straight back chairs, next to Rosa.
"Have a biscuit, Mr. Potter," she said, "I was just telling Ms. Carver about our castle and its rules –"
"Have a –?!"
"A biscuit, Potter," she said, "I trust you know what they are?"
He took a Ginger Newt, not wanting to get into an argument over a biscuit of all things. "Now, Mr. Potter, as I was saying – you are a celebrity here, like it or not. There will always be enemies, enemies who will watch your every step, even intercept your mail. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"
He nodded. Umbridge is watching my mail.
"As such, you need to take proper precautions, Mr. Potter. Am I safe in assuming that you did not charm your letter to be private?"
"No, I did, Professor, I always do," he replied, and she looked impressed.
"Privacy charms are part of the seventh year curriculum, Mr. Potter," she said.
"I know," he said with a shrug. "I always did stuff before it was deemed proper for my age –"
"Indeed, Professor Vector was just telling me about your Patronus –"
"You can do a Patronus?" interjected Rosa, surprised, and then looked contrite as McGonagall looked irritated at being interrupted.
"Why is everyone so impressed with that?" argued Harry, "I've been able to do it since I was thirteen!"
Both Rosa and McGonagall's eyebrows shot into their hairlines.
"Perhaps you can find a friend with Ms. Carver here, then," said McGonagall, "she herself is sixteen and taking the NEWTs this year."
"Really?" asked Harry, interested. "You can do that?"
"Too late for you, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "You need at least two years of post-OWL education, one of them being in-school one, to sit the NEWTs. Though I must admit, that makes me even more curious to see you in my class this year – I think the very first class in your schedule is mine..."
Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared just then, looking a bit harrowed. "She'll be okay," she offered, and Harry sagged in relief. "Nasty Punching Hex she took to the ribs –" she said and Harry swore under his breath. "Give it a week, and she'll be as right as rain..."
"Thank you, Professor," said Harry fervently. "Thank you!"
"No matter, lad, it's obvious that she's very dear to you...I even sensed a Familiar bond nearly completed between you two...she'll live an extraordinarily long life, provided you survive too –"
Harry nodded, getting up. "I'll be off, then, Professors," he said. "Thanks again!"
"I'll go back to telling Ms. Carver how to get to Transfiguration from the Common Room, then- " said McGonagall. Her offer was clear, show her how to get around the Castle.
"She best use the tunnel behind the bust of Gryffindor, then, on the Seventh Floor Corridor," said Harry, walking off with a grin. "Password's 'Lionheart', though I could get someone to show her around after you're done, Professor..."
McGonagall nodded, but Harry was already gone. "He is a strange one," observed Rosa thoughtfully.
McGonagall gave one of her rare smiles. "Yes, but he is one of the best Lions I've ever had the honour to teach," she said. Maybe it was time to tell Albus that Harry Potter's private life was indeed just that, private.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Harry unfurled the letter from his lawyer, before tapping it and saying, "Fortune favours the bold," the accepted passphrase between him and Mr. White.
Harry, the letter said,
Pretty insistent owl you got there, nearly took out my fingers after tapping on my windowpane at three in the morning. I've been trying to reach you for several days, but it seemed that you had gone into hiding, and the charms were working admirably. Naturally, you've been cut off from the Wizarding World, and the Prophet, to be more precise. Yes, Umbridge is out, but the worst part is, we can do nothing about it.
Harry swore violently, the letter crumpling a bit as he clenched his fists in anger. Straightening it back out, he continued reading.
I have no idea how it happened, but Stan Shunpike got the blame – like that could ever happen, and Umbridge was walking free in minutes. Apparently, gold changed hands. Our hands, though, are completely tied, Harry. Innocent until proven guilty – and Umbridge has proved that she was completely innocent.
Watch out for that woman, Harry, my less reputable friends tell me that she's deranged now, and out to get you. I would recommend getting out of Hogwarts before the situation goes pear-shaped, but once in the Castle, you have to stay the first five years, short of getting expelled. It's magically binding contact.
Harry was really starting to hate these contacts.
Watch your back, Harry, and watch your communications as well. These people will stop at nothing to get you; I believe some of them are already watching me. The Minister has spies on his payroll everywhere - keep your eyes and ears open.
I'm sorry, but my hands are bound. I'm still working on the other case you gave me, though rats are extremely hard to find, this time of the year.
Stay safe, Harry, and stay well. You're always invited to Christmas dinner.
Mr. Jeremy White
PS – I put extensive charms on this letter. Should anyone try to force this open, they'll be in for the shock of their lives.
"Harry!" he heard a voice behind him, he turned to see Ginny coming up the corridor. He hastily shoved the letter back into his pocket. "Is she alright?"
"She will be, thankfully," and Ginny seemed relieved.
"What happened?" asked Ginny, as they set off aimlessly down the corridor, with her leading him.
"Took a badly aimed Punching Hex, it seems," he said grimly.
"Oh, poor Hedwig!" she moaned, "who was it?" she asked angrily.
"The newest psychopath on our staff, it seems," he said, his voice steely. He was surprised, though, "I never knew you cared so much for Hedwig..."
She blushed a bit. "Well, we kind of grew closer together at Grimmauld Place," she explained, "when you were away training."
"And then you set her on me," he said accusingly.
"We had an understanding," said Ginny airily. "It's like she can almost hold conversations –"
"Of course it's Hedwig, she can hold conversations!" he realised, with a start, that they'd arrived at the Hospital Wing of all places, and with an even greater start, he realised that her arm was bleeding.
"What happened?" he asked, concerned.
"Botched up a spell," explained Ginny, "still made it into his classes, though, bypassed the club!"
"Excellent!" said Harry, with a grin. "That's great, Ginny, congratulations!" and she smiled.
"Oh, he told me to tell you to meet him either after you were done with Hedwig, or after his first class with you –"
She stopped short, and he could see why.
Dolores Umbridge and Draco Malfoy were conversing in low tones, and they looked up when Harry and Ginny walked in. Umbridge was getting her hand treated by Pomfrey for burns.
...Should anyone try to force it open, they'll be in for the shock of their lives...his temper started bubbling again as he saw conclusive proof before his eyes. Umbridge followed his glare to her hand and tried to hide it from view, only confirming what was already obvious.
"Potter," said Draco, snidely, "how kind of you to drop in. I was just telling the Professor here about my birthday plans tomorrow – after all, I will be becoming the Heir Apparent of two lines, through my mother and father –"
Umbridge cut him off, though. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy. Potter, as you can see, I am injured, and may have to stay overnight for observation. As such, your detention is shifted to tomorrow evening –"
"Now, they'll be no need for that, Dolores," said a calm voice, and everybody, even Madam Pomfrey jumped as the Headmaster walked into his rooms. "I think Mr. Potter has already shifted his plans for this evening, it would be almost cruel to deprive him of his last free Sunday before school begins in earnest, would it not? I think we can overlook this detention, can't we?" he asked, his voice still pleasant.
"You cannot do this, Dumble-"
"I believe the Headmaster has the right to overturn any decision on part of any teacher, by the Hogwarts Charter, should he see fit," said Harry, with a savage pleasure.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, sounding delighted that Harry had gone through the pains of reading the Hogwarts Charter – he'd done so after being entered into the Tournament last year. "And since the infraction was against me to begin with, I believe it was never your place to punish him in the first place..."
"Now," he said, "you should get your arm looked at, Ms. Weasley. It looks a rather nasty cut. Harry, m'boy, if you could spare a minute to talk about the Triwizard Ceremony?"
"The Ceremony was called off last year because of the circumstances!" spat Umbridge.
"But the Cup must be handed to the winner, and he must etch his name into it," said Dumbledore gravely. "That is how it has always been."
Harry hesitated, but followed the Headmaster out – he had just done him a good turn.
"The Ceremony will take place on Tuesday evening," said Albus, "Amos has found free time in his schedule to come and take Cedric's place in the Ceremony for him –"
Harry's heart clenched. Dumbledore's face turned grave, and he said, "Don't blame yourself, Harry," he said, "it does not do well to dwell on your guilt, especially when you shouldn't be feeling guilty in the first place..."
Harry nodded, but said nothing. "Now, Harry," said Dumbledore, and he looked like he'd suddenly aged a hundred years in a minute. "I visited your home the day at the Ministry –"
"-and no, I will not reprimand you for that day, and I will not pry...well played, Harry, well played."
"I cannot even try and convey to you how truly sorry I am, Harry," the old man continued, his voice heavy, "I placed you knowingly with the worst sort of Muggles, and did nothing while they abused you – I was too blinded by my pride to even check up properly on you, dismissing Arabella's words as over exaggerations..."
"Twelve years, Professor," said fiercely. "This apology is coming twelve years too late. I think you should try a bit harder, after all these years, shouldn't we? Why don't we start with honesty, hmm?"
He was about to make a gambit, but he went through with it anyway. "What is the Order guarding at the Department of Mysteries?"
"Aah," said Dumbledore, "I believe that answers my question about where you had vanished to after the trial. I am sure that you tried your commendable best to get answers, but the Department is closed to those who do not work for the Unspeakables..."
Harry sagged in relief, Dumbledore didn't know that the Prophecy was gone – his day felt the slightest bit brighter – it left him more room to manoeuvre.
"..as is my answer to your question, Harry. Forgive me, Harry, but..."
"That's twice now, Professor, that you're apologizing," said Harry, putting on a false sneer, "come find me when you have something to back up your false apologies with..."
And he walked off, hiding the small grin on his face from Dumbledore, who lingered in the shadows, the twinkle in his blue eyes dimmed.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
"Mr. Potter!" said Flitwick in delight, "I see you made it back! How is your owl?"
"She'll be all right, Professor," said Harry, "shall we begin?"
"Indeed, we shall, Mr. Potter!" Harry couldn't help but be infected by Flitwick's enthusiasm, he grinned as he pulled his wand out. He'd taken it to Ollivander's to be checked over the summer like he'd planned.
The wand maker had pronounced the wand to be functioning perfectly – in fact, he'd almost seemed irate that Harry would doubt his creation. It was common for the wand to re-establish its connection with the Wizard as he grew older, the Wandmaker had said, and Harry's wand was doing just that. He had, however, fashioned an old fashioned wooden handle with intricate carvings on it for him, saying that it would channel his power better, and give him better focus.
This is why Flitwick was mildly impressed as he ran a professional eye over the eleven inches of Holly.
"An impressive wand for someone your age," said Flitwick, eyebrows raised, "already got its first markings, I see," holding up his own wand, which, Harry saw, had much more intricate curves and twirls on the handle.
"First off, then," said Flitwick, "perhaps another demonstration of your Patronus would be in order."
Harry grinned, raising his wand, and brought it down sharply.
"Expecto Patronum!"
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
It was over an hour later that he left, tired but delighted. Flitwick would get more and more excited the more complex charms he pulled off, and he was ecstatic at the end of his demonstrations.
"I've never seen a more talented student, not even Lily Evans!" he'd squeaked. "Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I will be endeavouring to teach you all I know! Perhaps we shall branch out into duelling as well – your stance and style is perfect for the International Circuits!" And that had excited Harry much more than the rest put together.
"I always knew you had unrealised potential!" Flitwick was still squeaking in delight when he left, "Just wait till I tell the other teachers!"
He'd also learnt a really impressive charm, though – the Water Whip Curse, which Flitwick had taught him to see his control. Apparently, this was the one Ginny had stumbled on, even though Flitwick had praised her to the heavens as well.
He pulled his wand out, practising the motions, before incanting, "Aqua Eructo!" The thin whip like stream of water erupted from his wand, and he cracked it once, marvelling at how the water didn't break.
"Oi! Watch it, Potter!" Crabbe and Goyle stalked past him, and he was surprised to see them without Draco. Perhaps the blond was off planning for his birthday, he thought.
And then, out of the blue, what Draco had said in the Hospital Wing struck him.
... after all, I will be becoming the Heir Apparent of two lines, through my mother and father...
His father's line was obvious, but the only line that he could get from his mother was...
He broke into a panicked run – he needed to get to Sirius, now! Wasn't he the heir to the Black line? Hadn't Sirius said as much? Yet Draco had seemed so confident...
He ran into the library, earning scandalised looks and hushing sounds from all around him. Rushing over to the proper section, he pulled out Wizarding Genealogy: A History, and flipped over to the Black section, horror rising within him as he read the relevant paragraph.
The Blacks have always been a notoriously closed off family, even going as far as to marry their own cousins to keep the line pure, and the family wealth between themselves. Even heirs are selected magically – his heart sank – based on their blood, and their closeness to the current head.
Based on blood...Harry groaned. The Black Family saying, 'Tojours Pur', made a hell lot of more sense now.
And the closeness to the current head...he was related to Sirius through his grandmother Dorea Black, a distant member of the main Black Family, while Draco was Sirius' nephew.
Almost tossing the book back into the shelf, he took off running down the corridor again. If Draco became Heir to the Black Family, Fidelius or no Fidelius, the location to the Black home would reveal himself to him.
He balked at the very thought, a single thought on his mind – get Sirius out of there.
"I need to talk to the Headmaster," said Harry,"Now!" coming to a stop before the gargoyle that lay before the stairs to Dumbledore's office.
"The Headmaster is currently out –" said the Gargoyle.
"He's always out when it counts, you useless piece of brick masonry!" said Harry angrily, turning tail and moving off, even before the Gargoyle opened its mouth to protest angrily.
The only other Order member was McGonagall; there was no way in hell he was going to Snape...
He was already back on his way to the Teacher's staff room by the time the thought had completely formed on his mind.
He was horrified to learn, though, that McGonagall had taken Rosa on a trip to Diagon Alley thanks to some mishap with her booklist, and he found himself cursing the very girl whom he'd been trying to impress that morning.
He was left with only one option, then. Panting, he ran up to Gryffindor tower, sped into his dormitory, and pulled out the Cloak and Map from his trunk, pausing only to lock it again. Throwing the Cloak over himself, he was on his way out again in seconds. Deciding to forgo the Honeydukes passage, he went for the Shrieking Shack instead. The passage was shorter, allowing him to get to Hogsmeade and let Dobby Apparate him away faster.
The elf could come and go as he pleased through the wards, but he couldn't take a wizard with him.
"Dobby!" he gasped into the night, his sides aching from all the running, so he used a bit of magic to soothe himself.
"Harry Potter Sir called?" asked Dobby, looking on in concern as Harry came to a violent stop near the Whomping Willow, spraying dirt and pebbles everywhere, before doubling over, panting. Dusk was falling over the area, painting his frame golden red.
"I need you to get a message to Sirius and whoever else is at Grimmauld Place. Tell them to start packing, because we've been compromised, and they need to leave. Tell them I'll be there, and come back for me at the front door of the Shrieking Shack, do you know where that is?"
The elf nodded, and Harry said, "Good! Get to it!" Dobby disappeared with a crack, and Harry was left to deal with the tree.
Instead of using the Levitation spell, though, he aimed his wand at the knot, and said 'Spiculum!'
A single arrow emerged from his wand and hit the knot dead on, freezing the tree in the process. Vanishing the arrow as he went in, he lit up his wand to find himself in the familiar low passage.
He was in the Shack in ten minutes – the place gave him the creeps even though he knew that it had never really been haunted. Dobby was there when he walked through the front door, his arm extended.
Another crack, and the doorway stood empty.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
"Harry!" exclaimed Remus, as he walked into Grimmauld Place. "What's going on?"
"This house is no longer safe," explained Harry, "where's Sirius?"
"Upstairs, packing," said Remus, "he took your warning very seriously, if you'll pardon the pun."
"I'll explain when we head up," said Harry, "anyone else in the house?"
"Just us two," said Remus, "the Weasleys are back at the Burrow, and the rest are off at their jobs."
"Great," said Harry, "that'll make things easier."
He ducked as he entered the room, and a heavy photo album went flying past him.
"Harry!" said Sirius, engulfing him in a tight hug, before holding him at arm's length. "What's wrong, what happened?"
"Sirius," said Harry, "I'm not the Black heir, it's Draco. He was boasting today that it was his birthday tomorrow, and he'd become Heir of two lines through both his parents –"
"What?" asked Sirius, stunned. "But I wrote Gringotts to make you my Heir Apparent –"
"No, no!" protested Harry. "I looked it up in the Library before I came here, the Black Heir is selected by Magic if the Head of House has no children by the time there's another candidate – and Draco turns sixteen tomorrow –"
"Why would he wait till sixteen?" asked Remus, "you became the Potter heir last year –"
"Last of line, Moony," explained Sirius tersely, his face grave. He bounded down the landing to the tapestry room, intent to check on the Malfoy side of his family. Sure enough, there was the beginnings of silver filigree forming around the line which connected Draco to Lucius and Narcissa on the wall..."
"Shit!" said Sirius, "Remus, send a Patronus to Dumbledore now!"
Remus complied, while Harry cursed himself for not thinking of that himself, after all the Patronus demonstrations he'd done that afternoon.
Remus went into the library, conjured a few suitcases, and waved his wand with a cry of "Pack!"
"Extremely valuable books," he explained, "can't let them fall into the wrong hands!"
Sirius rolled his eyes, and went upstairs, while Harry entered his own room. Packing the few books and odds and ends he'd left lying around in a conjured bag, he was down in the Hall in five minutes, joined by Sirius in five, and Remus in ten more.
They stared in silence at the luggage around them for a few moments, before Remus shrunk them all with a wave of his wand, putting them in the pockets of his worn out coat.
"Why the hell isn't the Portrait screaming?" asked Harry, suddenly struck by the silence.
Sirius grinned. "Ask Ginny that, it's a great story!"
"Later, Sirius," said Remus shortly. "Do you have any idea where we can go? My place? It's small, but manageable..."
"I know the perfect place," said Harry, and Sirius and Remus turned to look at him, amused.
"Are we about to find out where you went after your oh-so-famous runner from Molly Weasley's wrath?" asked Sirius, his eyes glinting in amusement.
"Haha bloody ha," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "Harry Potter's hideout can be found at the Lair, 7, Wright Lane, Godric's Hollow."
"Brilliant!" said Sirius, once the information had lodged in his brain. "James' second property on the plot –"
Remus' face, however, darkened. "It's a bit behind the cottage – have you –"
"Yes," said Harry, "I've been there, and the graveyard too." He had, and despite whatever fantasy he'd built up inside him, it'd had no real effect on him, to see the room where it had all began, or the graveyard where his parents were laid to rest.
Of course, he'd taken some of his parent's stuff from the cottage, but the majority of the things he'd left at the Cottage. Calli, who'd followed him along, had insisted he take his crib, even though it was partially destroyed, because of its significance, but he had declined emphatically.
There was silence for a few moments as Sirius digested this information. "Okay," he said finally, not finding anything better to say, really. "Shall we?"
"We shall," agreed Harry.
Sirius shouted out "Kreacher!" at the same time that Harry shouted "Dobby!"
Harry blinked even as Dobby appeared before him. In all the hurry, he'd forgotten about the other elf –
"Leaving are they, Blood Traitor filth and Mudblood-friend?"
"Shut up, Kreacher!" the elf silenced himself, but his mouth continued moving as he kept spewing insults.
"He's gone even crazier after my dear mother's portrait met with an 'accident'," said Sirius with an apologetic grin.
Kreacher's eyes bulged, and he started gesturing furiously as well.
"We're leaving, Kreacher," announced Sirius loudly, "I want you to go and work at Hogwarts for a while, and not communicate with anyone except the other house-elves."
"He can be taking Dobby's old place," suggested Dobby nervously.
"Right, get to it, Kreacher!" said Sirius.
"No!" everyone stopped short, too stunned to speak. Kreacher was rebelling against his own Master's orders, and the effort was taking a visible toll on him.
"I is not...leaving the Most Noble and Ancient House of...Black," he said, "I...is...never leaving..."
He turned, and started to go up the stairs, his body shaking with the effort. "Master Regulus' locket..." he muttered to himself, "Must..." his body shuddered as a wave of pain wracked through him –
"Kreacher, NO!" shouted Harry, his wand in his hand, but before he could do anything, the old elf gave one last shudder, and was completely still.
Harry made to walk forward, but Dobby shook his head, "He is being dead, Harry Potter, sir. Bad elves is being punished..."
Bile rose in his throat as a gust of wind entered the room. Before their eyes, Kreacher's body was reduced to dust, leaving the room with the currents of air.
All that was left behind was a shrunken head, just like the ones on the wall. Sirius strode forward, even though he looked horrified.
"He got me food once, you know," he said conversationally, though his voice was a bit shaky – they were all shaken up by what they'd just witnessed. "When my mother beat me up and locked me in the cellar – he got me sandwiches and pumpkin juice, said no Heir to House Black should starve, even if he was punished. I wondered why he'd go on to hate me so much, sometimes..."
"Though, I suppose," said Sirius with a wry grin, "I hated him just as much." With a flick of his wand, Kreacher's head was embedded on the new spike that had materialised next to the rest of the shrunken elf heads. "He'd have liked that," explained Sirius, "but hated that it was me who did it..."
"Anyway," he said, turning briskly now, "let's leave, shall we?"
"Is the house bare of anything incriminating?" asked Harry anxiously.
"Oh, there's plenty of incriminating stuff," said Sirius with his bark-like laugh, "just nothing left about the Order."
"Let's go then," said Harry, and he took Dobby's arm, while Remus and Sirius Apparated, knowing the rough location of the Lair.
He appeared a second or two after the two of them, and found them staring misty-eyed in the direction of the hill, beyond which the famed cottage lay.
Sirius had already started walking in that direction, and Remus was following. Sighing, Harry followed them, even though he had no real wish to return to that place again.
Tears were pouring down both the Marauders' faces when they were done seeing the house. "I held you there," said Sirius, pointing to a section in the garden, "the night it happened. Gave you over to Hagrid, and my bike too." Thick streams of tears were falling down his face, and Harry went over to put an arm around his shoulder. Sirius pulled him into a tight hug instead.
"I'm sorry," he said, sobs wracking his body, "I should never have let you go that night –"
"Sirius," said Harry, holding on to his Godfather's shaking frame, "we've talked about this before.I don't blame you!" he said.
But Sirius had already let go of him, and he was stumbling away through the evening like a man possessed. Harry realised where he was going after a second, and cursed – people would be out on the streets now, he couldn't afford to be captured.
He did the best thing he could, knowing that Sirius would go to the graveyard sometime or the other, even Harry put a stop to it today – so he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over his godfather, and he and Lupin joined him in their walk to graveyard.
Sirius let out a howl of anguish as they reached the graveyard and he stood before the graves of Lily and James Potter, and Harry didn't have the heart to stop him. He felt his own eyes prickling with tears – and this were probably the first time Sirius was seeing their graves. Next to him, Remus was sobbing silently as well, his face miserable.
They stayed like that a while, all three of them, soaking in their own misery, until they were startled out by the appearance of a silver phoenix.
"Warning taken, and members notified." Spoke Dumbledore's voice. "On my way to Headquarters to dissolve all charms I had placed. Hope you and Sirius are safe, contact once you are settled in."
"Well, that was short for the old man," said Harry, and the others snorted.
"What bullshit is this?" asked Sirius, pointing at the graves of Lily and James. "This Death and Last enemy deal?"
"Don't," said Harry, "I like it – it seems fitting."
Sirius looked chastised, but said, "I know, but it doesn't tell us anything about them! Who my best friend and the greatest woman I ever knew were!"
His wand was out before Harry could protest. With a wave, words began to appear on both the graves.
"Mr. Prongs solemnly swears that he is up to no good!" appeared on James Potter's grave, above the original writing, and Harry smiled a bit.
His heart caught in his throat, though, when he saw the writing on Lily's grave. "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."
He couldn't help the final tear that escaped down his cheeks. "There," said Sirius hoarsely, "that's better."
"It is," said Harry with a smile, "I never knew you read the Bible –"
"To spite my pagan family," said Sirius with a smile. He gripped his Godson tightly across his shoulders, promising the two people who were laid to rest before him that he would love their son forever, with all his heart.
"I'll be back," Sirius whispered to them, as the three of them walked away. With another wave of their wands, he and Lupin conjured wreaths of flowers for the graves, something they'd never had a chance to do earlier. The wind rustled behind them as Sirius put on the Cloak again.
Unknown to all of them, the slightest traces of a stag appeared behind them, white and ghostly. It was identical to Harry's Patronus in every respect. A ghostly doe appeared next to him and they stared together at the retreating figures, before vanishing away, leaving nothing in the air but the faintest smell of lilies...
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
"Right, guys," said Harry slowly, but Remus cut him off.
"What about your vaults, Sirius?" he asked.
"Oh, Lucius' spawn won't get anywhere near it," replied Sirius with a laugh. "As Heir, all he can do now is get into the main house, and maybe the trust vault for the younger Blacks – that's it."
"And once you die?" asked Remus a bit testily.
"Before I die, Remus, as you seem so eager to emphasize upon," Remus rolled his eyes, but Harry laughed, "I'll make sure that I transfer everything in my vault to something completely useless, Muggle, or to Harry's bank vault –"
"Wait, what?" asked Harry. "No! I won't –"
"You will accept it," said Sirius sternly. "I don't intend to die anytime soon, but if you don't honour my last wishes, Harry, bad things will happen."
"Like what?"
"For Merlin's Sakes, why do I have to elaborate? Just bad things in general!"
"Quiet, children!" said Remus with a smile, "now, before I rudely interrupted Harry, he was saying something. Harry?"
"Yeah, guys," said Harry, "it's about my summer, really. There's a lot I need to tell you."
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Fifteen Minutes Later
"...born as the seventh month dies," and Sirius and Remus paled.
"Come on, guys!" said Harry, with a chuckle. "We all knew it would be something like this – hell, I suspected this myself from the second year. I admit, it came as a shock to me first –"
"You can say that again," muttered Sirius grumpily.
"-but I got over it with a little help from –" Harry stopped short, he'd told them the edited version, without Calli in it, saving her for last.
"Little help from?" asked Sirius. "You were in contact with someone?"
"More like I bumped into her in the Department of Mysteries, and we sort of fell together –"
"Her, it's a girl?" asked Remus.
"Tell me, Remus," asked Harry, with a small grin, even as they approached the house and it came into view before them, "what would you do if I told you that one last Succubus still exists?"
Dead silence for a second or two, before Sirius shook his head violently.
"No," he said, before repeating again, "no, not even you. I refuse to believe it. Not a succubus, no way is it a succubus!"
Harry smirked, before walking in through the door, and making a show of shouting theatrically, "Honey, I'm home!"
A second, and then a squeal could be heard from upstairs! "Harry!" Calli screamed in joy as she came running down the stairs and tackled him in a hug that sent them both flying to the ground, "it's you, you're here! I was missing you like hell!"
"Er, you might want to let go of him," said Sirius, albeit enviously, as he saw that Harry was getting slowly suffocated by Calli's generous chest.
"Mmmfhm," agreed Harry.
"Who are you?" asked Calli, looking up at them curiously. "And why do you smell funny?" she asked Remus, wrinkling her nose.
"Calli," said Harry, sitting up and grinning as she placed herself firmly on his lap with a wiggle, "meet my Dogfather, Sirius Black, and my Honorary Godfather, Remus Lupin."
"You lucky bastard," said Lupin, unable to help himself.
"You sodding, rotten, lucky bastard!" said Sirius, before he grinned widely. "I'm so proud, Harry!"
Twenty minutes later, both Sirius and Remus were picking their jaws back up off the floor.
"Dementors?" asked Lupin incredulously, "your kind was cursed to become Dementors?"
"I thought we covered that," said Calli, with a roll of her eyes. "Why do you smell funny?"
Lupin bristled, while Sirius roared with laughter. "I think it's because he's a werewolf, Calli," said Harry.
"Oh," said Calli, blushing, "I've never met one before, sorry. That makes sense."
"No matter," said Lupin, at the same time as Sirius asked.
"So you were in coma for seven hundred and ninety years?" he asked.
"Wow, Sirius, way to be sensitive," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
"You're one to talk about sensitive," said Calli, "just because you left out what happened at the shoe store –"
"I apologised!"
"My first day here –"
"Are you out of your mind?!"
"What happened your first day here?" asked Sirius in interest.
"NOTHING!" roared Harry, waving his arms wildly, and Calli dissolved into laughter.
"How old are you anyway?" asked Remus in interest, "by human standards?"
Calli turned to Harry with a smug grin. "What?!" asked Harry with mock-anger, "he's a werewolf, he ages slightly differently. I had no way of knowing!"
"I'm seventeen or eighteen," she explained.
"I'm guessing Harry thought you were really eight hundred and fifteen years old?" Remus asked, his lips twitching.
"Yes, and he got so weirded out when I came onto him," said Calli, before Harry leapt across the sofa and jumped on top of her, silencing her immediately.
"You came onto him?!" asked Sirius in excitement.
"WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS DISCUSSION!" said Harry, his face burning crimson.
"I think we are, young man!" said Sirius with a wide grin. "So tell me, how was it? She had to be good – she "
"Shut up!" said Harry, suddenly angry. "Just because she's a succubus, and she flirted with me for a bit, doesn't mean that she's some sort of slag –"
Sirius was stunned. "But –"
"No, Sirius!" said Harry, "I won't tolerate it if you're going to think like that! Calli's a normal person like you and me, and she's one of my best friends!"
Sirius looked shocked, so Calli moved to soothe him. With a smack on the head from her tail, she said, "Don't mind him; I know it takes some getting used to. Besides, the git made the same mistake you did, and now he's being all high and mighty about it, the hypocrite!"
"Stop hitting me with your tail!" said Harry, angrily.
"You know you li-"
Harry tackled her cleanly, sending them both over the edge of the couch. She laughed in delight and expanded her wings, surrounding them both, and shielding them from view.
Sirius groaned in disappointment.
"Why so shy, Harry?" she asked sultrily, her eyes sparkling up at him. She was secretly delighted that he'd defended her like that, though, and before his Godfather, no less.
Harry, however, noticed something else. "You've changed your hairstyle," he observed.
"Yes," said Calli, the pleasure evident on her face, "you noticed!"
Her black hair was cut short to around her chin, but a long ponytail made its way from the back of her head all the way to nearly her knees.
"It suits you," he said earnestly, and she blushed, muttering a thanks.
"Are you two snogging in there?" came Sirius' voice, and they laughed, the moment forgotten.
"I need to be going," said Harry, "it's getting late, and I need to get back to Hogwarts."
"Are you going to be alright with Umbridge there?" asked Remus anxiously.
"I will," said Harry, at the same time that Calli asked, "Umbridge is at your school?"
"I'll tell you over the mirror tomorrow," said Harry, "or you can ask these two gits," he said, pointing to the Marauders.
"Two-way mirrors?" asked Sirius, his eyes glinting. "I have my pair," he said.
Harry had a brainwave. "You could connect the two of yours to the two of mine," he suggested, "that way we could have a four-way mirror."
Both Sirius and Calli giggled at the words 'four-way'.
Harry and Remus rolled their eyes, but Sirius stopped short.
"Wait a second, Kiddo," he said, "in all the excitement, I forgot."
Waving his wand, he pulled out one of the suitcases from Remus' pocket.
"Since your Firebolt got destroyed as you valiantly fought the Dark Lord," he said, "I thought it fair that you get a new broom."
Harry fairly threw himself at the thin package that Sirius held out – he had been raring to go flying for ages.
He almost fainted in shock when he saw the stamp on the broom, though.
The Firebolt WC Seeker's Edition, glinted up at him in golden letters. "No way," he said, "No fucking way in hell."
The fastest version of the fastest broom in the planet was in his hands.
Calli whistled, "That looks much better than the brooms in my time," she said, "though Magic Carpets were more in vogue then..."
"You have no idea," said Harry, running his hands over the broom, which was vibrating slightly in midair. He tackled his Godfather in a hug, at a loss for words.
Sirius, however, understood. "Just don't break this one, eh?" he said with a laugh. "This took some cash to buy," and Harry nodded his head contritely, too pumped to speak still.
"Who am I kidding?" said Sirius with a laugh. "Break it if you want, just break it on a Slytherin back! I'd like nothing better than to spend the Black money on my Godson!" and Harry laughed.
"Take it for a fly, before you leave then, go on!" said Remus, eager to see Harry on a broom again.
"Are you good?" asked Calli in interest. "There was this sport that was starting to gain in popularity all those years back, played at Queerditch Marsh..."
"It's Quidditch now, most popular game here," said Sirius, "and it will be my mission to tell you all about it – Harry plays Seeker, the fastest and most dangerous position in the game."
"Sounds like him," said Calli with a grin.
"Hey!" mock-protested Harry, and the others laughed.
"Can you take me up on it?" asked Calli, her eyes shining. "Succubi love flying!"
"I don't think you're ready for this," said Sirius, "Harry's flying is death-defying at its mildest..."
Calli extended her wings in reply, "I'm a creature of the air," she said, "I can take whatever he throws at me," she said with a grin.
Harry grinned as he walked outside, the others following him, even Dobby. "Are you sure?" he asked, mounting the broom. The entire broom hummed in pleasure, and he got chills of anticipation up his spine.
She clambered on behind him, straddling the broom, and grasping him from behind, deliberately rubbing up on him from behind. "Take it away, Potter," she sultrily whispered in his ear.
She was a bit disconcerted, though, when instead of turning red, Harry just grinned ferally.
Harry kicked off from the ground, and the broom took off so fast that the backlash blew back chunks of soil and dust.
Harry's roars of elation matched Calli's ecstatic screams as he went up so fast that he literally seemed to leave a trail of images behind him.
"Wow," muttered Sirius, at a loss of words. "What was I thinking, giving him that?"
"Wow," agreed Remus. "We are bad adults."
"YEAAAAAAAAH!" Harry screamed as he rose sharply upwards, experiencing almost no backdraft. The broom was like a jet, yet it turned with his thoughts, it seemed, as he rose to almost two hundred and fifty meters before cartwheeling in the air and levelling out with the slightest of touches.
Both of them were breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in tandem, identical gleams in their eye. He felt the weight on his broom lessen, before Calli jumped off, and spread her wings, floating level with him.
He couldn't help but admit that she looked a sight, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, flying next to him.
"Down?" she asked with a grin.
"Straight down," he corrected, with a smile of his own.
He turned his concentration back on the broom, but her voice distracted him, "Harry?"
He turned, and he was met by a pair of soft lips. "What was that for?" he asked, once she pulled away.
"Just in case we die," she giggled.
He was suddenly hesitant, "Hey, Calli, what are we?" he asked. "I mean –"
"I know what you mean," said Calli, her face inscrutable.
"I don't know," she said, finally, after a moment or two of long silence. "I really don't. Succubi courting isn't the same as humans," she said. "Until we meet our Chosen One, we don't really give any weightage to any casual relationships we have before that –"
She retraced her words at the look on Harry's face, "You're not something casual to me, Harry," she said solemnly. "In all honesty, I think my Chosen One is dead – after all, I was in coma for so long. I don't know why I come onto you, or kiss you, or flirt with you, I just do...it's in my Nature, for some reason. Succubi are a lot more open with their sexuality and emotions than other beings, but at the same time, we don't behave this way with just anyone."
"Would it be the same with anyone?" he asked hesitantly, and she shook her head.
"For one, nobody your age is that powerful," she said, "and I never was fond of much older men. In fact, other people would probably be reduced to soulless husks if I tried my techniques on them, or be driven mad if I kissed them –yes," she said at the look on his face, "some of those stories are true. And secondly, I don't know how to say this, but they're not you."
Harry smiled, he could understand. She, however, twitched her nose as the wind changed directions.
"I didn't notice before," she said, "why do you smell of Italian bread? One of Merlin's foreign Assassin allies had the same smell – she was one of the most dangerous –"
"Harry," she said, her eyes narrowing, "Who's the girl?"
"Er..."
"Relax, Harry, you can date other girls," she said with a laugh, "it's not like I have something concrete with you," her heart gave an inexplicable pang as she said the words.
"But it wouldn't be fair to go around kissing you if I'm dating them," said Harry.
"Relax, Harry, you can snog all the little girls at Hogwarts," she said. "There's nothing against me coming on to you before them, is there? After all, Succubi don't play by the normal rules, do they?"
She laughed at Harry's rapidly paling face. "You can't kiss them, but I can kiss you anytime I want, can't I?" she continued.
"You're joking!" said Harry, his eyes wide. She only laughed, and waggled her tail at him, before closing her wings, and falling sharply to the earth, her laughter trailing behind her.
Harry shouted again, "You're JOKING, right?!" and when no answer was forthcoming, he shouted, "CALLIDA!" and went into a vertical, death defying dive behind her.
Sirius swore he got several more white hairs when both of them pulled up only meters from the ground, before Harry jumped on Calli and they started tussling good-naturedly on the ground.
Author's Note: School is back on from tomorrow, so goodbye for now. I'll try to be regular, though.
You better review a lot, and I mean a lot. I better come back and find loads of nice happy people, after all I've done for you.
Oh, and if you don't understand the Italian up there, it's best you don't google. She's not even a major character, just a fling, maybe. And this Italian is ALL google translate, don't blame me.
Oh, if you have any complaints about Fred and George's explanation of the rules and status quo of Hogwarts, you've obviously never been in high school, no offence.
Oh, and on a sidenote, Calli's hair now resembles this character from Ah! My Goddess, Peorth of the Roses. Blame my sister.