The Roaring Snake – 9
Tea, Quidditch and Meetings
(Author's Note: In this chapter, we see a bit more of Dumbledore's manipulations. To my great dissatisfaction, I have seen very few stories that do justice to the subtlest and craftiest manipulator of the Wizarding World. This features my attempt to capture some of the old man's delicate manoeuvres.
One of my reviewers mentioned (Harry 2000 – thanks for the comments, Harry 2000!) that I need not explain all the manipulations right away. I confess that I am hiding at least as much as I am explaining. Much more will become apparent as the story progresses.
As usual, all criticism is welcome)
---(Beginning of the Chapter)---
Harry stumbled out of the Dungeons towards the Great Hall, where a quick lunch later, Harry went into the library. Two hours of solid work later, Harry had managed to find tentative answers to a couple of Snape's questions, even as he had failed signally to even find hints about the others. The complexity of those that Harry had managed to narrow the direction of his efforts almost assured him that the ones he had failed had certainly not been first year stuff. He made some necessary notes – he would discuss this with Daphne in their meeting. Checking his watch, he found that it was well past tea-time, and soon he was speeding across the castle grounds, hurrying towards Hagrid's place. Speeding down the narrow path towards the gamekeeper's hut, Harry did not notice where he was going and nearly rammed into Albus Dumbledore. Trying to stop suddenly, he skidded on the wet gravel, spattered both his own and the professor's robes with mud, and would have fallen, but for the steadying hand of the old headmaster. "Sorry, sir", wheezed Harry.
Dumbledore merely smiled, and cleaned both their robes with a wave of his wand, and returned, "Not to mention, Harry. Hagrid is waiting for you, I believe. I will see you this evening."
"Yes, professor", answered the dark haired boy, but Dumbledore had already turned away, and was striding back towards the school.
Harry looked for a minute at the retreating back of the old headmaster, shrugged, and knocked at the door of Hagrid's hut. The giant gamekeeper immediately opened the door, and waved Harry into a chair, while he put a kettle of water on the stove to boil, even as a boar hound tried lick Harry's ears. "Don' mind Fang, Harry. He wouldn't hurt a fly", smiled Hagrid as Harry was trying to avoid the huge dog's attentions. The giant began questioning Harry about his week, and his impression of Hogwarts, even as he worked to make some cakes and get the tea ready. While Harry was no stranger to attention, he wondered about the half-giant's interest in Harry's life.
Harry looked around the small place – hams and pheasants hung from the roof, a stash of dead rodents was stored in one corner, and a bunch of some kind of animal hair was hung on a wall – Hagrid was certainly not methodical, meticulous or orderly.
It was at that moment that Harry's eyes lighted on a printed piece of paper – it seemed to have been cut off from a newspaper. Ordinarily, a newspaper cutting would not have arrested Harry's attention; however, it was a completely out of place thing for the surroundings. Harry's interest was kindled – Hagrid seemed to have no books, or even reading or writing materials of any sort, in his humble abode. What then was this piece of paper doing here, and why was it of interest to Hagrid? Hagrid's attention was completely engaged in his culinary activities, so Harry took the liberty of running his eyes over the article. It spoke of a daring attempt at robbery in the Gringotts – one in which the Goblin bank, although broken into, had not lost any valuables. The goblins had insisted that the thieves had got nothing for their pains, for the vault that had been broken into had been emptied that very day. Harry had observed some comment in the Daily Prophet at the time of the theft, but the crime had not appealed to Harry's interest. The raven haired boy had simply disregarded it as an occurrence that did not appear within his horizon. However, seeing Hagrid's interest in the same attempted burglary, Harry's curiosity was piqued. Hagrid appeared neither the kind that enjoyed the excitement of sensational literature, nor one that studied the intricacies of burglaries in whatever form. So why then was the large gamekeeper keeping that newspaper cutting?
Harry observed the date of the crime – it was the very day he had been in Diagon Alley. Something stirred faintly in Harry's memory – Hagrid had spoken of a task he had to perform for Dumbledore. Had Hagrid's task involved something that related to the robbery – or the vault in question itself?
Hagrid had finished making tea, and was horrified to see that Harry was reading the article about the robbery in Gringotts. He placed the tea and cakes in front of Harry, and when the boy put down the newspaper cutting, Hagrid immediately pounced on it, and secreted it in an inside pocked of his great coat. Harry's suspicions were confirmed – Hagrid definitely had a deep reason for keeping that cutting. Well, this would be another bit to discuss with his tentative allies in the coming meeting.
However, the boy made no allusion to it and they both began speaking of other things. Harry was amused to note that the giant shared Harry's antipathy for the caretaker of Hogwarts. The talk then turned to Snape – when Harry mentioned Snape's distaste for himself, Hagrid waved it off airily – a bit too flippantly, Harry thought, nor would the bearded giant meet Harry's eyes while discussing the sour, overgrown bat. There was definitely something that Hagrid knew about Snape, but was not willing to speak of.
On a hunch, Harry asked, "Hagrid, what d'you know of Millicent Bulstrode?"
"Never seen 'er before. Bulstrodes – they're a quiet family."
"Were they involved in the last war?", questioned Harry.
"Nah – they kept away from both sides. Why d'you ask?"
"Oh – she's my partner in Potions", replied Harry.
Eventually, when the tea was finished, Harry thanked Hagrid for the courtesy and returned to the castle, thinking furiously about what he had just seen and heard in the giant's hut. He had certainly learnt quite a bit. However, he had more pressing concerns for the moment. He had Snape's homework to work on, and Millicent would be coming to meet him in an hour or so.
---(Scene Break)---
Harry was working assiduously in the library, when Millicent joined him. Harry greeted her with quiet courtesy, and they immediately launched into their homework on the Potions essay. The girl was a steady worker and was easy to get along with. Millicent, on her part, found Harry Potter a far cry from her own House mates, who either ignored or mocked her. Perhaps the Boy-Who-Lived was not the spoilt brat she had imagined? Such speculation was laid aside as Harry found the necessary books, while Millicent took down the notes. At the end of the hour, Harry spoke up, "I've got to meet Dumbledore now. D'you want to keep on with this? Or shall we call it a day?"
"There's still a lot of work to be done, Potter."
"Okay", Harry nodded. "I'll come back as soon as possible. We'll get some more work done tonight, then."
Millicent nodded, "See you in a bit."
Harry walked up to Professor Dumbledore's office, spoke the password Prof. Sprout had given him, and stepped past the stone gargoyles. Knocking on the door, he received a summon, "Enter".
Dumbledore was seated at his desk, with his back to the light and his face in the shadow. He smiled at Harry, and pointed to a chair in front of his desk "Sit down, Harry. May I offer you a lemon drop?"
"No, thank you, Professor."
Dumbledore took a lemon drop himself, and sat facing Harry expectantly. "Well, Harry", he questioned, "How are you adjusting to Hogwarts?"
"Quite well, sir. It's been very interesting all round, sir", returned Harry carefully. The light was shining in his eyes, and he could make out nothing of Dumbledore's expression, which was concealed in the shadows.
"Excellent!", replied Dumbledore. "Now, there are a few things we must discuss. First, did you know that I'm your guardian, Harry?"
Harry nodded, his face cautiously neutral, as Dumbledore continued, "Harry, I am sure you are wondering why I never tried to meet you all these years. The answer to it is this – I wanted to keep safe. You see, your mother sacrificed herself to keep you alive. She invoked a powerful and ancient magic that protects you as long as you are with those of her blood. Your aunt, Petunia, is the only one of her blood, and her protection is what has been keeping you safe all these years."
"But ..", began Harry.
"What has that got to do with me not visiting you all these years?", Dumbledore completed Harry's unfinished question. "Many of Voldemort's followers were – and still are – searching for you. Harry, among other things, the protection that your mother invoked makes you untraceable by most magical means. However, had I – or anyone else from the Magical World – tried to visit you, it would be possible to track us and, by extension, you. For your own safety, and the safety of other wizards and witches, we'd to keep away until you could come to Hogwarts."
"And now, Professor?"
"Now that you are eleven years old, it is impossible to keep you completely untraceable. Some of the protection eroded away once you came to Hogwarts, and met other wizards and witches. However, the protection in Privet Drive is still extremely powerful. Apart from your mother's magic, I have added my own spells and wards to keep you safe there. As long as you visit that place once a year for a month, the spells will remain intact, and you will continue to enjoy the aegis of your mothers' magic."
"Will I have to return to the Dursleys?" There was bitterness and outrage in Harry's voice. Dumbledore interpreted it correctly. "I know that the Dursleys are not the best company or guardians, Harry. However, to keep the spells that protect you working, you will need to remain for a month at Privet Drive. After that, you can be anywhere you like."
Harry did not like it, but did not voice his opposition at the moment.
"Nevertheless", continued Dumbledore, opening a small packet and taking out a silvery object, "it will not do to take chances. This, Harry, is an invisibility cloak. It used to belong to your father – who used it mainly to sneak food from the kitchens when he was here. I have placed a shrinking charm on it so that it will fit into your pocket. When you need to put it on, just tap it with your wand and say 'enlarge', and it will be restored to its original size. When you have finished using it, tap it again and say 'shrink'. Keep this on you at all times, and if you are in danger, disappear underneath it. Do not run recklessly into peril. Keep the knowledge of the cloak to yourself – it would be best if no one knows about your defence mechanism. Do you understand, Harry?"
"Yes, sir. But, surely, I am safe inside the castle, sir?"
"You should be, Harry, but one can never say for sure. Even in this castle, there are children of Death Eaters, and people whose sympathies lie with Voldemort, although they may not openly acknowledge it now."
"Do you mean the Malfoys?"
"Lucius Malfoy was never convicted as a Death Eater, so I should not answer your question perhaps. However, between ourselves, they are one of the several families you should be wary of. But they are not the only ones, nor the most dangerous."
"Who else ..."
"Harry, read any book on the last war and you will see what families supported Voldemort. Be careful."
Harry and Dumbledore both sat in silence for a moment, and then Dumbledore began once more, "Oh – before I forget, here is an album of your parents' photographs. I thought you might like to have it."
Harry, who had never seen his parents photographs before, was overcome at the kindness of the headmaster, and thanked him gratefully. The recollection of his parents brought a couple of questions he meant to ask, "Sir, what did my parents do? For a living, I mean?"
"Your mother worked for the Committee on Experimental Charms in the Ministry. Your father had all his attention and time engaged in taking care of the Potter estate. Your father was very rich, Harry. He owned several businesses, and managing them took all his time. He had other commitments in the Wizengamot as well."
Harry nodded, the emotion about knowing about his parents overwhelming everything else. Dumbledore let Harry enjoy the sensation for a moment, as he steered the conversation into the area he desired. This part of the interaction being an important part of his plan, the old headmaster continued, affecting total detachment, "I am told by the Weasley children that you are an excellent flier. Your father would be very proud – he was one of the finest players in Gryffindor himself."
Harry blushed at the comment, as he replied wistfully, "I wish I could play Quidditch for my House."
Dumbledore seemed arrested at that remark, "Actually, you can.", he answered slowly. "If you like, I will give you permission to try for your House team."
"But I thought first years weren't allowed ..."
"The rule is principally to ensure that first years, who have no experience in flying, do not hurt themselves by trying to compete. However, there is no reason to keep a good flier out of the trials, just because he is a first year."
"Won't the others want to try as well, sir?", questioned Harry curiously.
"Perhaps, Harry, but not many wizards are good fliers – from what I have heard, certainly not in your class anyway. It is most unlikely that any of them would make it into their team even if they were allowed. After Madam Hooch certifies their flying abilities, they might try if they like."
Dumbledore was giving him a chance to play a game he enjoyed by breaking a rule for his sake, Harry reflected gratefully, even as he nodded eagerly, "That'd be great, sir. But I don't have a broom."
"Not to worry. You will find your new broom waiting for you on Sunday."
"Thank you very much, sir. You're very kind."
Dumbledore nodded, "If you have any problems, Harry, my door is always open to you, night or day."
Harry thanked the old headmaster once more, and then left the room. Dumbledore leant back in his chair with a cold smile on his ancient face as the boy left the chambers. His plan was working perfectly.
---(Scene Break)---
Harry did some more work with Millicent that evening, but he was still quite a bit away from completing the Potions essay he had to finish. They called it a day at ten, bade each other a good night, and went back to their respective dorms.
Saturday dawned clear and bright, and until noon, Harry worked some more on his homework, this time with Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchley, both of whom were as industrious and serious as Harry himself, when it came to studies. At noon, Harry proceeded to Prof. Quirrell's office. The nervous, stuttering professor greeted him and bade him be seated. "I said in cl-class that we would not p-perform the jinxes. That is t-t-true for others. B-But for you, it is b-better to start l-learning the jinxes as well – you never know when you may n-need it. Have you g-gone through the b-books I gave you in D-D-Diagon Alley?"
Harry nodded in assent. "Here is a t-test. You have an hour. B-Based on your performance, we'll start the l-lessons from n-next week."
The test was fairly difficult, but Harry was sure that he had got most of the answers right. At the end of the hour, Harry handed back the test to Quirrell, thanked him for his kindness and left.
The pallid professor watched the dark haired boy walk away with puzzlement. Thus far, the boy had displayed perfect behaviour and excellent etiquette, which was what was to be expected. However, he had displayed very little curiosity, not even asking where the lessons would be held. Was Potter merely hiding his force of character behind his quiet and gentle exterior? Or was the flame of will dead and the core rusted, assuming that they had even existed at any time? Well – he would determine for himself the kind of person Potter was in the coming lessons.
---(Scene Break)---
By mid day on Sunday, Harry and Susan had finished all the homework for the coming week. They could look forward to a productive discussion with their colleagues. At ten to three in the afternoon, Harry, Justin and Susan went to the appointed classroom, and found Daphne, Hermione, Sakarbal and Anthony already waiting for them., their noses buried deep in their books. A chorus of greetings followed. Others arrived soon, Draco and Ron being the last. The meeting initially focussed on the assignments of the week and was very productive, with the non-Hufflepuff members coming up with many bits of information that Harry, Susan and Justin had missed in their essays. Hermione and Sakarbal explained some delicate theory in Transfiguration, while Daphne and Draco came up with some telling points about the Potions homework. Anthony helped with some simple charms that Harry was trying to learn. During the entire time, Harry was carefully cataloguing his companions.
Of the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy oozed arrogance from every pore and was over-confident about his abilities, but his knowledge of Defence against the Dark Arts, Charms and Potions was very sound. He would be good if he could be bothered to concentrate on something – mostly, he felt that working was beneath his dignity. Millicent was decent at everything – a slow, and thorough worker, but nothing extraordinary. Daphne Greengrass' knowledge of Herbology and Potions was phenomenal, and she appeared to know offhand how each ingredients affected each other and the potion as a whole. If Harry could be sure of her loyalties, she would make a very valuable ally.
Of the Hufflepuffs, Susan was proficient with her knowledge of Defence against the Dark Arts. She also had a clear head, with a very accurate knowledge of the British Wizarding law. Justin and Ernie, were steady and patient, if unspectacular, students.
The two Ravenclaws were superb at Charms, and Rosier was extremely good at Transfiguration as well. They were quiet, cool and relentless, with deep insight into the subjects of their choice – the kind of people that made excellent researchers. They would be solid and reliable allies, if they were minded to take sides at all.
The Gryffindors were a mixed lot. Neville Longbottom was a very nervous, accident prone student, that lacked self-confidence. If he could be made more sure of himself, he might become better. Ron Weasley had a good sense of humour, but his academic interests were extremely limited. His knowledge of Quidditch and its tactics might be of interest to Harry, if he qualified for his House team. The last person was also probably the most complex one. Hermione Granger seemed to have swallowed all her textbooks en masse, and had every fact in her schoolbooks by heart. Her extreme love of books made her a veritable fount of pedantic knowledge. She knew very little about the Wizarding world, but as a fellow learner, with a deep curiosity for all aspects of the magical world, Harry could be sure of tapping her for some information that interested him.
At length, the meeting was finished, and Harry beckoned to Ron, Daphne, Susan, Sakarbal, Draco, and Anthony to remain behind. Harry had made up his mind about Snape more or less – the man hated Harry, and not Millicent. To exclude the possibility of Snape's distaste for heavy set Slytherin, he queried the others, "What do you people know about Millicent?"
"Why d'you want to know?", asked Anthony.
In a few quick words, Harry related his experience in Snape's class. "Does he hate me or does he hate Millicent? Or both?"
Draco snapped, "You're imagining things, Potter. Snape's a great teacher. You're not worthy of his attention."
Harry looked coolly at Draco, but did not reply at all.
"Hate? That's a strong word, Potter", mused Daphne.
"I know that. But you saw what you saw."
That remark silenced Daphne, who saw the truth of Harry's comment. Daphne, Anthony, and Susan, who knew nothing of Millicent Bulstrode, could tell Harry nothing. However, Sakarbal answered, "I've never seen Millicent before. But I can tell you a bit about her parents, though."
"What's it?"
"Well – she's a half-blood. Her father, Vitellius Bulstrode, is a squib who makes his living as a financial consultant of sorts for various wizarding companies – he's said to be a genius with money. Her mother, Bianca Crouch-Bulstrode, works as an interpreter with various creatures like goblins and giants. She's said to speak a number of languages fluently."
"What's a squib?", asked a curious Harry.
"A squib is a non-magical offspring of magical parents, Harry", answered Daphne pedantically.
"Ah! The famous Greengrass neutrality at its finest!", sneered Malfoy coldly.
Daphne Greengrass shrugged, "My family's never been involved in blood based politics, and I'm not going to break that tradition."
Harry looked between the two, but neither seemed inclined to explain, so he left it at that. Harry then bade goodbye to his companions, and retraced his steps to the Hufflepuff common room.
---(End of the Chapter)---
(Author's Note: The chapter has been changed slightly (the conversation with Dumbledore), thanks to some insightful remarks by Inconclusive. Thanks, Inconclusive!