Almost A Dream Come True
Chapter Ten: Truth
Something cold, like a melting snowball, trickled down Harry's head and onto his neck. The feeling stopped as it reached his knees.
"Try again. Stay focused, Summer," he advised.
The Other Granger, as some had taken to calling Summer, lifted the Disillusionment Charm. Tight-lipped and frowning, she raised her wand again and tapped the top of Harry's head. Half an hour ago, they had abandoned the goblin wars of the 16th century, and were now practicing recent D.A. spells. This time, Harry felt the Disillusion cover him entirely and felt satisfaction. At least Summer was a quick learner, like Hermione.
"Good," said Harry's disembodied voice. Summer tapped him again and the charm was lifted. "Do you want to give History of Magic another go?"
"Yes, oh please, Professor, can't we? I'm sure it'll be fascinating," she replied, oozing sarcasm. Returning to seriousness, Summer added, "Come on, let's be done for today. Let's not, and say we did."
Harry shook his head. "Tempting, but no. I don't need McGonagall finding out and losing more points for Gryffindor. What else have we got to cover?" Harry picked up the now-well-worn parchment explaining requirements for each year of study. They had worked their way through First and Second years, and were almost finished Third Year. "Transfiguration, we've covered already. History of Magic, more or less… the goblins didn't like the wizards, or each other, so they had a lot of wars. Herbology, done. By the way, how'd you do on Snape's essay?"
It was Friday, and the essay they'd handed in on Monday had been given back in today's Potions lesson, to the dismay of many students.
"I did well enough," Summer replied, noncommitant. In reality, she had received a high mark, probably close to Hermione's, and Snape had written her a brief comment at the top of her essay. Adequate. It had made her grin.
"Hmph. Well, I learned to conjure a Patronus in Third Year… it's not strictly on the curriculum, but we might as well try it, and start Fourth Year topics next week," said Harry, setting down the parchment. "The basic purpose of a patronus is to protect you from Dementors, but I've also heard that you can use them to send messages. Right now, it's better to only use them for Dementors, it's easier. I mean, it's not easy," he said, quickly backtracking his words. "You've got to think of something that makes you really happy. A moment, or a feeling. And when you're ready, you say the incantation. Expecto patronum!" A silvery stag burst forth from the tip of Harry's wand, cantered around the classroom once, and evaporated. He gestured for Summer to try.
"Happy thoughts, happy thoughts," she muttered under her breath. She thought of the first time she rode a bike without her training wheels, and the glorious sensation of freedom. Summer said the incantation. Harry, standing at the teacher's desk, looked from Summer to the wand that failed to produce a patronus.
"Something happier," he suggested.
Summer thought, then, of flying for the first time, soaring through the air, held only by a conscious stick of wood, by real magic. The wind stinging her face, gravity being toyed with… This time, she managed a writhing silver smoke, but, as soon as her thoughts of flying were fully formed, she remembered falling from a terrifying height, just barely getting out of the lesson alive. The smoke vanished.
"Alright, let's try something else," Harry said, striding across the classroom. When he reached the other side, he turned to face Summer. "It might work better if you have a Dementor in front of you, but for now you'll just have to make do. Pretend I'm a Dementor, about to suck the soul out of you, and try again."
Summer didn't even raise her wand. "Seriously?" She arched an eyebrow.
Harry tapped his school robes with his wand and they transformed into the long, tattered black hooded robes of a Dementor. "Better?" he asked, as he drew the hood down over his face.
"Sort of. Conjure up some smoke too, and maybe some creepy music."
"That's not helping, Summer. Now, focus," he scolded her. In fact, as Harry stood on the raised platform normally reserved for professors, he towered over Summer the way a Dementor usually would. And, with a slight smirk, he conjured up a cold fog that rolled around their ankles and climbed eagerly onto any bit of exposed skin, making goosebumps appear on Summer's arms. It was much easier now, to feel fear, especially considering Harry's hesitant acceptance of her, and recalling the memories of being cornered by him and accused. She thought of something completely opposite, something happy. Searching her recent memories, Summer focused on the calm feeling she had during peacefully spent Saturdays in the Potions classroom. She raised her wand to cast the Patronus charm, a small smile on her lips.
Harry, seeing Summer raise her wand with a strange smile on her face, felt a sharp stab of pain in his scar. As she opened her mouth to say the incantation, another bolt of pain seized him and he doubled over. He heard a high cackling in his head, Voldemort was laughing madly. Something was going very well for Voldemort, exactly as planned. Harry looked up through his receding pain at Summer, approaching him.
"Harry?" she asked, worried. The smile was gone from her face. "Are you okay? I swear, I didn't cast anything." She had come close enough now to reach out a concerned hand.
"Don't!" he said harshly, swiping her hand away. With a tremendous effort, he straightened up and returned his robes to normal Hogwarts ones. Then, he backed away from Summer, suspicious.
"What's happened?" she asked quietly.
Harry frowned and paced angrily. Voldemort was exceedingly happy, just at the moment when Summer had raised her wand at Harry. Were the two things connected? It seemed a highly unlikely coincidence. He glanced at Summer, now wringing her hands in concern, wand put away. Not an immediate threat, in other words.
"Why are you really here?" he asked.
"To learn? Don't you remember?" she asked uncertainly.
"I mean, really," he snapped. "Who sent you here?"
"Y-you did… remember, we landed in the fire." Summer felt shaky, and wondered if maybe she hadn't performed some magic by accident that had muddled Harry's brain.
"I don't believe you. You must have been sent by a Death Eater, or maybe by Voldemort himself," he said, now speaking to himself.
"Oh, that again," Summer sighed in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a spy!" Harry just glared at her, thinking now that much of her behaviour was possible of being interpreted as malevolent. "Can't you get it into your head that I'm just a normal girl?" Harry's thoughts jumped to her extra Potions lessons… was she really learning, or was she plotting something with Snape? "Do you need to examine my brain to make sure that I'm not secretly plotting your demise?"
Harry perked up at that. "Yes, I do."
"Pardon me?" Summer asked, shocked.
"Come with me," he said and swept from the Transfiguration classroom.
"Where are we going?"
"To see Snape."
The rest of the walk was silent, Harry still fuming, Summer trying to calm down. She was hoping for the best. Professor Snape, although never outwardly warm and cuddly to Summer, was at least neutral now, and didn't hold it against her for being in Gryffindor House. And even if there was Veritaserum involved, Summer was fairly confident of not embarrassing herself too much. Besides, she thought, Harry knew Snape was/is a Death Eater, and probably wouldn't believe him anyways.
Harry strode into the Potions classroom, and to Snape's office, entering without knocking.
"Potter, Miss Granger," said Snape, looking up from his desk. "To what do I owe this displeasure?" he sneered. "I trust you don't need lessons, too, Potter? Perhaps in courtesy, things such as knocking?"
Harry ignored these obvious jibes and got straight to the point. "I need Veritaserum."
Snape looked from Harry, enraged, to Summer, complacent. "Even if I were to break school rules, which I will not, why would you have need of it?"
"I need the truth from her," Harry replied tersely, indicating Summer.
"I see. Miss Granger?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"The truth, if you please," said Snape, either being sarcastic, or uncharacteristically polite.
Summer stood her ground and lifted her chin defiantly. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a spy, nor a Death Eater, nor any one working against Harry Potter."
"Is that what you've been accused of? My my, Granger, you seem to be stepping on the toes of the infamous hero," Snape replied coolly. "Well, Potter. Miss Granger is not a spy, a Death Eater, or out to get you. Perhaps you are simply looking for another enemy." Snape turned his attention back to his work.
"Legilimize her, then," ordered Harry.
"That, Potter, is also against school policy," replied Snape. "And may I remind you, that you should address me with due respect."
"Right, professor." But Harry didn't move and Summer shifted on her feet. She was tired, and tempted to sit in the one uncomfortable chair in Snape's office.
"Unless you'd like a detention, Potter, I suggest you leave."
"Not until I get some answers." Harry was as stubborn as he was famous, thought Summer.
Snape sighed, resigned. "Miss Granger, if you have anything to hide, I suggest you do it now."
"I don't," said Summer honestly.
"Very well." And, looking into Summer's eyes and raising his wand, Snape spoke the incantation. "Legilimens."
Summer felt as though someone had pried her mind open with a crowbar, but tried her best not to resist it. Thoughts and scenes flashed before her minds' eye. Her living room, back in America. Arriving in the Gryffindor common room fireplace. Finding out she was related to Hermione. The completely liberating feeling of flying. The thoughts slowed down when they reached the scene of her explaining to Harry for the first time, that she had lied, but unknowingly told the truth. Summer could feel Snape flipping through her thoughts like a photo album. Her confusion, her delight, and her frustration. Abruptly, Snape sat back, breaking the connection and left Summer feeling very alone in her mind. She staggered back a few paces.
"Weird," she muttered, rubbing her temples.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Potter," Snape said. "Miss Granger is in fact, only a witch. You'll have to find someone else to demonize." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. Harry stormed from the room, angry about being wrong, but Summer hung back for a moment.
"Thanks, Professor." And then she too, was gone.
Now out of sight of any eyes, Summer let her temper reign free again. Anger surged through her, fury at Harry. Always, he suspected the worst of her. And just as things seemed to be settling down, he had broken down in pain during their tutoring and he seemed to blame her. Now, suspicions, tension and tempers had flared again and Summer knew she would have a few more awkward silent encounters with Harry before everything regaining some semblance of normalcy. She hoped that this wouldn't become an ongoing trend. As she approached Gryffindor Tower, she felt trepidation.
In the common room, other students seemed to be giving her a wide berth. In a corner, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, having a very heated discussion in whispers.
"Would you stop it?" Hermione hissed. "You're being paranoid. Next, you'll be telling us she's in cahoots with Malfoy!"
"Maybe she already is!" Harry replied. "I think Snape was protecting her and lying… why else would my scar have hurt then? At the moment when she pointed her wand at me? What other explanation is there?"
"It could have been coincidence," Ron suggested, but wavered under Harry's glare.
"It's not coincidence! We should never have let her in the D.A., or into Hogwarts at all!" Harry spat vehemently.
"Do I get a chance to defend myself?" asked Summer. She had been waiting, with arms crossed, at the edge of their whispered debate for an opportunity.
"I don't want to hear any more lies," said Harry.
"You won't," Summer assured him. "Professor Snape was telling the truth, so was I. I don't know what happened tonight, but I swear I didn't do anything to cause it. You've had me legilimized, there's no better proof than that."
"Yes, there is!" cried Hermione. "Summer, give me your wand." Summer, trusting her cousin more than Harry, obliged. "Prior Incantato." A silvery smoke issued from Summer's wand, the best of her attempted patronus.
Ron snorted. "That's not very good."
"I'd like to see you do better, two months into your magical education," snapped Summer. "And anyway, this proves that I haven't done any magic that would have hurt Harry, unless he's scared of my miserable patronus."
"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione, "but there really is no evidence for Summer being evil or Dark." She handed the wand back to Summer. "Can't you put this behind you?"
Harry grunted without looking at Summer. Looking utterly depressed, he twitched his head in what could be interpreted as a nod. "I'm trusting your judgement, Hermione. Keep an eye on her," he said darkly.
The next morning at breakfast, Summer was already half-finished before Harry came down, trailed by Hermione and Ron. Hermione gave a weak smile to Summer, and they sat further down the table, far from Summer. Summer did her best to ignore them, rereading the grey book of medicinal potions. Chapters 13 through 17 dealt with burn and bruise-healing pastes, another product that Madam Pomfrey had been running low on. The ingredients were simple, as was the procedure, except for the exact timing (literally, in seconds) of addition of certain ingredients. The rest of the Gryffindors were content to leave Summer to her own devices.
Summer heard the approach of the morning owl post. She did not expect anything, as usual, but heard Hermione exclaim, and then continue in hushed tones with Ron and Harry. Summer finished, and closed her book in preparation to leave the Great Hall when a paper bird landed on her empty plate. It twittered, hopping up and down, until Summer picked it up and it unfolded itself. A message was written there, in a neat slanted hand.
If the Gryffindors aren't making you feel welcome, there's always a place on the other side. Slytherins can learn to accept a mudblood, if she's clever enough.
Summer glanced up sharply, scanning the Slytherin table. Malfoy sat there, self-confident and smirking. Summer frowned and, pulling out a quill, leaned over the parchment to scribble a reply. If only he knew how true his insulting words were. Clever mudbloods don't want any part of sneaking Slytherins. Gryffindors value honesty above all else. She folded up the parchment into a paper airplane and stood from the table. Slinging her bag over one shoulder, she threw the airplane at Malfoy. It flew true and hit him on the head. He scowled and read her reply, looking up, but she was already gone for her Potions lesson.
Actually, Summer began to wonder at the fact that Malfoy had noticed her exclusion from the inner circle. And also, she wondered at Snape's defense of her last night. It seemed that Slytherins were not as bad as their reputation, and Gryffindors were brave and loyal only so far as their own were concerned. Having joined them in their sixth year, Summer supposed that she didn't qualify as a "true" Gryffindor. Would she have pulled out Godric's sword, if faced with a basilisk and wearing the Sorting Hat? Or would she have produced something else?
She shook these thoughts from her head as she entered the dungeon. "Good morning, Professor," she said, trying to be cheerful.
"You will begin with a Wit-Sharpening Potion, fourth year," said Snape. "Instructions are on the board," he waved his wand and they appeared there, "and you may begin. Inform me when you have finished."
Summer worked quietly and diligently for about an hour. As the potion simmered for ten minutes before she was to add the final ingredient, ground scarab beetle, she regarded Snape curiously. "Professor?" He looked up from his desk. Summer looked for appropriate words. "Why did you agree to Legilimency?"
"I suggest you add the beetle now, before your potion is ruined," he said coldly.
Summer complied silently. The potion turned the appropriate deep purple. Snape came and looked into her cauldron. He gave a nod of approval and asked her to begin the pastes for Madam Pomfrey. He stood watching over her shoulder for a few moments. He cleared his throat.
"Although the Dark Lord did originally recruit Death Eaters from the students of Hogwarts, he has not recently accepted any one who has not yet come of age. Children are of no use to him. I knew that you must not be serving him," the professor said quietly. "I discovered nothing in your mind that was unexpected, but Potter would not be satisfied until I told him. And, recalling his destruction of the Headmaster's office in the previous year, I was not willing to sacrifice my possessions."
"Hm," said Summer, thinking the explanation seemed incomplete. She wondered if he had hoped that she was on Voldemort's side, and whose side Snape was on. But before she had a chance to ask anything more, Snape pulled up his sleeve.
There, unmistakable, was the Dark Mark. "Sooner or later, Miss Granger, you would have asked me," he explained. "Yes, I was a Death Eater. Now, I serve Dumbledore. My loyalties have been questioned much the same way that Potter suspects you. I am not unsympathetic."
Summer stared at him, half-frightened, half-grateful. The only Death Eater in the school was also the only person that seemed to understand her predicament.
"Begin by adding powdered poppy root to bubotuber paste," said Snape, and produced a new set of instructions on the board. He returned to his desk.
Summer, reeling with new information, took a moment before beginning the next potion.