- Chapter 11 -
Cerberus
"Augh! Get off me you idiot!" Harry jerked awake at the screams coming from his left. Harry jumped out of bed and twitched the curtains aside only to fall to the floor with laughter at the sight. It seemed that Blaise had taken it upon himself to wake Harry. By tickling him. Of course, it wasn't actually Harry in the bed, but that thought hadn't deterred Blaise.
Vince and Greg appeared almost simultaneously, their heads tilting in opposite directions as they tried to work out what was going on. Harry smiled up at them, content with his seat on the floor.
"Hey, isn't that your bed, Harry?" Greg asked. Harry nodded in response, which seemed to satisfy Greg.
"Harry," Vince asked with a sly smirk, "why are you watching Draco and Blaise in bed together?" Harry could feel the blush running up his cheeks.
"Umm… well… You're watching them, too!" Harry retorted lamely.
"I think a better question is 'What are those two doing?' I mean, seriously, with the way Draco's screaming I thought it was rape at first." Theo had appeared on Harry's right side, next to Vince. Draco and Blaise sat up immediately.
"Hey! I'm not raping him!" Blaise interrupted.
"Yeah, there's no rape here!" Draco seconded.
"Draco said yes then?" Theo asked Harry innocently. Harry shrugged noncommittally.
"Wouldn't know, they were already going at it by the time I got up. I think I might need to burn those sheets though - I dread to think what's been going on there."
"Nah, just throw them in the lake," Vince suggested.
"With those two in it!" Greg added mischievously. At this, Draco shot off the bed.
"You're not throwing me in the lake!" He stuck his tongue out at the larger boy before dashing away to get changed. Harry stood with his head tilted at the boys around his bedside, before shrugging and taking a set of clothes to the bathroom with him. By the time he had left the bathroom, everyone else was either dressed (or half-dressed, as was the case with Blaise, who seemed to have developed a distinct dislike of his school shirt).
As they had the previous morning, the boys all headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast together. Just as they were about to leave the common room, Harry hung back.
"I forgot my Astronomy textbook," Harry moaned. "You guys go ahead, I'll walk up with someone older." Harry darted back down the stairs to his dormitory, praying that Draco at least would have taken the hint and left.
"Come on, let's go then," Harry heard Draco's voice. "He can get to the Great Hall fine."
"We should wait," Greg yawned.
"Not right to leave him," Vince agreed. Harry cursed inwardly.
"I'm hungry! Can't we just go?" Blaise, this time. "Harry'll be fine. Boy-Who-Lived isn't gonna die on his way to breakfast."
"Yeah, don't you want some of those sausages too?" Draco's voice was infused with a happy smile that Harry could tell was false from ten paces.
"Mmmm," If Harry had to guess, Vince was drooling. "Let's go get sausages." He waited another minute for them to leave, and then he headed upstairs, straight to Snape's office. He knocked twice, and was told to enter after a moment.
"Your potions are on the desk," came a weary groan as he opened the door. Harry stifled a snort at the sight of his Potions Professor with his head on the desk.
"Thank you, sir." Harry said, dropping his voice at the realization the older man was flinching. "Are you okay, Professor?"
"I haven't been brought coffee yet," Professor Snape ground out. "Go to the Great Hall, Mister Potter. I shall be perfectly fine once the coffee arrives, I assure you." Harry all but ran back out of the room, he'd seen his Uncle in the same sort of mood, and it had never done him any good to stay within range of the man's fist.
Harry tagged along with a group of third years to walk to the Great Hall. They'd heard about him being picked for the Quidditch team, and were quick to give their congratulations. Harry smiled pleasantly, and basked in their thanks until they reached the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, where he gratefully took the seat between Draco and Blaise.
Harry had to stifle a smirk at the looks his two friends shared. Draco and Blaise quite clearly didn't get on very well, but it seemed that they stood each other for Harry's benefit. Draco thought that Blaise was too rowdy and immature, while Blaise thought Draco was stuffy with 'a wand up his arse'. Harry had been hard pressed not to snigger at that comment. He could see that in some ways both of them were right. Blaise was loud and childish, and Draco did study a lot and his homework was always done, but there was nothing wrong with either of them.
He sighed slightly as both Blaise and Draco started talking to him simultaneously and concentrated on filling his plate as high as it would go, settling for nods and murmured agreement to both of them. It seemed like it was going to be a long, long day.
- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -
Soon, September had slipped into October, and Harry had grown used to the routines of Hogwarts. They had learnt several useful spells, and charms, and many more frivolous ones. Draco, with his endless studying was usually the first from their House to complete tasks, but whenever they had classes with the Ravenclaws, Hermione Granger almost always had him beat. Blaise laughed at Draco's furious scowl each time, and left Harry playing mediator after Herbology, Magical Theory and Potions. Harry was just grateful that History of Magic, the only other lesson they shared with the Ravenclaws was pretty much a lecture with no class participation, or else he'd never have a minute where Blaise and Draco could be trusted next to each other.
All of the other first years, and a few older students, had been tutoring Harry in the ways of the Wizarding World. Marcus Flint had volunteered to explain Wizarding sports - a veiled excuse to spend more time having Harry think through Quidditch strategy. Camélia and Lucy Patel were drilling the etiquette into his brain, Harry dreaded the weekends when they forced him to dance. The only other seventh year helping him was Terence Higgs, who spent a fair portion of his free time getting Harry to speak and think like a Pureblooded wizard. Harry's fellow first years all chipped in where they could. Vince and Greg gave Harry a thorough education in Wizarding sweets, helped along by Narcissa Malfoy, who owled Draco a 'care package' every week. Theo went through Wizarding games, like Gobstones and exploding snap. Draco, Blaise and Pansy showed him scrolls and scrolls full of family trees of the most prominent Wizarding families, while Daphne, Millicent and Vera went through recent Wizarding history, including the deaths of his parents.
October had sped away thanks to the scant hours of free time that Harry had, and almost without him thinking about it, it was Halloween - or, more rightly Samhain, as Terence told him. The vast majority of the school was full of excitement, but Harry was feeling rather subdued. On Halloween night it would be the tenth anniversary of his parents' death - the Daily Prophet (which Harry now took on Camélia's advice) was having a field day with remembrances from the defeat of Voldemort, and a reporter hoping to speak to him had apparently been chased off by McGonagall.
The only good thing about Halloween was that they were having another feast. As Harry sat at the long table he was besieged by a veritable horde of delicious scents. Almost every food imaginable was present - chicken, beef, sausage, bacon, potatoes done in seven different ways, and a rainbow of vegetables. Harry also managed to spy a small, untouched bowl of lemon sherbet sweets, and again wondered at its presence.
"Quirrell's not here," Draco observed quietly. Harry looked up to the Head table and scanned across, noting with a dispassionate frown that Draco's assessment was correct.
"No, he's not. I wonder if he's sick or something?" Blaise shook his head.
"Nuh-uh," he mumbled around a mouthful of food. "Saw him round by his room earlier." Harry shrugged indifferently.
"Probably just avoiding the feast, then. Have you seen how annoyed Professor Snape looks?" One of the third years sitting across from them grinned at Harry's question.
"Of course he's annoyed. He's only allowed to take away points five at a time until tomorrow. Apparently, a few years back he took away seven hundred point in one feast night, so Dumbledore had to put restrictions on him. Ravenclaw got left with about three points, Hufflepuff had like negative thirty, and Gryffindor had minus two-hundred and something. I think we won the House cup that year because of that alone." The three friends burst out laughing, all making sure to keep their heads turned away from their glaring Head of House, all thoughts of Quirrell far away.
Dessert had appeared on the tables and was half eaten before Quirrell made an appearance. The large double doors, which had previously been shut, swung open and Quirrell ran in, his face a pasty white and sweat dripping down his forehead and his turban askew.
"TROLL!" he screeched, coming to a stop next to the Gryffindor table. "There's a troll in the castle! In the dungeons!" He collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap. Pandemonium ensued. No less than three Ravenclaws pulled out Arithmantic equations to work out the safest routes to their common room, seven Hufflepuffs burst into tears, twenty Gryffindors stood with their wands out, and every Slytherin, including Professor Snape, rolled their eyes. It took Dumbledore casting a Sonorous charm to get the room to quieten down.
"EVERYBODY QUIET!" he called out loudly. "Sit down now! Prefects will escort their Houses back to their common rooms. Professors Sinistra and Vector will escort Slytherin House, and Professors Kettleburn and Sprout will escort Hufflepuff House. All fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh years are authorised, and advised to, have wands out in the corridors until the troll has been removed. Mister Higgs and Miss Li please stay with Professor Quirrell in the Great Hall until he has woken, and then go straight to your chambers."
"Everybody up!" shouted one of the prefects, and Harry, Draco and Blaise obeyed immediately, following the crowd.
"Granger!" Blaise groaned suddenly.
"What?" Draco asked scathingly. "Stop thinking about your little girlfriend and get out of here."
"She's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom - has been all day. Weasley made her cry." Harry explained. "We should tell someone."
"Flitwick," said Draco, at the same time as Blaise announced "Sprout!"
"Flitwick's her Head of House," Draco pointed out reasonably.
"But Sprout will give us more House points." Blaise argued. Harry rolled his eyes, and raised his voice.
"Professor Snape!" he called, and saw the dour man make his way over to them.
"Reasonable," Draco muttered.
"And he'll give us points," Blaise smirked.
"Yes, Mister Potter?" The professor asked when he got close enough to speak with them.
"It's Hermione Granger, sir," Blaise started.
"Weasley made her cry this morning, Professor," Draco continued.
"And so she's been hiding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom all day." Harry finished. "You don't think she'll get hurt, do you?" Harry affected a scared expression, Draco and Blaise mimicking him. Snape grimaced, and shook his head.
"Five points to Slytherin each for protecting the welfare of your fellow students. I will make sure that a Professor goes to see her safely back to her common room. Now go with the rest of Slytherin House." Harry turned to see that Camélia, Jess Chambers and Lucy had waited for them, along with two sixth years, four fourth years and a lone third year.
As soon as their ragtag group left the Great Hall, every Slytherin had whipped out their wands, the younger students disregarding Dumbledore's orders. Camélia observed this with slightly pursed lips, before instructing them lowly.
"If we see the troll, point your wand and shout Stupefy as many times as you can," she said seriously. "And if I say to run - run!" Thankfully, they reached the common room, without incident, to find a circle of sixth and seventh years on the edge of their seats with their wands out and pointed at the doorway.
"We didn't see the troll," Jess told them quietly.
"Or hear any screams." Lucy looked almost disappointed that they hadn't. The Slytherins sat in almost-silence for the better part of an hour when Professor Snape limped in through the front entrance.
"The troll is gone. Thirty points to Slytherin for your vigilance in protecting the younger years," he said, then looked to the group of first years, who sat near the back of the common room. "And another fifteen points each for Messers Malfoy, Potter and Zabini. The troll and the Ravenclaw were in the same bathroom. If we hadn't known Miss Granger was there, she may very well have died." Camélia stood and faced the Professor with a timid smile.
"Mon Proffesseur! You are eenjured!" Harry stifled a smile at the girl's accent. "Let me 'elp you!" She pulled her wand, and gestured for the man to sit in the chair she had just vacated. Professor Snape paused for a moment, before seating himself gingerly.
"Be careful, Miss Gladiolus," he said in a low voice as she murmured various spells over his leg, finishing with a Reparo for his trouser leg. The professor stood and bent his leg forwards and backwards. "Very well done, thank you. Twenty points to Slytherin."
"Thank you, Proffesseur! I am 'oping to become a Healer once I leave 'ogwarts." Camélia gushed.
"Well, you may count on at least one good reference. Now, all of you must go to bed. I will check the common room in ten minutes, and if it is not empty you will regret it."
Harry, Draco and Blaise were the first of the first years to make it downstairs to their dorm, and they quickly readied themselves for bed before the other three arrived back, clambering into bed sleepily.
- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -
It took a few days for the fuss over the troll to die down, and in that time Harry, Draco and Blaise were congratulated by a steady stream of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Hermione Granger was in the Hospital Wing, and the story of how three Slytherins, rather than any of her house mates had recognised her disappearance was well known around the school.
The three friends went to visit her in the hospital wing, with Blaise bringing a box of sugar quills (yet again, courtesy of Narcissa Malfoy). Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at them, but grudgingly granted them entry. They found Hermione sitting up in her bed, head buried in a thick tome.
"Hermione?" Blaise asked gently, and was surprised when Hermione's head sprang right up, her eyes red and puffy as if she'd been crying. "Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione all but launched herself at Blaise, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Blaise awkwardly hugged her back and looked at Harry and Draco with wide eyes over the top of her head.
"It was so horrible!" Hermione sobbed into Blaise's robes. Draco and Harry smothered sniggers at Blaise's horrified face. "The… the troll was so horrible! It smelt so badly, and it was so big, and it hit me with its club, and I didn't know what to do, and if it wasn't for you three I'd be dead!" She clung even more tightly to Blaise as her sobs increased in volume. Madam Pomfrey appeared from her office, but her sour expression softened as she saw Blaise hugging Hermione, and she disappeared again, smiling to herself.
"It's okay, Hermione." Blaise mumbled. "It's okay, we're all here for you. And you can't hug me all day, you have to hug Harry and Draco, too. It was Draco who noticed really, he deserves your thanks, not me." Hermione extricated herself from Blaise and threw her arms around Draco, who screwed up his face in distaste. Harry and Blaise shared a grin and a wink at their friend's obvious displeasure.
"I owe you all my lives!" Hermione said several minutes later, once she was safely ensconced in the bed again. "I don't know how I could ever repay you!"
"I can think of plenty of ways," Blaise said cheekily. "Your History of Magic notes, would be a good one. Or, you could share these sugar quills we bought. Harry's never had one either."
Somehow, a week later, when Blaise was presented with three sheaves of notes, Harry wasn't surprised in the least. And when the notes continued to appear the three just grinned at each other, and gratefully used their History of Magic lessons to sleep.
With the end of October, came a sharp decline in the amount of tutoring Harry was receiving. Harry was declared passable in speaking like a Pureblood wizard, and was told that only time would get him to think more like one, and Marcus admitted that their Quidditch conversations were now only that now Harry knew all of the rules and most of the techniques. Lucy and Camélia were still forcing Harry to dance at weekends, but were told his manners were beautiful. He had a grasp of a fair amount of family trees, and the important events in wizarding history and could play Exploding Snap and Gobstones fairly well, although his chess was abysmal.
This meant that Harry had an abundance of free time. Where before he had been struggling to fit his homework into his busy schedule, he had gained skills in researching, and in time management, so his essays were usually done in good time. In fact, the only people Harry knew who did their essays faster were Draco and Hermione, but those two were in a league of their own. Since he had so much unstructured time, Harry began to get bored.
The idea came to him as they were leaving Charms, when a Hufflepuff boy called Justin tried to walk the wrong way down the corridor.
"Where does that even lead to?" Blaise asked half-heartedly. "What a bloody idiot."
"Where does that corridor go?" Harry said curiously. "We don't know the half of this castle. We should explore, the three of us together." Draco had groaned, and put up protests, but Blaise's enthusiasm soon wore him down.
"Come on, Draco! We absolutely have to go!" It was three AM on a Saturday night, and the common room was completely empty. The three of them all wore dark clothes, and they snuck from the dungeons completely unseen.
"Let's go see that corridor by Charms!" Blaise suggested in an excited whisper. Draco grimaced, but allowed himself to be dragged along by his two friends. The castle was quiet; even the portraits were sleeping. The staircases moved slowly, almost as if they knew that the three Slytherins weren't supposed to be out. The three walked down the Charms corridor as silently as they could, finally reaching a dead end with a single door.
Harry tentatively put his hand out and turned the door knob carefully, hoping against hope that it wouldn't creak. Thankfully, it turned easily, and the door swung open. Blaise entered the room first, spinning in a wide circle.
"There's nothing here," he sounded disappointed. "Nothing but a big old mirror." Draco and Harry stepped into the room, and Harry frowned at the realization that Blaise had been right. They were about to leave, when Draco stepped in front of the mirror, and froze. Harry rushed over to him, only to see his face turn up in the most brilliant smile he had ever seen.
"This mirror…" Draco whispered wonderingly. "I… I… I see my father. He's telling me that he's proud of me. I'm wearing the Head Boy Badge, and I've got an Order of Merlin. Mother's there too, she's got my N.E.W.T. results - all O's." Draco span round frantically, grabbing a hold of the front of Harry's robes. "Where are they, Harry? What is this? Do you think this mirror shows the future?" Blaise stepped forwards, and wormed his way in front of Draco to look into the mirror. He too smiled, but with a more forlorn look.
"It can't show the future. I see my father. He's with mother, and they're both smiling, and they're holding hands. He's got his arm around me, he's telling me he loves me." Blaise turned to Harry and Draco, eyes wide. "It can't be the future - my father's dead."
"I don't know," Harry said slowly. "Let me see." Blaise obligingly stepped back, and Harry prised Draco's fingers from his collar, moving unerringly to stand in front of the mirror. Harry let out a long breath as he stared into the figures moving in the mirror. "I'm there," he told his friends. "and I can see all of my family, all of them around me. All of the Potters." Harry abruptly turned from the mirror. "Come on, we should go back to Slytherin. Can't stay here all night, can we?"
Draco and Blaise obligingly followed Harry through the darkened corridors until they reached their dormitory. The other two were asleep in moments, but Harry just lay on his bed, staring at the canopy above him, because he hadn't seen what he'd told his friends he had seen. No, Harry had seen something much more unnerving in the mirror. As he curled onto his side, he replayed through the images the mirror had shown him.
He's younger, again, standing in front of the Dursley's house, but in new clothes that fit well. He walks in, as if he's always been allowed to use that door. As he enters, his Aunt is in the kitchen. She smiles at him, and offers him a piece of chocolate from the dessert she's making. His Uncle Vernon appears then, and he greets Harry with a hug, offering him money for a new computer game. Then Dudley walks in, Vernon cuffs him round the head, and Petunia scowls at him, telling him to go back to his cupboard. Dudley wipes his eyes, scrubbing away at the tears, and Mirror-Harry laughs, loudly and cruelly.
Harry blinked, and rubbed at his eyes, trying fruitlessly to rid himself of the image. He rolled over, and punched at his pillow, taking out all of his frustration at the image. It's not horrid, a part of his mind screamed. You like it. You want it. You wanted to be in Dudley's place your whole life, and you wanted him to be in your position, beaten and downhearted.
Harry didn't sleep much that night.
The next morning, Harry was grateful that he didn't have to get up for lessons. He skipped breakfast, ignoring his friends' attempts to get him up, throwing a pillow at Blaise when the other boy threatened to pour a glass of water on him. Eventually, Harry was left alone to mope in the dormitory. He'd had dreams about what he'd seen in the mirror, other childhoods that he could have had, and his own past was playing heavily on his mind.
Harry decided that no matter what the others wanted, he wasn't going back to that mirror. It was too tempting, and Harry knew that if he looked into it again he still wouldn't see anything possible. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to go down the Charms corridor again.
Less than twelve hours later, Harry was standing in front of the mirror. Draco and Blaise weren't with him this time; he had decided it would be better for him to sneak off on his own. Harry let his eyes wander around the edges of the mirror, running his hands gently over the gilded edges. As he reached the top of the mirror, he frowned. There were letters carved into it, but in the dim light, he couldn't read them.
"Lumos!" he whispered fiercely, holding his wand aloft. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." Harry frowned. The words were obviously in another language. Perhaps he could get Draco to help him look up a translation spell? Or Hermione. She wouldn't ask as many awkward questions. Harry took a deep breath, and looked into the mirror once more.
This time, however, the mirror showed a differing image. He was older now, walking through the halls of Hogwarts with the Head Boy badge, and the students around him all smiled at him, and greeted him joyfully. Harry blinked and the scene changed. He was older still, out of Hogwarts, walking through Diagon Alley, and everyone he passed smiled at him, and waved. Harry shook his head, and turned away from the mirror. That was what he wanted. That was everything he wanted. To be loved, and to be cared for, and to be adored! Like Draco had been adored by his parents, like Blaise was adored by his mother.
With a sudden flash of inspiration, Harry turned back to the inscription at the top of the mirror. "Reverso!" Only a few weeks previously, Professor McGonagall had had them reversing images - why exactly, Harry didn't know, but the spell would come in useful. The letters flipped around, and Harry grinned at them. Now they spelt out something different. ishow no tyo urfac ebu tyo urhe arts desirE.
"I show not your face but your hearts desire." Harry whispered to himself. He had been right. The mirror had shown him what he had wanted. Not, as Draco had hoped, what would come to pass.
Harry felt the back of his throat constrict, and his eyes burn with tears. He turned from the mirror, and ran blindly away from the room, out of the corridor, and away from the dormitory. He ran upwards, finally seating himself on the floor in a blackened corridor. And there, Harry let out the despair that had plagued him since the first time he had seen the mirror. Tears streamed down his face, as he silently cried.
It was lucky, that Harry did not bawl out when he cried, or else he would have missed the sounds of the cranky caretaker climbing the stairs, muttering to his mangy old cat. Harry's eyes widened, and he backed down the corridor, feeling along the walls for a door. His hands reached wood, and a brass handle, and he gratefully pulled on it, then pushed to no avail.
"Alohomora!" Harry frantically whispered, still pushing and pulling frantically. He heard a click from the lock, and the door pulled open, just enough for Harry to squeeze through. Harry breathed heavily as he leant against the inside of the door. His ear was pressed against the heavy wood, listening carefully for Filch. When he heard nothing, Harry turned to observe the room he had entered warily.
In the back of his mind, Harry supposed he had expected to see a dusty old classroom, or an empty room, like the one the mirror had been in. Harry was, however, certain that he did not expect to come face to face with a three headed dog.
Harry's eyes widened, flicking frantically from side to side, looking for a way out. He spotted a trapdoor underneath the dog's feet, but dismissed it as an unworkable exit. The dog advanced, only by a step or two, but it was now close enough for Harry to see the sheen of its drool on the sharp canine teeth, the glow of its eyes in the darkened room, close enough to smell the rancid meat on its breath. Without a thought for Filch, Harry threw open the door behind him and ran as fast as he could for the dungeons.