Ok, wow. So my computer crashed, like BIG time. I don't have the ability to replace it with a nice machine at the moment (hopefully in a couple of weeks) so I bought this two hundred dollar teeni-tiny-itsy-bitsy thing that I am just now figuring out. I wrote this entire chapter on this, transcribed from notes I took in a regular notebook... so please forgive me for any typos, because seriously, it's darn hard to edit on this damn thing. On the positive notes, it's better than checking my e-mail on my itouch. So here you go, everything I promised in the last chapter, I think... and more besides. (and yes, thank you for those of you who noted that it was Tom Jones and NOT Neil Diamond who sings "What's New Pussycat." I would go back and change it, but Idon't know how to without taking out the whole damn chapter and loosing my stats. I'm kinda useless that way.)
Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter or Lara Croft/Tomb Raider
The ride back to Kings Cross Station was relatively uneventful.
Where relatively meant that Malfoy ended up in a school trunk and stuffed in the loo... He'd been in there for about three hours before anyone really noticed he was gone, and somehow had managed to fall asleep. Of course since no one had brought on a school trunk nobody could really be blamed for the mess (no proof) and at the same time the trunk had disappeared. So when he had been found he'd just been sitting on the toilet seat completely knocked out. Harry just smirked, considering all the time he'd worked on conjuring inanimate objects it had been a rather fruitful endeavor; so what if it only existed for a few hours?
At the station he'd immediately met up with Brice and Hillary, since the night before had been a full moon and Lara had a few last minute shopping additions to wrap, and they waited around a bit to meet Hermione's parents. When Hermione stood on tiptoe and started waving Harry strained his eyes to find them. As they got closer he could only grin. Hermione was just a miniature female version of her father.
The man was tall and gangly, large eyeglasses perched precariously on his cute nose, his hair was obviously combed neatly but tended to sproing out in odd places. Her mother, on the other hand, was quite small, but intelligent enough to stay out of the way as Hermione glomped on her father. He wrapped his long arms around his girl and squeezed until she protested the need for air. Her mother just smiled gently, and tugged her daughter into her arms, smoothing back her hair with a slight sigh.
"I've missed you darling," she hugged Hermione again and then shifted until her arm was around Hermione's shoulders. She held out her other hand to Harry.
"Hello, you must be Harry," she smiled as Harry took her hand in a firm grip.
"Must I?" he asked, earning a snicker from Hermione's father.
"Hello Harry, I'm Michael Granger, this is my wife, Jean."
"Drs, this is my nanny Brice, and my butler, Hilary." Harry introduced with a smirk, which earned him a cuff upside the head.
"I'm Brice, a friend of Harry's aunt," Brice shook Michael's hand. "And Hilary is her butler, not Harry's."
"Though at times I'm wont to be a bit of both," Hilary scoffed and ruffled Harry's hair in a way he knew Harry particularly disliked.
The introduction didn't seem to faze the Grangers, so they got on with discussing when on Christmas Eve the family should stop by, and to get directions to the estate.
"Well, then Harry, it was nice to meet you, and we will see you in about a week," Jean gathered Hermione's hand while her father grabbed her suitcase.
"See you later Hermione!" Harry waved as the girl walked away, a smile on her face.
Remus was feeling a bit creaky as Harry bounced into his room. He smiled at the boy as he jumped on the bed, but groaned as the shock wave nudged him a bit.
"Ouch, bad moon?" Harry asked as he took one of Remus's hands and began a light massage on the joints. Remus sighed as the warmth penetrated. Really, for some reason, the hands got the worst of the aches transforming brought upon him.
"I'm just a bit late getting up this morning is all," Remus closed his eyes, wondering if he should just go back to sleep.
"Remus, it's two in the afternoon," Harry smiled as the older mans eyes popped open.
"Serious?"
"Yes?" Sirius poked his head in. Remus groaned while Harry giggled.
"Not you," Harry corrected.
"Oh? And why NOT me?" Sirius entered the room, and seeing what Harry was doing, took up Remus's other hand.
"I'm going to get used to this treatment," Remus warned.
"What treatment?" Hilary asked as he brought in a tea tray and settled it on the side table.
"Tea in bed? Hand massages? I feel like a pampered princess..." then he groaned at the slip. He didn't even bother to correct himself, Sirius jumped right on in.
"All right then Princess," he smirked and took the tea mug from Hilary. "One lump or two?"
Lara rubbed her forehead, she was coming down with a headache and she'd only been listening to Harry explain the broom incident for a few minutes now. She'd received a rather stern letter from a Madame Hooch right before holidays started. The basic letter was a rather bland form letter; letting every parent know that their child had, or had not, passed flying instruction and it was now that first years could bring their brooms to school. But tacked on to the end was a personally written note about how Harry's ability to stay afloat was remarkable considering the boy scoffed at each lesson (actually, more acurately the boys talking about Quidditch). Apparently his attitude left much to be desired.
Lara could understand, unfortunately, and because she understood she couldn't punish Harry harshly for being such a snot.
Remus had Harry up on a broom very early, so the boy knew how to use one and he was very good at it from all accounts. Then he'd begged for more stories about his father and Quidditch, and he seemed to enjoy them. He liked zipping around on a broom, he liked heights, and most of all he liked falling from heights and stopping so close to the ground he almost gave Lara a heart attack each time. Remus laughed and called it a Wronski Feint… whatever that meant.
Then it had happened. Remus, thinking it would be good for the boys to see more wizarding activity's, had taken them to an actual Quidditch match.
It was brutal.
Harry had started to watch with a cynics eye, wondering why anyone would put themselves through such pain for a sport. Four players suffered broken appendages (having them quickly set and mended only to jump right back on their brooms and continue on) while three were knocked out entirely unable to be revived. Alternates jumped in, enthusiastic and just as prone to injury. The match lasted seven hours, because nobody could catch the Snitch, it seemed. But Harry had only watched the first three, and then convinced Remus to take them home. He couldn't understand why his father liked such a brutal sport, and how Remus could make it seem like it wasn't that bad. That's when Remus explained that in school, it really wasn't. The bludgers were charmed for players protection, and the children playing it, while competitive, were not playing as their jobs. To them it was stress relief. That, at least, was how James looked at it. He enjoyed it because it was physical and he looked good doing it. That last comment earned him a sardonic eye roll, but the topic had been shelved. That was when Harry really started to get into Parkour. He had said a few times in Lara's hearing that if he got hurt, at least he only had himself to blame and not an insane flying bowling ball.
That's not to say he didn't enjoy the act of flying itself, he just hated being pushed into something he didn't want to do.
Apparently McGonagall had watched their class trying out the school brooms under Madame Hooch's stern glare, and decided that Harry, after he swooped around on a decrepit old school broom better than anyone ever had before, had to be on his house Quidditch team. She and Madame Hooch had taken personal offense when he told them to go screw themselves…
"Oh, come on! It's not like they knew what I was talking about!"
And while she couldn't punish him for not joining a sport he had a moral (and as he pointed out, intellegent) objection to, she could punish him for telling off a teacher. Though apparently they'd assigned him detention, knowing that he was being impertinent, but not quite understanding how.
So she decided to stay out of this one. Some things were just not meant for a "normal muggle" to understand.
The week before Christmas was spent buying presents and hiding them around the mansion so no one could peak. Closets were obvious spaces, so they tended to end up in considerably weird places, causing Hilary to scream about odd shaped parcels in his fridge.
Christmas Eve woke with delightful smells originating from the kitchen and the warning of immediate beheading to anyone who stepped foot in the general vicinity without an invitation… Christmas Eve dinner was Hilary's art.
Hermione and her parents arrived soon after Neville and his grandmother. Neville disappeared immediately into the greenhouse, where he'd spent most of his time since vacation started, and his grandmother joined Remus in showing off the mansion. She took over the tour when it was obvious that Hermione was entranced by the Library, and started asking Remus extensive questions.
"Basically, Hermione," Remus said after she asked why Harry and Neville were so different from the other pure bloods in school. "The reason why Harry and Neville seem to be better at magic than their yearmates is that, really, they are." Remus moved over to the library's shelves as Hermione sat with a wide open mouth. She was upset, and more than a little confused at the simple honesty in Remus's response. He started pulling down heavy journals and set them at the long table Hermione sat at.
"I've been tutoring them for years. They know theory, which is something that Binns is supposed to teach. But even if the old ghost remembered, curriculum is actually very basic. Neville and Harry know theory, especially magic theory, very well." He reached for one final journal and flipped it open to a bookmarked page.
"Earth Magic and it's Various Property's as it Applys to Personal Energy's and Magical Core Relief." Hermione read outloud, "Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter." She blinked for a second, then flipped to the copyright page. "Remus, this was written four years ago."
"Yes, it was. This is the result of one of our round robin discussions. I gave the boys a question. I asked them, "Where does magic come from?" This was their response."
"Oh… Wow." Her eyes skipped over to the four other volumes Remus had pulled.
"There is an article in each journal, All theory discussions. Harry and Neville helped me publish all of them."
"I haven't seen anything like this in the Hogwart's Library," she mused as she pulled the open one closer. "I've looked."
"Well, Hermione, that would be because the Hogwart's Library does not cover "philisophical discussions" as some of the previous Headmasters have refered to research journals as. Only published works by "credible authors." Of course, how credible can they be when they have Lockharts crap in there?" he asked himself, obviously forgetting about Hermione sitting right there.
"Lockhart?" Hermione asked. Remus shook his head and waved the question away.
"Sorry, bit of a personality clash with that man, nevermind it."
"Well, then," Hermione settled for a bit then looked up at the older man. "Where does magic come from?" Remus just smiled.
"Here's a question for you Hermione. Have you ever had a light lunch at Hogwarts?"
Hermione paused for a second, thinking. Then she frowned.
"No, actually, I eat like a pig."
"Have you gained any weight?" Remus just chuckled at her glare, but didn't look away.
"No," Hermione admitted. "In fact mum was worried I wasn't eating enough. Apparently I've lost ten pounds."
"You will never see an obese wizard, unless they are incredibly opulent or don't use enough magic," He stated. "On the other hand, if you don't use strength training then you won't be fat, but you also won't develop any muscle," Remus shrugged. "Wizards are pretty weak individuals. That's why Harry is so hyper. He not only eats his weight every day, but he exersizes, which pumps up his metabolism, which gives him extra energy to burn. Also, a good way to get more energy is wizarding candy. Like Honeydukes chocolate, it's specially formulated."
"Is that why Harry's always sucking on Dumbledores lemon drops when he offers them?"
Remus nodded, "Most likely. Dumbledore is an old wizard Hermione. He has access to magics I can't even dream of. Not to mention his familiar is a phoenix, so that's got to drain him a bit."
"A phoenix? Really? Wow!" Hermione grinned.
"Wow what?" Harry ducked his head into the Library and entered the room when the other two turned to look at him. He flopped onto the couch, obviously relaxing after doing something strenuous as Hermione could see the sweat beading his forehead.
"I was just telling Hermione about Fawkes."
"That flaming turkey?" he grinned at the outraged expression on his classmates face. "Yeah, he's ok."
"Harry, do your exersizes," Remus interupted before she could declare war.
"But I already did them today!" Harry lifted his arm and indicated the sweat stains on his shirt. "Or do you think I just needed a good run through the sprinklers?"
"Do them again, I want Hermione to start them as well."
"Fine," Harry muttered. "But I get two pieces of cake for dessert tonight and YOU have to tell Aunt Lara why."
"Just do them."
Harry sat up and concentrated until his red ball formed in his palm. He set it down in his lap and conjured two more, one in each hand. Picking the other up as he stood (so he had two in one hand) he began to toss them into the air, juggling the three balls carefully.
After about a minute the balls changed colors. One blue, one green, the last yellow, then they began cycling through other colors, constantly changing. After a few minutes of that they began changing size, then shape, and then Harry just dropped his hands and let three perfectly round balls float in midair. They flickered like fireflys.
Hermione just watched as Harry started to pant, his forehead now dripping with sweat, but the balls did not waver his concentration complete. Finally Remus nodded and Harry let the balls drop, making them dissapear cms away from hitting the floor. He collapsed back on the couch and muttered something about taking a nap.
"Nope," Remus shook his head cheerfully. "Walk it off." He pulled Harry to his feet and waited until his glareing pupil had left the room, muttering under his breath the entire time about turning Remus into a fireplace rug. The entire episode had taken about ten minutes from Harry entering the room to Harry leaving it.
He'd been energetic before, and almost completely wiped out after.
"See? It takes energy. Of course, wandless magic takes more. That's why it's so hard to use until your core is stronger."
"But isn't accidental magic considered wandless?" Hermione asked, her famed brain finally kicking in.
"Yes and no," Remus sat down across from her and smiled gently. "Accidental magic happens in times of great stress. As you get older your body can handle more and more magic. So it builds up in your system until you become… I guess the best analogy is a bottle filled with soda. You hold magic inside, like a liquid, until you shake it up and the pressure pops the cork. In an emergency it pops out to protect you. Then it takes a little while for it to recharge. Like a muscle, if you strain it, you have to take it easy for a bit until you can use it again."
***
As they continued to talk Neville started laughing, he was still irritated that Harry had dragged him out from the greenhouse, but this really was priceless. Harry was just standing there, slumping a bit as he was tired, but with a hint of humor in his pose. Out in the safety of the hallway Neville looked back at the couple exchanging notes on magic, and the utter look of pure adoration on Hermione's face.
"I think," Harry stated with a little chuckle. "I think Hermione's got a bit of a crush on Remus."
Dinner, of course, was a masterpiece. It started with a simple salad with homemade dressing and roasted pine nuts, then came Roasted duck in a cranberry sauce served with a wild rice mixture that Hilary assured them all was a secret recipe. Then came the green beans and dumplings, and something Hilary called fuzzy noodles (a recipe that he'd stolen liberally from his grandmother) along with sautéed mushrooms and a salmon bun that he'd come up with off the top of his head. Even before dessert was served Mrs. Longbottom was once again threatening to steal Hilary away and lock him in her kitchen, even though he was a muggle.
Harry got two slices of chocolate cake, appropriately named "Chocolate Sin" considering it had three layers of cake, smothered in chocolate buttermilk icing and topped with melted fudge and sprinkles. He also sneaked a slice of cherry cheesecake that Hilary made just in case someone didn't feel like ending their dinner with such decadence. Even the Grangers had dessert, allowing that as long as Hermione brushed very carefully when they got home. After all Christmas is special.
Hermione declared herself stuffed, and shared a look with Remus. Apparently she had a few things to go over with her parents about energy requirements and healthy teeth habits.
The Grangers left the house with full tummys and a promise to be back for New Years eve, while Neville and his grandmother went to their guest suites to wait for Christmas morning. Lara, Sirius and Brice helped Hilary clean up the dining room and kitchen while Remus took Harry upstairs for a tradition they'd started before Harry really even understood what Remus was saying. A bedtime chat, and Remus had to tell the truth, every time. The first one of these was Remus pouring out his heart about how much he missed Harry's parents. And each year they continued, it didn't matter what about, as long as it was true.
"Remus, I know it's not really a topic you want to get into but…" Harry took a breath and gathered all the courage he had. Remus had warned him before going off to school that some people wouldn't like him, for no reason really. But this one had a reason, and he wanted to know it.
"Will you tell me what's up with Snape?"
Remus pulled back Harry's covers and sat on the edge of the bed as Harry situated himself.
"It's not Snape's fault, so much as… well," Remus sighed. "I don't know why your father hated Snape so much. I have conjecture, but that's all it is. I never asked… For Sirius it was enough that Snape was a Slytherin and that his brother looked up to the man. He missed his brother, so it took it all out on all the Slytherins, especially the one he felt had taken his place. Your father, however, I think he was afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Yes, you see, your mother and Severus grew up together."
"Really?"
"Yes. She used to tell me that they would meet in the park and just run around together. As they got older I believe that your father realized that Severus was his competition for your mother, so he retaliated in the only way he could. He showed off his skill. Not many adults can levitate a man, or even a skinny teenager. Your father could by the time he was fifteen."
"Ok, I understand the jealousy part and all that. I understand why Sirius didn't step in, but why didn't you stop it?"
"I was terrified Harry." Remus admitted, looking down at his hands.
"Why?"
"I didn't want them to turn on me, to treat me the same way… I'm a werewolf Harry. James and Sirius were my first and only true friends. I was always afraid they'd wake up one day, realize that they'd been friends with a freak, and shun me. Push me aside…" His voice broke and he tried not to look at Harry. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then gasped out as Harry threw himself into a hug, his arms wrapped around the were's torso.
"I love you Moony," he said simply, not realizing that James used to do the exact same thing.
"What's this then?" Brice's familiar voice rang out.
"Moony hug!" Sirius laughed and threw himself across the room, barreling into the embrace with enthusiasm, squishing Harry between them.
"Looney's, all of you," Lara shook her head as they held tight, one of Remus's hands on Harry's shoulder, his other arm wrapped around his taller friend.
"Come on!" Sirius urged. "You have to get in on this! You get happy tingles for days!"
Christmas came and went, Neville and Harry each got brooms (amongst other things) now that they'd taken the courses and passed, allowed to bring them to school for weekend "tomfoolery" as Madame Hooch had put it. New Years was celebrated with copious amounts of wine for the adults and sparkling cider for the kids. And before they knew it, once again, it was time to meet at Kings Cross Station for the Hogwarts Express.
Harry and Neville shared their booth with Hermione and a fourth year Hufflepuff who didn't want to spend the ride alone, but had no friends on the train. That resulted in a lot of discussion about house loyalty, seeing as how it was one of the 'Puffs greatest traits and the other three were curious. Of course some of the answers they got consisted of, "you're not 'Puffs, if I told you I'd have to kill you… and that'd be a shame." She winked a lot though, so they weren't entirely sure if she was kidding or not.
The first week back was rather mundane, just review to get ready for starting new subjects and a few boring chapters read for homework. Then came Saturday, and Harry's detention with Snape.
He walked into the room prepared to do battle, but was deflated as Snape just handed him a scrub brush and told him to get to work. After an hour Harry paused and looked over at his teacher. Professor Snape was grading papers, obviously pissed as his quill was scratching entire sentences from the poor students work.
"Remus explained to me, Sir, why it is you hate me," Harry heard himself say.
"Enlighten me, Potter," Snape growled without looking up from the paper.
"My father was an utter prat."
"Agreed," Snapes only emotional reaction was a lifted eyebrow. He was waiting for more.
"And if you don't mind me saying, Sir," he had to get all the "Sirs" out that he could. It was Hermione's suggestion. "I think it's a bullshit reason."
"How so Mr. Potter?" that was a good sign. Usually he just called Harry "Potter". Maybe he was loosening up? He looked straight at Harry, his eyes dark and closed.
"Because the ass wipe that was my father is no longer here. I am here, Sir, and I would like to be judged on my own merits."
Snape was quiet for a minute, looked back down at the paper he'd been scowling at, crossed out another line and looked back up. "Very well Mr. Potter, you are dismissed."
Harry stood, still confused as to what had just happened, but willing to take the early out.
"Oh, and one more thing," Snape's lip twitched in something that might have been termed a smile if half his face was paralyzed.
"Yes Professor?"
"Cease to swear in my class room unless you have a miraculous breakthrough or, more likely, you are about to blow something up."
"Yes Sir."
"Dismissed."
AND THATS THAT! You know, that scene with Snape was the very first thing I wrote for this fic. I didn't even know which fic it was going in, but this one seemed to fit. Originally I had it for later in the series, after Harry saw into Snape's pensieve... but I liked it here. I felt it would be an automatic NO for Harry to go into second year if he truly hated one of his teachers and that teacher truly hated him. Now it's more of a maybe...
I still don't know what I'm going to do with the next chapter, but hopefully this will hold you over for a while... And before anyone asks, i didn't forget about the cloak. you'll find out later. ;-P
also, i made myself hungry detailing the dinner, so the fuzzy noodles just popped out... thinking about grandma's sunday dinner... hmm.. pot roast, fuzzy noodles and green beans... fuzzy noodles, just so you know, are made from left over mashed potatoes and cream of wheat. I know it sounds odd... but good gods you have to try it to believe it.