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Chapter 11
"Again," Harry said as he breathed heavily. He had his hands folded behind his back as his roommates laid sprawled across the Room of Requirement, gasping for breath.
"We've been doing this all morning," Neville said. He had his eyes closed and his hand rested over his chest; there were dust particles floating all around him.
"So?" Harry asked. He was doing breathing exercises and stretching his arms now. While Ron and Hermione joined him regularly for his practice sessions with Remus and Moody, the rest of his friends did not. It had been Ron's idea to try and teach some of what they learned to the rest of the sixth-year Gryffindors in hope of being ready for the future. Harry had agreed to the idea. He had always enjoyed their old DA meetings after all.
"So? We're still not able to beat you!" Seamus yelled as he sat up and leaned on one of the pillars across the room. He was pointing his wand directly at his own head, probably using a minor variation of the freezing charm.
"Well that's why we need to practice more! There's three of you and one of me," Harry said as he drew his wand once more from the inside of his robes.
"Oh I wonder if that has anything to do with you being the Chosen One, Harry," Dean said. He was the first one to be back on his feet again. He cracked his knuckles and took deep breathes as he stretched his neck left and right.
"Oh, not this again," Harry whispered under his breathe while one of his hands made its way to his temple. He knew his friends always joked about it but being reminded of his destiny didn't exactly calmed his nerves. "Come on guys! We can fit in two more rounds before lunch. I'll show you a couple of the spells I've been practicing with Remus if you beat me," he said, pretending he had not heard Dean's remark.
"Ron's not even here! This was his idea! He's probably somewhere getting his back rubbed by Lavender or something," Seamus said, making a particular motion with his closed fist. A wheezing sound came out of Neville's throat.
"Was… Was that a dying dog laughing?" Dean asked, trying to stifle a giggle. Neville blushed and hid his laugh with a cough.
The door to the Room opened and four wands were instantly pointed at it. A stream of cold water flew at the unknown figure walking in.
"Blimey, Neville! Watch out where you squirt that thing!" Ron yelled as he dried himself up. Behind him, Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger were carrying armloads of tomes, scrolls and pieces of parchment.
"Professor Lupin! It's good to see you again, sir," Dean said, walking up to shake the hand of his old professor. Behind him, Neville dusted off his robes and Seamus adjusted his tie.
"Good to see you too, Dean. By the way, gentlemen, there's no need to act like I'm still your teacher. I'm just here to drop these off. Ron and Hermione did me the favor of telling me where you were, Harry," Remus said as he gestured at Hermione dropping off the books on one of the tables in the room.
"What are they for, Remus?" asked Harry, scratching the back of his head.
"Well, Ron told me you're getting the DA up and running again so I thought some of these might be of help," Remus said, his hands going to the pockets of his robes. The trace of a smile could be seen on his face.
"Getting the DA up and running again?"
"Well, I thought that since we're already practicing we might as well tell the others, right? It wouldn't hurt to give it a shot," Hermione said from behind the cover of a book that seemed to emit light from within its pages. She was smiling and making eyes at him, her head cocked slightly to the right.
Lilac and gooseberries filled Harry's nostrils and he was reminded that the first time he had seen a similar expression on another face was in the room he was standing on. He flushed and stuttered a response to Hermione's question.
"H-Hermione, I don't know if I've got time for DA sessions," Harry said. Quidditch practice, night sessions with Dumbledore, his regular classes, training with Remus and Moody, seeing Daphne and practicing on his own was already almost too much for him. To add DA meetings to the list might be a little too much. All the planning and reading he could do for the previous year's meetings had been because he wasn't allowed to do anything else. But now? He wasn't sure he could measure to his own standards.
"There are things more important than winning the Quidditch Cup, Harry," Hermione said. She was looking down at the books, her fingers tracing weird shapes on the leather-bounded covers.
Harry waited but, for once, Ron did not refute the claim. Harry turned toward his best friend to see him staring back at him. Ron nodded slightly and Harry knew then what he had to do.
"Fine. You have to make sure we can count on everyone, though. I get the feeling more people will want to join up this time around."
Hermione gave a little laugh and went back to organizing the books in front of her. Dean and Neville joined her while Ron and Seamus began to race their Patronuses across the room. Ron's Jack Russell terrier was on the lead, leaving Seamus' fox at least a lap behind. On the opposite corner of the room, Remus beckoned Harry.
"Walk with me, Harry," Remus said, nudging his head towards the door. His robes looked new but his hair looked grayer than it once had. They walked side by side and, out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Remus open his mouth to try and say something but never quiet doing so. Harry knew better than to interrupt him so he just kept walking next to him.
Harry sensed the magic inherent in the castle as they made their way down flights of stairs and past empty corridor. Dumbledore had warmed him something like that might happen. He would feel it tug at him. He would long for more. But, with time, it would be easier to resist the need of going down the rabbit hole.
He could feel it. It was something that spoke to him on a deeper level. The melancholic feeling of watching a long summer's day passing by took hold of him. Waves of numbness spread through his fingers. That dream-like quality of longing for something that seemed preordained yet lost. The warmth and bittersweet taste of meeting an old friend he wouldn't see for a long time. His hands twitched and before he could do anything rash, they had reached the grounds.
The cold air hit Harry's face, making his glasses fog slightly. He ruffled his hair and bawled his hands into a fist. He had almost reached for it. Before he could ask Remus if he knew anything about what he had just felt, the werewolf spoke.
"When Lily and James died I betrayed their trust," Remus said. Harry's heart skipped a beat. For all that had happened since his third year at Hogwarts, his father's best friend had never spoken to him about why he'd never appeared on his life until then. He turned and faced Remus, truly looking at him.
"Not—Not because I feared facing Sirius betrayal or Wormtail's funeral. But because I could have been the one to raise you, Harry. Now I know otherwise, but back then I did not. It was cowardly of me.
"It wasn't a big leap in logic to be honest. With Euphemia and Fleamont gone, Dumbledore would probably turn to me as a potential guardian. But I was afraid. And when I had finally mustered the courage to do what was right and searched for you… it was too late. He told me what Lily had done. And I was relieved. A werewolf would not have to care for James and Lily's only son. But I could have."
"Except you couldn't have," Harry heard himself say. "The blood wards Dumbledore talks about are only active whenever I'm close to my family; the biological one at least."
Remus was looking straight at him. There were faint scars crisscrossing all over his face. Eyes weighted by the hardship of losing everything he ever held dear. His beard was a little bit too long and his unkempt hair framed a prematurely aged face. The ghost of a smile that Harry had seen before had vanished as they walked out of Hogwarts. In a way, Harry felt he was seeing a black mirror version of his future self.
"I could have spoken to Dumbledore. I could have tried. There are many ways to keep someone safe in the magical world and the muggle one. I could have pleaded. I could have done so much more. But I did not. After Marlene, I… I…," Remus struggled to find the words. He hesitated and avoided Harry's gaze.
What had brought all of this? Harry could only think of one word to be the answer. Sirius. Harry could feel the emptiness in his stomach. Guilt still clawed at him at night. The coldness inside of him whenever someone talked about his godfather. He could try to make amends, even come to terms with it, but nothing he did would ever undo what he had done. He reckoned that's what Lupin had felt for the past sixteen years.
"It was too difficult to remain here so I left. I couldn't bear to be in the place that sh—they were killed. And now, after all these years, I have failed them again. Training their only son to be a soldier. Everything I've ever gotten has vanished. And I'm still here," Remus finished. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands, bawled into fists. He looked exhausted. He had been a couple of years older than Harry and his friends when his world had crumbled down entirely.
"You're standing here, acting like there's nobody around you. I've been here for you every day. I'm standing right in front of you," said Harry slowly. His nails dug deep unto the palms of his hand. Years of pent up frustration bubbled up to the surface. It wasn't anger at Remus for not doing enough. Nor was it anger for the life he had had to live through. It was anger at himself for what he knew he would have to do. The past few months had been a respite from his duty. He stood alone and he knew the hypocrisy of what he was saying to Remus.
How small was his pain, compared against the endless depths of memory at Hogwarts? How small was it compared to the infinite suffering and feelings and existence of those who lived when Voldemort defeated him? If he could stand in the ashes of those thousands of souls, the silence would be his only answer.
"I have seen inside his head, Remus. Death follows in his footsteps but he is not the one who suffers. He knows the way that I'll take. He'll test me and I'll come forth. I stand alone, Remus. Only I can oppose him. He does whatever he pleases, carrying out his plans against us having still plenty in store. All he will ever do is kill. That is why I'm terrified of him.
"When I think of all this… all of these pointless little things I've done like training and… and…. and fooling around with Daphne, fooling myself into believing that I have a future beyond him I… I know that I'm pretending. But I will not stand down. The truth doesn't matter. I have to fight."
He felt a pair of arms embrace him, much like they had done so six months before, to stop him going through The Veil. He was shaking, the sudden realization of what he had just said striking him. And Remus, who Harry felt could understand, understood.
"But how can I still fight knowing everything can end with me, Remus?" Harry said as he clanged on to his old professor, whose face had drained out of color.
"Because we have to keep on living, Harry. That's the way of the world. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. And we'll kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets," Remus answered.
"And I beg that after all the wrong that I've done, you allow me to do right by you from now on."
Harry's fingers traced the stone wall next to him. He and the rest of the sixth-year Gryffindors were making their way through Hogwarts corridors. They had been waiting for Dean after their Charms class because the tiny professor has asked him to remain behind. Harry could feel the cut of the stone. Every dent, scratch and imperfection with a history behind it. Occasionally, his fingers would feel a spark emanate from the stone and his eyes would get a glazed look before continuing on through Hogwarts' cold corridors. Every time something like that happened, he'd trail a little bit behind and a little bit behind and a little bit behind.
A man wearing a dark leather vest, divided into squares by grey wool with the exactness of stone border fences, with a small Runespoor slithering right behind him.
He could see his friends continue their conversation but it was as if he wasn't there. He watched them talk and felt the isolation he had felt as a child crept up his back. He watched as if the life he was living belonged to someone else. He heard Dean tell the group about how professor Flitwick had wanted to look at his sketches because he was working on an art project of his own. It was no secret that Dean was an excellent artist.
"I wonder what that means," Parvati said, stretching her arms, fingers linked, over her head
An eleven-year-old girl, separated from the sister she had come to known as her equal in every way. The same girl, running through the halls and giggling at the thought of attending the Yule Ball with Harry Potter. Standing up to the Inquisitorial Squad, never letting them get an inch.
Harry could see the way her hair swayed with every move she made. The cold winds of winter coming from the grounds filled the castle and not even everlasting fire could melt the icicles that appeared all over the windows. He watched and relished the thought of a group of friends being so tight knit. He watched and realized how isolated he truly was from them.
"You think he might try to me them into golems?" asked Ron from the front of the group. He was holding Lavender's hand on his own while his free hand was inches away from the stone wall next to him. Ever since Harry had told him and Hermione about his sessions with Dumbledore they had both been eager to feel the magic of Hogwarts through their veins. Harry had to talk them out of trying it on their own, telling them how he had almost been lost in eternity had it not been for professor Dumbledore. Nonetheless, Ron's eagerness was palpable in his very actions.
Harry's fingers felt the jagged end of the wall as they turned to the right and up a flight of stairs. He felt a rush of warmth spread through his lungs and he felt ants crawl up through his arm all the way up to his brain. His eyesight blurred and he felt icy droplets steadily drip down the back of his neck.
"I'm telling you, Sirius, I 'm sure she'll say yes this time," James Potter whispered to Sirius Black. Behind them, Remus Lupin was holding a book upside down and seemed to be explaining something to Peter Pettigrew.
They were in their seventh year at Hogwarts and James Potter was wearing a Head Boy badge, with Gryffindor's roaring lion as a backdrop, on his chest. He ruffled his hair and his fingers shook a bit. There were scratches all over his hands. Next to him, his best friend had his hands on his pockets, eyes downcast.
"I just don't want you to get your hopes up again, James. You were downright insufferable the last time she rejected you. Moping around Hogsmeade all day, the villagers thought I had killed your puppy or something," Sirius Black said as he jumped, making sure not to trip on one of Hogwarts vanishing steps.
"I know. I know. But… There's something different this time. Sharing Head duties with her has made me see what— I just know it'll work, okay? Trust me," James said with an awkward wink towards his friend.
Behind them, Remus was helping Peter stand up. He had tripped on the vanishing step and left noticeable blood stains on the floor. His nose was broken.
"Wormtail! How can you be so stupid? You spend most of your time just looking at James, surely you saw him jump just a second ago." Sirius said, trying to suppress a laugh.
"S—sorry," Peter whispered as Remus fixed his broken nose with a flick of his wand.
It was the middle of October and the Marauders were out past curfew. It would do no good to attract the attention of Mr. Filch or Mrs. Norris. Before they could reach Gryffindor Tower, someone cleared her throat behind them.
"So… this is what you do as a Head Boy, huh? Should have guessed you'd never change," Lily Evans said to James Potter. It was as if the other three teenagers did not exist anymore. It was as if everything had vanished. Everything but the Head Boy and Girl. Hogwarts had not forgot them. Around the two students, the world blurred and images flashed. Little dots, stars, flaring all at once. Every moment played out around them, like a movie. Scenes and melody made out of days and memories and heartbreak and melancholy and happiness.
James Potter scoring goal after goal on the Quidditch Pitch. Lily Evans winking at a boy with swallow skin and a hooked nose. A stag battling a giant wolf. A red headed girl leaving a fishbowl on top of a desk, a lily's petal floating in the water. Four first years telling each other scary stories before bed. A slug Club meeting with Lily Evans as the guest of honor. James Potter raising animals out of stone.
"It's now what it looks like, Lily," James said. He was rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ground.
"Isn't it, Potter? Because if it is, I don't know why you keep doing it. I thought that you had changed but now I realize you'll always be the prat I t—" she was interrupted by the sound of James' words.
"Remus is a werewolf and I'm an unregistered animagus. I've been one for two years. Every full moon we go out into the Forbidden Forest to keep an eye on him," James said as he removed his glasses. "Dumbledore knows," he finished.
"It's not even full moon tonight. W—Why are you telling me this?" Lily asked.
"Because Snape knows so you must already know as well. The fact you didn't ask why I was lying shows that. But also, because Remus trusts you almost as much as he trusts Peter, Sirius and I. Because I want you to know what I am. Because I don't want you not to trust me, Lily. I've seen the way you look at me. And sometimes... sometimes I'm not quite sure if I want to keep trying. So this is me giving it one last shot. Will you go out with me, Evans?" James Potter asked. His eyes were bloodshot and Lily Evans noticed how disheveled his robes were for the first time. His hair had a couple of twigs sticking out at odd places and there was a scratch under his left eye.
James Potter, arms outstretched, jumping between Snape and an inhibited Remus Lupin mid-transformation. A black cat, tailing after Lily Evans as she made her way to Hagrid's hut. A little boy followed by owls. A little girl making flowers bloom with her hands. James Potter exploring the castle under his Invisibility Cloak. Lily Evans taking pictures of Hogwarts and her friends to send them back to her family. Professor McGonagall suppressing a smile at seeing James Potter and Lily Evans wearing the Head Boy and Head Girl badges on their chests. Sirius clapping James on the back as they outran a couple of angry Ravenclaws. Lily Evans sitting alone by the lake, reading a book. James giving Lily a golden locket on Christmas Day. The two of them, dancing on top of the Astronomy Tower.
"I… I don't know what to say Po—
A hand smacked Harry's away from the wall he had been heavily leaning on. Harry's knees shook and he felt a sharp pain enveloped the inside of his hand. He had pushed into the stone with so much force, the ornate designs on it had started to cut his flesh. His vision was blurred and he realized that he had move all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. At some point, he had dropped his glasses.
He yawned and felt a hand squeeze his. It was Hermione's. The rest of his friends, minus Ron, had disappeared. It was only the three of them and the Fat Lady. Through the windows, a couple of thestrals could be seen doing pirouettes on the sky.
"You're doing it again, Harry" Hermione said. Her eyebrow furrowed as she pouted. She had dropped his hand and her arms were folded, her left leg twitching. While Ron had taken the news okay, Hermione's displeasure at being excluded from something once again was noticeable. She didn't even try to hide it from Harry. She felt she was being locked away from some inside joke. She felt she was being forgotten and Harry didn't know how to make her see it was the opposite.
Harry's knees had given up and he had dropped to the ground. It all rushed back to him. He had seen his parents in one of the flashes of magic of Hogwarts and he had not let go. He had dug further and further going as far as moving his body along with the memory of what he had seen. He couldn't help it. Ron and Hermione must have stayed behind, making up an excuse as for why Harry wasn't moving and his eyes appeared to be missing.
Ron crouched next to him and put a hand on his arm. His grip was tight but it reassured Harry to feel his fingers dig into his shoulder.
"You know what Dumbledore said, mate," Ron said before hoisting him up by his shoulders and dusting his robes.
"I know. I promise you guys; I was doing it without thinking about it but then… I… I felt them," Harry's eyes filled with tears. All the memories he had seen. It had all flashed in front of his eyes but he had truly seen them. This is what Dumbledore had meant. His nose was twitching and he felt light headed.
Hermione's glare softened and a silent oh escaped her lips. Ron gave him a one-armed hug and led him somewhere. Harry's feet dragged with every step, unsure of where Ron was leading him and, by the questions she asked, it appeared Hermione didn't know where they were going either.
"He told me this might happen. You can imagine how flustered I was when he called for me instead of Harry. Of course, he sent Colin so I'm surprised no one told you but, he did say this might happen," Ron rambled as he guided Harry through Hogwarts corridors. His arms hanged limply by his side. His eyes were bloodshot and his fingers twitched. Without Ron to hold him up, he wasn't sure how he would walk to anywhere.
"What are you talking about Ron? Why are we here?" Hermione asked. The annoyance and bitterness in her voice has cleared away, leaving the familiar tone in Hermione's voice for when she was preoccupied. Harry closed his eyes, not capable of mustering enough energy to keep them open.
"Lemon drop!" Ron yelled as the weight of Harry's limpness increased. Hermione was helping now and Harry knew what was happening. Even if he couldn't see it anymore, he knew where he was. He could feel their presence enveloping him.
Ron kicked the door open.
"He's drowning," Ron said. He was breathing heavily and had to drop Harry to the ground.
In a second, Dumbledore appeared next to them. Hermione stepped back, she was chewing on her lower lip and silent tears trailed down her cheeks. Harry wasn't sure of how he knew what was happening since his eyes were closed. At once, he could feel a weight being lifted from his head. A soft glow filled the blackness behind his eyelids and Fawkes' song filled his chest. He wasn't drowning. He was home.
It was the middle of the day. Rays of sunlight poured through the Hospital Wing's tall windows. He was the only patient in the room. However, that did not mean he was alone. Laying on top of his bed, guarding him, was Crookshanks. The orange Kneazle switched his tail from left to right as he raised his nose to the ceiling. Harry was sure the cat was waiting for his owner to return before he could fall sleep again. Hermione had asked him to take care of Harry until she return from the bathroom and the cat had followed her orders.
Deciding there was nothing better to do than read while he was alone, Harry scratched the back of Crookshanks head and summoned his preferred reading material. It would be almost half an hour before anyone decided to enter the infirmary.
I made inquiries among the people he had once spoken to. They answered with
respect but there was no one who could guide me to his location. How to summarize
a lifetime of searching for him? So little of what I had discovered through the years was
relevant now that I was so close. He did not wish to be found. Not at the time, at least.
But I did. I will never forget that vault, not for its look which was plain and unadorned, but
for what you couldn't see. Scents that lingered after the years of seclusion had passed.
Flowers and sulfur, sex and decay, magic and steel, power and madness.
It was then that I enrolled as the youngest apprentice that the immortal Nicholas Flamel
had ever taken. Alas, in pursuit of knowledge, one must make sure that the knowledge
itself is not all-consuming.
The big, ornate wooden doors of the Hospital Wing swung open, making Harry raise his head from Dumbledore's annotated copy of Runes, Glyphs and Signs. Two teenage girls were arguing as they made their way to his bed.
"He's been in here three days and no one thought to tell me anything?" said one girl in a high-pitch tone.
"He was unconscious for most of it. Besides, what was I supposed to say? Where would I have found you?" the brunette told the ashen haired girl. They were two beds away from him. Crookshanks stood up and dug his claws onto the bed as he watched the girls crept closer.
"Who cares if he was unconscious, Granger? I'm his…," Daphne opened and close her mouth, no sound coming out of it," whatever. Next time something like this happens please tell me," all anger had gone from Daphne's voice. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze as she sat on the bed. Harry budged to his left and Daphne inched closer to him.
"What did you do this time, Potter?" Daphne asked, looking deep into his eyes. Her touch on his hand was gentle and he could feel the warmth of her spread through him.
"It was nothing, Daphne," Harry said as he looked back and forth between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor.
"How did you two find each other?" he asked.
"Well, it's Sunday so I thought I'd wait for you outside of your common room. You know, because of your dragons' thingy? However, none of your friends ever came out," Daphne's account of the situation was interrupted by Hermione.
"Until me, of course," she said.
"Yes, until Granger. I asked for you and she told me… well, she only told me you were here. I rushed to come and see you and well, here I am," she said, giving him an awkward half-smile and raising her free hand as if to gesture at the whole room.
"Daphne that means… wait, the guys haven't come out of the dorm room?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione. His voice broke slightly as he issued the question to his best friend.
She was now carrying Crookshanks with one arm while petting him with the other. "No. They've been there all day. I almost busted in to yell at them for not being here with you. I'm telling you, the nerve of telling me to bring you sweets and not coming. Sundays are special my…," Hermione said before stopping herself, her nose twitching. Her gaze pointedly avoiding Daphne.
Harry had no time to dwell on the potential misunderstandings between Daphne and Hermione. Those bastards were probably traveling through Barovia while Harry laid unconscious in the hospital wing. Would the party feel the absence of their fighter, the dark elf Orpheus? Who would Faethea flirt with while they fought impossible odds? Would Kirley be able to carry a tune as he always did? And at night, when the night terrors haunted Nalbir's dreams, who would wake him up?
Harry did not need to speak for the two girls to know what was happening. He sighed and rested his head on the back of his bed, his eyes closing. Fawkes had left on the early morning to accompany the Headmaster on an important assignment. While Harry understood the reasoning, he still missed having the old phoenix around. His glow made Harry feel whole and kept his energy up.
"Oh Potter, don't cry. You'll play with your friends next week, okay?" Daphne said as if talking to a child and Harry knew that she was making fun of him. Not in the way boys at his old school had done so but in a gentle way, as if inviting him to realize how absurd his grievance was. Harry couldn't help but smile.
"I…. I just really wanted to visit Barovia, you know?" Harry said, humoring Daphne even more. He faked choking back sobs and looked down at his hands.
"Oh poor you. I'll take you to your fictional countries, don't worry," Daphne said as she patted his head. She turned towards Hermione.
"So what did The Chosen One did this time? I hope it is worthy of a new tale," the sarcasm was palpable. Hermione looked flustered by the question as if she had not expected to be noticed by Daphne.
"He…," her eyes darted towards Harry before she kept talking," did something really, really careless." Taking her schoolbag from the chair next to Harry's bed and with Crookshanks over her shoulders, she said her goodbyes to the couple and left the Hospital Wing.
"So she's mad too, huh? Must have been something very stupid to make the two of us mad, Potter," Daphne said once she had taken the chair all for herself. Harry missed feeling her weight on the bed next to her. He could still smell her faint fragrance but it was not the same as her lying next to him.
"Why are you mad at me? I'm the one in the hospital bed" Harry asked, raising is arms slightly and hunching his shoulders.
"Because none of your friends thought to tell me you were here. I am mad by association, obviously," Daphne said matter-of-factly. And while her left hand still held his right, she was instead looking at the fingernails of her right hand.
"How mad? Like mad mad? Or just jokingly mad?" Harry asked, a smile appearing in his face. His thumb rubbed circles on the back of Daphne's hand and, before long, he could see the blush spread through her cheeks.
"I… I've never truly asked, Potter. And I don't plan to start doing it now. If you ever want to talk to me about, well you know, I'll be here, okay?" Daphne said, not daring to look at Harry's eyes. He knew what she was talking about. There were still many things he hadn't told her. Pretty much everything, if he was being honest. And she had only asked once.
Harry saw a lock of hair cover her eyes and, slowly, raised his hand to tuck it behind her ear. After doing so, he laid his hand on her shoulder and pushed himself slightly up to reposition himself on the bed.
"You remember that book Dumbledore lend me?" Harry asked after a while and after seeing Daphne nod, continued.
"Well it's not the only way he's been teaching me stuff. I… well, I guess, simply put into words, he thought me how to see the traces that magic has left in this world. He warmed me not to do it by myself but I couldn't help it, you know? It was… intoxicating," the fragments of old memories flashed through his mind. Seeing his parents live their adolescence apart and then together filled him with joy even when he still felt like an outsider looking in. Dumbledore had not questioned him further once he had seen the truth in Harry's eyes. He admitted knowing that sooner or later he expected it to happen. He apologized and, noticing the pity in the headmaster's eyes Harry had forgiven him. He was reminded, though. It did no good to dwell in dreams and forget how to live.
Daphne remained silent. She had inched the chair closer. It was as if she thought that if Harry had to raise his voice, he'd reconsider telling her anything.
"I dug too deep, Daphne. I shouldn't have been doing it for starters but my thirst for knowledge, for that connection with Hogwarts itself, blinded me. I saw my parents in a memory. I knew then that I was lost. Without knowing it, I pushed my will into the stone. Roots began to make their way up my insides, weakening me. But I was… happy," putting his weakness into words made it clear to Harry. No matter how much time passed, the ghosts of his parents would always linger in the back of his mind. His first corporeal Patronus had been casted with the help of his mother's voice. His mother's dying screams.
How could he ever resist the temptation of knowing more about them? The answer was obvious. He couldn't. Dumbledore knew it too. So why teach him? Was it a new, sick way for him to deal with his grief? His guilt?
"I saw them fight. Everyone always told me how much they used to fight. Not unlike Ron and Hermione. But I also saw them dance and laugh and smile and… I saw them fall in love. I couldn't let go of it. Not now, Daphne. Not when I…," the words hung in the air, unspoken. Daphne knew there was nothing for her to say. Harry could see the light reflected on her eyes. He rubbed one of his eyes and, in an instant, a soft glow irradiated behind him.
Daphne flinched, dropping his hand and gasping as the magical bird appeared in front of her.
" 'lo Fawkes," said Harry, raising his hand to scratch the majestic phoenix's long neck.
"Is… is that your pet phoenix? I heard the rumors but I did not believe," Daphne asked, stunned. She had only eyes for the bird and Harry had to suppress a laugh.
"Have you been hanging out with Dean, Daphne?" Harry laughed and before she could answer, he kept talking. "But no. He's not mine. He's his own bird. Although he enjoys professor Dumbledore's' company and mine, to a lesser extent," the phoenix rubbed his beak against Harry's outstretched hand and hummed a soft tune.
"He's beautiful," Daphne said.
"Few are those lucky enough that can see Fawkes in this part of his life cycle, Miss Greengrass. Don't let it get to his head," the voice of Albus Dumbledore said from behind Daphne's back. She gave a little jump and apologized to the headmaster immediately.
"I am the one that should apologize. I fear I am interrupting a tender moment between the two of you," both teens blushed at the remark. "But Harry, I only dropped by to inform you of our next session. Tomorrow night sounds like a reasonable time for us to enjoy a couple of butterbeers, don't you think?" the Headmaster asked Harry, his blue eyes twinkling underneath his glasses. Harry took the hint and nodded in agreement.
Taking one of the chocolate frogs from Harry's bed side table, Dumbledore nodded before retreating, apologizing to Daphne once more for interrupting the two of them. Daphne stuttered a response, blushing all the same.
Before he left the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore spun around and relayed one final message to Harry.
"And Harry, professor Slughorn asked me to inform you how happy he is that you've made such a nimble recovery. He hopes you will tell him the full account of this debacle and more in his coming Christmas Party," he winked and, once more, whirled around before disappearing behind the wooden doors of the Hospital Wing.
"Slughorn's party… I had forgotten about that," Harry murmured to himself. Hermione had moaned all morning about how she couldn't ask Ron to go with her because Lavender would get jealous. Harry felt for her and offered to help her get a date. Hermione had not reacted how he had expected. Instead, she reminded him that as Slughorn's guest of honor he was expected to take a date to the party as well. He was also reminded by Hermione how fanciful he was as every girl wanted to get it going with the so called Chosen One.
He told Hermione how that was irrelevant to him. His friend had smiled at his remark, probably happy that Harry reinforced her concept of how he wasn't a superficial prick who took advantage of his fame. If he was being completely honest with himself, the only girl he wanted to take to Slughorn's party was seated right in front of him.
"How can you be so calm around him, Potter? I almost fumble with my wand by just seeing him and you'll casually share a couple of butterbeers tomorrow night?" Daphne asked and Harry could hear her mumble something about chosen ones under her breathe.
"I was like that once. It's just that after everything… Well, professor Dumbledore has become much more than just a face behind a chocolate frog card for me. He's… well, he's Dumbledore," Harry laughed as he was unable to come up with a word to describe his relationship with the old Headmaster. Grandfather-like figure? Funny uncle? Mentor? Hero? Every definition he came up with jumbled together with the rest into Dumbledore… just Dumbledore.
Behind him, Fawkes flapped his wings and flew around the room before perching himself next to Daphne's chair. She gave a little yell and remained very still as Fawkes soft golden-red glow enveloped her. In seconds, her shoulders loosened and the expression on her face was far more relaxed than it had been before.
Taking his chance, Harry seized the moment.
"So, Daphne, you know about that party Slughorn's throwing in a couple of weeks?"
"Yeah, Draco can't shut up about how his invite must have gotten lost in the Owlery or something. I believed it until Blaise told me he wasn't invited. It was an embarrassing realization to say the least," Daphne said, covering her mouth as she giggled. Hearing Daphne call Malfoy by his first name made Harry's skin crawl. Malfoys name buzzed around the inside of his head like a fly he could not swat. Daphne noticed Harry's frown and told him to cut it out.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Because you ruin your handsome face when you frown, dummy," Daphne said, smirking.
"Not handsome enough to be called by my first name," Harry whispered with some venom in his voice. He regretted saying what he did the second the words had left his mouth. Daphne's look of confusion morphed into understanding before she bit her lips trying to contain her full-toothed smile.
"My my, is The-Boy-Who-Lived jealous of Draco Malfoy," Daphne everything but purred her last two words. Harry knew how cruel Daphne could be with her suitors and while he knew she was toying with him, he felt his hands twitch.
"I'll never be jealous of that ferret," Harry said turning his head, avoiding Daphne's gaze. She had slowly inched closer and closer. Her face was lest that half a foot away from his. Harry could see her bite her lower lip before she whispered directly into his ear.
"Potter," he felt tingles all over his face and torso but did not flinch away from her. She whispered once more.
"Potter," out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fawkes cock his head over the ashen hair that clouded most of his view. He inched back and felt his head bump the back of his bed. Daphne whispered once more.
"I only call you Potter because everyone else calls you Harry, Harry," her last words fainter than a whisper. She gave him a slight slap on the cheek before retreating and sitting on her chair and putting her feet on the bed. Harry felt ants crawling all over his spine and the muscles on the back of his legs tensed slightly.
"Do you really think I would rush into the Hospital Wing, looking for you, if there was someone else you could actually be jealous of?" Daphne asked, with her head slightly tilted forward but her eyes never leaving his. Harry had only eyes for her which is why Madame Pomfrey was able to stealthily approach the couple and startle them by clearing her throat.
"As romantic as the scene is, I won't have two students sharing the same bed in my infirmary. Miss Greengrass, out. And Harry, I expected better of you," Daphne raised elegantly from her chair and straightened her robes before rolling her eyes and winking at Harry, proving her point about everyone calling him Harry.
Before she could reach the door, Harry raised his voice.
"Would you like go to Slughorn's Christmas party with me?!" Harry's voice echoed inside the almost empty room.
"Took you long enough," Daphne said, not looking back. And, before the doors closed behind her, she whirled around and yelled into the room with a big smile on her face. "Yes!"