Disclaimer: I do not own Albus Dumbledore.
Chapter-14: Choices
"He's mental."
"Yes Harry."
"Totally unhinged."
"Completely."
"What did your brothers say his nickname is, Ron? 'Mad-Eye'?"
"That's him, mate."
"Apparently the madness had spread to his brain."
"Then again, he is a friend of Dumbledore's. What else do you expect?"
Harry gave Ron a disbelieving look before laughing out loud; the redhead grinned goofily in return, while their brunette friend fought to hide a faint smile. Harry took a deep breath and composed himself.
"I just don't know what Moody was doing, or why he was saying all that to me. And I don't know why I got so mad either." He told his best friends.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. Ron spoke up first.
"Charlie did say that Moody was… off after the war. That he was forced to retire from the Corps, or something. If you want, I can ask Dad about it." He offered.
Harry gave it some thought before nodding. "It would be a good idea to learn more about him."
"Yeah; CONSTANT VIGILANCE, remember?" Ron snorted.
"But you have to admit, he did have a point." Hermione finally entered the conversation. The boys turned to her.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but he was right; you are unusually good with Defence. Really! You got the highest score in the final exam last year, by a fair margin, and despite Slytherins getting extra tutoring from Snape." Her voice lowered, as she was reluctant to admit the next bit. "It was the only subject you beat me in. And I was close only because my written exam scored so high."
"Slytherins get extra tutoring from Snape?" Ron asked, focusing on the trivia and missing the point as usual. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Yes; in DADA and Potions anyway. Daphne Greengrass was very friendly with Padma, and Padma mentioned that in passing when we were comparing notes last year. The Slytherins accused Professor Lupin of showing favouritism, but obviously it's not the case." She turned to address both boys. "Cast a Shield Charm."
Harry raised an eyebrow but complied. The magical barrier appeared with a bluish glow. Hermione and Ron followed suit; hers was much fainter while his flickered out of existence after a few seconds.
"You didn't even know how to cast it before today, but you produced a functional shield on your first attempt. And you learned the Patronus Charm in your third year, producing a fully corporeal one that could repel a hundred Dementors at once. And there's the way you fought in class today. You actually held out against Moody, when he's invisible and silenced, for nearly a minute without help!" Hermione all but exclaimed. "Face it Harry: you really are gifted."
"That isn't what got me so worked up, Hermione." Harry struggled to find the right words. "It's the way Moody talked about it. Like I'm destined to be an unstoppable killing machine. Like I'm good for fighting and nothing else. Like I'm a weapon. Like I don't have a choice."
The last came out in a whisper.
"Of course you do. It's not like you're a legendary hero, a Chosen One or something." Ron slapped Harry's back hard, as if trying to slap him out of the funk—actually, knowing Ron, he probably was. "I know what you are going to be: Harry Potter, international Quidditch sensation, superstar Seeker for the Chudley Cannons…"
"I look horrible in orange. So do you, actually." Harry couldn't help but chuckle.
"Hey!" Ron shouted, indignant. Harry could feel his mood lifting despite himself; Ron really knew how to cheer him up. Then again, he was Harry's best mate for a reason.
"Well I, for one, think you should explore Defence. You do know your luck is rotten." Hermione, ever the voice of reason, brought them back to earth.
"Of course; it just won't be a year at Hogwarts without a death threat or four on Harry Potter, will it?" Harry answered sarcastically.
"And watch out for Defence Against the Dark Arts professors." Ron added cheekily. "Blimey, Moody's made his first moves already. I bet he was at the Opening Feast, invisible and all, stalking the students."
Hermione frowned, possibly replaying that night's events in her head.
"You know, that just might be the case," she gave Ron an approving nod (thoroughly unnerving Ron in the process) before rounding on Harry again. "Anyway, just because you don't like the instructor doesn't mean you shouldn't do well in the class. You can prove him wrong easily, by doing well in your other classes and getting the job you want. Show him you are better than he thinks."
"You do know that she's saying this just to get you to study more, right? How positively Slytherin of her." Ron leaned in to whisper into Harry's ear, except he made no effort to keep the volume down. Harry fought to stifle a laugh as Hermione threatened them both with basilisk-grade death glares.
And just like that things were alright again.
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The prospect of weekend was such that not even Double Potions with Snape was able to dampen Harry's spirits. Hagrid was too busy dealing with the Blast-Ended Skrewts, so Harry made good his promise with Madam Pomfrey and visited her on Saturday afternoon, during which he was given his training schedule. He would have two shifts per week, one for Monday and the other Thursday, both evening shifts. Unlike his summer lessons, which concentrated on the theoretical side of Healing (human biology, potion properties, foundations in curse-breaking, etc.), the training sessions would focus on diagnosing magical ailments, counter-spelling, first aid, and general caring. Harry was really looking forward to it, and his attitude earned him a bright smile from the school nurse.
In the mean time the twins invited Harry to fly with them before next weekend's tryout. While they set their goals at becoming the Hogwarts Champion for the Triwizard Tournament, they were not adverse to the idea of playing for the school Quidditch teams. When they found out about his teatime arrangements they accused (good-naturedly of course) Harry of turning into a teacher's pet; until he pointed out that the matron wasn't really a teacher, and his teatime with Hagrid began long before he began teaching Care. He did give them permission to prank him senseless if he began having tea with Snape, however, which the twins gleefully accepted. He also noticed the longing look on Ron's face when the twins left with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, two of Gryffindor house team's Chasers.
"So Katie's not going for the team?" Harry asked as he put the finishing touch to his Charms assignment. Hermione was off doing Merlin-knew-what, again, leaving the two boys behind to finish their homework in the common room.
"She said she has too much on her plate, with OWLs coming, and she was actually glad she won't have to worry about Quidditch this year." Ron answered with a scowl.
Harry bit back a sarcastic remark. Instead he said out loud, "So… are you going to go for it?"
Ron's eyes darted to the portrait hole, which had closed behind the departing sixth years. "Do you think I should? I'm alright as a Keeper, I think. The twins will probably laugh themselves stupid when I show up, though." He added, avoiding Harry's eyes.
Harry knew what his best friend needed to hear.
"I think it would be a wonderful idea; it'd be great if we're on the same team." He said encouragingly. "The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced. You should go get some practice with Angelina, Alicia and the twins. They could definitely give you some pointers."
"The school brooms are rubbish." Ron said in a small voice.
"The twins' brooms aren't great either, and yet they are known as human Bludgers, feared by all the other House teams." Harry briefly entertained the idea of lending him his Firebolt but decided against it; Ron hated his hand-me-downs, but he hated the idea of charity even more. Instead he tried another approach. "I mean, look at Malfoy; he has a Nimbus 2001 and how many times had he ever caught the Snitch? Brooms are important, yes, but not as important as the person flying it."
That seemed to be the last nudge Ron needed; he nodded and shoved his half-completed assignment into his bag. "Coming, Harry?"
"No," he told Ron firmly after a moment of consideration. "I don't need to see you play; I know you can do it. I believe in you."
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Ron left the common room with a determined look after that. He wouldn't be back until two hours later, tired and windswept but beaming as he took his usual spot next to Harry, who caught the twins' attention and gave them a questioning look. Fred gave him a shrug but George returned a tiny nod; Harry took that as a sign that Ron did well enough, if the twins weren't mocking their younger brother.
Meanwhile, the lanky redhead in question was piling food onto his plate, pulling every dish within range towards him—that was, until Dean and Seamus fought back and pulled everything their way. They continued their silly little tug-of-war until Neville intervened and plucked the last of the rolls from the plate.
"You do realize that you can ask the elves to refill the food… right?" He said mildly as he passed the rolls to Lavender, Parvati and Fay, who favoured him with smiles for his gentlemanly behaviour.
Apparently they didn't, for the Gryffindor fourth-year boys answered with blank looks. Neville reddened as he found himself the center of attention. "Well, that's what the kitchen elves told me."
Absentmindedly Harry brought out his wand and tapped the plate with it three times. The empty plate was quickly replaced by another one loaded with rolls. He grabbed two enthusiastically until he noticed the others staring. "What?"
"You know too? Have you been to the kitchen as well?" Ron asked incredulously. Harry thought he knew what prompted Ron's question, but strangely enough Hermione was paying class-level attention too.
Neville answered first. "Yeah… I mean, sometimes I work so late in the greenhouse I missed dinner. Professor Sprout dragged me to the kitchen a few times and got some food from the elves for me." He mumbled.
"Of course I do. I did arrange to have lunch at the kitchen during summer class, you know." Harry followed with a shrug. "And I know the Hufflepuff common room is near there. Sue told me."
Dean and Seamus grinned so suddenly it was unnerving. "Sue? As in Susan Bones?" They asked together. Lavender and Parvati leaned closer as well, sensing gossip-worthy material like sharks sensing blood; Hermione rolled her eyes in disgust. Harry decided to steer away from these dangerous waters.
"Err, yes?" He answered succinctly and turned to Hermione, before they had any chance of asking further. "What have you been up to these days? You keep disappearing for hours at a time. You are not taking twelve subjects using a Time-Turner, again, are you?"
"Of course not!" Hermione said defensively, ignoring Harry's suspicious look. "I just have things to do."
"We—that is to say, Ron and I—were a bit worried, that's all," He said finally. He decided to change the subject. "Can you help me with my Ancient Runes homework, if you have time? I've finished it but I'm wondering if you can take a look."
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It turned out to be a good idea to let Hermione check his Runes paper, as she found several mistakes in his translation. Ron joined them half an hour later, and what's more, he brought Neville along; they had to come up with predictions for the next month for their Divination assignment. Hermione huffed and glared as the two began making up outrageous predictions (aided and abided by Harry) but Harry thought it hilarious.
He decided to retire early when Hermione went through Ron's and Neville's Charms homework, as he had something else to study for. The boy's dormitory was empty when he found and opened the book Dumbledore gave him on occlumency. A note fell out of the book when he opened the cover.
Harry,
The obscure branch of magic detailed in this book, while not Dark, is not one to be taken lightly. I had hoped not to burden you any more than necessary, but it seems I have little choice. You may want to practice discretion when you study this, and should you encounter problems or questions, come to see Professor Snape or myself immediately.
The note was unsigned but it was obvious who it was from. Harry pulled shut the curtains around his four-poster; it would be fine tonight but he should look for a secure location as soon as possible, preferably through consulting a certain piece of old parchment. He proceeded and skimmed through the first few chapters, which served as an introduction to the art and described its history. Apparently British Aurors were required to practice at least the basic form of occlumency, but (according to a scribbled note that Harry suspected to be his headmaster's handwriting) a budget cut in 1984 by the Ministry resulted in the course being cut from Auror Academy. Harry made a mental note to ask Madam Bones about this someday.
It wasn't until the fifth chapter that Harry found the practical detail for occlumency itself. The introductory form required the practitioner to clear away stray thoughts and emotions, to discipline one's mind and reach a state of blankness so that the mind could not be scanned even when probed. This first stage was best done through mediation, and Harry gave it a try.
Two hours later Harry let out a grunt of frustration. He wished he could say that he had achieved something, or at least got an inkling of what he's supposed to do, but he hadn't. He couldn't understand how to (as the book called it) compartmentalize his thoughts and detach his emotions; when he tried to mediate things kept surfacing in his mind. He knew it could not be rushed, and Dumbledore did say it might take years. Nevertheless, he resolved to practice it every night and master it as soon as possible. He did have secrets to learn, after all.
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"…'seventeen suns'?" Harry gave the runes on the sheet a look and hazarded a guess. His partner shook her head.
"No. When combined like this the 'sun' symbol takes on its secondary meaning 'day'. And that extra stroke after the number means 'sequence'. Together this means 'seventeenth day'." Luna Lovegood explained patiently.
Harry sighed as he crossed out his translation and scribbled down the one she provided. "Say it. This is hopeless."
The blonde merely shrugged and turned back to the sheet of runes. "Things will get better. Now let's try this next one…"
The second week of school was drawing to a close. It hadn't been a very good week for him overall and Harry could hardly wait for it to be over. It all began with the orientation seminar on Monday evening, when Madam Pomfrey met with her trainees and assigned schedules. Harry was the youngest and sole fourth-year present, for obvious reasons; Healing training was usually for NEWT students after all. This year's recruits were mostly sixth-years, along with two seventh-years, and it was quickly explained by the grumpy-looking school nurse. It turned out that the usual recruitment of trainees was hindered significantly by the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, which drew away a lot of prospective students. The result was that the hospital wing was now severely undermanned. While Madam Pomfrey would continue recruiting, the short-term solution was to give the current trainees one extra shift each, in return for additional credit for their NEWTs (which did not apply to Harry, but he was promised a reference letter when he took his OWLs next year). The students agreed, though not without some grumbling around.
Harry got to meet his partners for his training sessions, Roger Davies of Ravenclaw (Mondays) and Adrian Pucey of Slytherin (Thursdays and Saturdays) while the students mingled. Harry recognized both as sixth-years and Chasers on their respective house teams. The two were surprised to see that their co-trainee was a fourth-year student, and what's more it was Harry Potter. Davies was cold and reserved toward the Gryffindor; Harry suspected that Davies was simply unconvinced of his qualifications. He resolved to prove his worth to the Ravenclaw by working harder. Pucey on the other hand was polite and almost friendly, despite the mutual dislike between their houses and the fierce rivalry between their Quidditch teams; in fact Harry was tempted to call him the nicest Slytherin he had ever met. Harry was refilling his glass of lemonade when Davies practically dropped the next bombshell.
"I've been made captain of one of the School Quidditch teams. Johnson's the other one." He said nonchalantly.
"Congratulations." Harry said automatically. Davies nodded but Pucey frowned.
"I thought Diggory would be named." The Slytherin gave his peer a look. "The two of you are the longer-serving captains after all."
"Word is that he has his eyes set on the Tournament itself and declined," Davies offered.
"Oh?" Pucey raised an eyebrow. The Ravenclaw smirked at his expression.
"Let's just say it's from a reliable source and leave it at that." He said.
"What do you think of his chances?" Harry interjected. The two sixth-years gave it some thought before answering.
"Getting selected as the Champion? Pretty good actually. He is intelligent, talented, and a hard-worker. But can he win it all? I'm not too sure." Davies spoke first.
"He is called the Star of Hufflepuff not just for his sparkling good looks." Pucey's grin was not entirely benevolent. "He has almost as many nicknames as you do, Mr. Golden-Boy-of-Gryffindor."
Harry flushed but Davies came to his rescue. "Play nice, Adrian. As I was saying, I've been made captain. What I wanted to say is that tryouts will be held this Saturday at two in the afternoon." He finished with a significant look. Both Harry and Pucey dug out their shift schedules as realization hit them.
"We are scheduled for the Saturday afternoon shift!" Harry said in horror. Pucey simply grimaced.
A hint of sympathy entered Davies' voice. "I'll talk to Johnson, and see if she's willing to give you separate tryouts. The two of you are decent players, and I'd hate to see either one of you miss the team because you can't go to the tryout."
The Gryffindor and the Slytherin muttered their thanks. The three of them chatted some more, both on Quidditch and on Healer training, until Madam Pomfrey made a few more announcements and dismissed the students, calling it a night.
Harry spent some time practicing Occlumency before sleeping, but it was hopeless; he had difficulty getting his thoughts under control tonight, particularly with Ron's and Seamus' snoring factored into the equation, and the frustration he felt fuelled the cycle all over again. He knew he had nothing to show for tomorrow's meeting with Dumbledore. As he drifted into sleep Harry decided to contact the Headmaster and postpone their meeting.
He woke up early the next day and wrote a note apologizing to Dumbledore, and asking that they move their scheduled meeting to the next Tuesday. Hedwig was in the Owlery and quite happy to see him, that was until he gave the letter to a school owl. She barked in annoyance as the barn owl flew off.
"Look, this letter requires some secrecy, and I don't want people to recognize you and associate that letter with me." He said apologetically to the snowy owl, who gave him a hurt look. "Come to the Hall and get some bacon, alright?"
Harry hunted down Angelina during breakfast and asked her about the tryouts. She was sympathetic to his plight but could do little.
"I want to give you some leeway, too, Harry, but this is a team composed of people from all four houses. I cannot show you favouritism." She said with a scowl. "My captaincy is shaky enough as it is; I have it only because Diggory gave me his blessing. Montague is pretty good as a player but I won't trust him not to abuse his power if he were made captain."
Harry nodded warily. Angelina's expression softened. "We can really use you, Harry. You are the best Seeker in the school right now. I'd really hate to lose you simply because of a schedule conflict. Can you try to come?"
And to top it off, Hedwig was apparently too upset with him to show up.
Harry thought it a sad state of affairs when Potions with Snape was the first bright spot in his week thus far. While their mutual loathing for each other reached unprecedented levels, the man maintained his distance from his old nemesis' son—and turned his venomous insults on Neville instead. Only Hermione's intervention saved the timid boy from blowing up another cauldron. The Potions instructor countered this by ordering Ron to work with Neville from the next class on until further notice; in addition, he moved their table to the front of the classroom, isolating them from the rest of the Gryffindor students.
Ron's foul mood persisted throughout the rest of the week, even after Hermione promised to tutor Neville and him. Harry felt a tinge of urgency to perfect his Shield Charm as soon as possible.
The arrival of Thursday meant DADA and Moody again. The teacher had not exactly endeared himself to his students, and he went one step further by unveiling a new, controversial rule for the upper year classes: he would accept challenges from his students and if anyone bested him, he would give the student an automatic pass and a free period thereafter. The result was that over a dozen students were hospitalized within thirty-six hours, covered in curses and wounds. Madam Pomfrey was most displeased with the additional work her colleague so unkindly provided her.
And while Hermione called him paranoid, Harry had the nagging suspicion that fourth-years were included simply because Moody wanted to rile him up. The Defence professor kept leering in his direction during class, as if baiting him. Even Padma picked up on this, and she was worried enough that she cornered Harry after class.
"It's not like I have much of a choice," he said exasperatedly as the two of them set off for the Great Hall. He had an evening shift at the hospital wing tonight and wanted to finish dinner quickly. "He's holding a grudge against me, or something. I will try to keep a low profile and hope that he backs off."
He didn't like lying to her, but he didn't want to talk about last Thursday's confrontation, either. Padma gave him a sharp, penetrating look, but relented and they talked of other things until they reached the Great Hall. She gave him a pat on the shoulder before setting off for the Ravenclaw table.
The interaction did not go unnoticed, however, especially not to the ever-perceptive Hermione Granger.
"Is everything alright?" She asked quietly. Harry shrugged and told her his conversation with Padma between bites.
"Well that explained some things." She said with a nod. "Like why Padma looks so happy and Susan Bones looks annoyed."
"Sue? What does this have to do with—" Harry knew he must be doing a fair impression of a goldfish right now. "Oh sweet Merlin."
He so did not need girl problems right now.
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In the end, Angelina and Davies decided not to hold an advance tryout for Harry and Pucey. Harry had no choice but to ask the school nurse for time off; she was not amused.
"Why didn't you come to see me sooner, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked sternly. Harry shuffled his feet as he searched for a good response and found none. "Mr. Pucey informed me of his situation on Monday and I was able to arrange a replacement for him. I cannot do the same for you, because I simply don't have the time. It will be horribly unfair if I call in someone—anyone—to cover the shift for you on such short notice."
Harry tried to protest but the Matron would have none of it. "This might not be a formal class, Mr. Potter, but you must take it seriously. You made a commitment and you have to stick with it, even if it comes in conflict with your other pursuits."
And last, but not least, Harry made the mistake of telling all this to Ginny Friday morning while they were waiting for Ancient Runes outside the classroom.
"What do you mean, you don't know if you will go to the tryout or not?" Ginny all but yelled. Ginny had just told him that she was going to try out for Chaser, despite the fact that it was the most competitive position—or perhaps, because of it. "This isn't just for Gryffindor house, this is for Hogwarts. You can't do this to us!"
Harry was searching for the right words to say when her demeanour suddenly changed.
"Unless… are you entering the Tournament, Harry?" She gave him a pointed look.
"Oh no," Harry replied, shaking his head vigorously. "Haven't you heard the stories they tell in the common room? They keep talking about the creatures the Champions had to face in the past, and how they stopped the Tournament because so many people got hurt or killed. I, for one, like some peace and quiet this year."
Ginny remained unconvinced. "It's still so unlike you, Harry. You love Quidditch!"
He was saved from answering by the timely arrival of Professor Babbling. Ginny kept sending him glares and Harry took refuge in the assignment he shared with the third-year Ravenclaw. He felt almost sad as the bell rang, signalling the end of class.
"Thanks for all your help, Luna." He said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could.
The girl shrugged. "It is a group assignment, you know. I have to help you."
"But you are very thorough, making sure that I understand it." Harry insisted. He wanted to give credit where it's due, although part of him wondered why he was trying so hard. Luna blinked at him before nodding. The wand that she placed behind her ear stayed in its place, though, as if a sticking charm had been placed on it.
"Then I accept." She nodded briskly before saying, as if to thin air, "Things will get better, Harry Potter."
Harry wished he could believe her, but somehow her sympathetic words sounded so hollow right now.
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"Prepare a Purifying Potion, Potter. Instructions are on the bottle." Madam Pomfrey barked after examining the tentacle-like welts on Cormac McLaggen's face. The fifth-year Gryffindor had a mispronounced hex backfired on him, and the results were not pretty, to put it mildly. Harry hurried to the storage room even as the nurse scribbled a note and muttered something to Summers, a Hufflepuff sixth-year and Adrian Pucey's replacement for the day. Harry sighed and stole another look at the window. The Quidditch tryouts had begun an hour ago, and he could only imagine his teammates' and Ron's looks when he was nowhere to be found. Pouring the potion into a stone goblet (as it would burn through wood and melt through metal) he brought it to McLaggen's bedside. The older student downed it in two gulps and promptly passed out. The nurse simply adjusted the pillow under him.
"The welts will shrivel up after applying the Withering Salve, and can be removed safely. The Purifying Potion will prevent scarring, but it has a side effect that needs to be monitored closely. What is it?" She asked.
Harry gathered his thoughts and answered. "It makes the skin extremely tender for about two hours. If the patient scratches himself he may scar himself deeply. That is why an ingredient is added to induce calmness and sleep, to lessen that chance." He added as an afterthought.
Madam Pomfrey nodded and handed him the stone goblet. Harry put it in the sink, among other goblets and bottles, and began casting cleaning charms on them absentmindedly. His inattentiveness was duly noted by the Matron. She sighed.
"What are you doing here, Harry?" She asked gently.
Harry looked down, surprised. "Cleaning?"
"That's not what I was asking and you know it." She retorted promptly.
"To train, Ma'am," He answered, but he didn't sound very enthusiastic about it. "I committed myself and I intend to follow through with it."
Pomfrey sighed and gestured Harry to a seat. "Do you really think I should have found a replacement for you, Mr. Potter? That I should have tried harder, on your behalf?"
"No Ma'am." Harry said, wondering where this was leading to. "I mean, I don't want to be treated differently because of who I am."
"Good. But that is only one of the reasons I have you stay behind today." Pomfrey gave him a look. "I have watched you closely—though not as closely as the Headmaster and your Head of House—over the last few years. You have run headlong into danger more than once, but that had as much to do with circumstances as with your temperament. While boldness is an admirable trait, it is not one desirable in a Healer. This may be one of the most important lessons I can teach you. Healers face life-and-death situations, and it is not their own lives that are at stake. They—and you—must learn to choose your battles. Face them, but take charge, and fight on your own terms.
"You must learn to rein in your emotions and control your impulses. You must learn to think first and act second. You must learn to take a step back and assess the situation, instead of charging in blindly and without a plan. You must learn to make choices, hard choices, not just between what's right and what's easy, but what's right and what's righter."
She was silent for a moment as Harry took in her speech.
"Now tell me again, Mr. Potter." She took a deep breath. "What are you doing here?"
"To learn the Healing Arts." He fixed his eyes with hers, his answer firmed.
"Why?" Pomfrey raised an eyebrow.
"Because I choose to."
A/N: Events in this chapter take place between September 4th and 13th, 1994.