Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody. Oh, and review again!
S/N: You remember that spell Harry was trying to invent during chapter 15, "Problems Spelling"? Yeah, it's back and better than ever.
S/N 2: Like I mentioned in the S/N of chapter 19, "Summer in Room 23", last year was about Harry's relationship with Lily, while this year will be about his relationship with James, and to a lesser extent, Sirius.
Chapter 25: The (Quaffle) Exchange
Harry awoke the next morning after everyone had already left the room for their classes. After readying himself for the day, he walked through the halls and down the stairs, before arriving in his Transfiguration classroom, deciding to skip breakfast, not feeling very hungry. Taking his usual seat, he stifled a yawn as he waited for the class to begin. McGonagall sat at the desk at the front of the room, seemingly preparing for that day's lecture. She had pieces of parchment littered across the top of the wooden desk, notes that she wanted to be sure to mention to her students. Harry aimlessly stared off, his mind wandering over a variety of things that had nothing to do with transfiguration.
McGonagall rose to her feet when she saw the time, walking to the head of the class so all could see her. "Since we are now finished with our review, I want to explain what we will be doing for the rest of the time here. For the first part of this year, as I told you all last year, we will be working on conjuration, a particularly difficult branch of transfiguration." She lectured with her voice stern and wise. "It takes concentration and energy, so don't fear if you have trouble with it, you just need to work at it harder and it will come. For the second part, we will be working on human transfiguration, where I expect you to be able to transfigure a classmate into an animal of my choosing."
She paused for a brief moment, allowing the students to think about what she had told them, before continuing on with the lecture. "Conjuration, as the name suggests, conjures an item from thin air. The size and characteristics of the item depends upon your concentration, your skill, and your willpower. The more powerful and skilled a person is, the longer the conjured items will last. However, no matter how powerful a person is, a conjured item will not last forever, and usually disappears after only a few hours."
Harry's thoughts drifted off to the various conjurations he had witnessed in his life. During his time at the Burrow, he watched as Mrs. Weasley seemingly conjured a sauce from thin air, though he didn't know how that was possible under the laws of magic that he knew them as. He had also seen Professor Dumbledore conjure things a few times, such as the massive amount of sleeping bags in his third year, as well as the two plushy chairs during his fifth year when he was being tried by the Wizengamot. Finally, he had also witnessed Lord Voldemort conjuring a silver metal shield during his duel with Dumbledore, a feat that Harry had seen numerous times while watching the duel in his pensieve.
"If you open your books up to page thirty, you'll see a spell that I want you to complete by the end of today's lesson." McGonagall said, drawing Harry's attention back to the class. "The spell will allow you to conjure this cage." She whipped her wand and a cage just large enough to hold a parrot appeared on her desk, made of a dull black metal and adorned with tiny engravings of birds on its base.
Harry opened his book and then looked over to the cage. He knew he could do it; after all, he had conjured something larger and far more intricate while practicing during the summer. Even still, he wanted to get it perfect, so he read over the spell's details, and went over the movements in his mind. Without his wand in his hand, he mimicked the movements, using his finger as the tip of his wand. After a few more tries, he felt ready to try, so he grabbed his wand and waited until McGonagall called him up.
While he sat there, his mind drifted off to what he had learned the previous night—that he was changing the future. He didn't know why, but he was worried about that fact, more so than he had been since arriving over a year prior. He was worried that it would hurt him, perhaps make it so he never existed in the first place, though he didn't know or understand exactly how it would work. He knew that he wanted to discuss it with Dumbledore when Wednesday came in an effort to ease his concerns, his fears, and hopefully find a way to prevent any catastrophes. Eventually, his name was read out, and after shaking the negative thoughts from his head, he walked himself to the front of the class, where he conjured a near perfect birdcage, albeit a tad smaller than the original. Overall, as McGonagall informed him, it was a passing attempt, one that showed that his skill in transfiguration was evolving. The class finished soon afterwards, and he returned to his room to study for the next day.
Before dinner later that night, Harry arrived outside of Moonshine's office as she had requested of him, a nervous energy about him. He had no idea why she wanted to meet with him, though he hoped he wasn't in trouble for anything. He neared the door and gave it two quick knocks, announcing his presence to the witch inside. He heard some footsteps coming from behind the door before it was opened, revealing the older witch. "Hello ma'am," Harry said, his eyes meeting the witch's. She was wearing comfortable dark blue robes, lined with silver buttons, which hung loosely on her body.
"Harry," She cooed, opening her door wider and allowing him inside her office. "How are you?" She questioned interestedly, hoping that one of her favorite students was doing well.
"Not bad," Harry said, taking his first steps into the room, his gaze instinctively moving about. She closed the door and turned around to see him, running a hand over her forehead as he waited patiently for her to speak.
"I bet you're wondering why you're here," Moonshine said upon noticing his demeanor, a smirk curling around the edge of her mouth. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."
"A little," Harry shrugged, not allowing her to see that he had indeed been worried that he was in trouble. He should have realized that he couldn't be in trouble, he knew, since after all, he hadn't done anything bad up until that point. He watched interestedly as she walked back around her desk, and pushed in her high-backed chair, standing behind hit as Harry raised an eyebrow up to her.
"I wanted to thank you for your help in Diagon Alley," Moonshine said sincerely, staring right at Harry, showing him that she meant it. She reached behind her desk to a shelf that was fastened to the wall and grabbed a box wrapped in brown paper that looked like a muggle package. "Thank you." She said honestly, handing the box over to the younger wizard to open.
"You didn't have to do this, professor," Harry smiled, grateful for Moonshine's kindness. He unwrapped the paper and found a large box of the most expensive and delicious fudge that Honeydukes had to offer. "Thank you, it looks delicious."
"You're quite welcome," Moonshine smiled, appreciating his gratitude, though she knew she owed him much more than what a simple box of chocolate could offer. "You handled yourself well in the alley; can I take it that you have actual experience fighting dark wizards?"
"Ah," Harry grinned, knowing that she wouldn't believe the real story if he told it to her. "Yeah, you could say that."
"I should have known," Moonshine nodded in understanding, cognizant that real life practice was even better than book reading in many cases. "Thinking about it, you can clearly see it in your dueling technique. That's not a dueling form that is taught through books: its real-world experience bleeding into your technique."
"I suppose that's true," Harry nodded, knowing that he had yet to read any books about dueling and simply went on gut instinct. "Do you like teaching here, professor?"
"Oh yes, very much so," said Moonshine, a broad smile appearing on her pretty face as she thought about the joy that teaching younger people brought to her. It had always been her dream since she graduated from Hogwarts a half of a decade prior to come back and teach, and she was proud of herself for accomplishing that dream. "It's in my blood."
"Hm?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow, intrigued by what she had meant.
"My father was a teacher here a long time ago," replied Moonshine, illuminating her background for Harry as she took a seat in her chair. "He taught Potions for exactly two years before resigning and focusing on developing the potion that made him relatively famous, the one that suppresses a hag's desire for human flesh. Professor Slughorn took over for him when he left, and obviously, has not relinquished the post since." Then, seeing Harry still standing, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "Come, sit."
Harry nodded, accepting the offer, crossing the room and taking a seat in the wooden chair. "Thank you," He said, as his gaze moved around the office once again, looking at all of the knickknacks and interesting items that it had to offer. His attention was drawn to a portrait that was hanging off on the side wall, which was of a hag that had pale yellowish skin, green eyes, long white hair, and warts on both her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Overall, she was someone that was not easy to look at, and not someone that Harry would want to meet without a wand at the ready.
Noticing Harry's gaze, she smiled, turning her attention to the hag portrait as well. "That's my mother." She said, revealing to him her most personal secret. While she didn't necessarily hide it, she very rarely informed anyone about her heritage, but she figured Harry would be trustworthy because of his last name and she owed him for saving her life.
Harry's head snapped to Moonshine, who was smiling right back at him. "That means…you're half-hag?"
"Yes," Moonshine replied softly with a slight nod of her head. "What, expected half of my face to be green and covered in warts?"
"No!" Harry exclaimed in the negative, not wanting her to think that he was in anyway discriminatory. After all, he considered Hagrid, who was a half-giant himself, a dear friend, and never once questioned the man's heritage. "I was just surprised. I mean, you look great, and…ah…" Harry blushed, realizing how that came out. He meant exactly how it sounded, but he didn't mean to actually say it. She was a very attractive witch in his mind, and he knew most of the older students agreed with him.
"Thank you, Harry," Moonshine grinned easily, trying to ease his visible awkwardness. She was flattered with his compliment even if it was a bit uncouth, and she was sympathetic to where it was coming from—she was just in her mid-twenties and in the prime of her life, unlike many of the other professors, who were entering or already in their middle ages and beyond.
"No problem, ma'am," Harry coughed, not daring to meet her gaze. He stared at the floor for a few moments, and then kept his eyes firmly on the shelf behind the professor as he heard her voice, trying not to meet her gaze out of embarrassment.
"There is a reason why my father sacrificed most of his left thigh for his potion." Moonshine said in a wistful tone, making Harry wonder whether the professor had a good relationship with her father or not. "Once he mastered it, and my mother was able to suppress her more harmful desires, they had me—very late in life in muggle terms, but middle-aged in wizarding ones."
"I had no idea," Harry whispered, still a bit shocked at the revelation of her being half-hag. He had obviously previously heard of people being half-giant, and had even heard a rumor that Flitwick had goblin ancestry somewhere deep down in his family tree, but he never knew that hags could produce children with wizards before then; it was a fact that, while he wasn't shocked, he was a bit surprised.
"Yes, well, luckily for me, I take after my father, who was quite handsome in his own right," Moonshine said with a laugh, appreciating the fact that the she did not have the normal qualities and appearance associated with hags. "The only haggish tendencies I have are an unusual ability to wield earthen magic more easily and a taste for liver and onions." She finished with a smile, making light of her heritage's normal appetite for raw meat, which was a secondary delicacy after children.
"Earthen magic, ma'am?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, wondering what that was. He had never heard of the term before, not even in one of Hermione's useful (or in Ron's opinion, useless) lectures back in his own time.
"Yeah, spells that relate to stone, dirt, and everything in between." Moonshine informed him, aware that not many magical folk learned about it due to its limited abilities. "It's nothing special, wizards and witches can do it; it's just a matter that it comes more naturally to hags."
"I never knew that," Harry muttered, intending to look into it further when he was done meeting with her. To him, it sounded very useful, especially in a battle against a Death Eater that took place outside.
"Yes, well, it's not all that powerful, rudimentary really, hence most wizards and witches do not waste their time with it. It used to be a subject here at Hogwarts, but it was discontinued years ago as far as I know." Moonshine replied, knowing that earthen magic was very limited unless certain circumstances were met. "Hags aren't all that powerful, or magically, in truth."
"Isn't their magic limited?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, remembering something about the beings from his first year. He knew that hags were the reason, along with vampires, that centaurs and merpeople refused being status by the Ministry, willing to take the status of beast in order to avoid being classified with hags due to the race's vicious nature.
"Oh yes, they are not nearly as powerful as witches and wizards or goblins or elves, and only have limited magic within them like trolls," Moonshine explained with a nod. "But luckily, I again take after my father in that regard."
"Interesting," Harry whispered, not knowing much about hags except for a few things that he had learned from Quirrell his first year.
"Not that I'm ashamed of it, but…I trust you not to mention my hag heritage, Harry." Moonshine stated, hoping to keep it as much of a secret as she could.
"Your secret is safe with me," Harry nodded, understanding how damaging it could be to her career if it was announced to the world. He recalled how many parents called for Hagrid to be fired during his fourth year when his heritage was revealed, and he doubted a professor being half-hag would be accepted any more than a half-giant caretaker. "Can I ask you something, professor?"
"Certainly," Moonshine nodded, gesturing for Harry to continue.
"What is the difference between Aurors and Hit Wizards?" Harry questioned, recalling how Dumbledore had suggested Harry could become a Hit Wizard, rather than an Auror, the previous night in his office. Harry had always assumed that the two were one in the same, just a different name used for the same position.
"Aurors investigate dark wizards, while Hit Wizards go after known criminals," Moonshine replied with a raised eyebrow, inwardly wondering if that was his intended career path. "Think of it as a totem: Magic Squads investigate everyday disturbances or citations, Aurors search for dark wizards, and Hit Wizards go after criminals."
Harry bit his lip in thought: Hit Wizarding didn't interest him either. While going after criminals was certainly a noble career, it still was a bit too brutal for him to get behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to do something that would apply his defense skills; it was that he knew he was in for a long fight against Voldemort and he didn't want to have his entire life be about fighting. He wanted to be happy, to enjoy using magic; not be reminded of the dark arts every time he picked up a wand. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't defend anyone that needed help, for he would, it was just a matter that he didn't want to be paid to do it.
"You're bringing me back a few years by asking that question," Moonshine sighed wistfully, thinking back to her life before taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position.
"You were an Auror?" Harry asked, now knowing why she was qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in Dumbledore's eyes.
"A Hit Wizard," Moonshine corrected, recalling how she forwent becoming an Auror, even though she was qualified enough for it—Aurors went through concealment and disguise training, while Hit Wizards did not and instead focused more on capturing and dueling techniques, which interested her more. "That's actually who helped me back to my home after the attack in Diagon Alley, an old Hit Wizard friend."
Harry thought back to that day in Diagon Alley, and remembered how a man had helped her disapparate, which he had assumed at the time was her significant other, not a Hit Wizard comrade. "Why did you give it up?" Harry inquired with furrowed brows, curious as to why she would give up the position during such a time like the one they found themselves in, with criminals and Death Eaters rampant around the country.
Moonshine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as if Harry had encroached upon a private subject. "I wanted to teach more than anything and I was only a Hit Wizard for four years, so I held no great passion for it," She finally answered, though Harry could tell it wasn't the entire answer and that she was withholding more information than what she had revealed. "Think of Hit Wizards as a blunt instrument that comes in and helps end a situation that has already escalated, compared to an Auror who acts with pinpoint precision to prevent a situation and defuse it before it reaches dangerous levels."
Harry and Moonshine spent the next twenty minutes or so talking about nothing in particular, with both learning more about the other. Before long, Harry was preparing to leave, the box of fudge tucked protectively underneath his left arm. "Thanks again, professor, this is great."
"Thank you, Harry," Moonshine smiled, rising to her feet and walking with Harry to the door. "If you need any help or just need to talk, feel free to ask."
"Will do," Harry nodded in the affirmative, knowing that he would take that up sometime—though he would never reveal his secret to her, especially after the learning what he learned the day prior. "Goodnight," He said, and then opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
"Bye Harry," Moonshine waved as the door closed. She gathered a few pieces of parchment from her desk before walking across to the portrait of a troll, which opened up as she approached and revealed a small tunnel that led to her quarters. Immediately upon her entering the tunnel, the portrait closed back up, hiding the entrance from view once more.
The next day, a lazy Friday evening, found Harry sitting in his bed, reading for his Transfiguration class. While many of his N.E.W.T.-level classes were difficult, the most challenging of all was Transfiguration, which was especially detailed and forced a person to take every quality and characteristic seriously. As such, he spent the majority of his free time reading about the various spells and transfigurations that he was expected to know, trying to prepare as best as he could so when McGonagall called his name, he'd be able to perform to a satisfactory level. When he was finished with the page that he was on, he flipped to the next page in his book and continued on reading until a voice drew his attention away from the book.
"Finally, a spot is open on the team," Derrick Jordan sighed as he walked into the room he shared with his schoolmates, dropping his bag on the floor next to his bed. "I've been waiting two years for a spot to open up."
"Keeper, right?" Gaspard questioned, remembering how the girl that used to play had graduated the year before. They weren't known to be a very good team, having only won one game the year before, but Ravenclaws had high hopes that this year would be different, as they always did after a miserable season.
"Yes," Derrick nodded enthusiastically, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Tryouts are in two weeks. Think any of you could help me practice?"
"Throw quaffles at you, you mean?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sure. I'll help." He said, sizing Derrick up with his eyes. Certain body types fit the positions of quidditch, and to him, Derrick was a nearly perfect fit for the keeper position, being tall and lean, allowing him to fly fast, but also have enough length on his arms in order to block the quaffle more efficiently.
"Me too," Bertram nodded in agreement, willing to help out his friend, as well. "I'll do anything to get out of doing this work." He said, gesturing to the three wide open books that he had in his lap.
"Great, let me get changed and I'll go sign out the practice set!" Derrick clapped, rushing to his drawer to get his athletic clothes. He quickly threw on his clothes, and then grabbed his broom from under his bed and started getting it ready for flight, making sure everything was in working condition.
"He meant now?" Harry mouthed silently to Bertram, who shrugged with a smile. Sighing, Harry closed his books and jumped off his bed to get ready, starting to get excited at the thought of riding a broom again. Plus, he figured, it would be a good distraction to get his mind off of Bellatrix and the changes to the world that he was making, which still concerned him a great deal.
About twenty minutes later, Derrick, Harry, Bertram, and the Hufflepuff Milton Curd were all walking down the dirt path that led to the quidditch pitch, brooms in hand. Additionally, Derrick held a red leather quaffle tightly in his right hand, cradled near his stomach, like one would carry a baby. As they neared the pitch, they saw a small group of Gryffindors already using it, flying around with one hand on their brooms and the other holding their wands. As the group would near each other, they would each send a spell at one another, trying to blast the opposite person off of the broom until only one person was left, who would be declared the winner. It was an incredibly dangerous but exciting game called broomditch that wasn't played very often by normal people. "Darn," Derrick muttered disappointedly, upon seeing the pitch occupied.
"Maybe we can share?" Milton asked hopefully, not seeing why each group couldn't take half of the pitch.
"Let me do the talking, everyone," Bertram grinned, stepping forward, having a relationship with the group that was using the pitch. "Oi, Potter!" He called out into the air, hoping that James would hear him. Harry's eyes bulged and he immediately looked up to the sky, having not seen that it was indeed his father and his friends before Bertram notified him.
"Aubrey?" James Potter smirked, changing directions and flying down to the group. Behind him, Remus, Sirius and a boy that Harry did not know all flew towards the group as well, but were not nearly as fluid as James had been. Even further behind them, Peter Pettigrew was flying down to the ground, more wobbly on a broom than a first year. While James was the best flier, Remus and Sirius were good enough, the fifth boy that Harry didn't know was skilled as well, and Peter was shaky, clearly not enjoying himself all that much.
"Think we can use the half of the pitch, Derrick here needs some practice." Bertram said, slapping Derrick on the back, making the boy drop the quaffle to the ground.
"So I see," James replied with a hint of skepticism in his tone, watching as Derrick bent down to pick up the dropped quaffle. Then, a mischievous smile took shape on his handsome face, thinking of something that would entertain him for the day. "How about we play you instead? There is nothing like actual game experience, am I right? Come on, what say you?"
"You have five members," Milton said, looking behind James to the four that stayed hovering a few feet away, watching the exchange interestedly.
"Peter doesn't count, he can't fly," Sirius barked with a loud laugh, as he came around and wrapped his arm around the smaller Peter Pettigrew.
"You're not the best either, Sirius," Remus remarked, defending his friend and earning a glare from Sirius. While he enjoyed both James and Sirius' sense of humor, he didn't like how they sometimes ragged on Peter, even though he knew that both cared deeply about the less talented wizard and would protect him from anyone and anything.
"Fine with me," Derrick nodded, knowing that James was one of the best chasers at Hogwarts and it would be great practice for him. He mounted his broom, tossed the quaffle over to Bertram and flew in the direction of the far goalpost, intending on using the extra time to prepare himself.
"I actually have to leave, so the numbers issue is a moot point," The boy that Harry didn't know said, jumping off his broom and putting it over shoulder. "I'll see you guys later." He said, walking up the path that led to the castle in the distance.
"Bye," Remus called out, as the others silently waved.
"Sirius, man the goal; Remus, Peter, you're with me." James shouted, rising high into the air, ready to play. "First to ten points wins."
Harry, Bertram, and Milton all mounted their brooms, passing the quaffle back in forth as they levitated into the air, loosening up a bit. "Harry, do you want to take the center position?" Bertram questioned, having previously seen how fast of a flyer Harry was the few times they had flown together the year prior—he was probably the only one that would be able to keep up with James, who was an extraordinary flyer in his own right.
With a nod from Harry, they all got in position, and Harry stared across the pitch at his opposite on the other team, his own father. A nervous excitement overcame, realizing that he was going to be able to fly with his father for the first time in his life. While it wouldn't be what would normally be expected of a father and son flight, it was still thrilling for Harry to experience something that many wizards took for granted. He had seen his father place quidditch the year previous during one of the games that he had attended, and was quite impressed with James' skill—though Harry knew he could fly better.
"Shall we?" He heard James yell out, and looking between Milton and Bertram, Harry flew off with the quaffle in hand, zooming across the pitch, starting the match in full.
James and Remus came flying towards him, while Peter held back, apparently being employed as an extra line of defense. As James neared Harry, Harry ducked under the wizard's move for the quaffle, spinning expertly and tossing the quaffle over to the open Milton. Milton flew into the other team's zone, before passing it across pitch to Bertram, who was wide open. As it arced in the air, Remus flew towards it, outracing both Bertram and Harry, before scooping it up and zooming away from his goal.
Remus quickly chucked the quaffle forward, allowing James the opportunity to dive down and get it as it plummeted to the ground. Before James could reach it, however, Harry speeded downwards and grabbed the quaffle, keeping it in the other team's zone. He swiftly tossed it to Bertram, who zagged around the much slower Peter, and threw it towards the left hoop. Sirius batted it away with his hand, and then flew down to grab it as it slowly fell to the ground. He tossed it over to James, who circled back and scanned the pitch, trying to figure out the best way to score. Seeing an opening, he zoomed forward, leaning over his broom to make it go faster. He entered Harry's team's zone, but as he neared the goal posts, he was cut off by Harry, who stole the ball from his hand and tossed it over to Bertram.
"Nice one," Derrick called out; surprised by Harry's flying ability as James was the best flyer in Hogwarts at the time. It seemed like Harry was a near equal—he was a bit faster than James was, but not nearly as elegant on the broom.
Bertram quickly passed the quaffle over to Milton, who immediately chucked it towards the goal. It flew just a foot out of reach for Sirius and soared through the hoop, scoring the first goal of the game. Grumblingly, Sirius quickly scooped up the falling quaffle, and threw it over to Remus, who tossed it to James. James flew with it in his hands, dodging both Milton and Bertram, and throwing the quaffle towards the goalposts. Derrick easily grabbed the quaffle in midair with a smile, and then tossed it over to Harry.
Harry flew down the pitch, faking passes and feigning shots to draw the defenders, before he zipped towards the goal, tossing it into the hoop on the far right, scoring another point for his team. Catching it as it fell to the ground, James angrily took the quaffle, flew between Milton and Bertram, and just as he was about to throw it towards the goal, he tossed it over to the wide open Remus, who easily scored. Derrick flipped the quaffle to Harry, who flew down the pitch with it and, after a few clever passes, scored once more for his team. Back and forth the teams flew, scoring and stealing the quaffle, each team staying within range of the other for a time, but Harry's team predominantly controlling the lead.
Eventually, the game was finished with Harry's team winning by a score of ten to six. While Remus, Peter, and Milton returned to the castle, Harry, James, Sirius and Bertram all stayed behind, tossing quaffles at Derrick. Derrick was, Harry saw, a relatively decent keeper, but nowhere near the standards of Oliver Wood. He was a mediocre flyer, but his athleticism, limberness and long arms made up for it, as those physical traits allowed him to reach many quaffles that would be unreachable by shorter keepers. Harry had no idea if he would make the team, but the chances of him earning a spot certainly weren't bad.
"You were pretty good, Dumbledore," James said, his breathing a bit heavy as they both flew down to the ground once they were finished. "You didn't play chaser at your other school, though, I can tell."
"How?" Harry questioned as he landed, looking over to his father with a raised eyebrow, wondering how the boy had deciphered that.
"You're sloppy with the quaffle," James answered, landing next to Harry and hoisting his broom over his shoulder as they started walking up the path. "You're slow in your quaffle transfer from one hand to the other. And your arm strength isn't very good."
"Is that so?" Harry replied with an amused smirk, knowing that all of those traits that James had mentioned were what made for a great chaser.
"Yes," James nodded in the positive, confident that his assessment of Harry's quidditch skills was correct. "But you're too good of a flyer to not have played quidditch. And from the looks of you, tall and thin, I'm guessing you weren't a beater. And with your flying ability, you probably weren't a keeper, either, which leaves only the seeker spot."
"Very intuitive of you," Harry said with a smile, impressed with his father's deductive reasoning. He knew his father was smart, but this was the first time he had seen his father's wit in person, and if he was honest, it was quite remarkable. "I was a seeker, you're right."
"Bad luck you were sorted into Ravenclaw then, they're the only ones that didn't need a seeker either last year or this." James noted, having personally selected the new Gryffindor seeker the year prior as captain of the Gryffindor team.
"If I was meant to play quidditch while at Hogwarts, I would have been sorted into a team where I could have played," Harry replied easily, knowing it was true. Back in his own time, he got to play four solid years of quidditch, and it would have been five if quidditch hadn't been canceled due to the Triwizard Cup, which was more than many other kids could say they had played. "I'm okay with it."
"Lucky for Gryffindor then," James murmured quietly, desiring nothing more than a Gryffindor win in the Quidditch Cup—save perhaps for a date with Lily Evans. "Our seeker isn't nearly as good as you would be. I'd fear for our chances at the Quidditch Cup if you were on Ravenclaw, who would be pretty strong with you on the team."
Once they were up at the castle, they all parted ways, with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws heading to their respective towers. "Think you'll make the team?" Harry questioned Derrick once they arrived back in their room a few minutes later, wanting to gauge how confident the boy was in his abilities. Harry hoped that Derrick would indeed make the team, since he knew how much the wizard loved quidditich; after all, it was basically all he talked about.
"I hope so," Derrick whispered, tucking his broom underneath his four-poster bed for storage. "I guess we'll see."
That weekend, Harry walked down to the dueling club meeting with Xenophilius, interested to see what it was about. They were some of the first to arrive, so they stood to the side of the platform that was in the center of the Great Hall, whispering amongst themselves. There were a slew of younger students in the hall, third and fourth years, all talking animatedly with their friends, clearly excited at the idea of a dueling club, having never experienced it before. As Harry's gaze moved around the hall, he noticed there weren't very many older students, barely any sixth years of which to speak and even fewer seventh years, which Harry found as strange. Additionally, there were a few teachers spread throughout the audience, mingling with their students and talking amongst members of their house.
"Hi Harry," Frank Longbottom said in his thick northern accent as he walked up to the Ravenclaw, his arms crossed in front of him as he surveyed the room.
"Hey Frank," Harry replied, turning around to face the other wizard. "How've you been?" He questioned, having not spoken to the boy other than a few hellos since that night in front of Dumbledore's office.
"Not bad," Frank sighed with a frown, turning his attention back to Harry. They were alike in body build and of near equal height, each being around six feet, with Harry being just a tad shorter of the pair. "What about you? Do you know what we're actually supposed to do here?"
"Not really," said Harry with a shake of his head, having no more information than anyone else. While he had tendered his acceptance of dueling captain to Moonshine the year before, she had not given them any knowledge of what those duties would actually include. "Are you going to be captain?"
"I'm going to try, yeah, what about you?" Frank questioned back, hoping that he wouldn't be the only one from the dueling tournament to be a dueling captain.
"Same," Harry agreed, before noticing that someone was missing from Frank's side. "Where is Alice?" He asked, having grown accustomed to always seeing Alice and Frank together, like two inseparable complements. It was sweet to him to know that no matter what they did or where they went, the pair were always together, which made it even more heart wrenching to know that, in the future, they would be in St. Mungo's together, after suffering the same fate at Death Eaters' hands.
"She didn't feel like coming," Frank shrugged, turning his gaze to Professor Moonshine, who had just arrived and was walking up to them.
"Gentlemen," Moonshine started, stopping a few feet in front of them. "I'm glad to see you both here. I was wondering if you guys would like to show the younger students how a duel works?" Moonshine questioned, looking back and forth between Harry and Frank. "You know, a rematch from your duel last year, so to speak?"
"Sure," Harry nodded enthusiastically, excited at the prospect of getting a little atonement from his defeat. He knew this time he was prepared, less arrogant, and more focused on his skills, compared to last time where he was nonchalant and allowed himself to be distracted while dueling.
"More than willing," Frank grinned, wanting the challenge that Harry presented him. While his father had trained him, other than a few duels with Death Eaters the previous summer, he had yet to really be able to stretch his skills, and he longed for the chance to see what he could do against a relatively even opponent.
Moonshine smiled appreciatively, before hopping up onto the platform that was centered in the Great Hall. ""Welcome to the first meeting of the dueling club," Moonshine bellowed, spinning around on the platform so she could get a view of everyone that was there. "We are all not only here to better protect ourselves and learn to defend ourselves in case of danger, but also to have fun and enjoy our time together. To that end, I will appoint a captain for each house's dueling club, and give them a guided plan to teach you, which will allow you to learn in a more relaxed atmosphere. After fifteen or twenty minutes of lecture, we will then have a duel for all to see—only older students will be allowed to partake in this duel, I'm sorry to say to anyone younger than fifth year."
There was a loud groan from the students, presumably the third and fourth years that were disappointed at the announcement. "Now, now, don't be like that. We have a special treat today," Moonshine's voice called out with a chuckle "Our two dueling finalists of last year's tournament have graciously agreed to give us a show in order to provide a few pointers to our newcomers."
There was an excited round of applause, and Harry and Frank both stepped up onto the platform, a sense of familiarity between them. Harry had been disappointed with himself when he felt defeat at the hands of Frank the year before, and worked tirelessly during the summer on his magic in order to be as strong as he could. He had learned many jinxes, many hexes, and even a few curses, plus a plethora of charms and transfiguration spells in order to be best be prepared for any duel that he should have against a Death Eater. Additionally, he had worked on his own spell, the Sleepy Charm, mastering it to the point that he knew it would offer an ace up his sleeve as no one else in the world, save Edgar and Bellatrix, knew about the spell.
"Harry and Frank are also going to be the captains for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, while Hufflepuff and Slytherins' captaincies will be filled within a few meetings." Moonshine lectured, hoping one of the older students in the Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses would step forward. "The point of this club is to learn and master general dueling techniques that will help regardless of the context they are being used—whether you are fighting off an attack or entering a dueling tournament after you graduate from Hogwarts. Now, without further adieu, let's watch a duel! Notice their technique, their mannerisms while they duel, as that will translate, regardless of how skillful you are with a wand or how many spells you know."
"Should we use American rules or European?" Frank questioned Moonshine lowly, curious as to what rules she wanted them to use during the duel.
"What's the difference?" Harry asked, not knowing there were different rules for the various dueling confederations that were scattered around the world.
"American rules allow you to move side to side, whereas European you can only move forward or backwards except for a few steps," Moonshine explained to Harry in a quiet voice. "Use American rules, and as for the spells, the same rules as the tournament: you must abide by the laws of the Ministry of Magic, no intent to severely injure, and if you are knocked unconscious, disarmed, or thrown from the platform, you lose." Then, looking at each dueler, she said, "Duelers bow." Both Frank and Harry gave a respectful bow to one another, dropping their heads and bending at the waist. "At the ready…go!" She finished, before jumping off of the platform to watch the duel, having been entertained by the last meeting between the pair.
Harry stared at Frank, wanting the man to make his first move. As if on cue, Frank launched a spell at Harry that sailed swiftly through the air, before being batted down to the ground by Harry with a well-placed shield. Back and forth spells zoomed from the wizards' wands, a flashing of blues, purples, and yellows, a plethora of jinxes and hexes and charms being sent by each. Just as Harry was about to send a hex at Frank, the other wizard sent a blast of brown light at Harry, whom had to dodge to the left in order to avoid the attack.
In retaliation, from his spot on the platform, Harry pointed his wand down at Frank's feet, spoke the necessary incantation, and transfigured the wizard's shoes into stone, nearly knocking him over as a result. Immediately following, Harry sent the disarming jinx and a stunner Frank's way, hoping for an early victory. Acting quickly, Frank summoned a shield to protect himself from the two spells that zoomed his way, before working on fixing his shoes. The two spells ricocheted off of his shield, making the energy shimmer like a ripple in a pond, leaving him defenseless for the time being as he tried to transfigure his formerly leather shoes from stone back into leather.
Seeing a chance for attack, Harry sent another stunner Frank's way, and followed it immediately up with a body-binding jinx. Knowing that he would be unable to summon another shield in time, Frank transfigured his shoes back into their normal texture and then quickly dove to the ground to avoid the spells, rolling onto his back to watch as the two spells flew over him and into the wall in the distance. From the ground, he shot a disarming jinx at Harry, using that as cover in order to rise from the platform. Harry summoned the Shield Charm, negating the jinx, and then took a step back, allowing Frank the time he needed to get back to his feet.
Rising from the platform, Frank smiled and wiped the sweat off his brow, enjoying the battle that Harry was giving him. "That was nice," He said, trying to catch his breath. "What was that, the Stiffening Charm?"
"Something like that," Harry grinned, not wanting to reveal his secrets.
"Do you guys want to stop?" Moonshine quickly questioned, doubting they would want that, but offering the chance. She saw their heavy breathing, both boys clearly tired from the impressive action already.
"Not unless we have to," Frank said, keeping his gaze on Harry, who nodded in agreement. Then, without warning, Frank sent out a spell that Harry did not know—the spell was a cannonball-looking burst of energy that sailed through the air at an incredible rate of speed.
Not being able to identify the spell, and being incapable of distinguishing its properties, Harry swiftly conjured a small, circular, archaic iron shield and held it tightly in his arms, knowing that the spell may go through a magical shield, but certainly not a physical one. He peeked over the edge of the shield, and seeing the spell zooming towards him, he braced himself for impact, intending to use all of his strength to stand his ground. Frank's spell smashed against the shield, eliciting a loud gong sound, and pushed Harry backwards due to the amount of force it applied. Again and again, Frank sent the spell at Harry, pushing him further and further back each time the spell made contact with the shield, like a battering ram would push a wooden door. Finally, Frank put a great deal more energy into one last spell, which knocked Harry off of his feet and down to the platform, the shield disappearing in thin air as if it evaporated.
Frank whipped his wand downwards at Harry, making Harry roll over as another spell came zipping down at him, scorching the part of the platform where he was just laying. Frank continued his assault, moving closer and closer to the downed wizard, forcing Harry to roll back and forth over the platform, dodging each new attack that came. After another two or three times, Harry was finally able to get back feet and summon the Shield Charm to protect himself from another attack that flew his way. Harry parried the attack, and sent it straight back at Frank, who dodged out of the way expertly, unperturbed by his failure.
Frank backed away from Harry, creating more space between the pair as he tried to catch his breath once again. He had put a lot of energy into that attack, expecting it to have worked since it was a very difficult spell to perform. He knew that, if it was anyone else in Hogwarts, even the other noted wizards and witches around their year like Bellatrix and Sirius Black or James Potter or Barty Crouch Jr. or Severus Snape, it would have probably worked, but Harry was different—Harry was a very skilled duelist, more so than anyone else their age. The other aforementioned students may have been smarter than Harry or more skilled than him in using magic, but none of them were better duelists, though Frank knew not where Harry had learned such skills.
Harry grinned at his opponent, enjoying the rush of excitement that dueling Frank brought to him. With his eyes entirely on Frank's wand hand, studying it to make sure Frank wasn't preparing for an advance against him, he contemplated a plan of attack, trying to think of a spell that would end the duel. He knew that normal tactics wouldn't work because they would be easily blocked, his next attack would have to be something new, something that would confuse Frank and overcome his defenses. As he stood there, watching Frank catch his breath, a small smile came to his face, knowing exactly what spell he was going to use.
Enervate, Harry thought to himself, motioning with his wand. He had found out during the summer that his Sleepy Charm, the spell he had invented months prior, only worked properly when performed nonverbally, though he had no idea if it was just him that couldn't do it or the spell had a defect that prevented it from working when spoken—or at least a lot less effective. Regardless, he watched as the orange spell zipped out of his wand and flew towards Frank, who was unable to dodge or summon a shield to protect himself due to the speed at which it came. As a result, the spell hit Frank straight in the chest, though showed no visible signs of damage.
On the inside, however, Frank immediately felt it: he yawned and yawned as a great tiredness suddenly crept into his body. "What was that," Frank sleepily asked, his mind trying to stay awake as the haze of lethargy stole over him. His eyes kept closing, before he would jerk awake, the effects of the spell doubling the tiredness that he had already felt. "What did you do to me?" Frank yawned once more, feeling his energy being zapped away quickly, as if he was running a muggle marathon while standing in place.
Harry grinned as he watched Frank stumble across the platform in an effort to regain his strength, too tired to walk straight. He knew that the spell wasn't nearly complete and would need a lot of tweaking and enhancing, but he was happy that he accomplished what he had set out to do months ago: invent his own spell. Hermione would be so proud of me, he thought to himself with a grin, knowing that his dear friend from his own time had invented the jinx that was placed on the Dumbledore's Army parchment during their fifth year, a jinx that wrote the word 'sneak' in boils on a person's forehead should they have gone against Dumbledore's Army.
"What spell is that?" James Potter said as he watched the duel, pushing himself off of the wall and taking a few steps forward to get a better view. He could see the potential in a spell that disoriented someone as much as Frank seemed to be, one that could potentially help him should he find himself in a duel with an equal opponent one day.
Seeing his chance to finish the duel as Frank was still befuddled by what was happening to him, Harry swiped his wand horizontally to the platform and Frank's legs came out from under him, where he was slightly tossed a few feet into the air. Harry then immediately whipped his wand downwards like an ax, and Frank was thrown back down to the platform with a great deal of invisible force, as if a giant had batted him down from the air. With one final thrust of his wand, Harry sent Frank flying off of the platform, landing with a thud and skidding a few feet across the ground. Harry watched Frank stir, before getting back to his feet, half asleep but otherwise okay.
"What a duel!" Moonshine said loudly, hopping up onto the platform so everyone could see her. "Let's give a round of applause for our duelists!" She yelled, gesturing for Harry next of her, who gave a small wave to the crowd.
Harry then jumped down off of the platform, weaving his way through the crowd—some of them patting him on the back and telling him good job as he walked—until he reached Frank, who was still a bit dazed. "Well done," Frank nodded to Harry in his thick northern accent, stifling a yawn with his hand. His energy felt completely zapped from him, feeling like he had stayed up late the previous night.
"Rennervate," Harry recited, pointing his wand at Frank's chest, invigorating Frank so he wasn't so sleepy. Almost immediately, Frank felt a change, as if the great fog of lethargy was stripped from him—he felt back to normal, though still tired from the usage of his magic. "Better?" He questioned, knowing that it would strengthen him somewhat and end any further tiredness caused by the Sleepy Charm.
"Thanks," Frank nodded appreciatively, glad to feeling relatively normal. He was tired, certainly, but not nearly what he felt when Harry's spell was in full effect.
"No problem," Harry replied easily, not wanting Frank to think anything of it. "A piece of chocolate or an invigoration draught would have worked too."
"How did you get so much better than me?" Frank sighed, noticing the considerable skill that Harry had attained over the course of the summer. Before, Harry had been very skilled, but left himself open to attack—this time, however, his magic was greatly enhanced. "I guess I slacked off during the summer. Don't expect me to be so easy next time," He whispered with a smile, the flame of competition mulling inside of him.
"I practiced a lot," Harry murmured, recalling the countless of days during the summer where he would just sit by the window overlooking Diagon Alley and just read a spell book.
A few moments passed, before Moonshine began to lecture, informing the students of certain techniques that would help prevent injury. The lecture went over the basics, all of which were not too complicated that the younger students that were there couldn't understand the theory behind it. She mainly focused on the position of the wand in order to best protect oneself, with certain positions being quicker and easier to conjure a shield to block any curses. Soon enough, the club ended, and everyone dispersed, many students mentioning how they would not be returning unless they got chosen to duel.
Harry walked up to the Ravenclaw with Xenophilius, walking through the throng of students that were gossiping and talking as they slowly made their way to wherever they were headed. "Frank is going to want another rematch," Xenophilius remarked once they arrived in the privacy of their room. Harry looked over to his friend, and after a moment, he gave him a smile, but said nothing.
The Monday after the weekend, Harry sat in his Charms classroom, watching as Professor Flitwick began his lecture about the most difficult charms the subject had to offer. "Wards," said Flitwick, gesturing to the book in front of him with his wand. "Are defensive spells based around inanimate objects. While they aren't per se a magical practice, common linguistics call these defensive spells wards, instead of shields, which are based around a physical body."
Many of the students moved their gazes over to one another, each confused by what the professor had meant. "Wards don't actually exist, you mean?"
"Well, if you look in a charm spell book, you won't find the word ward anywhere in there, is what I mean." Flitwick answered with a smile, knowing that it was just an argument over semantics. "Wards are often used to protect encampments or places, buildings, like Hogwarts itself. The founders of Hogwarts were all brilliant when it came to wards, each of them, so the school is surrounded by wards that envelope all the environs in and around the castle. The most famous of wards, of course, are the Anti-Apparition Charm and the Anti-Disapparition Jinx, which prevent the apparition and disapparition to and from a place, respectively."
Harry skimmed through his book as listened to the conversation, disinterestedly reading some spells that he knew they would be going over during the year. As he turned a few more pages, his eyes fell upon a couple of interesting charms that he made sure to take note of, before Flitwick's voice brought him out of his stupor. "Today, we are going to go over a particularly effective ward called the Anti-Hex Charm, which protects a plot of land from most hexes being cast towards the wards placed on an enchanted plot and deflects most hexes away. It is the most powerful version of the hex-deflection spells that you performed in Defense Against the Dark Arts during your fourth year." Flitwick informed his students, having firsthand experience of the protection that the Anti-Hex Charm afforded. "The incantation is 'Salvio Hexia', and the wand movement is similar to the Shield Charm."
The rest of the class opened their books to read about the charm, while Harry found the page a few from what he had been reading already. After silently reading for a minute or two, the students grabbed their wands and began practicing it. Eventually, there was a chorus of 'Salvio Hexias' filling the room, each student trying to master the charm as quickly as they could. Flitwick walked around the room, critiquing the wand technique of the students, moving their arms and placing them in the exact position they needed to be if he saw that they were doing it incorrectly.
"Salvio Hexia," said Gaspard Shingleton, which elicited a wave of energy that crossed the room, making everyone that was touched by it shiver. He looked over to Flitwick for a nod of approval, but the diminutive professor shook his head, apparently dissatisfied with the result.
"Wards are not my strength, it seems," murmured a Hufflepuff, as everyone around her began to get the same response to their incantations. The class continued their efforts for the next twenty minutes, with the closest person coming to a triumphant try being Gaspard, who had yet to replicate the same near success that he had performed his first try.
"That is all for today, class," said Flitwick, clapping his small hands together after noticing the time. "Be prepared for the coming months, as we will be going over the Repelling Charm, the Unplottable Charm, amongst other very difficult wards."
The students all gave out a sigh of relief, exhausted from an entire session of performing the Anti-Hex Charm. They all gathered their things, some conversing with their friends, while the others silently packed their bags, too tired to do anything else. Harry tossed his charms book into his backpack, and capped his bottle of ink and put it in one of his bag's pockets. He gestured for Xenophilius to wait for a moment as he pocketed his wand and moved towards the door.
"Mr. Dumbledore," Filius Flitwick called out, hoping to get the younger wizard's attention before he left. "Do you mind if we talk for a few moments?"
"Sure," Harry agreed, waving for Xenophilius to go on as he stayed in class. He wondered what the diminutive professor had to talk to him about, as he had completed the spell he was meant to perform acceptably and wasn't behind in his work as far as he knew. "What's up?"
"I was wondering what you planned on doing after Hogwarts?" He questioned, taking a seat in his chair. He could just barely be seen above his desk, with only his neck and head being above the wood. "Specifically, I was wondering if you have ever given any thought about becoming a professional duelist?"
"No, sir, I haven't actually thought about that," Harry replied, intrigued by the prospect. While he didn't want to fight with magic like he would have to do being an Auror, dueling was not a fight, instead it was a competition—it was for fun, not life or death, a subtle but tremendous difference in his mind.
"Admittedly, I don't know your situation so I don't know what you're looking for out of a profession, but being a duelist can be a profitable career for some people in the fact that you can make a lot of galleons in winnings on the circuit, it comes with great fame, it's a great way to hone your skills, and quite honestly, it's the most fun you will ever have in your life." Flitwick informed him, knowing from experience that a life could be had solely by competing in dueling competitions and tournaments.
Harry thought about everything Flitwick had said. While the money and fame wasn't really interesting to him, the other perks of the occupation certainly intrigued him enough to think about it further. "I've never actually realized that before."
"That's surprising," Flitwick replied, having assumed that someone would have mentioned it to Harry. "I've seen your duels, and you have an uncanny natural ability when it comes to practical magic. While your magical theory may need some work and is often sub-par in the assignments that you have handed in, no offense, your practical portions are at the top of the charts. As such, a dueling career would be very, very successful and prosperous for you, I think."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, biting his lip, knowing that whatever he decided to do in life would be made after Voldemort's defeat. "I'll look into it. Can I talk to you about it later?"
"Certainly," Flitwick agreed with a nod of his head. "Feel free to question me whenever you want. Bye Harry," The little wizard said, returning to his work.
"Bye professor," Harry replied, walking out of the classroom. He stifled a yawn as he walked through the halls, intending on going to his room and taking a long nap to rest up like the rest of the students that had been in that charms class.
Wednesday night came, and with it, Harry found himself walking into Dumbledore's office and taking a seat in the familiar chair in front of the great wizard's desk. They made idle conversation as Dumbledore tinkered with an instrument, before the aged wizard got up from his desk and placed the instrument back in the cabinet from which it came. After closing the cabinet, Dumbledore walked around his desk and regained his seat, giving Harry a small smile as their gazes met.
"Sir," said Harry, slowly, furrowing his brows, wanting to get something off of his chest. "I've noticed recently just how much I'm changing the future. Even things that have nothing to do with me have changed. I'm wondering…what happens if I change the future so much that I never come back in time in the first place?"
"I'm not sure that's possible," Dumbledore replied quickly, wanting to squash any thoughts that Harry might have on the matter. "Whatever you change, will be the world. Don't think of yourself as going back in time, think of yourself as skipping into a new timeline—your already here, another version of you does not need to come back to make sure you're here in the first place. Whatever happens, happens, but you're here in mind, body, and most importantly, spirit. You're here. That's it. That's all there is to it."
Harry opened and closed his mouth a number of times, not knowing if he should feel relieved about what he had heard or not. "So I'll be safe? I won't fade out of existence?"
Dumbledore looked over at Harry, silently weighing what the wizard had said in an effort to best answer the question. "No, of course not, Harry. It doesn't do to dwell on such things, just live your life." He finally settled on, hoping that would suffice Harry.
"I am, aren't I? Merlin." Harry sighed, though he seemed to be more disappointed than he was sad. He knew he would fight against Voldemort as long as he could, and he hoped that he would be successful before anything happened to him.
"No," Dumbledore said in a calm but stern tone of voice, making sure Harry understood every word that he said "While I can't say for sure, no one can, I wouldn't assume that is what is going to happen. In fact, I'd wager that it won't happen, I'm almost sure of it, but I feel it necessary to say that I don't know what will happen for a fact."
"And if I change the future?" Harry questioned, wondering what the great wizard thought about it.
"Then you change the future." Dumbledore shrugged almost disinterestedly, as if he didn't care one way or the other. "I'm not going to prevent you from living your life, if that's what you're asking. Live it, Harry, live it however you want. All I will ask, all I will ever ask, is for you to give these people a chance to live their own lives just the same and not hold them to the crimes that you believe they will commit."
"Okay," Harry replied, looking down at the desk in front of him.
Dumbledore bit his lip, trying to think of a way to get off of the subject. "How is your research coming along? Have you completed it?" He questioned, wondering how the younger wizard was progressing in his studies of the notes that were left to him by his future counterpart.
"Not yet, I've been rather busy." Harry answered disappointedly, hoping that he would have enough time to get back to work soon.
Dumbledore nodded, and began talking to Harry about nothing in particular, hoping to get the younger wizard's thoughts off of things that he had no business thinking about. They spent the next hour discussing whatever came to their mind, laughing whenever appropriate. Dumbledore could tell, not through legilimency but through human experience, that Harry wasn't in the best of moods, though the boy tried to hide it. He could tell that there was also something else, underneath his fears of the future that was causing his despair, though he did not know what that was and dared not ask unless the boy brought it up himself.
Eventually Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling a bit better about his future than he had before entering. He walked through the halls of Hogwarts, slowly making his way back up to the Ravenclaw common room, intent on getting a good night's sleep. As he was passing the library, which was located below the Ravenclaw tower, he saw Bellatrix walking in the opposite hall, and he quickly hastened his pace, wanting to catch up with her to say something.
"Bellatrix!" Harry called out, his voice echoing off of the cold stone walls. Bellatrix stopped where she was, but did not turn around, continuing to look forward instead, recognizing the voice immediately. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me, if you don't want to see me anymore, I get that. That doesn't make me happy, but I can understand it and I'll respect that. But, there's something that, it's just that, you can't reveal what I told you. You can't. It'll…I don't know what it will do if you do talk to people about it. It may affect me in ways I can't imagine, or it may not, I'm not sure. But to be safe, please, I know it's a lot to ask, but please, keep my secret." Harry pleaded, watching her back for a few seconds. She did not move immediately, but then, just as silently as she once stood, she continued to walk, not giving Harry a response.
A/N: I got 30 reviews, so I uploaded this exactly one week after I uploaded the last chapter. The same deal applies this week: I get 30 reviews, I post the next chapter in a week's time, so get reviewing! And trust me; I think many of you will be happy with what happens in the next chapter.