Resolution

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Chapter Twenty Five: The Return to Hogwarts

January 4th

Harry's time with Sirius and Cassiopeia ended on a positive note. They'd discussed his classes, and when they'd learned of his hectic schedule, both Cassiopeia and Sirius had insisted that he drop Legal Studies, Estate Management, and Economics, with the explanation that it would be Sirius' responsibility to tutor Harry in those subjects - and then some - during the summer holidays. Harry had acquiesced without complaint, and afterwards, the two Blacks occupied Harry's time with verbal spars regarding politics and politicians, bickering about relatives Harry didn't know, and questioning Harry himself about his life, his interests, and his friends. In turn, they'd shared aspects of their own lives, and before he'd known it, Lady Longbottom and Neville were at the door, and it was time for Harry to leave.

He'd done so with only faint reluctance. These people were his family, yes, but he'd known them only a day. He was currently more fond of what they represented, as opposed to the individuals themselves. It would change in time, but for the moment, Harry was honest - brutally so - when he admitted - if only to himself - that he wouldn't miss them.

Afterwards, the holidays zipped by in a blur of letters, holiday homework, conversations with Neville, and idle musings over what the next term would bring. On occasion, they would play outside, but snowball fights weren't nearly so exciting with only two players, and thus, most of their time was spent indoors, keeping themselves entertained with chess, gobstones, snap, or books. To Harry, however, it was the companionship that really mattered, and by the time they were headed back to London, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so content.

"Another five months with Professor Snape," Neville said, weary.

"It could be Lockhart," Harry opined, and his fellow Gryffindor grimaced.

"Merlin, a year with both of them was the worst," Neville said, emphatic.

"Preaching to the choir, mate."

"What?"

Harry shook his head, "Muggle expression. Never mind."

They each bade farewell to Lady Longbottom, boarded the Hogwarts Express, and settled themselves in a compartment near the end of the train. The platform was bustling, the corridors were too, but as Harry withdrew a deck of standard playing cards, neither Gryffindor was ruffled.

"Can I ask you something, Harry?" Upon harry's nod, Neville enquired, "What are you going to do about Greyback?"

Discreetly, Harry lifted one of his trouser legs to reveal the dagger holstered to his calf. He'd carried it with him since Christmas Day, its partner in an invisible holster at his belt. Both blades were moulded from silver, their handles finely carved ivory. They were from Theo, and they were a wonder.

Not for the first time, he marvelled over the value of gifts given by wealthy friends. Theo's gift would have cost an arm and a leg, and Neville, along with his grandmother,had gifted him a delicate, solid gold display snitch.

Harry hadn't even tried to guess at the price of it.

"Are you worried?" Neville queried.

Harry lifted his hand lazily, palm to the floor, and tilted it side to side. "More or less. I'm used to threats to my life, but I've never dealt with someone more animal than human. If all else fails, the silver should hold him at bay."

He grimaced. He hadn't really expressed that right. He had no real intentions of seeking out Fenrir Greyback, and neither did he have any intention to fight the were. Mostly, he was more concerned about making sure the bastard knew to stop targeting him, and if he was lucky, he'd be able to subdue him long enough to get the appropriate people involved.

Clearly, not the vampires, since they couldn't keep one of their mortal enemies contained, but neither the Ministry of Magic, since Greyback couldn't be charged for infecting others. It was a loophole in the law shamelessly exploited, the fact that charges couldn't be pressed by those considered something less than human, but it wasn't really Harry's concern.

Theo would probably know who best to contact, and Harry made a mental note to ask the Slytherin. At least, he hoped his friend would, because otherwise, they'd be stuck up shit creek without a paddle, and Harry didn't want the threat of Greyback hanging over his head. Not when one lunatic - Voldemort, specifically - was enough for Harry to deal with.

"I mean, worst case scenario, he ambushes me in Hogsmeade, I lose my wand, blah blah blah. I do not want to become werewolf dinner, or a werewolf myself."

Neville smiled slightly. "That's understandable, Harry. I don't know anyone who'd want to be. But Merlin, you have the worst luck."

"I already knew that," Harry answered sardonically, "Such is my life, I guess."

Their train ride remained uneventful, occupied with games of cards, of chess, or the occasional break to skim through homework and such things. They were visited sporadically by Susan and Justin, later by Theo and the Slytherin's friend, Blaise, and Harry took the opportunity to catch up on his peers' respective holidays.

They varied. Zabini went to Italy, spent his Yule on his family's vineyard there, drinking wine and inundated by an excessive amount of Italian relatives. Theo spent his with his elderly grandfather. Justin went skiing in Japan, and Susan spent hers with her aunt.

He wondered, morbidly, how many other families Voldemort had destroyed.

Interestingly enough, Malfoy's customary visit was missed, though neither of the Gryffindors were about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Probably sulking about the fact that he's not going to be Lord Black," Neville commented snidely, and to Harry, the loathing was a surprise. Passive and mild-mannered, Neville didn't seem like the type to be so derisive. Harry knew, however, that looks could be deceiving. Thus, he shouldn't have been surprised.

Also, Draco Malfoy was a wanker, and Neville was justified in his opinion of the Slytherin. Malfoy had made Neville's life at Hogwarts miserable, after all.

"It wouldn't surprise me," Harry conceded, "I wonder if he'll make an issue of it."

Neville's expression was flat. "It's Malfoy."

Harry met his gaze, groaned wearily, and grimaced. Of course Draco would make a big deal out of it. Harry probably wouldn't hear the end of the matter, in fact, until they graduated - if ever. It was just that, with other concerns on his mind, Harry didn't think he'd have the patience to tolerate Draco Malfoy, and the silver spoon shoved up his arse.

Chuckling at Harry's expression, Neville shuffled the deck of cards, dealt them each another hand, and they passed the remaining hour to Hogwarts with a game of wizarding poker. Apparently, Neville's Great Uncle had taught it to the LOngbottom heir during the Christmas of 92, Neville had taught it to Harry over the break just passed, and unsurprisingly, the Gryffindor seeker was abysmal.

"When you get better at occlumency, hiding your expressions will become second nature," Neville encouraged. Harry eyed him, perplexed, and he elaborated, "What's the point in protecting your mind, if opponents can just read your thoughts all over your face?"

Harry conceded the point with a nod, they reached Hogsmeade station, and disembarked with the rest of their peers. Their carriage ride was unremarkable, the dementors weren't missed, and Harry made a mental note to ask Lupin about a spell to ward off the depressing creatures. His reaction to them left much to be desired, and Harry didn't want that weakness to be exploited in future.

the beginning of term feast was the same as all those before it, and Harry collapsed into bed later that night, tired. It had been a long, boring day - a prelude to the term ahead - and Harry wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest.

It was perhaps the first time he'd never looked forward to his return to Hogwarts.