Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.
Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar
The next morning saw several of the professors and staff of Hogwarts seated around a large table. It was fairly early—before breakfast—and they were obviously irritated to have been summoned for a staff meeting.
Dumbledore entered the room a few minutes after the last—Alastor Moody—had seated himself, and the quiet chatter died down immediately. The headmaster sat down heavily, and—as was his custom at such meetings—called the staff meeting to order. His blue eyes were not twinkling, there appeared to be extra lines on his face, and he looked tired. Madame Pomfrey almost asked him if he was feeling well, but stopped herself—the headmaster knew his business, after all.
"It is probably obvious to you all why you were called here this morning, considering the events at dinner last night," Dumbledore said. If any had been doubting that this meeting was to be about Harry Potter, that doubt was now washed away. "I met with Mr. Potter last night, and found him to be..."
The headmaster's voice trailed off, as he tried to put words to the confrontation. Failing, he sighed, shrugged, and fell silent. The silence stretched for several long seconds, and just as McGonagall was opening her mouth to try to pick up the thread of conversation, Dumbledore continued.
"Mr. Potter made it very explicitly clear to me last night—as he has apparently been trying to do implicitly all year, with varying degrees of success—that he would be looking out for himself from now on. Considering our collective failure to protect him at Hogwarts for a fourth consecutive year, I cannot say that I blame him. Therefore, the faculty and staff of Hogwarts will turn over a new leaf regarding Mr. Potter's treatment."
Dumbledore stopped speaking and looked directly into Snape's eyes, as though daring the man to lodge his customary petulant objections to any "special treatment" for Harry Potter. The rest of the professors flinched, expecting Snape to explode, but Snape merely clenched his jaw and nodded his head curtly.
The other professors breathed a sigh of relief as Dumbledore continued, taking Snape's silence as consent. "I am glad to see that we are all in agreement. Simply put, this institution—and to be frank, my continued stewardship of it as headmaster—cannot survive any more legal or public relations disasters this year, which would surely be the result if we continue to attempt to bring Mr. Potter to heel."
If possible, Dumbledore's eyes developed a sort of anti-twinkle, and he suddenly looked even older and more tired than ever before. "Our—my—attempts to subdue him have been clumsy, and he has consistently outmaneuvered me; he has won, and I have lost, and I must concede the game before any more damage is done to this school's reputation. Mr. Potter has proven that he will go to extraordinary lengths to protect his newfound independence, and thus has proven that he deserves to keep it, and any further action on my part will only serve do drive us further apart. Minerva, would you please finish up here? I have other duties to attend to before breakfast—young Percival Weasley is holding yet another conference for the Tournament judges."
With that, Dumbledore rose and strode from the room. McGonagall stood, smoothed her robes, and began, shooting a pointed look at Snape as she spoke.
"Well, I suppose we shall begin with how to address and interact with Mr. Potter, and then we'll move toward conducting ourselves with professional detachment in his presence."
Severus Snape blanched.
The changes in the way the professors dealt with Harry were not missed by the rest of the students. By the end of the week, it was clear to everyone that Harry had "won" his confrontation with Dumbledore, and the result was vastly reduced pressure from the professors, and finally a bit of common courtesy from Snape. Daphne in particular was impressed (a Slytherin always appreciates when a plot comes together), and was greatly enjoying the side benefits—namely, without professors going out of their way to confront Harry, she was able to spend more time with him down in the Chamber. Between working on assignments, training for the second task, learning extra magic, and their increasingly satisfying sexual relationship, their schedule was quite full, and they were always looking for extra time together.
There was one student, though, who did not take the hint to leave Harry alone. On the contrary, Hermione Granger had begun seeking him out at every opportunity, trying to interrogate him about his activities over the summer in the United States. While the break in their friendship before the first task had stopped her inquiries, reading Crane's book (which she had recommended to Dumbledore on the correct suspicion that it involved Harry) over the Christmas holidays had given her a taste of information, and now she was back on the case.
Things came to a head on the final Friday of January, just after double potions. As Harry sat down for dinner in his booth in the center of the Great Hall, Hermione followed him, and hovered next to the seats on the other side of the booth. After a few long minutes of eating his beef stew and steadily ignoring her presence (and possibly her very existence), Harry heard Hermione clear her throat expectantly.
No longer able to pretend not to notice Hermione, Harry looked up from his food. The two teens stared at each other for almost a minute before Hermione spoke, no longer able to stand the silence.
"Harry, aren't you going to invite me to sit?" she said timidly. Apparently, her isolation—after the trio had broken down, Ron had proven to be ill-suited to a friendship with just Hermione, and had begun to spend time with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, and nobody else seemed interested in being friends with her—had sapped her of some of her previous confidence.
"Hermione, aren't you going to ask?" Harry said, raising his eyebrow. "It seems strange; how do you expect to interrogate me, if you can't even get up the guts to ask if you can sit down?"
He had spoken slightly lower than his normal volume, but students sitting near the central corner of their house tables had heard his words. Hermione flushed and scowled at the light titters of laughter, and asked if she could sit.
Harry grunted out a "yes," and Hermione slid gingerly into the booth. Fully aware that the eyes and ears of the entire Great Hall were now upon them, she asked Harry if he would mind if she cast a privacy charm.
"Why bother?" Harry asked evenly. "I don't care what anyone here thinks."
"Well, I would prefer it," she responded stiffly. "I haven't exactly been the most popular girl in the school recently."
That was an understatement, Harry knew. Hermione had been subjected to almost universal scorn in Hogwarts ever since people had started feeling guilty about turning on Harry (so, roughly since Rita had started publishing anti-Dumbledore articles after the Wand Weighing)—because Hermione had been so close to Harry, the rabble "reasoned" that her betrayal had been worse than theirs, so they had turned on her. It was much easier, after all, than looking inward at themselves, and had the advantage of holding someone else to blame for Harry's estrangement from Hogwarts.
Harry shrugged, and Hermione took his apparent apathy as consent. She waved her wand in a precise circle, muttered a few words in Latin, and suddenly the sounds of the Great Hall died down. Harry didn't recognize the exact spell, but it seemed very similar to a charm that Daphne had taught him (protecting secrets was, after all, a Slytherin specialty).
"I read that book," she began, and then her voice began to rise in volume and intensity, taking on an accusing tone. "The one you got just before Christmas. The one that you were in and helped write."
"Is that so?" Harry drawled. "Did you find it an exciting read?"
"Well, yes, actually," she said, blinking and switching to Hermione-book-discussion-mode. "I was particularly interested in—"
"Hermione," Harry said, cutting her off before she could really get going—three and a half years of experience told him that once that train got rolling, it would be hard to stop—"this isn't a book club, and I know you didn't actually come over here to talk about a book, not with me. What do you really want to talk to me about?"
Hermione stiffened, and wrung her hands together, clearly working through some sort of inner dilemma. The silence dragged on for nearly a minute. Just as Harry opened his mouth to tell Hermione (not in so many words) to stop wasting his time, she finally cried out, giving voice to her real question.
"Why?" Hermione blurted out, reaching her hands out toward Harry as though pleading for an answer. "Why did you disobey the headmaster and leave your relatives? Why did you go to America this summer? Why did you get the headmaster removed from the Wizengamot and the ICW? Harry, please just tell me why you are doing all this!"
Harry stared at the girl who had once been his best friend.
Hermione stared back at him with unshed tears brimming in her eyes.
The students and professors in the Great Hall stared at them both, trying in vain to figure out what was being said; even Dumbledore could not penetrate Hermione's privacy spell without overtly casting a counterspell, and he knew that he wouldn't get away with that.
"Remember back in September, after the first potions class of the year?" Harry asked quietly. Despite his tone, there was an intensity in his eyes which, in previous years, would have been unfamiliar; this year, however, had seen that look in Harry's eyes all too often for anyone to mistake its meaning. "Remember when I asked you about your summer, and you didn't understand what the question had to do with anything?"
She nodded mutely; Hermione Granger was many things, but "forgetful" had never been and was not now one of them, and that argument—the first time she had ever seen Harry truly angry at her—would stand in her memory for a long time to come.
"Well, you've had a few months to think about it," Harry said softly. "Do you understand it now?"
Hermione jerked her head up and down in a nod. The movement shook the tears from her burning eyes, and they made twin streaks down her cheeks. She didn't wipe her tears off, instead letting them run down her jaw and drip onto her robes. Wiping the tears away wouldn't dull the ache in her chest.
"Yes, I think you do understand it now," Harry mused aloud. "I did what I always do, when I'm all alone and my back is up against a wall. That happens to me a lot at Hogwarts, you know."
"You did what you needed to do to survive," Hermione murmured. "I'm sorry for my part in all this, Harry. Really, I am."
Harry nodded. "I believe you, Hermione. I think you really are sorry. But that doesn't change what has already happened this year, and it doesn't change the fact that I'm still all alone with my back up against a wall."
"Can you forgive me?" she asked.
Harry sat in silence for a long moment, thinking, really thinking about whether he had it in him. He looked at Hermione's reddened eyes, and the tear tracks on her cheeks. She still hadn't wiped the tears from her face.
"Maybe."
Hermione nodded again, and the movement jolted fresh tears down her cheeks. The streaks were even more obvious now.
"Okay," she whispered.
Harry waved his wand—Hermione almost jumped, she hadn't even seen him take it out—and suddenly the sound of the Great Hall flooded back into their ears as Hermione's privacy spell was broken.
Hermione Granger got up and left the Great Hall for her sanctuary (the library).
Harry Potter got up and left the Great Hall for his sanctuary (the Chamber of Secrets).
The students and professors of Hogwarts collectively internally huffed in disappointment at not being able to eavesdrop on what had appeared to be a very juicy conversation.
Dinner went on.
Later that night, Daphne Greengrass snuck down to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry having loaned her his invisibility cloak for just such occasions. The cloak, combined with Tracey covering for her, was once again sufficient to deflect any questions from Pansy and Millicent; luckily, both girls were so unbelievably uninquisitive (and, frankly, unintelligent) that by now they didn't even really bother pressing for details anyway.
Winky brought her down into the main area of the Chamber, where Harry was pacing, obviously agitated. Anxiety was rolling off him in waves—his power was such that his mood was almost palpable even several meters away.
"Harry, are you okay?" Daphne asked. Talking to Granger had obviously rattled him; he looked like he was about to whip out his wand and start blowing things up.
Harry stopped, turned, and looked at Daphne.
"No, I'm not," he said. "I need to blow off some steam, and you need to promise me that you won't tell anyone what you're about to see."
"Of course, Harry, but what are you talking about?"
"You know that I went to America and learned a bit of magic," he started. "But I never told you the real reason I went in the first place."
"Well, I know that, and I figured you'd tell me eventually," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And it seems that time has come. Spit it out."
"Stand back, and stay in the Chamber. Don't go outside—there's going to be a very large storm."
With that, Harry disappeared, and in his place stood a massive bird—a giant black eagle or falcon, some part of Daphne's mind vaguely pointed out as she gasped in surprise and jumped back several feet. The huge bird stared into Daphne's eyes, and then, with a flash of lightning and crash of thunder, the bird was gone, its high shriek still echoing around the Chamber of Secrets.
"Well, that's new," Daphne commented matter-of-factly. Winky, ever helpful, brought her a cup of hot cocoa (without needing to be asked, of course—Winky really was a first-rate elf). Then Daphne sat down, the better to ponder this new development.
That night, a colossal thunderstorm shook Hogwarts. The wind howled like a wild beast, and melon-sized hailstones smashed against the battlements. Snow and sleet whipped through the air, freezing doors and windows shut. Lightning blasted trees into burning splinters and boulders into molten pebbles, and thunder rang through the castle like a giant bell. Nobody—not even Hagrid—was foolish enough to tempt fate by going outside, instead huddling beneath blankets and trying to ignore the raging tempest. Even Daphne could hear and feel the storm from inside the Chamber of Secrets, deep beneath the school.
Hours later—well after midnight—the storm finally calmed. One last ringing thunderclap echoed across the Hogwarts grounds, and in that same instant, Harry-the-thunderbird appeared in the main cave of the Chamber of Secrets in a flash of blazing light and an explosion of thunder. Moments later, Harry-the-boy staggered toward Daphne (who had dozed off over an hour before, but had just been startled awake), and embraced her tightly.
Harry started talking, and didn't stop—he told Daphne everything, from his treatment at Privet Drive, to killing Quirrell, the basilisk, and the Jersey Devil, to what he saw and heard when dementors were near, to how the majority of his magical power had just that summer been freed from the burden of containing his thunderbird animagus form. He talked until just before dawn, when—still mumbling incoherently—his mental, emotional, physical, and magical exhaustion finally all caught up with him at the same time, and he passed out in Daphne's arms.
Sunday, February 14 was St. Valentine's Day. Hogwarts was, as usual, decked out in pink, red, and purple. Many students traditionally eschewed the Great Hall on this particular holiday, instead taking their meals in more intimate settings with their boyfriends, girlfriends, and miscellaneous paramours. Nobody noticed that Daphne and Harry were nowhere to be found for the entire weekend.
Ten days later, Harry Potter awoke on the morning of the second task.
Author's Note
I'm back from my vacation (it was great, by the way)! I swam in a lake, drank lots of beer, ate lots of red meat, and hiked a goddamn mountain.
Dumbledore finally gets the picture! The question is, will he stick to his new policy of non-interference? Will the other professors?
This chapter is short. It's more "not-quite-second-task-yet" half-fluff-half-plot, and what happens here is only important for setting the stage for the way people will interact (Harry-professors, Harry-students, Harry-Hermione, and Harry-Daphne).
Why would Harry consider forgiving Hermione, and if that is the case, would he consider forgiving Ron? Harry would consider forgiving Hermione because he would understand the reason she turned on him. That is, he knows Hermione's inquisitive nature, and accepts that some actions on his part—blatantly lying about something small (his summer activities) and then clamming up about it—played some role in setting in motion her distrust of him, which led her to break away. How would he feel about Ron? Well, first, do you really think that Ron would actually come to Harry and ask for forgiveness? If he did, remember that he's not asking for forgiveness for the same thing as Hermione. Hermione broke from Harry because she felt that she could no longer trust him (partly because of Harry's own actions), but Ron broke from Harry because of simple jealousy over the Triwizard Tournament (a situation which Harry had no part in creating). Hermione's distrust could be alleviated by reestablishing communication, but Ron will never get over his jealousy of Harry; it's just too deeply ingrained into his personality. Recognizing that, I don't think that Harry would forgive Ron, knowing that it's only a matter of time before the green monster rears its ugly head again.
Keep in mind that through this entire time—as stated in the first paragraph of the second section of this chapter—Harry has been training hard for both the second task, and for general self-improvement. Not only is he continuing his recent obsession with scholarship, but he also now has a girlfriend who he's continually working to impress (and honestly, having a significant other does wonders for motivation). Our little Harry is, in role playing game parlance, power-leveling.
And goddammit, who would have thought that three months would be so hard to grind through? Finally, we're up to the second task! I've got a lot of great stuff planned for chapter 29; trust me, you won't want to miss it! And after the second task, it's another three months until the third task! Oi vey. If there's one thing I'm learning from writing this story, it's the importance of timeskips. If only I had JK Rowling's mastery...
Keep reading and reviewing. Review! Do it; you know you want to! Review! Review!
