"Hey."
Harry was sitting in the library, at a table deep within the stacks. The library was empty—after the unceremonious end of the tournament last night, nobody had any interest in studying. Judging by the empty corridors, nobody had any interest in leaving their common room, either. Harry hadn't expected anybody to find him. But then again, if there was one person Harry could count on to be in the library…
"Hello, Hermione."
"You alright?"
"No," Harry said.
Hermione sighed. "We thought not."
"We?" Harry's hopes rose. Had Hermione and Draco looked past their differences? Did Draco really care that much about Harry? Maybe there was hope for the two of them, after all. Maybe his friendship with Draco wasn't doomed.
Hermione turned. "He's over here," she called.
Tracey burst out of the stacks in a flurry of blonde hair. "Harry! We've been looking everywhere for you!"
"You're the only ones," Harry said. He tried not to let his despondency creep into his voice, but he was certain that he failed. Tracey didn't deserve to think that he was disappointed to see her. He wasn't disappointed about that at all. But… Draco wasn't with them.
"What do you mean by that?" Hermione said.
Harry sighed. He told them about what had happened in the Slytherin common room. "I'm a pariah," Harry said. "I'm might as well be a leper."
"That won't last," Hermione said. "It's just shock. People will come around. You'll see."
Tracey gave Hermione a skeptical look, but didn't directly contradict her. Harry did not respond, either. The three students sat in silence for a long while.
"Will you tell us what happened?" Tracey asked.
Harry opened his mouth, ready to say that Dumbledore had told him not to tell… except that Dumbledore hadn't. For the first time in four years, Dumbledore hadn't asked Harry to keep silent about the fiasco that had taken place at the end of the year.
Harry opened his mouth again, this time intending to say that he didn't want to talk about it. Instead, the story began to pour out of him. He quietly told Hermione and Tracey everything about the previous evening… except what had happened with Pettigrew. Harry was tired, both physically and mentally, but he still had enough sense about him to realize that honesty about Pettigrew's death might mean the end of his friendship with Hermione. Earlier in the year Harry had promised not to lie to Hermione, but right now it was more important to keep his friendship alive than it was to tell the truth. If Hermione caught him in the lie, then so be it—their friendship would be over either way.
"He tripped," Harry said, telling Hermione and Tracey the same story that he had told Sirius and Dumbledore. "His arms were up in the air, and I had one chance… so I took it. Just one little cutting curse, right through the neck." Harry glanced down. "I didn't think there would be so much blood."
Hermione and Tracey listened with rapt attention, hypnotized by the slow rhythm of Harry's words and the low sound of his voice. Harry continued his tale and finished by telling them of his confrontation with Fudge. "So, the Ministry will deny that Voldemort has returned," Harry said. "They're not going to do a thing."
Once again, silence fell over the trio.
"I guess that explains why Ginny and Ron and the twins weren't at breakfast this morning," Hermione said. "I'd bet that the whole family is at St. Mungo's with Percy."
Harry and Tracey exchanged a glance. Maybe the Weasleys weren't at St. Mungo's. Maybe they were home. Maybe they were mourning.
"What are you going to do?" Tracey asked Harry.
"I don't know," Harry said quietly. "I've thought about it all night, and I don't know what I'm going to do." Harry stared down at the tabletop for several seconds. Nobody spoke. Finally, Harry ran a hand through his hair, nervously. "Ugh. I don't want to talk about this. Let's change the subject, please?" Harry felt like he and Hermione hadn't spoken about anything other than the tournament in weeks. What had she been doing? Oh, Ron. Right. "How are things going with Ron, Hermione? It's been a while since I've had an update on Operation: Ruin Lavender Brown."
Harry's attempt to change the subject sounded lame, even to him, but Hermione's gentle smile showed that she understood how badly Harry needed to talk about something positive. "It's going well," she said. As she spoke, she touched her hair and glanced away, trying to hide the larger smile that was breaking on her face.
Tracey leaned forward. "Don't listen to her: things are great. Before the last task, we heard Lavender trying to get Ron to agree to go on holiday this summer. Ron begged off. He made some stupid excuse about going to see his brother in Romania."
"Maybe he actually is going to see Charlie in Romania," Harry pointed out.
"I know he isn't," Hermione said, giving up on her attempt to hide her grin. "Ginny told me that Charlie is coming home for most of the summer." She was clearly pleased that Ron was lying to Lavender. Tracey leaned over and dug her elbow into Hermione's ribs.
"Hermione managed this one faster than I thought possible," Tracey said. "Ron will be single any day now, and then she can finally make her move. After this performance, I've started to think Hermione would have done great in Slytherin. That's probably why she hangs around us so often."
"Hey!" Hermione drew back, feigning offense.
"I'm serious!" Tracey said. "And if you were in Slytherin, you might even be able to make a pass at Draco…"
"You promised you wouldn't say anything!" Hermione said. She was as close to shouting as she would ever get in the library. Not that it mattered, because there was nobody to disturb; not even Madam Pince was in the library today.
"It's just Harry," Tracey said with a shrug. "You can trust him."
"You fancy Draco?" Harry asked Hermione. He was surprised, but less than he expected. Draco and Hermione had constantly butted heads during the past year, but Harry had suspected that, over time, some level of mutual respect had grown between his two friends. And, now that Harry thought about it, Draco had seemed unusually interested in Hermione's Yule Ball date.
"I do not fancy Draco Malfoy!" Hermione insisted.
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Fancying Draco isn't a big deal. Half of Slytherin spends their time drooling over Draco in his quidditch robes. A couple of the younger girls have photos pinned up next to their beds." Harry began to smile, but his amusement turned to shock as Tracey continued to speak. "It's like fancying Harry. Everybody does it, so you just admit it and move on."
"Wait, what?" Harry blinked, twice. He was certain that he must have misheard Tracey.
"Every girl fancies you," Tracey said. Harry drew his eyebrows together in an expression of disbelief. "Maybe you aren't their first crush, or their second, but we all think about it. Draco is the same way, at least in Slytherin. I'm just saying that Hermione has nothing to be ashamed of."
"I… er…" Hermione's voice was quiet, and she turned her eyes to one side as she spoke. "Since it's just between us, I guess… I mean, I might have thought about Draco… at times… but…" Hermione shook her head, and her hair flew everywhere. "This isn't the point! I would NOT have done well in Slytherin!"
"You don't have to say it like that," Tracey teased.
"Anyway, I happen to think that both of you would have made fine Gryffindors," Hemrione said primly.
"Ugh!" Tracey stuck out her tongue. "No way! I mean, Harry, maybe. But me? Never."
Hermione turned to Harry. "What, no protest out of you?" she asked. "You're no fun."
Harry shrugged. "The Sorting Hat tried to put me into Gryffindor. And Hufflepuff, too, for that matter. It took some convincing to get it to send me to Slytherin."
Hermione folded her arms. "I asked to be put in Ravenclaw, but it sent me into Gryffindor, instead."
"How can you be surprised by that?" Tracey asked.
"Hello? Best in our year?" Hermione gestured to herself.
"And so modest," Harry said.
"Oh, it's just us," Hermione said. She reached across the table and gave Harry a shove on the arm.
"I think it's obvious that you belong in Gryffindor," Tracey said. "You're not afraid to answer every question in class, even if it means that people are put off."
"People are put off by that?" Hermione asked. She seemed genuinely surprised.
"Are you serious? You can't be serious." Tracey turned to Harry. "Seriously, is she serious?"
Hermione burst out laughing. "Of course not! Tracey, please! Give me a shred of credit for self-awareness."
Tracey began to laugh, as well. "I just kept thinking about our first day of class, in Potions. Snape was only asking the Slytherins questions, but your hand was in the air, waving around like a flag in a windstorm."
"Well…" Hermione looked from side to side, sheepishly. "Maybe it took me a while to catch on."
"Hah! I knew it!" Tracey said triumphantly.
Harry felt a surge of affection for his friends. Tracey and Hermione had grown close ever since Operation: Ruin Lavender Brown had been put into effect. Their easy banter made Harry realize what he would lose if Hermione decided that they should no longer be friends. He needed her support, because he had a very bad feeling about his Slytherin housemates. Most of them had an aunt or uncle, if not their actual mother or father, who had been involved with Voldemort's first rise to power. What would they do, now that Voldemort had returned?
Harry was afraid that he knew the answer.
Harry reached across the table and grabbed one of Hermione's hands, and one of Tracey's. "Don't leave me," Harry said desperately. "I can't do this alone. I can't."
Harry felt another hand on his. Hermione's.
"I'm not going anywhere," Hermione said.
"You're worried that I'm going to leave you?" Tracey asked. "Harry, I hitched my cart to yours a long time ago. I've been worried that you were going to come to your senses and decide that you needed to get rid of me!"
"But I thought… I mean, Hermione, you were going to think about things this summer…"
"I've thought about things already," Hermione said. "I made my decision."
"And, Tracey, you and Theo… Theo's dad was there last night…"
Tracey shook her head. "I don't know what Theo's going to do. That's his choice. But I'm not going to date somebody who's trying to kill my best friend."
"Thank you," Harry said. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
*!*!*!*!*
The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to arrive the next morning. Harry and Tracey arrived at dinner early, so that Harry could save a seat for Draco. When Harry entered the Great Hall, he found that Draco had beaten him there. Draco was seated between Crabbe and Goyle, across from Warrington and Montague and Pucey. There were no open seats for Harry.
Harry and Tracey sat farther down the table, and Daphne joined them a few minutes later. Harry tried to make eye contact with Draco, but his friend refused to look toward him. Halfway through dinner, Harry gave up. He could find Draco in the common room, or their dormitory.
After dinner, Dumbledore stood and addressed the combined student bodies of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. He called for a toast to Cedric Diggory, and the students solemnly raised a glass in his honor. As Harry spoke Cedric's name, he met Viktor's eyes, then Fleur's. Both gave Harry a small nod. Harry imagined that they were trying to convey some mix of respect, apology, and comfort.
Dumbledore's speech was not long, but in the following weeks, Harry could only remember its conclusion. "We are facing dark and difficult times. Voldemort's gift for sowing discord, enmity and fear among his enemies is great. It is his greatest weapon, beyond any magic he possesses. We can only combat it by forging bonds of friendship, trust, and love. And toward that end, I make this promise: the doors of Hogwarts will remain open to every guest in this hall, and help will always be found here by those who need it."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. He seemed weary, as if Voldemort had never been defeated and the fight had continued for the last fifteen years.
"There will come a time when we must all make the choice between doing what is right, or doing what is easy," Dumbledore said. "When that time comes, remember Cedric Diggory. Remember an honest and hard-working young man, a true and loyal friend. Remember what Voldemort seeks to take from us. Remember Cedric Diggory."
After dinner, the students returned to their dormitories to pack for home. Harry went directly his dormitory after dinner—he wanted to be sure that he could pull Draco aside and talk. But Draco never came up to the dormitory. Harry packed his things and sat on the edge of the bed for quite a while, but Draco did not appear. In fact, other than Blaise Zabini, the dormitory was empty. Zabini made no attempt to engage Harry in conversation, and Harry returned the favor.
Finally, Harry went downstairs to the common room. Once again, a strange energy was in the air, as everybody conspicuously failed to acknowledge Harry's presence. Draco was on the other side of the room, playing Exploding Snap with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry marched through the room, directly at the trio, and students parted in front of him as if he had the plague.
"Draco. We need to talk."
"Can't you see I'm playing cards?" Draco said. "We can talk later."
"We should talk now."
"Later," Draco said irritably. He played a card on the top of the stack. It was a horrible misplay, and the stack exploded with a loud bang. "See? You made me lose."
Harry sighed and sat down. "Fine, we'll talk later. Deal me in."
Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle. "Actually, we should probably pack our things. Right, guys?"
"Uh… yeah," said Goyle.
"Good, we can talk upstairs," Harry said, getting to his feet.
"No, don't bother," said Crabbe. "You need to relax. Take the cards. I'm sure someone will give you a game." Crabbe pushed the cards at Harry, then stood. Draco led Crabbe and Goyle up to the dormitory.
Harry stared down at the pile of cards. Everything was falling apart.
Harry left the cards scattered across the table and took a seat in the couch nearest the fireplace. He looked up at the mantle, where Pansy's birthday flowers still sat in their ornate vase—Pansy had left them behind. As Harry watched, the flowers changed from purple to green.
There was no need to continue watering those flowers, Harry thought. It was just unnecessary trouble. Useless effort. Wasted energy.
"Winky?" Harry asked to the empty air. With a pop, Winky the house elf appeared at Harry's feet.
"Yes, Mr. Harry Potter?"
"Don't worry about watering the flowers any longer. You can stop."
"Yes, sir," Winky said. "Is there anything else Winky can do for Mr. Harry Potter?"
"No," Harry said. "There's nothing anyone can do."
The next morning, when Harry awoke, the flowers had already wilted, consumed by the enchantment that made them beautiful. Harry took them off the mantle and hurled them into the bin.
*!*!*!*!*!*!*
On the Hogwarts Express, Draco shared a compartment with Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode, and they made a big show of having no space for anybody else. Other compartments closed their doors as Harry approached—it was clear that nobody wanted to be in the same compartment as Harry. Nobody except Tracey, actually, and Hermione. Even Daphne was in a compartment with her sister Astoria and Astoria's friends. Harry was alone with the two girls.
The ride was uneventful. Harry spoke intermittently with Hermione and Tracey, but, sensing Harry's mood, the two girls were mostly content to speak with one another. When Tracey spoke to Harry, she was content to chat at him instead of with him, and didn't impose upon Harry for a response. During lulls in the conversation, Harry nodded off to sleep, but he was constantly awoken by horrible dreams of Voldemort's return in the nursery.
As the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross station, Hermione stood and grabbed her things immediately. Hermione, worried that her parents would catch wind of Voldemort's return, wanted to meet her parents as soon as possible and whisk them out of the station, lest they decide that sending Hermione back to Hogwarts was too dangerous. She said her goodbyes quickly and dashed down the hall before the train had even come to a complete stop.
Harry shook his head. He still needed to have one more conversation before the summer began, and now was his last chance.
Harry stood. "Tracey, get your trunk."
"The train hasn't even stopped," Tracey said. "We've got plenty of time."
"I know. We're not getting off. We're going to talk to Draco."
Tracey hopped to her feet and grabbed her trunk. Harry pulled his down from the luggage rack. They hauled their trunks into the corridor and walked toward Draco's compartment.
Harry grabbed the compartment door and pulled, but it was locked shut. He frowned and drew his wand. Thankfully, the underage magic prohibition didn't begin until Harry had left the Hogwarts Express.
"Alohomora," he said. There was a click, and the door unlocked.
Harry jerked the door open. Crabbe and Goyle were pulling their trunks down from the luggage rack, but Millicent and Draco were still seated. Through the window, Harry could see that the train had almost stopped.
"We need to talk," Harry said to Draco.
"No," Crabbe said. "Maybe you don't." He put his trunk on the floor and brought himself up to his full height. His bulk was imposing.
"Get out," Harry said, refusing to be intimidated.
"And what if I don't?" Crabbe asked. Goyle was standing behind him, now.
"GET OUT!" Harry screamed. He stormed forward, raising his wand and pointing it between Crabbe's eyes. "GET OUT NOW YOU FAT PIG! GET OUT!"
Crabbe stepped backwards, startled by Harry's sudden movement. He bumped into Goyle, and the two of them began to stumble. They tripped over Millicent's feet and fell into her lap, a lumpy tangle of arms and legs. Harry began firing stinging jinxes at the lot of them, shouting, "GET OUT! GET OUT!"
The three large students clambered to their feet. They pushed one another in a race to be the first out of the compartment, abandoning their luggage. Tracey stepped inside once they had left, and she shut and locked the door behind her.
Harry, breathing hard, turned to Draco. "We need. To talk."
"Then talk," Draco said coldly. He folded his arms over his chest and sat back in his seat.
"I need to tell you what happened after the third task."
"I know that the Dark Lord returned," said Draco. "What else is there to know?"
"He summoned his Death Eaters, Draco! All of them! They all came back… and your father came with them."
Draco said nothing.
"I… I don't think your father was under the Imperius curse during the last war, Draco."
"Don't be stupid," Draco said hatefully. "Of course he wasn't."
Harry was shocked into silence. Harry had never been sure if he believed Mr. Malfoy's story about being under the Imperius Curse, but Harry wasn't sure that Mr. Malfoy had acted of his own volition, either. Harry had always thought that the truth was probably somewhere in the middle, a mix of blackmail and curses and blood prejudice. Apparently, Harry had been wrong.
"Aren't you going to say anything else?" Draco snapped. "Or is that it?"
"Voldemort asked me to join him. You father convinced him to make the offer."
Now it was Draco who was stunned into silence. Harry knew his friend well, and Harry knew that thoughts were flying through Draco's mind at a thousand miles an hour. Implications and consequences and possibilities. And a strange expression flickered briefly across Draco's face, something that Harry hadn't expected to see.
Hope.
"What did you say?" Draco asked.
Harry felt a blanket of sadness cover his heart. "I said no."
Draco leapt to his feet. "Are you mad? Do you realize what kind of risk my father was taking for you? He could be killed for even suggesting it! I could be killed because my father suggested it! And you REJECTED the DARK LORD?"
"HE MURDERED MY PARENTS!" Harry yelled. "Of course I rejected him! Who do you think I am?"
"I thought you understood," Draco said. He shook his head. "I thought you got it. But you don't, do you? You don't understand at all." Draco grabbed his trunk and hauled it off the luggage rack. "We don't have anything else to say to one another."
"I guess we don't," Harry said.
Tracey moved aside, and Draco walked out of the compartment. Harry stared at the space on the seat that Draco had just left.
"What about the other luggage?" Tracey asked, gesturing to Crabbe and Goyle and Millicent's trunks.
"I don't care," Harry said. "Leave it."
Harry and Tracey hauled their luggage onto the platform. Tracey was looking for her mother, who would be waiting to pick up Tracey and Daphne and Astoria, as she did every year. Harry would have to leave Platform Nine and Three Quarters in order to find his Uncle Vernon in the muggle portion of King's Cross Station.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. He saw Draco, maybe twenty yards away, his blonde hair unmistakable even in the crowd. Standing next to Draco was his father.
Harry gabbed Tracey's arm. "We aren't safe," he said. "Come here." Harry dragged Tracey across the platform, toward the nearest wall. He put their backs to the wall and drew his wand. It somehow hadn't occurred to Harry that the Death Eaters would show themselves in public, but why wouldn't they? Moody had made it very clear earlier in the year: the public faces of Death Eaters were perfectly respectable. In fact, they were the very definition of respectable. Rich, beautiful, pure-blooded… and sworn to kill Harry Potter.
Harry glanced around. Would he recognize Crabbe's father? Or Goyle's? Or Nott's? Their faces had all been hidden behind masks. Or would it be someone else who killed him? Someone he never saw coming?
Across the platform, Lucius was levitating Draco's trunk in front of them, using it to clear a path through the crowd. They were moving toward the exit, walking calmly, as if nothing had happened. As if Voldemort hadn't returned. And then, just before they left the platform, Lucius turned. He looked directly at Harry. He spent no time searching, no time scanning the crowd. He had known exactly where Harry was the entire time.
Their eyes met. Harry expected something. A sneer. A contemptuous shake of the head. A sigh of false remorse. But Lucius simply turned away, as if Harry meant nothing to him. Nothing at all. Draco followed his father and never looked back.
A voice called to Tracey from across the platform. It was Daphne. The dark-haired girl was standing with Astoria and a tall, blonde woman with a severe face.
"Is that your mother?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Tracey said. "I have to go."
Daphne was waving her hand in the air, motioning for Tracey to join her. Tracey turned to Harry. "I'll try to write this summer, okay?"
"You'll try?" Harry asked. Why would she only try? But Tracey was already gone, moving quickly through the crowd.
Harry looked around. The press of bodies on the platform left him feeling claustrophobic. He was starting to panic. He had to leave, but any move he made would put him in the middle of the crowd. He wouldn't know who was next to him, or behind him. He could be attacked from anywhere at any time. Harry felt the overpowering urge to keep his back to the wall and remain frozen in place. Preferably forever.
Harry took a deep breath. He recognized the signs of panic in himself, and knew that he needed to master his fear. He recalled Marcus Flint's words from the quidditch pitch several years ago: fear was a warning. Once you had been warned, fear was useless. Harry needed to think about this logically, understand his fear, and then move past it. So, what was he afraid of? Death Eater attack. Which Death Eaters? The ones who were picking up their children from Hogwarts. But Harry had already seen Lucius Malfoy, and Lucius had seen Harry. Lucius hadn't done a thing. Which meant that Death Eaters weren't going to come charging across the platform at Harry, wands blazing. They had some other plan, something more subtle.
If the Death Eaters weren't going to be obvious about their attack, then Harry was safest if he stayed with the crowd. Harry would be most vulnerable if he was alone. That meant that Harry had to get moving immediately; the crowd at the platform was already beginning to disperse, and Harry needed to keep himself surrounded by potential witnesses. Witnesses meant that no attack would come… at least, not today.
Harry grabbed his trunk and began to move toward the pillar that marked the exit from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He couldn't prevent himself from nervously glancing about. Was that person looking at him for too long? Who was the strange wizard in the large hat, whose face was concealed in shadows? Did he recognize that man's voice from the night that Voldemort was resurrected? Harry had to pause and adjust his grip on his trunk—his palms had begun to sweat, and the trunk handle was threatening to slip free.
Despite his anxieties, Harry passed through the pillar without incident and entered into the muggle portion of King's Cross Station. He found himself surrounded by a crowd of muggles, packed even more tightly than the wizards had been. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief when he saw his Uncle Vernon sitting nearby, reading a newspaper. It was the first time that Harry had ever been thankful to see Vernon Dursley.
Harry crossed the platform toward Vernon. "I'm ready to go home," he said simply.
"Took you long enough," Vernon said gruffly. His mustache twitched back and forth with frustration as he folded his paper, then stood. Vernon began to walk away, then turned back slightly. "What, no snappy comments?"
"No," Harry said simply. He didn't have the energy.
The ride to Number Four, Privet Drive was silent.
When Harry and Uncle Vernon arrived at Number Four, Privet Drive, Vernon was out of the car and inside the house before Harry had set foot outside the car. Harry hadn't expected any help with his luggage, anyway, so it was no great loss. Harry carried his trunk and Hedwig's cage inside the front door. He took Hedwig up to his bedroom, then returned to haul the trunk up the stairs. Once his things were safely inside, he closed and locked the door to his bedroom.
Harry fell backward onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had been alone so frequently in his life. For so long. But then he had found out that he was a wizard. He had found fame, and friends. He had found his place in the world. He had even found people that, a week ago, he would have called family.
And now everything was going to be taken away from him. He would be alone. Again. And he didn't know how he could bear it. He wouldn't be able to do it. He wouldn't.
As he lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, for the first time since the tournament had ended, Harry Potter began to cry.
A/N: Let's talk about the schedule for the upcoming book. Several factors have combined to cause a dramatic decrease in my writing output. Specifically: work, new baby, and increased complexity of plot and character. I am sad to announce that Book Five is behind schedule, and has not yet been completed.
But, fear not. The plot of the book is fully outlined, and it is between two-thirds and three-quarters complete. Because the early chapters have been written for so long, my beta and I have had plenty of chance to read, revise, and foreshadow.
What does all this mean? Book Five will be posted bi-weekly, instead of weekly. Sorry, everybody. I've posted every Friday for the last 18 months, and this is a difficult announcement to make. I think it's for the best, though. The new schedule will allow me to maintain the quality of my work, while still advancing the story in a timely manner.
Next week, there will be no new chapter. But two weeks from now, you will get a teaser preview, posted right here, as well as the first chapter of Book Five. And since it's almost time to begin posting, I figure it's time to announce the title. Can't call it Book Five forever.
Harry Potter and the Emerald Trance.
See you in fourteen days.