Part VI
The Christmas vacation started out very unhappy for all.
"Black's after me," Harry said rather frankly to Arthur as the Slytherin followed him, Ron, and Hermione to the library a few days into vacation. "He's trying to kill me."
Arthur nodded and sighed. "I suppose the truth was bound to get out eventually."
Harry stopped and stared at him. "Y-you knew? And you never told me?" he demanded.
Arthur's mouth fell open, but no sound came out.
"You knew all this time that Black was after me. You never even told me and left me to figure it out on my own – that Voldemort killed my parents because Black betrayed them! He was their friend!"
Up ahead, Ron and Hermione took one look at them and darted into the library.
Arthur shook his head. "I didn't know the last part!" he exclaimed. "I knew the first part, but Mr. Weasley told me only to tell you when the time was right and I haven't been able to get you alone since the start of school."
Harry's eyes were like smouldering emeralds. "I don't believe it," he growled. "H-he was their friend and y-you never told me."
And with that, he turned around and stalked into the library.
Arthur didn't know which was worse – Alfred not speaking to him or Harry not speaking to him.
"I-I-I saw you and Alfred-san in Honeydukes the other d-day," Kiku said to him bashfully as he tried to take notes on a particularly gruesome chapter in Animagi Transformations for the Beginner.
"I know. Everyone saw. They all blame me, because I'm the one who snogged Francis."
"F-f-forgive me for saying this, Arthur-san, but y-y-you're right. Y-y-you're the one at f-fault." He looked away with a furious blush, muttering something that sounded like, "I didn't want to say that..."
Arthur looked up from his book. "What do you want me to do, Kiku? I don't know how to mend things up between me and Alfred."
"A-a-are you saying that you would rather b-break the ties c-c-completely?" Kiku whispered. Arthur blinked. Did he hear a hint of hopefulness in that voice?
"N-NO! I'm not saying that!" At his outburst, Kiku looked down and muttered an 'I'm sorry'.
Arthur frowned. "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to forgive or excuse yourself all the time, like you're sorry for talking to me?"
Kiku shook his head. "I-i-it is in my culture, Arthur. I am taught to be polite to all."
"Oh." Arthur blushed and busied himself with writing out a passage from the book word-for-word.
"I-it's o-okay. A lot of other people find it strange as well." Kiku blushed as well. He shrugged, and doodled a picture of a thick-browed cat on a piece of parchment. "I wish I knew what was going on b-between you and Al-Alfred-san... b-but I don't wish to pry. Alfred-san's been looking very unhappy as of late." He paused and sighed, as if steeling himself for saying something unpleasant. "M-maybe if you s-spent some time with him? I-I-I mean, I know you've been working very h-hard trying to become an A-animagus..."
Arthur bit his lip as Kiku trailed off, turned pink, and doodled furiously on his parchment. Arthur looked over. The thick-browed cat had turned into a thick-browed rabbit.
"I...think I will," he said after a moment. "All this Animagi stuff is giving me a headache."
Arthur didn't see Alfred again until the Christmas day feast. Outside the castle, the full moon shone brightly on the snow-covered grounds.
There were only twelve people expected to attend the feast – Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Flitwick, as well as the trio, Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and Kiku. Therefore, the House tables were removed, replaced by one table in the middle of the room.
"Arthur?"
"Alfred." Arthur's smile was thin-lipped.
"Arthur, I'm sorry for shouting at you." Alfred looked at him pleadingly.
Arthur walked to his seat at the table, Alfred rushing to sit next to him. Arthur slowly unfolded his napkin before saying, "Look, Alfred. It's my fault. I deserved what I got." He turned to look at Alfred sadly. "I was the one who claimed to be so busy that I didn't even have time for my boyfriend. I'm the one who snogged Francis."
Across the table, Francis hid his face behind his napkin on the pretence of having a coughing fit.
"Crackers?" Dumbledore asked merrily, pulling a silver noisemaker with Snape as Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered. Hermione was biting her lip; she sat down next to Arthur with a strained smile on her face.
Arthur pulled a cracker with Alfred. A wizard's hat in the shape of the Eiffel tower popped out. Arthur put it on; Alfred's eyes narrowed slightly.
The feast began. Halfway through the main course, the doors of the Great Hall opened and in came Professor Trelawney.
"Sybill! What a pleasant surprise!" Dumbledore exclaimed, standing up.
"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," replied Professor Trelawney in a misty, faraway voice. "To my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and joining you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? Forgive me my lateness; I had made great haste from my tower..."
Dumbledore smiled; his blue eyes twinkled. "Certainly, certainly. Allow me to draw up a chair for you..."
Another seat appeared between Professors McGonagall and Snape. Professor Trelawney, however, was looking around at those assembled, and she suddenly gasped.
"Oh, I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing can be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
"We'll risk it," snapped Professor McGonagall. "The turkey's getting cold; do sit down."
Professor Trelawney sat down as if she expected a lightning bolt to strike the table any minute. She looked around at those assembled again. Her eyes fell on Arthur, and she gasped.
"You were in my vision!" she whispered. "My poor dear boy..."
Arthur looked at her oddly. "Excuse me?" he asked.
"While I consulted the Orb, I beheld your future," Professor Trelawney said sadly. "Do you have a lover?"
"Isn't that a bit personal?" Hermione demanded next to Arthur.
"Personal as it may seem, the Orb spoke of this boy and his lover," replied Professor Trelawney, "And it spoke also of a great sadness between them."
"Why, that's rubbish," Hermione snapped. "Arthur and Alfred are perfectly happy together!" Said Brit and American immediately plastered smiles onto their faces.
"I wouldn't be too sure, dear girl," Professor Trelawney said smugly, "My Inner Eye sees all. England and America are doomed to part."
"England and America? That's preposterous. Arthur and Alfred aren't countries," Hermione retorted. Professor Trelawney only sent her a smug smile as Arthur and Francis looked at each other uneasily across the table.
Arthur suddenly felt faint. Images shot by in his mind's eye in rapid-fire succession. He felt himself going limp – his eyes closed – he slumped in his chair – there were screams –
"Arthur? Arthur? Are you all right?"
A toddler with cornflower-coloured eyes, running through a field...
"Arthur! Answer me!"
A young boy with golden hair, jumping into Arthur's arms, laughing and smiling...
"Arthur, ouvres tes yeux!"
A young man, tall and handsome, was rushing into Arthur's embrace...
"Tell us what your Inner Eye sees!"
Rain upon a muddy field. Arthur in a redcoat uniform. The young man dressed in blue.
"Arthur! Arthur, answer me, for God's sake!"
The clash of bayonets. The roar of thunder. The salty tang of tears.
"ARTHUR!"
"America!" Arthur heard himself screaming. "America, don't leave me!"
"Who's America?" was the first thing Arthur heard.
He was lying in the Hospital Wing. The trio, Alfred, and Francis were gathered around him. Arthur looked up at the cathedral ceiling.
"Arthur, answer me," Alfred whispered. "Who's America?"
Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't want to say," he mumbled.
Francis bit his lip. Alfred glared at the Frenchman. "Why not, Artie?" Alfred pleaded.
"If I tell you, Professor Trelawney's prediction will come true."
"She's a complete fraud," Hermione sniffed. "Her 'Inner Eye sees all', honestly. Why she called you two England and America is quite beyond me. Obviously off her rocker..."
"Hermione, we get it," Ron said tersely.
Arthur exhaled, his breath coming in one long shudder.
The Christmas vacation ended on almost the same note as it had started – only now there was a rift between the trio.
Harry and Ron were apparently not speaking to Hermione.
"Look, Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas. That's the fastest broom in the world and his Nimbus had been broken by the Whomping Willow... so it's perfect, right?" Ron told Alfred and Arthur at break one day. "But Hermione had McGonagall confiscate it and strip it down, just because she thinks that Sirius Black tampered with it. They're going to bloody strip down his brand new Firebolt!"
"That's horrid!" Alfred hissed. Arthur said nothing, only held onto Alfred's hand a little tighter.
Hermione told a completely different – and slightly tear-streaked – story.
"It was all for the best, really," she said to Arthur and Francis as they walked to the library, Arthur and Francis both helping her hold her numerous books. "Sirius Black might have sent him that broom. I want to see Harry safe, and look at what they give me for my concern – cold shoulders. I honestly can't understand what it is with you guys and Quidditch." She made a tutting noise as they entered the library.
"It's only the best ruddy sport in the world," Arthur replied jokingly as they sat down and he and Francis set down some of her books on the table in front of her. Hermione smiled at them thankfully.
"Right, but there's no need to get so caught up in it," she said as she opened Numerology and Gramatica.
Francis took out his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook. "Arthur, can you help me with this?" he asked.
"Werewolves?" Arthur asked with a slight frown. Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked up from her book.
"Oh, we did that before the holidays with Professor Snape when he filled in for Professor Lupin," she said.
"Well, we're officially covering them," Arthur replied.
Hermione bit her lower lip and leaned over the table at them. "Do you know what's wrong with Professor Lupin?"
"Ouais, he's always sick," Francis answered.
"Always sick at the full moon." Hermione's lips curled into a smirk.
Arthur gasped and leaned against his chair with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "You're right!" he whispered. "He's a..." he trailed off.
Francis blinked, looked down at his textbook, and his face paled.
"Have you found your Animagus form yet?" Alfred asked Arthur. It was the day of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match, and they were heading into the Gryffindor side of the stands. For the occasion, Alfred had lent Arthur his red-and-gold scarf.
Arthur shook his head. "That's part of the work," he said. "It's hard to discover your form and harder to assume it."
"Well, don't give up, okay?" Alfred beamed as they took their seats next to Ron. Moments later, Hermione came and sat down on Arthur's other side, two seats away from Ron.
"Did you see the Firebolt yet?" Ron asked suddenly and very loudly, as if he hadn't seen Hermione make her entrance at all. "I rode on it. It's bloody amazing."
Alfred grinned. "Oh, I saw it. But Artie didn't."
"We'll have to show you!" Ron exclaimed as the match started.
"They're off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship..." This match, the commentator seemed to enjoy focusing all attention on Harry's Firebolt. Arthur had to admit, the broom was quite spectacular.
"My sister, Erin, is a reserve Chaser for Ireland," Arthur noted as Harry swerved sharply around the Ravenclaw goal posts.
"Blimey!" Ron gasped. "Ireland's the favourite of the British Isles for the World Cup!"
"I know! She has a Firebolt and everything!" Arthur replied, leaning forward to cheer Harry on.
Suddenly, there were three tall, black, hooded dementors floating onto the pitch. The Ravenclaw Seeker pointed down; Harry looked down and saw them as well.
A silvery thing shot out of his wand and attacked the three dementors; they all fell to the ground in a heap.
"Wait a second, those aren't dementors!" Alfred cried, leaning forward with Arthur's Omnioculars.
"Oi, it's Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint!" Ron hollered.
The whistle sounded, and Harry had won the match for Gryffindor.
Ron jumped up, yelling hoarsely. He leapt from the stands and sprinted onto the field with several other Gryffindor supporters.
"Come on, Artie!" Alfred called, whooping excitedly. He grabbed Arthur's arm and the two of them stumbled onto the field and ran towards the gigantic group hug that was beginning to form around Harry.
Now all the Gryffindor team had to do was play Slytherin, Arthur mused, as Alfred and the Weasley twins raised Harry onto their shoulders. He peered through the crowd around the team and spotted Francis and Nataliya, cheering as well. Francis had an arm around Madeline, who was draped in a Gryffindor flag.
"Party!" George Weasley yelled. "Gryffindor common room! Francis, Nat, Arthur, you three are invited as well!"
"Why aren't you talking to Hermione?" Arthur asked Ron as they headed up to Gryffindor Tower with Alfred clinging onto Arthur's arm.
"Her bloody cat ate my rat, Scabbers," Ron retorted. "And she's not sorry at all."
"Sorry? It's in a cat's nature!" Hermione screeched as she brushed past them, knocking into Ron's shoulder.
"Oi, why can't you just let your pride down for a second and apologise?" Ron hollered after her. She said nothing; only picked up the pace and disappeared around the corner.
The party was in full swing when Harry entered the portrait hole. It was still in full swing as Arthur, Francis, and Nataliya bade the Gryffindors goodnight at eleven-thirty and headed down to the dungeons.
"Wonder if they'll pull an all-nighter?" Nataliya said as they entered the Slytherin common rooms, which were deserted.
"Probably." Francis chuckled and collapsed on a couch. "I want to sleep here tonight," he said cheerfully.
"Then go ahead," Arthur replied.
"Non, you need to sleep here with me." Francis grinned. Arthur looked at him oddly.
"How many Fudge Flies did you eat?" he asked cautiously.
"I don't like Fudge Flies." Francis's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Arthur..."
Arthur frowned and sat down on the couch next to Francis's sprawling form. "I'm going to regret this in the morning, aren't I?"
"Oho, not at all," Francis said with a smirk. "Bonne nuit, Nataliya."
She looked at them amusedly and left the room – but not before taking a picture.
Notes: OH MEH GAWD. As far as Artie's FB notes are concerned I'm actually done with this fic, sequel and all! OAO Don't you just love time discrepancies here? XD;;