~ Chapter Fifty-Six ~
Harry played absently with the medallion around his neck as he watched his friends filter into the small room and settle wherever they could find the space: crammed onto the three beds, sitting cross-legged on pillows... Ginny and Angelina were even sprawled on their stomachs on the floor, propped up on their elbows and watching Harry expectantly. He had moved to the window seat as more people started arriving, Neville squeezing in next to him when he got back to the room. He asked innocently how things went with Snape, whispering so that no one who hadn't been at the meeting with Lupin and Diggory could hear. Harry had been caught off guard for a moment, realizing just how much had happened in nearly no time at all, but had recovered quickly and said only that Snape agreed to help. Neville had nodded, a pensive look on his face, then answered with a simple sentence that lodged itself stubbornly in Harry's brain: We need all the help we can get, I suspect. It was true, Harry realized, looking around at all the people who had already pledged to protect him… and whom he had promised to protect in turn, magical oath or not.
The door closed behind Lee, and Harry took note of those gathered: The four youngest Weasleys, Neville and Dean, Lee and Luna, even the remainder of the Gryffindor 'Dream Team' after Oliver's graduation two years before: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell. Himself included, they were just a dozen students—untrained and unprepared for the war that he was asking them to face; that they had no choice but to face.
If his dubious participation in the battle at Romania had taught him anything, it was that Voldemort's followers wouldn't hesitate in an attack. Harry's friends and family couldn't afford to either, not if they wanted to survive. He sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples. There was a throbbing sensation pulsing through his body, centered around his chest. It had started as an exaggerated heartbeat right after the connection broke with Norbert, but steadily increased into a painful, jolting ache. Taking a deep breath, Harry straightened his spine and lowered his hands into his lap, interlocking his fingers tightly to hide the slight tremors. He was scrambling for how to start, trying to come up with something inspirational to say when he locked eyes with Ron and watched him tilt his lips in a crooked smile and tip his head curiously. Just like that, Harry's shoulders relaxed and he finally allowed himself to smile.
"Hi," he said quietly, looking around at everyone gathered and taking in the way the entire room quieted and looked to him with that single word. He paused a moment, soaking in the love and trust. "I'm so lucky to have you all as my friends," he blurted out, obviously speaking without thought. He may have had to fight down a blush, but his embarrassment was easily overshadowed by the almost visible and palpable relief that he felt in the room with his light-hearted remark. Angelina and Alicia were hiding indulgent smirks behind their hands, and he grinned sheepishly at the older girls. Pulling his legs up onto the window seat and shifting around until his was more comfortable, Harry stopped trying to plan out his words and simply spoke from his heart.
"You're all here because you've made a promise to defend me—to stand by me against both sides in this war. I wish I had the luxury to keep all of you out of this fight; I wish I could send you away somewhere safe where you could be carefree and happy until the danger passed. The reality, though, is that if Voldemort is going to be stopped, there is far too much to do for me to do it alone. My advisors told me to be careful and to not give away anything that I didn't absolutely have to. I understand their concern; if some of my plans get back to Voldemort, if some of them get to Dumbledore, things are going to become much more difficult if not impossible. I'm not about to ask you to do something, though, when you don't understand the risks and the reasoning behind it.
"I trust you. I won't keep information from you when I don't have to and I won't lie to you. I'll start now: if you stay here, if you listen to my plans and become a part of them, you're going to find yourself holding many secrets and under a lot of pressure. If this isn't something you want, I completely understand. You can walk out now and I swear I won't think any less of you." He stopped and looked around the room, giving everyone a chance to consider his words. Not a single person made a move to leave or looked at all uncertain about their decision to be there. Harry wasn't sure whether to feel relieved by their loyalty or anxious over all the people he suddenly felt responsible for.
"Whatever you need, Harry," Neville said from next to him, and for once he was the image of calm and confident, unwavering in his commitment. Harry smiled gratefully even as the ache in his chest increased. He forced himself slowly to his feet, hoping that pacing would be a good enough distraction from the pain now coursing through his body in sporadic shudders.
"Alright. So that everyone is on somewhat of the same page, there are things you need to know about the danger that we are all in: Voldemort is back." He raised a hand to quiet the automatic assurances that everyone there believed him, knowing it was true but wanting to start with the basics. "He's back, and he's gathering followers. His Death Eaters are powerful, skilled fighters, and they do not hesitate to maim and kill in a fight. They are ruthless, they've got Old Money and political clout backing them, and they've got years more experience than we do." He noticed several people paling a little at the apparent hopelessness of the situation, and deliberately poured confidence into his tone when he spoke again.
"They are also arrogant and bigoted, and we can use that to our advantage. They're used to being unchallenged as far as laws and pureblood customs go: we already started challenging them on that front this summer, and they are woefully unprepared for the competition. They feel themselves superior, and so they underestimate their opponents. That's one place we're going to start working hard on, right away." He paused for a moment, a little nervous about his next declaration as he hadn't had a chance to discuss it with anyone yet, but knowing in his gut it was the right thing to do. "If Umbridge won't teach us defense, we're going to teach ourselves—teach each other. Katie, Alicia, Angelina, and Luna; you four have the best connections in the other houses. I want you to reach out to people you can trust and find out who might be interested in joining a defense club." He paused a moment to look calculatingly between the twins. "Fred and George, you're going to work on logistics. We need a place to meet, a way to communicate with members… You have knowledge of every inch of this castle, and you're experts at sneaking around effectively. Use the map if it will help you, and I want you in contact with Moony for recommendations.
"That's another thing," he addressed the entire room. "Voldemort and Dumbledore both underestimate what we're capable of because we're not adults, and we'll use that against them. But we don't know everything and we certainly don't always know best. I already mentioned advisors: there are adults in my life whose opinions and advice I highly value. Never hesitate to reach out for help or take advantage of your resources." He started pacing again, oblivious to rapt attention he was getting from every one of his classmates as he focused on all the little things he had vowed to accomplish over this first week back at school. "Lee, you spend quite a bit of time with muggle cousins, right?" The older boy looked startled for a moment, both at being suddenly singled out and at the seemingly random inquiry, but he quickly shrugged it off and answered.
"Yeah, every summer I stay with them, and they spend the winter hols with my family in the wizarding world. We're really close."
"Good. Ask for help on resources for making a physical health plan. Running, exercising, healthy diets, things like that. It's not something I ever hear about in the wizarding world—I suppose with all the potions and spells available, people aren't so worried about it, but in a battle or even trying to escape a losing situation, you need stamina and fitness. I won't force any of you to take part in this, of course, but I'm sure going to and I recommend it. I just wouldn't know where to start." He brushed his hair back bashfully, as though suddenly realizing just how commanding he was sounding. "Lee, if you don't want to…"
"No, don't start feeling guilty or whatever Harry; it's a good idea. One of my cousins goes to the gym almost every day and he's always drinking those weird protein shake things. His methods might be a bit more intense than what we're looking for, but I'll write him anyway and see what he can tell me."
"My step-dad's a nurse," Dean offered quietly, shoulders tense and eyes carefully averted as though bracing himself for laughter.
"What's a 'nerss'?" Katie asked curiously, but it was surprisingly Ron who answered.
"It's like a junior-healer in the muggle world. Dad told me about them. Their healers are called 'doctors,' but without magic, it takes them years and years of extra school and training to learn everything they need to fix people. If they waited that long for everybody, the muggles wouldn't have enough people to take care of them, so a 'nurse' is someone who learns how to heal all the common things, and just sends the people with really rare problems to a doctor. Dad says the muggles have a really organized system with doctors and nurses working together, and…" He trailed off, blushing as he realized he had been babbling excitedly about the muggle world just like his father. Fred and George nudged him playfully, but Harry could see a glint of pride in their eyes and was pleased to see that Ron had noticed it as well. His older brothers' approval had always been so important to him, and he was glad that he had started to earn it this summer.
Harry glanced over at Lee and exchanged a quick smile as the others commented on Dean's step-dad's cool job. They both knew the discrimination and teasing Dean probably got growing up due to the male nurse taboo. Harry would have liked to give Dean more time to proudly answer questions about his step-father's work, but it was getting late and they still had more to cover. Regretfully, he cleared his throat and unconsciously straightened himself back into a confident, commanding posture.
"That's perfect, Dean. You work with Lee to gather information and put together a plan. Lee, you know how to get to the kitchens," he added suddenly. "Once you have an idea of the food bit, take Dean and go talk to the elves, see what they can do to help." Harry rubbed at his chest absently, wincing as a fresh wave of pain wracked his body. He completely missed the worried glances being shot his way, too lost in thought about what they still needed to accomplish.
"Neville." He turned around so he was facing the other boy directly, wanting to watch his reaction as he spoke. "Have you ever attended a High Council meeting?"
"Yeah, gran's taken me to a few to observe. I'll have to be prepared to take my seat as Lord Longbottom when I come of age," he answered quietly, blushing when he said his title as though he didn't feel he had the right to claim such a thing. A quick glance around the room showed Harry that most of its occupants hadn't ever considered that Neville was the heir to a vote-holding Lordship.
"I want you there with me this winter," Harry said, voice gentle but with a finality that told Neville he was absolutely sure about this. "We know a little birdie offered to help out when he can, and I've had some advice over the summer, but I wasn't raised and groomed for my position. There is so much I don't know. If I don't understand my options and the power I have, I can't use it to help anyone. I want you to teach me, and I want you to start taking an active role with your gran in where your own vote is cast. I know she'll have final say for now, but your thoughts on the matter should count for something." He took in the slight palor to Neville's face and reached out to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. "Nev, you're loyal and honorable, and when you let your confidence out you're incredibly courageous. You're also intelligent and patient enough to look at a problem from many angles. I want your voice heard and I want your counsel on political decisions. Promise me you'll try?" He knew he had hit the right button when Neville squared his shoulders at the request and met Harry's eye before he nodded. Harry was under no illusions that it would be a smooth journey without set-backs, but he was determined to help nudge Neville into the leader he was sure he could be.
"Alright. I have another idea, but I'm not at all sure it will work…" He gnawed nervously on his lip, once again rubbing at the center of his chest where the pain was radiating from, but in the end decided to lay his plan out and just see how the others reacted. "If we're going to be doing anything in this school that we don't want Dumbledore interfering in, we're going to need some allies. I already said we're going to take advantage of the fact that others underestimate us. I don't want to make their same mistakes and discount a potential supporter. I want to try to, er, make friends with the castle, I suppose." He blushed slightly, but quickly pressed on to explain.
"Think about it: no one ever thinks about house elves, but they can travel all over the school without anyone knowing, they have access everywhere, I reckon if they would carry messages for us in confidence, it would be incredibly helpful. We'd need to earn their respect, though. I think we should start leaving notes, just little thank-yous on our plates at the end of meals or by the little piles of rubbish in the common rooms that they clear; see what comes of it. Even if we gain nothing, they really do deserve the thanks anyway, and it won't be too much work.
"The portraits are another thing. I think Dumbledore has tracked me down that way in the past. Now I doubt it's so elaborate that he's conspired with every painting in every corridor, but it would be dead useful if we knew 'safe zones' so to speak where our movement wouldn't get back to him. It would be another huge help for making a secret defense club happen, too, because I highly doubt Umbridge would let it happen without a fight if she learned about it. Actually…" Harry turned slowly to Ron, quickly spinning around a new idea in his head. "Ron, do you remember Sir Cadogan?" He asked, unable to hold back a grin. The response was nearly instantaneous. With a horrified scowl, Ron burst.
"That bloody mental knight that kept challenging me to a fight? The one in the portrait that replaced the fat lady for a time in third year and randomly changed the password all the time so we could never get in? What in the world do you want with him?!"
"He randomly changed the password so you couldn't get in, but I just had to ask him to open; he liked me. I talked to him that day I was lost going to divination, way before he ended up over the entrance to Gryffindor. That's what we need; people who have the time to stop and chat with portraits, people who are innocent and clueless enough to find their stories fascinating and be rapt listeners. People like your fan-club," he ended with a broad smile, and now the rest of the room was grinning at Ron too (the Gryffindors because they had caught on to Harry's idea, and Luna because she was humming happily once again).
"My what?" Ron asked, sounding completely flabbergasted, and the twins snorted with laughter.
"Don't tell me ickle Ronniekins…"
"…is oblivious to his new fame?"
"Why all his little fans will be so heartbroken…"
"…when they learn that their hero hasn't noticed them!"
Ron was starting to turn red with the twins' teasing, mostly because he clearly had no clue what was happening or whether or not he was being mocked. Thankfully, Ginny finally took pity on him.
"Ron, the Gryffindor first-years think you shit gold," she dead-panned, rolling her eyes when Ron's head whipped around towards her and his mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh honestly. They have been practically worshipping the ground you walk on all week, ever since that first night when you broke Seamus' nose defending Harry. You were all tall and dark and broody, and then you gathered the poor little firsties together and trotted them off safely to bed." The others were laughing openly now at Ron's bright red face—this time from embarrassment, rather than anger—and Ron himself was spluttering in denial.
"But that—But I was—I was only doing my job! I'm a prefect!" He denied, but Ginny only shrugged in reply.
"Not how they see it. They only saw you saving the day, and I'm pretty sure they would go to the Great Hall dressed as chickens if you told them to. They would certainly jump at the chance to take on a 'special mission' if you asked for their help in befriending portraits in the castle."
"That's not… blimey, chickens… I don't…" Ron was slightly green, and looked to Harry helplessly, no idea what to do with this supposed power that had been placed on his shoulders. Harry just grinned happily and clapped him on the shoulders.
"Don't look at me, mate. I figure it's about time you took a turn with the hero-worship; I don't envy you a moment of it!" The others were still laughing and teasing Ron when Harry turned away and motioned Ginny over to him. He turned them so their backs were to the rest of the room, and put an arm around her should so that he could lean in closely to her ear and whisper safely.
"Gin, you okay after talking about the Chamber? I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought it up like that without warning you." He looked at her nervously, but she gave him a soft smile before answering.
"You really do look out for me like a little sister, don't you?" She asked, and Harry was confused by the hint of sadness that colored the happy expression on her face.
"'Course I do, Gin; I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he promised fiercely, and was relieved when this earned him a full smile, the soft pain in her eyes replaced with a happy sparkle.
"Just don't go thinking I'm some porcelain doll that needs to put away on a shelf to keep protected, you got that Potter?" She mock-glared for a moment, before nudging his shoulder good-naturedly and then took a moment to really consider his question. "I was a little caught off-guard when you brought it up, but I'm okay. I… don't have happy memories of the chamber, that's for sure, but that tunnel you found could be incredibly useful; I'd be a fool not to acknowledge that. I think…" she paused and bit her lip. "Did you go into the room where Tom had me, where the basilisk was?" Harry tried to suppress his shudder, but when Ginny's hand came up to squeeze his arm, he knew he hadn't succeeded.
"No. I… I didn't want to go there on my own. Not sure I could handle it alone, to be honest. I don't have many happy memories of the chamber, either."
"I want to go with you." Harry startled at the firm declaration, but Ginny shook her head and kept talking before he could argue. "I think I need to do this, face my fears so to speak. And Ron may have gone down there, but it was you and me who were in that room, you and me who faced death in the chamber. We should go together. I want to take this step to heal with the big brother who saved my life." Harry swallowed thickly then pulled her spontaneously into a hug. When he released her, they were both smiling at each other in a way that let them know they didn't need any more words on the subject.
"I'm proud of you," Harry told her quietly, telling only the truth as the pride he felt swelled inside him. "And I'm proud to call you my sister." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead in a brotherly way, then finally stepped away from her, though still facing her. "Alright, I have a job for you. I was worried to ask, but… I know you can handle it, and I think you've the best shot."
"Sure Harry, what do you need?"
"I want you to make friends with Moa—with Myrtle." He winced a little at the incredulous look Ginny gave him, knowing that asking her to befriend the whining, melodramatic ghost who haunted the bathroom where the chamber's entrance was built was far from an appealing task. "Look, if we ever need to access that tunnel in an emergency, we can't wait around until she decides to take a trip down the toilet pipes. And Lee was talking about gym training; we have a whole chamber we could potentially set up for that, but we'd need safe access. If we had Myrtle on our side, we could come and go safely and keep others off our tracks if she was willing to cover for us and say we weren't ever in her bathroom to begin with." Ginny was still frowning, but she at least appeared to be considering his argument.
"Why me?"
"She was a third year when she died, so she's near your age. She was killed on Tom's orders, and you almost were as well. You can tell her about the basilisk, about the chamber, about Tom… all those questions she must have about why she went into the bathroom to cry one day and came out of the stall to meet her death. She's lonely, Gin; she needs a friend. Hermione's polite tip-toeing around her didn't work in second year, though; I think she needs someone who has a kind enough heart to truly care about her, but won't be afraid to call her out on her whining and self-pity. She needs a little spit-fire," he ended, smirking playfully at her. He could see her lips twitching even though she was still clearly fighting a smile. Harry had spent enough time with Weasleys, though, to know he had her. Ginny must of realized this as well, because she sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.
"Fine, but you owe me Potter, and don't think I'll forget it!" Harry just grinned as she walked back over to plop down on the floor in front of Luna, happily leaning back and letting the blond girl start weaving small braids into her hair as she hummed.
Everyone was grouped off in the tiny room, their excited voices washing over him as they plotted and schemed for their 'missions.' Deciding he should probably write to Sirius and Remus and let them know what was going on, Harry pulled out his wand to accio a quill and parchment. As soon as he said the spell, however, an agonizing, fiery pain shot through his body and with a sharp cry he fell to his knees, both hands pressed hard against his chest as he panted for breath. Many voices shouted his name in alarm, and almost immediately Ron, Fred and George were kneeling down around him, the others knowing they needed to stand back even as they watched on in concern.
"Mate, what happened?" Ron's voice worried, but held steady. The twins were more chastising, but still obviously concerned.
"Little brother, you need Pomfrey…"
"…and don't even try to argue. We've seen you…"
"…rubbing your chest all night. Clearly…"
"…something is wrong."
Harry had a to take a few more deep breaths, but eventually he was able to answer in a shaky voice, careful to speak softly enough that only his brothers could hear him.
"Whatever it is, it's been getting worse since the thing with Norbert. I just tried to summon something to write with, and it felt like my blood was boiling for a few moments, it was nearly as bad as the cruciatus." The three red-heads paled, Fred and George reaching out to place hands gently on his shoulders, as though preparing to hold him up if his muscles suddenly gave out. Harry didn't say anything, but he admitted at least to himself that that was a distinct possibility.
"Harry, you need to go to the hospital wing," Ron said slowly, obviously bracing himself for an argument. Harry hesitated, but knew that Ron was right.
"Help me down then. When we get there though, you're going to walk in to talk to Pomfrey and I'll stay outside the door. I need to know if she'll heal me without talking to Dumbledore about what caused this. If not… I may have to stick it out until we can contact Gamp and Diggory and have them find me a trustworthy healer. I suppose we'll have to figure out a way to use the tunnel to get them in to see me…" He shook his head with a frown, knowing even as he spoke that it would be far from a convenient solution. "Let's just hope Pomfrey can treat me confidentially." He said wryly, cutting off any protests. Ron's lips were pressed tight and thin, clearly unhappy, but he helped Harry carefully to his feet and gently guided him towards the door. As they left, Harry heard Fred and George calming the others and assuring them that Harry was going for help. He glanced over his shoulder one last time before the door closed, and despite the situation he had to smile: watching his friends all standing together and holding each other up, he felt his responsibilities as a privilege rather than a burden for the first time.
xXxXxXxXx
Sunday afternoon found Harry, Ron, and Neville sitting by the shore of the Black Lake, trousers rolled up to allow the cool water to lap at their bare feet. Ron had chosen the spot as it was highly visible from the grounds as well as two sides of the castle. Harry wasn't comfortable being so on-display, but he had been making every effort throughout the weekend to be seen by his classmates as enjoying a normal, relaxed weekend, just as Snape had requested of him Friday evening. Every hour that passed without news about Charlie had Harry's anxiety rising, and he had mentally added 'work on patience' to his ever-growing to-do list. The only things keeping him sane and functional were the projects his friends were working on at his request.
"…Harry. Harry!" The wizard in question whipped his head around, finally registering his name being called, and grinned sheepishly at Ron's exasperated look, wondering how long he had been spacing out this time. He hadn't gotten more than a few hours of sleep the past two nights combined, and those had been plagued with memories of the battle. His exhaustion was showing.
"Sorry, what were you saying?" Ron rolled his eyes in response, but Harry could tell that the red-head wasn't truly angry with him, and Neville was not-too-successfully attempting to bite back a smile.
"I said, I would like your permission to create a signal system, a way to communicate without words in case we need to make emergency plans with others present." Where even two days before Harry would have objected to the idea of Ron asking his permission for any action, he now mulled the question over thoughtfully before responding.
"I would need to be most familiar with it, as the others would be looking to me for direction?" He clarified, not really needing Ron's affirmative nod to acknowledge the truth of the situation. "It wouldn't be practical to try and teach every ally we have the full extent of a system like that; it would get over-used, for one thing, and make it easier for others to decipher. Then there would be the logistics of finding the time and place to teach it to so many people without being found out." Ron nodded approvingly as Harry worked the problem out aloud, something Ron had been making him do all weekend, as Harry tended to get overwhelmed by emotions and to miss important details when left to work a problem out in his head. "Who did you have in mind?" Harry asked finally, knowing that if Ron was bringing it up, he already had a carefully considered plan.
"Fred and George will need to know. They're closer to you than anyone else at Hogwarts, even more than I am in some ways—no, don't look guilty; I know I brought that on myself. They've never once turned their backs on you like I have in the past. And I know I'm still your best mate, they just have a stronger connection to you as brothers than I do. I'm not upset about it, Harry, just factoring it in. Anyway, like I was saying: Fred and George will need to know, because they ground you during emergencies and are the most likely of anyone here at school to be by your side when shit hits the fan. I'll learn it, obviously as I'm going to create it, but also because people will listen to me in your absence if you tell them to, especially in a battle scenario. I'd like, eventually, to have a point person from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well, who can be your voice in the other houses when needed. Benefits and risks considered, though, I'd be more willing to leave the other houses a little blind than to reach out to someone we don't trust entirely. And before you say it, I know you trust Luna and I'm not arguing with you there, but she doesn't have the clout in her house to be taken seriously, that's just the reality." Harry scowled at this, but couldn't argue.
"Neville learns it, too," he said instead, his voice making it clear that it was not up for discussion.
"Alright," Ron agreed easily, both of them ignoring Neville's spluttering and clumsy protests that he shouldn't be trusted with something so important and nobody would listen to him anyway, just like Luna. "Diggory should learn it as well, if for no other reason than it could be dead useful in High Council meetings, but also if you ever end up in a court setting. Remus, too; you may need someone who knows it for Order meetings, plus he's playing with the devil and trying to strike a deal with Skeeter. I'd feel marginally more comfortable if the two of you could at least communicate privately around her, even rudimentarily." Harry took a moment to think sadly that Hermione would have been proud of Ron for using a six-syllable word correctly. He knew that Ginny and Luna were keeping Hermione busy for the afternoon—and knew, too, that it was necessary for him to have time to speak openly with the members of his Order—but it was no less difficult yet to have her suddenly on the outside of their schemes.
"Padfoot?" Harry questioned suddenly, giving himself a forceful mental shake to keep his mind on the conversation, and not licking his wounds over his fracturing friendship with Hermione.
"…If you want," Ron said, tone carefully neutral, but Harry could sense his hesitation and narrowed his eyes.
"Don't start, Ron, we talked about this in the hospital wing Friday night: I may not want everyone looking to me as someone in charge, and I certainly don't like some of the consequences that come with that, but I understand why I need to embrace it, even when it's difficult. I will not be the kind of 'leader' that Voldemort or even Dumbledore is, though. I have a few talents of my own, but in many more areas I have friends and family whose talent far exceeds mine—like you, with strategy." He sighed tiredly, and the fatigue came through in his voice when he finished speaking. "Charlie's told me what Order meetings are like, with people biting their tongues instead of speaking out against one of Dumbledore's plans. It's a waste of resources, and frankly it's dangerous." Ron stiffened at the mention of his brother, no one having spoken of him directly since Friday night as it made the fear and danger too real. After a moment, though, he straightened his shoulders and his jaw set determinedly, 'Ron the General' gaining back his confidence.
"Okay. Then I don't think it's a good idea for Padfoot to learn it. He would have to be taught at headquarters, which would be dangerous, and he would have to be taught by Lupin, who really doesn't have the time; we already have a list going of things for him to work on, and who knows what he and your lawyers have come up with already. Besides that, he's not known for keeping his temper under control—I realize I sound like a hypocrite, just hear me out—and risking him blowing the secret would offer no potential gain. Again, he's stuck in headquarters for his own safety, and Remus would already be able to interpret messages on that front. I know he's your father, but…" Neville's quiet gasp startled both Harry and Ron, who had all but forgotten the quiet boy was listening to them… and didn't know about Sirius.
"Blimey, Harry, I didn't think! I—"
"It's fine Ron, it's done. And I trust Neville. I'll just need to—" Despite his words, however, his tired mind was panicking at the possibility that Neville may not be convinced to keep Sirius's secret. As he began to get worked up with the new emotions swirling around him, the pain in his chest flared. His words cut off on a painful hiss, and Ron was immediately at his side, coaxing his head down onto his knees and his arms around his legs before the red-head scooted close and wrapped his own long arms around Harry, rocking him gently and pitching his voice to something low and soothing as he talked Harry down the way Madame Pomfrey had taught him two nights before.
By the time they reached the hospital wing, Harry had bitten his lips raw trying to hold back whimpers of pain. Ron had helped gently lean him against the wall outside the door, lips pursed in uncharacteristically silent disapproval at leaving Harry there. He didn't argue, however, before slipping inside the infirmary, careful to leave the door cracked so that Harry could hear his conversation with Madame Pomfrey.
Ron was clearly nervous as he challenged the mediwitch, but he held his ground and refused to give her any information or reveal who he was talking about until she told him if she would keep healer-patient confidentiality even from Dumbledore. Finally, she had lost her temper and started shouting.
"Mr. Weasley, I have been healing Harry Potter since he was eleven years old—oh don't look at me like that, of course it's him who's gotten himself sick or hurt. I was there when You-Know-Who's spirit soared through him after rescuing the stone, when he lost all the bones in his arm, when he was pierced by a Basilisk's fang, when he was unconscious from dementors—three separate times!—and through all the outrageous nonsense in that tournament last year! I am the only one familiar with the effects his increased magic is having on his body and I dare anyone to stand between me and my patient! Now I will hold my tongue around Merlin himself about Harry's medical status if that is what he wishes but so help me if you keep me from him for one moment longer than you will be the one who needs medical attention!" Harry had wisely chosen that moment to stumble clumsily into the hospital wing, and a very pale Ron shot him a grateful look from behind Pomfrey's back as the woman immediately turned her attention to Harry.
To say she had been furious with Harry for delving into his connection with Norbert when he knew nothing about it would be putting it lightly. She had very nearly pumped him full of potions that first night, once again reluctant to try treating him with magic when an overabundance of magic coursing through his body was what was causing his problems in the first place.
After making him retell his story a third time, the three of them had come to the conclusion that strong emotions—both from Harry and Norbert—was what had deepened the bond most intensely during the battle. After hesitantly testing his core, she affirmed that he was once again holding more magic in reserve than his body was prepared to handle. She hypothesized that when he used his wand (a much more focused and directed release of power than his wild magic was accustomed to) the magic was being pulled from his already-overwhelmed core too sharply, thus the painful response. Hedwig had immediately been sent off with an update for Alastor (to both boys' surprise Pomfrey had reacted to the news of Moody's tutoring with only a firm nod and angry muttering about how at least someone was trying to guide Harry through these changes properly) and Ron—after settling Harry into bed with strict orders to stay there—had gone to track down Fred and George. He was off to talk to them about creating a fake wand that would allow Harry to appear to be performing his magic normally while using his excess wild magic instead. Harry, sullenly confined to his four-poster, had used the time to begin penning a cautious letter to Olivander, wondering just how much to reveal and how he would know if he could trust the man to ask for help…
"HARRY!" Ron was shaking his shoulder exasperatedly again and the smaller wizard wondered guiltily how many times he had missed his name being said this time, wrapped up in his memories. "Finally. I think someone needs to talk to you," Ron said quietly, glancing meaningful up at the tree above them. Harry followed his gaze to find a familiar brown finch perched on a low branch, watching him intently, and—Harry groaned. Stepping delicately from behind the bird was a blue beetle, markings around its eyes like pointed spectacles.
"This can't be good," Harry murmured, getting shakily to his feet as Ron caught site of Skeeter's animagus form and growled angrily. Neville was at his side immediately, a hand subtly supporting him at the elbow, but his worry obvious in his expression. Harry mused idly that if he displayed his own feelings so openly it was no wonder Snape was always sneering that he had no control of his emotions. Another thing to work on, then…
"They can't transform here," Ron muttered in his ear, moving to take up his opposite elbow, though Harry shook him off; one was plenty, and more than enough to look suspicious if any of the Slytherins were watching them.
"Boat shed," Harry answered, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard by the visitors in the tree. He was grateful that they seemed to have gotten the hint, bird and bug taking flight to begin a leisurely and indirect route to their meeting place, so as not to draw extra attention to the three boys. "Come on then," he said quietly, and put on a show of confidence he didn't feel as he took off along the lakeshore, forcing himself not to look over his shoulder. He stayed several paces ahead of Ron and Neville, knowing that if they were being followed, he would hold their watchers' attention and while Ron and Neville could scout them out.
When they finally reached their destination, Harry was feeling rather lucky. There had been no sign of anyone keeping an eye on them, and the shed was thankfully empty of any couples looking for a private spot to meet. The feeling of luck quickly vanished, however, as the two animagi transformed and left Harry facing Diggory and Skeeter with matching looks of dread. If Neville was surprised by Rita's transformation, he kept it to himself.
"Harry…" Winton started, shaking his head slightly as he apparently searched for words that wouldn't come. Rita, it seemed, did not hold the same reservations.
"Your bondmate is being charged with treason for exposing the magical world to muggles due to the part he played in dropping the wards on a dragon reserve in Romania. The arrest warrant will hit the papers tomorrow morning. You have until then to give me something to work with to combat this with, or the Prophet is going to have our entire world turned against him." Harry paled, and a quick glance to the right showed Ron had reacted similarly. As their eyes met, Harry found himself truly understanding for the first time why Ron was so determined to form them a non-verbal means of communication.
"I…" The problem was, Harry did have something for her. He just didn't think he could hand that knowledge over to Rita Skeeter of all people. He sighed, arms wrapping around himself as he paused to take a few deep breaths, centering his magic in his core before answering. "I don't trust you." Harry was surprised to notice the slightest wince from Rita at his admission, confused as to why she would care beyond the possibility of missing a story opportunity. As he was puzzling over her reaction, Winton cleared his throat and held out a folded piece of parchment.
"From Mr. Lupin," he said simply, and Harry was grateful to feel both Ron and Neville move closer to read over his shoulder as he unfolded the very brief note.
Cub –
With Gamp at Ministry. He publicly announced he is working for you.
If there is a way to help Charlie, we'll find it.
Rita will print nothing without Diggory's permission, she's sworn to it.
If there is anything you can give her to help Charlie, do it; this is the best way you can help.
Stay put—don't do anything rash.
Your father and I love you and are here for you. Stay strong.
-RL
Harry read over the note twice, then looked up at Ron, who was already watching him solemnly. They were both surprised when it was Neville who spoke, the other boy having walked forward until he was nose-to-nose with Skeeter without either Harry or Ron noticing his absence.
"Ms. Skeeter, I am Heir Longbottom. I have sworn on my blood and magic to stand with Lord Potter. If you betray him—if you hurt him—I will pour every resource at my disposal into making you pay." All this in his usual soft voice, but one look at his face left no doubt that he meant every word. Rita must have realized this, too, for although she answered with confidence, she left off her usual goading sarcasm.
"I assure you, young man, that my honor in giving my word will hold me true before any rash threat from you." Either this was good enough for Neville or he had already lost his brief flame of protective aggression, for he was quickly back at Harry's side. This display, though, along with a supportive hand on his shoulder from Ron, was enough for Harry to take a chance and a fight for his husband.
"Ms. Skeeter, I hope you have a quill handy; I am prepared to give you a detailed account of the battle between Death Eaters and dragon tamers at the Romanian reserve Friday evening. Annonymously," he emphasized, then glanced at Diggory for his approval, and was met with a godsmacked expression before a hastily waved hand urged him on.
"How…? Never mind," Rita answered, eagerly digging into a bag at her side for parchment, quill, and ink. Harry answered anyway.
"Because; I am The-Boy-to-Whom-All-the-Shite-Happens," he groused flopping down onto the dirty wooden floor of the shed and tremendously grateful to have his friends standing defensively at his sides.
Author's note: Hey look, another chapter and it's only been ten days! Kinda proud of that, especially after a surprisingly busy week. Then again, it's painfully cold outside, so there has been considerable draw to being inside and toasty warm with some cocoa and my laptop...
Thanks for reading, and I hope anyone else in a wintery climate is finding ways to stay warm!
-Emmette
