DRACO AND THE DEAN
It seemed like the end of an era.
Never before had anything like this happened. Their third year had been filled with bad rows between Ron and Hermione, but through it all Ron stuck by his side. Fourth year had Ron furious with him for two months, but Hermione was still speaking to him. The both of them seemed perpetually mad at each other for some reason or another...but they had never both been furious with Harry before.
And Harry was in hell.
If he thought that something good could have come of this, he was wrong.
When he awoke the next day, he thought that Ron and Hermione would be reunited in their feelings against Harry and start speaking to each other again. They certainly walked down to breakfast together, anyway. But as soon as Hermione saw Lavender zooming towards them, she not-so-politely excused herself, and went to sit at the Ravenclaw table with Luna.
Ron had now taken to hanging out with Neville; they could be seen in classes with their heads bent and talking, or walking together in corridors, or eating at meals. If Ron was trying to make Harry feel left out and alone, it was definitely working.
Even Quidditch practices were torture—the other members were just fine listening to Harry, but if he told Ron to block the right ring more, Ron'd block the left; if Harry told Ron to get his arse up into the air, Ron would just sit his arse firmly on the ground.
It wouldn't have been so bad if the first Quidditch match of the season—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw—wasn't just a few weeks away, the Saturday before Halloween.
Ginny, as well, had taken to avoiding Harry. It wasn't because she felt mad at him, but rather embarrassed. He had to hunt her down before her Charms class just to tell her that no, he wasn't furious with her, yes, he'd like to speak to her again, and could they start now, please?
With the practical absence of his two best friends, Harry had taken to hanging out with Ginny more and more.
Through all of this, she made it at least somewhat bearable for him. She wanted to talk Ron and Hermione off their lofty perches on Harry's behalf, but thought she botched things up considerably last time and didn't even try. Finding that she was rather admirable to be around offered a bit to the equation despite both Ron's and Hermione's absences, and Harry rather liked being around her. The previous feelings he had got when with her now intensified—
Harry knew now that he really did fancy Ginny Weasley….
And he couldn't care less what Ron thought.
It seemed the entire school had noticed that the three of them were out of sorts. It was difficult not to. Each of their professors certainly noticed that something was amiss—when McGonagall tried to pair up Harry and Hermione to transfigure their rocks into crups, Hermione specifically asked to be put with someone else.
And then the rumors began.
At first, they started out simple—Ron was jealous of Harry because of all the attention, and Hermione couldn't get them to talk...or Ron was now seen as the 'physical' one of the three, and neither Harry nor Hermione liked that at all. But as the week continued, these rumors grew worse. Harry went down to breakfast one Wednesday in the middle of October and found out that he and Hermione had just been seen snogging in a broom closet by Ron. Apparently, Ron grew quite jealous and told Krum, who tried to beat up Harry before taking Hermione for himself.
The nerve of him.
It was with this that Harry found himself walking up the slick path from Hagrid's hut one rainy afternoon after classes. The visit with the half-giant had been fun, but Harry and Hagrid both felt the missing presence of Ron and Hermione.
Harry had just rounded one boulder when he heard two other people arguing loudly in the stone circle above him.
Harry peered around the stone, and was boggled when he saw who it was.
Coming right into the middle of the stone circle was Hermione, still decked out in her Hogwarts uniformed white blouse and skirt even though classes were done.
...And she was following Draco Malfoy, who was wearing a murderous expression on his pale features.
They both had umbrella charms to protect them from the sleet and were immersed in their conversation. The irony was not lost on Harry that both of them were arguing yet again in the exact place where Hermione hit Malfoy during their third year.
Harry ducked behind the boulder before they could see him.
His shock at seeing Hermione with Malfoy of all people only intensified when he heard what they were talking about.
"—now will you just stop walking, and look at me!" Hermione was saying, exasperated. "You owe me at least that—"
Malfoy appeared to have enough of her incessant nagging. He whirled around, eyes flashing, but his back was now to Harry so he couldn't read the expression on the Slytherin's face.
"I don't owe you anything, Mudblood! I don't have to look at you, I don't have to listen to you, and I sure as hell don't have to give you so much as the time of day!" Malfoy spat.
He whipped around again, and started walking closer to Harry's hiding spot.
Hermione, however, stopped in her tracks.
"I know it was you who gave Viktor that love potion," she said stoically.
Malfoy stopped. His blond hair was hidden under a traveling hat, and his dark, fur-lined cloak covered most of his body, but from Harry's perch, he could see Malfoy was completely frozen.
Hermione took this moment to catch up with him, her boots allowing for good traction on the slippery stairs, her own deep blue cloak falling off her shoulders, and her honey brown curls spilling out of her hair clips. And head to toe, she was still amazingly dry. Harry hardly had time to compliment her on her umbrella charm (albeit in his head), before she paused several steps above Malfoy, putting her height level with his own on that slippery slope.
She stared Draco Malfoy down.
"You don't have to look at me, you don't have to listen to me, and you don't have to give me the time of day. But you sure as hell owe me the truth. Did you or did you not give Viktor Krum the love potion that you stole from my cauldron after you purposely knocked it all over me?" she said.
Then Harry saw, aghast, that she was holding her wand mere inches from Malfoy's chest. Something Malfoy seemed very aware.
Harry's mind flashed back to their third year when Hermione had hit Malfoy. She drew her wand on him then too and he looked about to piss his pants. No such look was on his face now, however. His eyes were guarded, but not afraid, and he made no move to withdraw his own wand.
"Yes, I took your potion," Malfoy grudgingly admitted.
"And did you put your own hair in it?" she hissed. "I saw you tear some of your hair out that day. Did you put it in the potion?"
Harry's mouth fell open.
Malfoy's mouth screwed up, like it was a wrench to admit this. "No. That...was the plan, all right? That's what they told me to do. But no. I didn't follow through. The plan...was changed."
Her wandtip burrowed into his robes as she stepped closer. And yet her voice never lost its leveled firmness, its stoic questionning never giving way to emotion.
"What. Was. The. Plan."
There was an intake of breath. Harry couldn't tell if it was Malfoy's or his own.
"The plan was...to get you...to come with me...whatever the cost. I was supposed to...deliver...you. But after that day...the plan was changed. And my job was...given...to someone else…"
Harry was frozen.
Hermione appeared to be frozen too. But Harry couldn't see her face to know what she was thinking.
"Why was the plan changed?" she finally asked.
"Because someone else did...something...to earn more favor with the Dark Lord," Malfoy hissed. "I don't know what, all right? I'm not privy to everything."
Hermione drew in a deep breath. "One more. Then I will let you go."
Malfoy scowled, and Harry was once again struck by why in the world Malfoy was giving this information to Hermione so freely. What was she doing to him? Did she cast a spell that Harry hadn't heard? Did she slip Veritaserum in Malfoy's drink before she followed him here?
"Who was your job given to?" she said, so quietly it was almost a whisper.
There was a silence at these words, and Harry strained his ears, not daring to breathe lest he miss it.
But Malfoy was a let-down. "I don't know, all right? I don't know. Now get that thing out of my way before I do something you will really regret."
For a single moment longer, Hermione stared at him, expression unreadable from Harry's point of view. Then, she withdrew her wand, and that act alone was a dismissal.
Forgetting, or uncaring, of his original goal in going down that pathway, Malfoy just turned on his heel and walked back down the way he came, turning his coat collar up to the cold as he went.
As soon as he had rounded the bend out of view, Harry stepped out from his hiding spot and went to stand next to his best friend. It was rather warm under her umbrella charm. Hermione didn't even look at him as they both watched Malfoy go.
"How did you know I was there?" said Harry lowly, noticing this.
The Marauders' Map appeared in her hand. "You forget I still have this."
Harry nodded in realization, and they both started off down the path. Malfoy's words swam in his head, and Harry grew a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Why was he spilling his guts to you?" Harry asked.
But the hardened look returned on her face.
"Don't pretend like you care," she whispered.
Then she stalked off, leaving Harry far more confused than ever.
Harry found himself trudging up to Dumbledore's office that night after eating a hurried dinner by himself with the whole school whispering about him behind his back.
By all accounts, he should have been ecstatic—it was his first Legilimency lesson with Dumbledore—but with everything that had been going on, he was now more glum than ever.
"To perform Legilimency on another being is to know them entirely. However, it is impossible to accomplish it without knowing the magical aura of the person you are trying it on. Close your eyes, Harry. Using your mind, can you sense my aura?" said Dumbledore.
The Sword of Gryffindor hung above the mantel behind Dumbledore, reflecting the shining lamp orbs suspended in midair.
Not for the first time, Harry thought about Dumbledore being the Heir of Gryffindor and Voldemort being the Heir of Slytherin. Who could be the chosen Heirs of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw? Perhaps Sprout? And Flitwick? No...he was part-goblin…
"Harry, concentrate."
Harry closed his eyes and let his mind's barrier down. He could hear Fawkes the Phoenix crooning in the corner, could hear Dumbledore's many magical instruments whirring and spinning. But Harry could not see anything where Dumbledore was standing...other than black.
"It's not something you can see with your physical eyes, Harry. Your inner eye is the only thing that can help you with this, which is why many wizards never learn how to become Legilimens. You could try every day and still never accomplish it. It is one of the most difficult professions of magic," Dumbledore continued. "Now, it will take time for you to be able to distinguish auras. There are those, however, who are blessed with the Sight without any training—your friend Luna Lovegood is one of them. Even Professor Trelawney—although she can only truly prophesy once every ten years—can sometimes see my own aura. Auras usually manifest to the inner eye as colors, sounds, scents, feelings...some even manifest as their Patronus or Animagus forms. The only way to enter into someone's mind is through this. Your homework, then, is to practice. Know your friends—try to understand what makes them behave as they do..."
Dumbledore kept talking, but all Harry could think about was—
What friends?
They practiced more with Harry trying Legilimens, but he couldn't get the hang of it.
"Come, Harry, you can do this."
But Harry couldn't do this.
Dumbledore finally had to admit defeat.
"Here. Let's practice your Occlumency some more as a warm up. Ready? Legilimens!"
Harry was far too distracted to throw up his mind barriers in time. At once, Ron and Hermione and everything they had been through the last few months came straight into his thoughts.
Including the conversation that he had with them both before their fight happened. The memory flooded his senses. They were sitting in front of the fireplace and Hermione was telling him that Voldemort was after her and Ron. Harry's grief and helplessness at this came back.
Then Voldemort's name drifted through the front of his mind and Harry violently reacted.
He threw up his defenses and forced Dumbledore out with such a force that Harry suddenly found himself inside a small cottage, looking at Moony and talking with him about the Founders' Gifts, and there was a problem with the Hufflepuff chalice. It wasn't in the vault anymore, and there was Moony holding it and he knew just what to do with it...where it should go...
"Remus, I trust you," said Harry. "I need you to get this to him—"
And then he was gone, out of the cottage, and back in Dumbledore's office, standing dazed and confused, and Dumbledore stumbled back, just as exhausted as he felt.
"Was that...was I...were we…"
"Yes, Harry. You just successfully performed Legilimency on me," said Dumbledore. His face was impassive though.
"But that's great!" Harry exclaimed. "It was such an exhilarating feeling, I could sense your aura and I knew where you were and—!"
"Harry!" Dumbledore interrupted, rather sharply. "Tell me what that memory was about. With Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. What does she mean, Voldemort is after them?"
Harry's grin wiped clean off his face. He paled.
After everything that happened, his fight with Ron and Hermione, the owl after Neville, the trip to Hogsmeade, Ron's attack, Hermione's attack, Mr. Weasley defeating the Death Eaters, Hermione accusing Malfoy… Harry had completely forgotten to tell the Headmaster about what they learned regarding Voldemort's mission.
Elated no longer, Harry finally told him.
The dreariness Harry felt continued on till the next day.
After he had told Dumbledore everything that he, Ron, and Hermione postulated, Dumbledore was gravely still. And then the preparations began. Harry didn't know much, but Moony told him later that the Order took the Grangers and the Weasleys all into hiding.
They weren't the only ones. Because nobody knew what Voldemort really wanted Ron and Hermione for, Dumbledore went and visited the Dursleys, taking them to a safe house as well. Even Neville's Gran had to move out of her house and go stay with unknown relatives, Neville told him glumly over breakfast.
"This is just a precaution, Harry," said Moony. "Just in case Voldemort is targeting all those you love to get to you, not just Ron and Hermione."
To make things far worse, the Hogwarts staff and the patrolling Aurors took to guarding Ron and Hermione and even Harry. They could be seen tailing them from class to class and escorting Ron and Harry to the Hogwarts pitch for practices, or Hermione to the library.
Ron and Hermione were beyond furious at this.
And it was all because of Harry.
He found himself on a Wednesday after classes with nothing to do—and as he no longer had any friends—Harry was trying to decide how best to pass the time. He normally would have found Ginny, as she seemed the only person who wanted to be with him, but she had landed herself in the hospital wing after an acidic mishap in Potions class on Friday and was expected to stay there all day.
Harry had just ditched his own Auror guard at the hospital wing while visiting her (Harry spilled a bone-growing potion on a cut in Ketchins' hand making multiple new fingers grow out of him) when he heard an ear-splitting crash.
It had come from the prefects' bathroom on the fourth floor.
He sighed, drew his wand, and changed directions. As soon as he opened the door, he knew he had walked in on something.
There was broken glass covering the floor, and Draco Malfoy stood hunched at the sink, back to Harry. His fist was bloody, his shirt even more so, and the smaller, dark-haired Meghan Freeman stood next to him.
Harry hardly had time to think about what, in Merlin's good name, Meghan Freeman was doing with Malfoy. Because of the now-broken mirror, neither of them had seen Harry yet. In a split-second decision, Harry ducked into the first stall, and peered at their backs through the crack.
"I hate my father!" Draco hissed. "I hate that I look like him, I hate that I share his name, I hate—"
"No, you don't, Draco," said Meghan Freeman. If Harry didn't know any better, it sounded like she was talking to Malfoy with concern. "You don't hate him, you just...don't understand him."
"What's there to understand? He's raised me my whole life to be the smaller version of him. I had to wear the same clothes he did, be in the same House he was in, have the same enemies he does, wear the same Mark he does...they'll be branding me any month now. The Dark Lord doesn't even want to wait until I turn seventeen—"
"Is—is that still on, then? I thought that ever since—"
"Ever since what? Ever since my father failed the Dark Lord at turning Harry Potter or the prophecy in? Ever since he got them all captured and shoved into Azkaban? Ever since he lost the Dark Lord's highest position at the Ministry, and his cover to boot? Ever since he lost the Dark Lord the biggest thing he had going for him—his secrecy? I know how they think!" Draco Malfoy said angrily. "They think my father deserves to be tortured and killed for what he did!"
"It doesn't matter what they think!" said Meghan Freeman. "You are all that matters! Now that he's out in the open, he's going to need as much help as he can get at Hogwarts. Nott's already going to get the Mark come Christmas, as will Crabbe, and Goyle. There are others, too, although I'm not sure whether they've swayed Blaise yet. Are you going to join them as well?"
"It doesn't matter, either way. The Dark Lord has given my family one last chance. If he screws this one up, I'm screwed as well. He'll be offing us all. And if we succeed...I'll be getting the Mark, joining the lot of them and become Daddy's good little boy yet again." Malfoy spat into the sink bitterly. "Just wait till I get my hands on that—"
Harry slipped in a puddle of water—that is, he sure hoped it was just water—next to the toilet. At once, he caught himself, and strained his ears for Malfoy and Freeman. They had stopped talking. He sighed in relief when Malfoy turned the water on and started washing his hand off. "Come, Meghan. Don't want to be late for our next prefect meeting. Reparo!"
The glass on the ground flew back to the wall and repaired itself, and Draco Malfoy and Meghan Freeman strode out of the room. Harry let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He used the loo (well, he was already in the stall, so might as well) and washed his hands.
But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom—
A spell struck him—square in the chest—
Harry's mind barriers were up in an instant—as was the rest of him.
He barely had time to blink before he was hoisted up high into the air by his ankle and thrown….
Upside-down.
His wand and bag fell to the floor, and his shirt hung down into his bright red face.
The sneering laugh of a blond Slytherin reached his ears. Draco Malfoy stood before him, smirking, wand trained at Harry.
"So, Potter. Thought you could spy on me, did you? Thought I wouldn't notice?" he said, eyes gleaming.
"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" Harry shouted, swinging in the air. "I didn't hear anything!"
"I bet. And just so you know—everything I said in there was for your benefit. I knew you were in there all along. I staged it! I knew you'd fall for it, as gullible as you are—"
Harry felt his face redden as he realized what Malfoy was saying.
"You took the Mark already, didn't you?" said Harry, heart beating furiously fast.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" snapped Malfoy.
Perhaps it was the elation at becoming an accomplished Occlumens; or maybe it was everything that had happened with Ron and Hermione coming to a head. Whatever it was, Harry felt all the blood rushing to his brain and a heady sense of recklessness and arrogance wash over him.
"I bet Daddy's right proud of you," he snarled at Malfoy. "I bet he tucks you in every night, kisses you on the cheek, helps you say a little bedtime prayer. He must be the best dad in the world—patting your head and sending you straight to Voldemort so you can learn to be a good little murderer, and know how to suck up to the Dark Lord's arse. I bet you're good at it too. You're not going to get in trouble for doing a bad job like Daddy. You'll sure show him—"
"Shut up!" said Malfoy, dangerously. Harry had hit a nerve.
"What's the matter? Afraid you're going to make a little slip, too? Frightened Voldemort's going to see right through your disguise and see you for what you are—a scared-shitless little boy who's afraid he's going to be too much like his jail-bird father and make the evil baddie mad—"
"I SAID SHUT UP!"
Malfoy's wand-arm wavered, and Harry felt a plummet in his stomach as Malfoy almost lost control of keeping Harry levitated.
At that moment, Peeves the Poltergeist heard the shouting, and came to investigate. As soon as he saw Harry at the wand of Malfoy, he gave a gleeful grin.
"FIGHT! FIGHT IN THE CORRIDOR! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"
Harry closed his eyes and fervently willed himself to disapparate.
Students filed out from the neighboring rooms and corridors—laughter soon split the hall when they saw Harry dangling upside-down, stomach and chest bare.
He was completely on display.
Encouraged by the jeering and taunting, Malfoy drew himself up.
"You think you can fight Death Eaters now?" he sneered. He moved his wand up and down, then side to side, making Harry move crazily across the air. "What're you going to do—singe their hats with a curse? Make them wobble a bit?"
Peeves had now taken to poking Harry's bellybutton. He got a magic marker from one of the empty classrooms and started drawing figures on Harry's bare stomach. Malfoy kept taunting him, the crowd kept laughing, Peeves kept drawing...but Harry didn't hear any of it.
Ron had just walked into the corridor.
Harry at once felt a feeling of relief—Ron would fix everything, he'd see that arguing with Harry wasn't as bad as this and get Harry down—it would be all right—
But Ron was doing no such thing. A minute passed, and Ron was just looking at the scene with a set face—not laughing with everyone else—but not trying to break it up either. He just stared.
Stared...and did nothing.
Malfoy continued. "So this is the physique of the one who's supposed to save us all from the evil villain? The wizarding world is going to be 'reclaimed' on the back of this scrawny oaf?"
He laughed. Half of the crowd did, too.
"I heard you were shagging Granger in the broom closet. I wonder what she thinks of—?"
"ENOUGH!"
Remus Lupin strode into the hall, gray cloak billowing behind him, eyes blazing with fury. Even upside-down, Harry could tell he'd never seen Moony that angry before. The ground beneath him seemed to crackle with every footstep as the Dean of Hogwarts came nearer.
"Draco, let him down now," said Moony.
If Harry expected Malfoy to protest, whine about ruining the fun, or simply sneer at their werewolf of a professor, he was wrong. Guilty and pink in the face, Malfoy made a swift move and Harry was sent crashing to the floor.
Moony looked at the crowd still gathered around. "Leave us. Now."
Alarmed, they moved away, not wanting to make him angrier.
"You too, Freeman. Weasley."
Ron was the last to leave. Harry didn't look at him as he gently removed himself off the floor. Moony turned back to Malfoy and Harry.
"Where did you learn that spell, Draco?" said Moony.
"A book," said Malfoy, scowling.
"I'm sure Professor Snape will be most interested to know which book," Moony continued. He scrutinized the blond Slytherin. "I am most disappointed in you, Draco. After I vouched for you...this is how you repay me? It seems you are in need of my lessons now more than ever. I'm assigning you detentions every week until the end of term. You are dismissed."
Perplexed, Harry looked from Moony to Malfoy. Questions shot around his brain. Why does Moony keep calling him by his first name? Why would he vouch for Malfoy? What lessons is he talking about and why does he sound like a disappointed father?
But most importantly—Why is Malfoy actually listening to him?
And he was—Malfoy couldn't stop scowling at the floor, and Harry saw him give an almost imperceptible nod at Moony's last words before walking away.
"Are you all right, Harry?" said Moony finally, turning to him.
Harry shrugged. "My ego's just sunk lower than the dungeons...but yeah. I'm not hurt or anything."
"That's good...I thought..." said Moony, then shook his head. "If you'd like to walk with me, Harry, I wish to speak with you about something."
Harry fell into step beside the werewolf as he stepped onto the revolving staircase that led straight to the third floor. "Sir, what was that thing with Malfoy about?"
"Draco and I have an understanding."
"But what—"
"That is between him and me, Harry," said Moony, finality in his voice.
They walked past the Serpentine Corridor.
"But I overheard him and Meghan Freeman talking—that's why he hung me up in the air—he was saying how much he hated Lucius Malfoy—he punched a mirror because of it, and told me he didn't mean any of that stuff I heard him talking about—but he must've been lying. He's going to take the Mark before he turns seventeen—he probably already has it! Nott and Crabbe and Goyle are going to get it during Christmas break—"
"Harry—"
"—and he said that Lucius Malfoy is out of prison! Voldemort sprung him out! They were talking about his father, and Malfoy said that Voldemort is giving his family one more chance to prove themselves!"
"Harry!"
"Don't you get it? There's going to be another attack any day now! You need to tell Dumbledore—this is important—!"
"I know!" Moony whispered. They had reached his office. "I know this is important, Harry, which is why the entire school cannot hear about it, do you understand?"
Harry blinked in realization.
Moony cast a Silencing Charm around his door before sitting behind his desk.
Looking around the room, Harry noticed he'd never been in the Dean's office before. It was much like how the older man had kept his old office back in third year—minus the cages of Dark creatures.
"Listen, Harry. There is a lot going on that you don't know about—and don't be asking me, I can't give away Order secrets. But you need to understand that Professor Dumbledore knows a lot more about his students than you give him credit for. He knows about the decision facing the sixth- and seventh-year Slytherins and he's doing everything he can to sway their decisions. That's partly why I'm here—to help him in that," said Moony.
"Malfoy's detentions..." Harry realized. "McGonagall gave him loads of them with just you during that fight we had on the grounds. And then just barely...were those the lessons you were talking about?"
"As I have said before, Harry, I cannot say," said Moony wearily. He rubbed at his eyes and Harry saw just how tired he was. "The reason I wanted you in here to talk with you was because of what you told Sirius and me last year—what you saw in the Pensieve. I realize the spell Draco Malfoy used on you was the same spell your father used on Professor Snape, and I wondered if you wanted to talk about it..."
Harry reddened and he fingered his robes. "Yeah, I noticed the resemblance between me and what Dad did to Snape while I was dangling in the air. It was significantly less hilarious the second time around," he muttered. "What spell was that, anyway? What kind of book is Malfoy reading? Are we ever going to learn that one in Defense?"
"No," said Moony, sighing. "That spell—is not a patented spell. I'm not sure Professor Snape will be too keen on me telling you this, but...he invented that hex, Harry. When he was fifteen. He made up loads of spells, actually, and used them all frequently. Your father and Sirius stole his books one day in our fifth year just for the fun of it—we found that he had written many spells and class tips in the margins of his Potions book. Then they started using them. I imagine it must have been quite humiliating for Severus, knowing that his school enemy was using his own devices against him."
"Wait—he made it up?"
"Severus Snape is a very gifted wizard. Yes, he has many faults and issues that he will never truly get over, but he remains to this day one of the most powerful wizards of my generation. He graduated from our class with marks even higher than James—I believe it was the main reason Voldemort desperately wanted him on their side—"
Harry couldn't believe it.
Snape is the fifth person! The one Jones was talking about—there was her, Edgar Bones, Dad, Mum...and Severus Snape! I should've seen it—she said he was at Hogwarts. But I didn't even realize—Professor Snape!
He noticed something else. "So...if Malfoy knows the spell...then that must mean Snape is secretly teaching him!"
"Not...necessarily, Harry. I know for a fact that he is doing nothing of the sort. It is far more plausible that Draco simply found Severus's old book and is using the spells in it to his advantage, as well as the Potions techniques that Snape has discovered—"
"He is! I remember now—in Potions, Ernie Macmillan must've switched the books, because Malfoy already had a brand-new copy, and he made a fuss at Ernie for giving him the old one—I distinctly remember that part because Snape told him off for it, and he never does that—and Hermione was saying just the other week how good Malfoy's got at Potions—he's beaten her, for crying out loud! That must be the reason—he's got Snape's old book!" Harry finished triumphantly.
"Yes, well I'll be speaking to Professor Snape about it—I'm not sure he would want that book getting around. As I remember, there are a few Dark curses in there..." said Moony. He trailed off, looking at his desk. "But there's something else, Harry..."
Harry's heart plummeted for the second time that day, but it wasn't because of Malfoy this time. He wants to talk about Sirius—I know he's dying to, he gets this look on his face every time Sirius' name comes up—
"I want to speak with you about Ron and Hermione."
Harry blinked. "What?"
"I know there's something going on between you three—the entire school knows—but I believe I know what this is really about."
"You...do?"
"I overheard Ron and Ginny Weasley talking to each other. They thought they were alone—they said something about the prophecy—"
Harry sucked in his breath.
"You're lucky I was the one who overheard them and not someone else. Dumbledore has told me what the prophecy says. You cannot imagine how greatly the news disturbed me..." he shook his head sadly, eyes troubled. "But, Harry, you cannot just deal this information out to whomever you like, do you understand? Ron and Hermione are one thing—I wouldn't dream of making you keep something from them, and I bet you told them first thing when you found out—but they have got to use secrecy whenever discussing it! That prophecy is the one thing we have going for us in this war. Voldemort does not know what the latter half of it implies, he does not know that you are crucial to his survival, and he must never know!"
Harry felt the now-familiar rise of humiliation again. Dumbledore had entrusted him with the greatest secret he had—and now half the school was in danger of finding it out.
"I am not saying this to shame you, Harry. I am saying this because there is something very dangerous going on at Hogwarts. Especially with this new information that Voldemort is after Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore has given me leave enough to tell you this, and I'm now afraid that I must..."
He got up abruptly and paced around the room. He seemed to be having an internal battle on whether to tell Harry or not.
Intrigued, Harry leaned forward, watching his professor's every move.
"Now, you must understand, Harry, this information cannot leave this room. What I am about to tell you is something only the most trusted teachers and Order members know about. I know that you're going to tell them no matter what I say, but if you have to tell Ron or Hermione, please make sure that absolutely no one is listening in. They are much more susceptible in giving this information away than you are. Not willingly, of course—I would never dream they'd tell anyone untrustworthy. I know you lot. But they have not yet learned Occlumency and the enemy has...many ways to draw things out of one's memory. It is because you have learned this that Dumbledore has given me permission to pass this knowledge on to you. "
He sat back down, and looked at Harry gravely.
"There is a spy at Hogwarts."
Harry had not expected this; his eyebrows shot up.
"Okaaaay..." he said slowly. "But we already knew that—Snape is the spy."
"No, Harry. You misunderstand," said Moony. "We know for a fact that Voldemort has sent a spy to Hogwarts—he does not trust that Snape is who he says he is, and has sent one of his Death Eaters to check up on him. That is why this information has been given only to those Dumbledore knows for a certainty he can trust. This spy could be any one of us—an Auror guard, a teacher, a student...an Animagus, even. As of yet, we have no sure way to find out."
Harry furrowed his brow, thinking. "You said...Voldemort has sent this spy to Hogwarts?"
"Yes..."
"Sent...as in, he wasn't here before. So...wouldn't all you have to do is look at the people who are new here? That narrows the list considerably—Professor Jones, Viktor Krum, you, all the Aurors patrolling the castle...it could be any one of them. The Ministry sent them, didn't they? Wouldn't that be Voldemort's safest bet?"
Moony smiled kindly. "We have considered that, yes. But just because Voldemort has just 'sent' this spy, it does not mean that he didn't do it with help of the Dark Arts. There are many different ways this could have been done, Harry. Yes, he could have just sent someone new...but that would have been all too obvious. It is more likely that he turned someone here who had been wavering on the side of good—or forcibly turned them and is now using blackmail, or the Imperius Curse, as means to control them.
"It is also possible that he has killed someone here and sent a double in their place—if not by means of the Polyjuice Potion, then through a Glamour or Bedazzlement Charm. It might not even be someone tangible—we cannot rule out invisibility cloaks or charms, which is why former Auror Alastor Moody has been called to services. And then again, an Animagus certainly can't be left out of the equation, which makes our search twice as difficult. It could be anybody's pet, it could be an unsuspecting spider or insect—Wormtail, or Rita Skeeter, even. An inhabitant of the Forbidden Forest, one of Hagrid's monstrous pets, a school owl...
"We are doing everything in our power to narrow the suspects, I can assure you. This is simply far too enormous of a problem to be resolved within a week. That is why it is increasingly difficult to talk safely anywhere—if you had told Ron and Ginny about the prophecy in the common room, say, you may have been overheard by a Gryffindor's pet rat."
"And...if it were one of the students?"
"Well, that certainly can't be ruled out. As I've said, any student, especially one with Death Eater relatives, could have been swayed or Polyjuiced or Imperiused—"
Harry studied Moony's desk. "Or offered a slot in their ranks?"
"It is possible, yes, but—"
"I bet it's Malfoy," he said quietly.
"Sorry?"
He looked up. "Malfoy. No, listen, it all makes sense!" said Harry, getting up and pacing. "When I overheard him talking in the bathroom, he kept saying how much he hated his father. At first, I thought this was odd, but I understand now! Draco hates his father because he messed up last June. Draco feels humiliated because ofthats mistake, and now he's out to prove he's better than his father—and what better way than being made a spy for Voldemort? The Dark Git Lord has already said Lucius will get one more chance—maybe it's through Draco! In fact, on the train ride here, Malfoy came into our compartment and as good as told us that he was a messenger for Voldemort! He's dying to prove himself—"
"Harry, that is enough!" said Moony sharply. "I did not tell you this so that you could accuse anyone. I just need you to be on the lookout. If you notice anything suspicious, come see me or Dumbledore immediately! Don't go off trying to be a hero like last year, do you understand? There is help at Hogwarts—you must use it! I cannot be responsible for you risking your life for anyone—especially Ron and Hermione!—I know you hate to believe it, but your life is more important than anyone else's! What do you think Sirius would say if he knew you were throwing it away, after everything he did to ensure—"
Moony stopped at the look on Harry's face. He took a deep breath and sighed, then said—
"Harry, I know if there is anyone you look up to as a father-figure...Sirius would have been it. I do not wish to replace that at all...but...you have always been as a son to me as well, Harry. From the moment I had to take care of you from that dementor in the train that year. Look, I understand if this isn't reciprocated...but it's there all the same. I simply couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. I lost your mother, your father, Peter, Sirius..." he paused, his voice breaking. For one alarming second, Harry thought Moony was going to cry. "I can't lose you too, Harry. I could never lose you."
Harry did not know what made him do it.
It might have been Moony's speech.
It might have been Malfoy humiliating him like that.
It might have been knowing that Ron had been there, watching.
It could possibly have been the overwhelming loneliness he'd been feeling the past few weeks.
It could have been having to face the ramifications of the prophecy again.
It could have been Ron and Hermione refusing to speak to him.
Very likely it was the overwhelming fear of Voldemort trying to capture Ron and Hermione just to get at Harry.
It was, of course, the result of weeks of stress, of months of keeping it all in, of years of loneliness and destitution.
Whatever the matter, it simply happened.
Before Harry knew it, he was holding Remus Lupin tightly, sobbing into his robes, letting out all of his grief and frustration and loneliness. At once, Moony held him in his arms, uttering calming noises, giving Harry the opportunity to let it all out.
And it was at this moment that Moony became far more like a father than Harry ever realized.
Author's Note:
You reviewed, so I answered! Thanks so much, it really helps a LOT to keep my focus on this and not on the million other things I have to focus on right now. You'd think with the coronavirus and the social distancing and the shelter-in-place and the surgery and the earthquake that I would be able to stay at home and just write all day, but nooooooo. I still have to go to work, because my job is just that important. Yaay me.
Next chapter! "Slithering with Serpents", already written because I'm just that awesome. And might I just give a Shout Out to Iris129 for her awesome reviews in telling me what she likes and doesn't like about each chapter! And also for pointing out a plot hole that I didn't know I had. Because this is my 5th draft in writing this story, I've been adding in more and more drama and action scenes cuz they are awesome, and I thought I plugged up all the holes before posting, but oh wells! So I did edit ch20 to include Harry telling Ron and Hermione that he was for sure going to tell Dumbledore about Voldemort being after them BEFORE Hogsmeade, not after. Because that would have been the SMART thing to do, damn you, Harry. Thanks for being patient with me! This is great practice for writing a real book, although even posting chapter-by-chapter after 5 drafts proves that there are SO many plots and subplots and hints and mysteries and drama that it's proving VERY hard to keep track of them all!
If anyone wants to drop me a hint and say "Pssst! When will we see Grawp?" or "Hey! Whatever happened to that purple beaded bag Hermione got for her birthday?" or whatever else floats your boat (yeah, yeah, I'm working on those...), feel free to!
Cheers!
