The Day Our Paths Crossed (And The Things That Came of It)
Chapter Fifteen – Answering Questions (We Didn't Know To Ask)
Harry nibbled on the end of his quill in deep thought, tapping the feather against his face, considering the list he had made on the margins of his Transfiguration notes.
- Voldemort? How is he in our heads?
- Cleo
- What to do about Slytherin
- Tutors? Family rings?
- How do we get Voldemort out of our heads?
- What did he realize?
He had noticed Hermione making lists of things she needed to do (the Gryffindor Lioness had taken to sitting by him and Ginny, for some reason) and tried it out for himself. He had hoped it would make him feel better – it didn't. Harry felt equally lost as he had before. In fact, laying out all of the mysteries he was trying to solve made him feel worse, because he realized he hadn't the foggiest idea how to go about figuring them out.
When Harry got into this sort of mood, his thoughts trailed down dangerous paths. It was too easy to think forbidden things, like why hadn't anyone in the wizarding world ever cared to check up on him or why couldn't his parents have lived or even what if he didn't want to return to the Dursleys this summer. So he scribbled over the list with ink and tuned everything out, McGonagall's lecture and Ginny's mutterings alike, and stared vacantly out the window.
Absently, he twisted the silver and emerald snake ring around his finger.
"Harry!" Ginny hissed, jabbing her elbow into his ribs.
Harry blinked and looked up. McGonagall stared directly at him, wearing a deeply unimpressed expression. "Mister Potter," she said. "I don't suppose you would like to share with the class what you find more important than the fundamental principles of animal to object transfiguration."
"No, I don't think I would," Harry said, then blushed, cursing himself. You had to go and put your foot in it.
The class laughed. McGonagall's displeasure intensified. "One point from Gryffindor," she said primly, narrowing her eyes at Harry. "If you continue to space out in my class, I suspect your grades may continue to slide – you are a promising student, Mr. Potter, but that is not an excuse not to try in class."
Behind Harry, Amara leaned over to Kira and whispered something, which made both girls giggle. Groaning, Harry slunk deeper into his seat.
"What is up with you today?" Ginny whispered, nudging him.
"Nothing," Harry muttered.
"Not nothing."
"Fine. Something."
"Harry…" Ginny whined as McGonagall went back to droning about mice. "Tell me. You know you can tell me anything."
"In Transfiguration?" Harry asked, to which Ginny gave him a stink-eye. He relented. "I don't understand how you can study when we know that-" Looking around furtively, he lowered his voice. "-Voldemort-" Ginny flinched. "-is out there, in our heads."
"I don't know how you can say his name," Ginny whispered back.
"You do," Harry pointed out.
"I call him Tom. I don't say, say that. Can't you just call him Tom too?"
Harry made a face. "I don't like it," he said. "He wasn't a Tom when he killed my parents, was he? Whatever the diary is, or pretends to be, I won't call him that."
Ginny had an argument on the tip of her tongue, but, swallowing it, dropped the point. "What should we do about it?" she asked, shrugging. "We're first-years. Dumbledore has Tom, hasn't he? He'll get the information and destroy him, and then it won't be a problem."
"If we think Dumbledore's gotten it all under control," Harry said, "then why haven't we told him about the dream yet?"
That shut Ginny up. She made a face like she'd puckered a lemon. "We will."
"Will we?"
"We should."
"Then why haven't we?"
"I dunno, Harry," Ginny said irritably. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking – which you probably are – then you would agree with me that something isn't… right."
They fell silent, and actually listened to the lecture for a moment.
"I don't like it," Harry blurted out. He gripped his wand under his desk, his scar itching, glancing at Ginny nervously out of the corner of his vision, afraid that she might lash out at him for what he was about to say. "I don't like that Dumbledore didn't just destroy him. It's not…"
"Right?" Ginny murmured in a soft, pensive tone.
Harry sagged in physical relief. She gets it. "Yeah. I- I kinda- I mean, something about him seemed off to me. Not just because he's evil. And he's hiding something and I dunno if Dumbledore will learn it."
"But he's Dumbledore," Ginny said, although her faith was less absolute than it would have been a few months earlier. It wavered in her tone, dipping.
"What if we could learn something Dumbledore couldn't, though?" Harry said, beginning to get excited. "You heard what Voldemort-" Ginny flinched again. "-said in our dream. He's letting his guard down because he thinks he's going to die, or whatever happens to magical diaries. Maybe we could figure out what he knows and then we could go and tell Dumbledore."
Ginny widened her eyes. "It would be like an adventure," she breathed. "Gain the evil villain's trust to steal his secrets. That's brilliant, Harry!" Her eyes darkened, and she looked down at her desk, setting her jaw. "It's nothing less than the bastard deserves, anyway."
Harry nodded, shoving down a niggling of doubt. The idea that he would feel pity for the monster was so absurd that the fact that it even crossed his mind was astonishing.
"Maybe we could-"
"Mr. Potter! Miss Weasley! That is quite enough!" Professor McGonagall swept down the aisle to where Harry and Ginny sat, her face thunderous. "Miss Weasley, that will be five points from Gryffindor – please move next to Mr. Creevey. Mr Potter…" McGonagall considered Harry, who stared blankly back at her. "See me after class."
The rest of Transfiguration passed in a haze. Harry tried and failed to transfigure his mouse into a paperweight – given that he hadn't paid the slightest attention in class, he was quite proud of his box with ears and a tail, but from McGonagall's disapproving look he figured he hadn't done so well. Sighing, he dragged his feet on his way to her office, Ginny giving him a worried look as he passed her.
McGonagall sat at her desk, hands folded, and indicated with a stern look for Harry to sit in a plush armchair before her desk. Behind her, a cat rolled around with a ball of yarn in a picture frame. Harry stifled a laugh at the thought of McGonagall playing with yarn. McGonagall glared at him; he winced, face falling, and sat down.
Wordlessly, she slid a piece of parchment across the desk. Harry took it.
In big, emblazoned letters across the top of the page was his grade: Poor.
"I was very disappointed with the quality of this essay, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. "While I am quite reassured that this is your work and not Miss Weasley's, you have left something to be desired in the quality of your work. Is there a reason I should know for why you've dropped from the high standard you set for yourself at the start of this year?"
Gee, I wonder why, Harry thought. The entire school hating me didn't help. He bit down on that, though, and fiddled in his seat. "Sorry."
McGonagall sighed, her face softening in a way that made Harry shift uncomfortably. He never knew how to react when adults got nice. "I understand you have been under an immense amount of stress this year," she said. "But that's no excuse to let your studies suffer. That being said, if you ever require my assistance, my door is always open to Gryffindors."
I can't sleep, Harry wanted to say. Instead, he nodded and looked to the door. "Can I go now?"
"If you are not paying attention in my class again, you will have a detention. And I expect at least an Acceptable on this upcoming essay, even if you must rely on Miss. Weasley to manage it. Understood?" Harry nodded. McGonagall leveled him a long look that saw right through him. "You may go."
"Thank you, Professor."
Harry rushed out of the classroom into the hall, where he nearly collided with Malfoy. Malfoy spun around to catch his balance, sneering at Harry, who gulped and backed away. "Watch it, Potter," he snapped.
"Erm…" Paling, he panicked. "Hullo, Malfoy."
Malfoy blinked.
Wanting to kick himself, Harry had to restrain himself from smacking the butt of his palm against his forehead. The hostile evaluation in Malfoy's eyes made him uncomfortable. He backed away, hoisting his rupsack, and shied back. "I'm, uh, gonna go now. I mean I'm sorry! I mean-"
"That insufferable Lucius Malfoy…"
Cutting off, Harry narrowed his eyes at Malfoy.
He has all of Slytherin under his thumb, and his father was the one who gave Ginny the diary. If he's working for Voldemort, then maybe he's in on Tom's plan. Or maybe he's the Heir of Slytherin! And if he's worried I'll ruin his place in Slytherin, then maybe it's not to late for me to stop his plans! I bet he knows what nonsense Cleo and Harper were on about…
"If you don't stop staring at me, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "I am going to hex your eyes out. Understand?"
Harry blinked and glared at Malfoy. "Like you could hex me."
A snort was the only warning he got.
"Flippendo!"
"Expelliarmus!"
The spells collided and went flying. The knockback jinx hit a passing upper-classman Ravenclaw and sent him flying into the wall, and the Expelliarmus collided with a suit of armor and knocked its head off. Harry dove out of the way of a purple jinx he didn't recognize and cast another Expelliarmus – Malfoy's wand flew to his hand.
Growling, a humiliated Malfoy rolled back his sleeves and stalked toward Harry.
"Mr. Malfoy!"
Professor McGonagall swept into the hallway, putting a swift end to the fight. She turned to Harry and gave him a long look.
"I believe," she said, "you may consider this a detention, Mr. Potter."
Harry groaned.
"I can't believe you got into a fight with Malfoy, Harry!" Ginny cried the moment Harry relayed her the story, which was exactly the reaction Harry hadn't wanted from his best friend. How could she feel anything but righteous indignation? Malfoy was in league with Voldemort! So, Harry went searching for a commiserating ear.
Lucile only wanted to gossip, and Ella Mae only wanted to read. In the halls after Harry wandered out of Gryffindor Tower, he passed Cleo, who gave him a long long but turned away sadly. As he walked away, Harry was torn with indecision over whether to confide in his former friend or not, but he couldn't work up the courage to turn back around. The corridors were empty after that. He wandered out the Great Hall to the grounds, and happened on a sympathetic ear:
"I always knew Draco was a part of the Rotfang Conspiracy," Luna nodded along. She and Harry sat cross-legged across from each other by the lake, taking turns throwing pebbles onto a little cairn Luna had constructed. "They indoctrinate people young, you know. But Expelliarmus is useless against them, of course, since they can use their dark auras to immobilize you."
"I'm pretty sure Malfoy would have just beat me up," Harry muttered.
Luna gave an airy shrug.
She was looking particularly eclectic today, Harry thought. She wore no shoes, inexplicably, even in the February cold, and her hair was pulled up into six off-kilter pigtails that fell in haphazard intervals. Her wand was bound to her bare wrist by a length of twine, and she wore butter packets for earrings.
"You shouldn't let Draco get to you, Harold," Luna said, giving him an intent, unblinking look. "His Wrackspurts might infect you, you know, and they're quite a bother to clear out. Besides, it's bad to attack people. The Rotfang Conspiracy loves to make everyone think they're in support of the Ministry when really they're infecting the minds and gums of the Minister and his army of trolls."
Harry had no idea what she was talking about. "Malfoy attacked me," he muttered.
"But you fought back," Luna responded. "Unless Draco did your homework? He does have lovely handwriting."
Placing a pebble on the edge of the cairn, Harry pressed his hands into his ankles. "What am I supposed to do, Luna?" he asked, holding back a sigh. "Now McGonagall's mad at me and I don't know how I can work when I've got all this to deal with. What's the point of classes if the Heir of Slytherin is getting away under everyone's noses?"
"What about Easter?"
Harry scowled. "What about Easter?"
"Are you going home?" Luna asked.
"No," he muttered. "I don't think my relatives would let me come back. They hate me."
Luna met his eyes. Her irises were a deep, icy blue, full and misty. "I'm sorry to hear that, Harrison," she informed him. For a brief moment, her expression was clear and deadly serious – and sad. "My mother died when I was nine."
"Oh."
"It's alright," Luna said dreamily. "My daddy still loves me. He sent me a box of dirigible plums the other day, and my roommates must have loved them because they were gone when I woke up this morning. I hope they remember to save the seeds – I was so hoping to start an orchard this spring."
Harry didn't respond, and retreated back to his own thoughts. Luna's moods were like whiplash, sometimes, and he didn't know how to respond to her; Ginny did, but Ginny wasn't here. There was a sadness hidden beneath her weirdness. He had to bite down his instinctive retort – that she was lucky to have any family at all – but he didn't say that. He looked away, to the lake, and took a smooth stone in his hand.
It skipped across the lake's surface. Once, then thrice.
[A/N] Ginny might be over her crush, but she sure isn't over those Harry Potter adventure books.
College is exhausting. This fic is more or less my lowest stakes project, and a nice escape from doing work for a night. It's cute and easy and I can write a chapter in a day to share with you lovely people. So thanks for that.
Thanks to Ghost-and-Miracle42, PunksterNL, oh-wellau, Illythir, scrappy8, Dutchie, Lukkai, Artikka, and JustWaiting for reviewing. Also, 200 follows :) nice.
A very tired but pleased cheers, Allie