Chapter 7: Talk of the Town
I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from writing this whatsoever. The Harry Potter franchise is the property of Warner Brother's and J.K Rowling.
"I remember those days. Ah, was I ever popular with the ladies... Granted, I never cared much for them in return, but alas, such is life."
- Albus Dumbledore to a very confused and embarrassed Johnny Blaze in his office, Hogwarts, sometime in early September 1996.
┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
There was a loud screeching of hundreds of seats at once as the students left to go to their dorms. He lost her in the sea of people. Johnny turned to Dumbledore instead of continuing the futile search. "Where am I sleeping?" He asked.
"Dobby will show you to your room," Dumbledore said, before snapping his fingers.
A loud crack indicated the arrival of an elf. A few teachers looked at the exchange but soon enough cleared off back to their own quarters.
The elf was small, and a little timid, but he gave a deep bow to both Johnny and Dumbledore. He was wearing a nice knitted sweatshirt and mismatched socks
"Headmaster called for Dobby?" The elf squeaked.
"Yes," Dumbledore said, smiling, "Dobby, would you show Mr. Blaze to his living quarters please?"
Dobby looked a little bit like he was about to cry for a moment before he bowed to Dumbledore again. He turned back to Johnny now.
"Come, sir," the elf said, walking off down the hall. Johnny glanced at Dumbledore.
"We'll talk soon," the old man said.
Johnny nodded and followed Dobby.
The elf lead him down multiple corridors, and Johnny openly marvelled at the number of paintings that had people just moving about in them. A good amount were sleeping, a few were regarding him curiously, but most went about their business.
A ghost of a beautiful woman glided past them, not sparing either Johnny or Dobby any attention.
"We're here now," the elf said finally, stopping at a random door that was in between two classrooms.
He raised an eyebrow. Was this really it? Perhaps he was a little spoilt from living in a nice house in Harlem and Upstate New York, but this didn't seem like much.
Johnny grabbed and twisted the doorknob. Once inside, he realized how dumb he was. Magic, of course, could be very deceiving. The room he was staying in was like a loft, in terms of size. One huge open room for the most part save for what he assumed were the bathroom and bedroom.
He turned back to Dobby.
"Thanks." He said, but to his alarm, at the words, Dobby began to tear up.
Before Johnny could get out an apology, the elf spoke.
"Sir is too kind" He squeaked shakily. "Too kind to Dobby!"
And with a crack, the elf was gone.
He closed the door behind him and turned the lock. It hit him suddenly just how tired he felt. The train ride and the feast took up almost eleven hours.
Johnny walked to the bedroom and opened the door. His stuff was already inside, neatly packed away into the chest and on top of his nightstand. The bed was a king, and it looked comfy. Johnny slipped off his jacket and put it on the nearby chair, swapped his jeans out for his fleece pants, and promptly fell onto the bed, instantly falling asleep.
He dreamt something other than the normal reliving of the worst day of his life.
Johnny was in a cell of some kind. The ground felt like gravel, but it was dark red in color. His wrists and ankles were shackled. The air was smoky, though he could breathe fine. Johnny shuffled himself over to the cell door trying to peer through it.
It was hard to see, the only source of light came from the left, where he could just barely see the start of a staircase made out of the same weird dark red gravel as the floor.
He snapped his head straight forward, something ahead in the darkness shifted. There was another cell.
A glowing pair of pinhole eyes stared back at him.
Johnny jolted awake in his bed. At some point, he had shifted onto his back and his shirt was halfway up his chest.
"Fuck," he muttered softly. A bell rang, and he properly got out of bed, realizing that it probably wouldn't look good on him to be late to breakfast.
God, Johnny hated this already.
He dressed into something different but kept the jacket and made his way to the Great Hall. He got turned around once or twice, but eventually, he made it there and it looked like not everyone was down yet either.
Hermione, Harry and Ron already were though, and he smiled at them as he walked by.
"Good morning," Hermione greeted him as Johnny stopped at their table.
"Morning," he responded, nodding at Harry and Ron as well. The latter of which mumbled a response through a mouthful of pancakes.
Johnny stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do or say next. He couldn't help notice some of the students staring at him.
"You guys got classes after this, I assume?" He asked.
Hermione shook her head. "We don't know yet, after breakfast we have to see our head of house and get our schedules."
"Ah," he said, "well, I'll see you guys around I guess." Johnny walked away towards the main table with the staff, feeling a little bit like an idiot. He talked to them fine at the Burrow and at Grimmauld. Maybe it was just too early for his brain to hold a good conversation.
He froze halfway towards the table, Johnny caught a pair of grey eyes staring a hole into him from what he thought was the Slytherin table.
The Malfoy boy was looking at him, his usual haughty expression was vacant.
Johnny was hit by a strong sense of familiarity, it was like a weird buzzing feeling in his chest.
"Johnny!" A voice called out, and he turned to see Dumbledore waving him over to the staff table.
A couple of the teachers regarded him oddly for his staring contest with another student, but he ignored them and took his seat next to Snape.
"Your nose is bleeding," the bat-like professor pointed out idly.
He put his hand to his nose, and sure enough, it came back bloody.
"Fuck," he muttered.
Snape raised an eyebrow, taking out his wand and waving it at Johnny. His nostrils felt very cold for a second before they went back to normal. He swiped at his nose again and the blood was gone, even on his hand.
"Thanks," he said.
"I trust you know not to swear like that in front of the other students," Snape drawled in response.
Johnny shrugged. "No promises." He grabbed some eggs and bacon and filled his cup with orange juice.
"Good morning, Johnny." Dumbledore greeted him. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah," he responded after eating a strip of bacon. "Your beds are really comfy." Johnny did not bring up his strange dream.
Dumbledore chuckled. "But of course, they're charmed."
Johnny nodded. "Right." He ate for a bit longer before asking the question that had been on his mind since he'd arrived.
"What am I supposed to do all day?" Johnny asked.
"Oh, patrol, mostly. I'd recommend coordinating with our newly appointed head boy and girl in the coming days as they set up their own prefect patrols. They'll tell you about what you'd be looking for. Kids out of bed after hours for the most part."
Johnny scowled a little. "That's it?"
Dumbledore regarded him with a hint of amusement. "The safety of my students is of the utmost importance, and that includes any late-night rendezvous in the many empty classrooms and broom closets in this large castle."
With the twitch of Dumbledore's hand, a note appeared in front of Johnny.
You know what you are here for. It read. Come to my office this Saturday and we can discuss how we will move forward. Look for a gargoyle on the seventh floor. The password is Acid Pops. That satisfied him for now. He knew his position here was mostly a front, but even then, Johnny expected to do more than just catch couples sneaking out at night. To know that they'd start looking for another Horcrux soon was reassuring.
The first day of classes for his sixth year was vastly different from the others. After he and Ron had been cleared for the same classes and received their schedules, they realized that they had several free periods. Hermione had reminded them that those periods were for studying and completing the assigned homework, as the course load this year was supposed to be much harder than any of the previous years by a large margin.
This was proven in his very first class. Defence against the Dark Arts. As he and Ron lazily made their way to class after a free period straight after breakfast, which Harry was immensely grateful for, though it was mostly spent doing nothing of importance, it served as a good time to relax after a meal.
When he and Ron made it to the classroom, Hermione was already waiting outside carrying an armful of heavy-looking books and a worried expression on her face.
"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"
"Shame," Ron yawned.
"Just you wait," Hermione said resentfully, "I bet Snape gives us loads."
The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.
"Inside," he said.
Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.
He had no idea what to expect from Snape this year, having not spoken to the man since trying to get him to warn the Order as he was being held captive in Dolores Umbridge's office. Their relationship now was weird, and it unsettled Harry, to say the least. Snape was not nice to him near the end of the year, per se, but their Occlumency lessons were not filled with tension, nor did Snape try to antagonize him too cruelly or often. In fact, Snape was actually a good teacher when he wanted to be, and Harry felt that he had made great strides in his Occlumency ability. He even found himself wanting to continue practicing.
In the rest of the Potions classes last year, Snape had treated him the same in front of other students, though he did not go out of his way to attack Harry, which was something.
It's been months though, would Snape have changed his mind? Reaffirmed his hatred for Harry?
"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's. "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."
Harry knew inwardly that Snape must have been at the very least a little pleased to see each one of them go, too.
"Each of them had their own ways of teaching, I am sure, however, you would do well to forget everything you think you know about the Dark Arts. Particularly when it comes to duelling." Snape paused for a moment. "It is," he sighed as if vaguely annoyed, "Professor Dumbledore's belief that unity between us all is our greatest weapon, now more than ever. So, for a good amount of this school year, you will be either paired up or in larger groups. "Perhaps in the Spring, we may be able to go onto the grounds and engage in group battles for marks, but that is a discussion for another time."
Some hushed but excited chatter greeted that announcement. Snape, surprisingly, allowed it to go on for a few moments before going on to describe how different the N.E.W.T. work would be compared to the O.W.L.'s. Snape walked around the room, indicating a couple of the paintings that displayed gruesome fates. Someone being hit with the Cruciatus curse, getting kissed by a Dementor, and a bloody splat on the ground that Snape described as 'provoking the aggression of an Inferius'.
"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked, her voice a little high-pitched and fearful. "Is it definite, is he using them?"
"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..." he swept back over to his desk at the front of the classroom, " you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"
Predictably, Hermione's hand shot up straight away. Even more predictable was Snape ignoring her in a fruitless attempt to find someone else that knew the answer.
Once he looked around the classroom and realized nobody else was going to volunteer, he sighed.
"Potter," he said curtly, surprising Harry.
"Yes, sir?" Harry asked.
Snape looked at him as if he were stupid.
"Can you answer the question?" Snape said.
Harry glanced at Hermione. "But, sir, Hermione has her hand up..."
"Yes, well, I'm asking you, aren't I?" Snape said slowly, almost talking to Harry like one would to a child. He heard a few of the Slytherin's snicker.
Harry frowned, thinking about it for a few moments.
"I guess..." he started.
"Don't guess, Potter," Snape said, "be sure of it. In a duel, a lack of self-assurance could mean your demise."
All eyes were on him, annoyingly, even the Slytherin's refrained from any stinging comments or laughing further now.
That's when he caught Tracey's eye where she sat in between Blaise and Theodore Nott. She offered him a tentative but reassuring smile.
"Your opponent wouldn't know what spell you're casting," he said, "so they'd have to figure out how to deal with it as it comes at them. If a certain spell was strong enough to break a shield charm but looked like a stunner or something, it could be fatal to assume."
Snape's lip curled, but not in a sneer, it was more of a smirk.
The room was silent as the class waited for what Snape would say next.
"Five points to Gryffindor," he said finally, so quietly that Harry almost didn't catch it. He was stunned. Harry could not recall any time that Snape had given Gryffindor house even a single point, let alone Harry himself.
One quick look around the rest of the class showed that they could also not believe it.
Severus Snape and Harry Potter famously hated each other. But they hadn't been around for the Occlumency lessons, had not seen Snape suddenly relent in his malice toward Harry until now. Even Harry himself did not fully know why Snape had a change of heart.
"Yes," Snape continued as if he hadn't just completely shattered whatever perception everyone in the room had of him within the first five or so minutes of class, "those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spellcasting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power. You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
An hour later, Harry left the class a little frustrated at his lack of being able to perform a spell nonverbally, but also considerably lighter than he ever thought possible after a class with Snape.
Hermione and Ron were on either side of him, both still in awe.
"I can't believe Snape gave you points," Ron said, "I don't think he's given points to any house that isn't Slytherin."
"He didn't taunt you at all either," Hermione added as they walked back to the common room for their break. "I know you said that he suddenly became a better teacher during your Occlumency lessons together, but still..."
Ron shook his head. "I still don't know what Dumbledore's playing at, letting Snape teach Defence, did you hear the way he was talking about the Dark Arts? Mental..."
"I think he sounded a little bit like Harry," Hermione said idly.
"Like me?" Harry asked incredulously.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond. "Yes-"
"Harry! Hey, Harry!"
Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.
"For you," Sloper said. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"
"I'm not sure yet," Harry said, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."
"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend -"
But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Ron and Hermione, unrolling the parchment as he went.
Dear Harry,
I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday.
Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are
enjoying your first day back at school. Yours sincerely,
- Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.
"He enjoys Acid Pops?" Ron asked in confusion as he read the note over Harry's shoulder.
"The password to get past the Gargoyle," Harry explained in a low voice.
He, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room, where they grudgingly started Snape's homework. This turned out to be so complex that they still had not finished when Hermione joined them for their after-lunch free period - though she considerably sped up the process - they had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions.
On their way to the classroom that used to be occupied by Snape, Harry saw Johnny walking down the hallway towards them. A few students openly stared at him, some even whispered to each other. Harry was a little happy to have some of the spotlight off of him for once. He felt bad for Johnny though. He was a little mysterious to Harry when he first showed up at Grimmauld, so he could only imagine what the other students were saying in private about him.
Johnny smiled at them. "Going to class?" He asked.
They all nodded.
"Potions," Hermione said, still holding on to those thick books from earlier, her book bag was also bulging.
"I'll walk you," Johnny replied easily, "here, let me get those."
He took the book bag from her, Hermione protested weakly, but still handed it over along with the books in her hands, her face was flushed.
Harry snickered a little bit as they continued on their way, just quiet enough that nobody noticed.
One glance at Ron showed that he was not as amused.
They made it to class soon enough, and the four of them waited outside the classroom with the rest of the students for Slughorn to arrive. It was a significantly smaller class than Defence, it seemed. One Hufflepuff, Ernie McMillan, Four Ravenclaws, Padma Patil, Su Li, Terry Boot, and Ginny's ex-boyfriend, Michael Corner. The only Gryffindors in the class were Harry himself, Hermione and Ron. There were four Slytherins as well, but one stood far away from the others. Malfoy, Nott and Greengrass had all gotten the required grade to continue on, as did Tracey, who was very determinedly not looking at her best friend.
Harry wanted to talk to her, make her feel a bit better, but before he could, Slughorn had arrived and was already unlocking the door to the classroom.
"Come in, come in," he said jovially.
There were about six round tables spread across the room. The four Ravenclaws immediately took a table together, as well as three of the Slytherins.
Tracey and Ernie were the odd ones out as the trio chose a table as well. Harry caught Tracey's eyes and beckoned her over. She shook her head sadly at him though and joined her housemates.
Johnny, who Harry forgot was still there, handed off Hermione's stuff to her before turning to leave.
"Ah, Mr. Blaze, I believe, yes?" Slughorn's voice called.
Johnny turned back around to face the professor, a smile Harry knew was fake plastered on his face.
"Yes," Johnny answered, stepping forward to shake Slughorn's hand.
"A pleasure to meet you m'boy," the professor said, "a friend of Dumbledore's, are you?"
Johnny nodded. "I owe him a favour," he said, "so here I am."
Slughorn chuckled as he let go of Johnny's hand. "Oh, one way or another, we all owe him something, don't we?"
Johnny laughed. "Of course."
"I look forward to seeing you at the first staff meeting," Slughorn said, and then he leaned over conspiratorially. "I'll be sure to send any trouble makers your way."
They laughed together again, with Johnny bidding him goodbye. As Slughorn walked over to his desk, Harry saw Johnny look at Hermione with a severely annoyed expression. He raised a finger gun to his head and mimed pulling the trigger.
As he left, Harry thought that Johnny should not underestimate someone like Slughorn, who no doubt took great interest in a young American man being such good friends with Dumbledore that he'd be assigned to help protect the school. Slughorn was a shark, and to him, much like Harry himself, Johnny probably looked like quite a tasty fish.
When they left the class almost an hour and a half later, it was with a bottle of Felix Felicis clutched in his hand, a disappointed Hermione on his right and indifferent Ron on his left.
"How'd you do that?" Ron asked curiously as they walked.
"Got lucky, I suppose," Harry said evasively, but only because he noticed Malfoy was within earshot.
Once they were back at the Gryffindor common room, he explained everything to them about using the potions book in class. How the instructions were scribbled over and changed. Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.
"I s'pose you think I cheated?" He finished, aggravated by her expression.
"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" She said stiffly.
"He only followed different instructions to ours," Ron said.
"Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but..." he shrugged.
"It could be dangerous," Hermione pushed.
Harry scowled. "Oh, c'mon Hermione. You can't seriously think that."
"What?" She asked defensively. "Voldemort's diary was plenty dangerous to Ginny back in our second year, how can you be so sure that this isn't too?"
She had a good point, he hated to admit. But Harry did not feel as if this potions textbook was quite the same as an enchanted diary.
"I guess I can't, but it doesn't feel or look the same in the slighte- hey!"
Hermione had leant over and snatched the book from the table in front of them, rapping it hard on the cover and saying "Specialis Revelio!".
Nothing happened. The textbook looked as old and beaten up as ever.
"Finished?" Harry said irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"
"I guess it is just an ordinary textbook." She said quietly, sounding a little disappointed.
"Good. Then I'll have it back," Harry said, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor.
Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book, and as he did so, he saw something scribbled along the bottom of the back cover in the same small, cramped handwriting as the instructions that had won him his bottle of Felix Felicis, now safely hidden inside a pair of socks in his trunk upstairs.
This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.
The rest of the week passed by slowly for Johnny. Maybe it was the coming meeting with Dumbledore that made him want it to be Saturday already, or maybe it was because his patrols consisted of strolling around the castle at night, finding absolutely nothing of note. Not even some couple making out after hours. At least then he could act intimidating or something.
No, he'd probably let them off the hook.
Johnny woke up, the usual dreams and nightmares returning. He went to breakfast, ate with minimal conversation. Walked around for a bit, and then tried to find Hermione so he could walk her to class.
Annoyingly though, the students, and he was embarrassed to admit it, the girls mostly, pretty much openly stared at him wherever he went.
Had they never seen an American before? Or was it the way he was dressed? Either way, Johnny was scarily close to yelling at someone.
He got his chance when he came across a boy he vaguely recognized talking to the trio before being talked down to by a group of older-looking Slytherin's on the second floor.
"Piss of, Warren." The boy said. The Slytherin's laughed.
"It's a new year, Longbottom," one of them said, he was tall and broad-chested.
"You should learn to be nicer to us," another tacked on, he was average height with sandy blonde hair. "You're a pure-blood. Things could still work out for you."
Longbottom stood up straighter, his right hand held at his side and clutching his wand. "I don't think that V-Voldemort would want a couple of morons like you working for him."
All four older boys stepped forward menacingly. The broad-chested one was practically growling. "What did you say, you little-"
"There a problem here?" Johnny said loudly, walking forward.
The four boys froze, clearly not expecting a teacher to be around, as classes were still going on. They must have all had a free period right now or something. He wasn't a teacher though, so they were more wary than actually afraid.
They all stepped back, hands in their robes that Johnny knew must be holding wands.
"No, there's no problem, sir." One of them said.
"Longbottom here just wanted to know where Professor Flitwick held his sixth-year Charms class." The sandy-haired one added.
"Is that true?" Johnny asked, turning to Longbottom, trying to ignore how weird being called sir made him feel.
Longbottom nodded.
"Alright well, get going then. You've helped him, haven't you?" He said. The four boys looked confused for a second before leaving, and that was all he needed to know that they were lying. "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that you didn't actually ask them for help," Johnny said once they were out of earshot.
Longbottom shook his head. "They peered over my shoulder to look at my schedule. I was actually just on my way to the library actually."
Johnny frowned. "You should have said something. I can take points away and bring them to a teacher for detention you know." But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn't help anything for the teen. Johnny's known people like that his entire life. Telling on them would only make things worse.
"There's no point," Longbottom said in a resigned voice. "Thanks anyway, sir."
Johnny sighed. "Let me walk you to the library, at least. And no more of that sir shit, just call me Johnny."
That, at least, seemed to make him smile.
Harry walked through deserted corridors towards Dumbledore's office, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.
"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner -"
She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.
"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.
"Acid Pops," Harry said, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's office. He knocked.
"Come in," Dumbledore's voice called.
As he entered, Harry was about to politely greet the Headmaster, when he noticed someone else in the room.
Johnny Blaze was leaning against the right wall of Dumbledore's office, right next to the Pensieve.
"So that's who we were waiting for," Johnny said, he didn't look that surprised, just vaguely annoyed. "Y'know, you could have just told me Harry was coming from the start. If I'd known it was him I wouldn't have been so pissy about it."
Dumbledore waved him off. "Let an old man have his theatrics and fun, will you?"
Johnny scoffed and shook his head. "Whatever. It fits that he'd need to be here for this, I guess."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore. Harry knew that he himself certainly didn't say anything about the Prophecy to Johnny. Not without Dumbledore's say so.
"You're a bad liar, Harry," Johnny said in explanation. "And you," he said accusingly, turning to Dumbledore, "are far too good of one. Something about Harry being the chosen one, hm?"
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "I never once lied to you, my boy."
"A lie of omission is still a lie." Johnny countered.
Harry was stunned into silence. He had never seen anyone keep up with Dumbledore like this.
Dumbledore sighed, looking at both Harry and Johnny.
"Forgive me," he said, surprising Harry. "I had hoped to spare Harry a little while longer, but what happened at the Ministry at the end of last term has showed me how foolish I was to believe I could." He looked at Harry now. "I must apologize, Harry. I know once I tell you this, you will no doubt - and quite rightfully - be upset at my negligence to tell you this after I filled you in on the prophecy."
Harry's heart was beating quite fast. It was annoying really. What did Dumbledore have to say? What else was he hiding from him? Johnny seemed to know.
Dumbledore then went on to explain to Harry what a Horcrux was. His initial reaction was shock, but it quickly went away. Was it really that surprising that a dark lord knew incredibly ancient and dark magic? No. Also not surprising was that he had to have killed around six people. Harry knew that Voldemort had killed far more.
"But sir," he said, thinking of something, "how can you be sure it was only six Horcrux's he's made?"
Dumbledore smiled at him. "A good question. The soul can only be torn apart so much, you see, so eventually, he'd have to stop anyway, but I believe he was aiming for seven, including the soul still residing inside him. It is a magically important number. We go to school for seven years, we develop our first bits of proper magic at the age of seven. Whether it actually means anything is anyone's guess, but it would be just like Voldemort to use the number that resembled magical perfection. Seven is a powerful magical number too."
"And you've destroyed a few?" Harry asked.
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore answered, "one with the help of you yourself, Harry, as well as Johnathan."
Johnny cringed visibly.
"I've helped you?" Harry asked incredulously. "How?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "When you destroyed Tom Riddle's diary in your second year."
"Of course," Harry said, scarcely believing it.
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, "a diary that could control minds, bring the owner back to life? Yes, I had a feeling then that it was something special indeed, but I would not be sure years later."
"What else?" Harry asked.
"A ring," Dumbledore said, sliding a drawer on his desk open and taking out a rather ornate-looking ring and placing it on the desk. "As well as Voldemort's snake, Nagini."
"He made the snake into a Horcrux?" Harry asked. This was almost too much to take in...
"He was unusually close to it, even for a pet. And the way it often acted, almost as if it shared a mind with Voldemort, lead me to believe it was indeed a Horcrux. The night you came into my office with your vision of Johnathan being attacked by Nagini only proved my suspicion."
"That smoke device," Harry said, remembering Dumbledore using it.
"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding.
"So you've destroyed three?" Harry asked. He was about to say how good that was, but then he realized. "But that means there's still three more..." And how were they to know what they were? Not to mention how to get to them.
"Do not forget Voldemort himself," Dumbledore said.
Harry slumped down into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Feeling quite hopeless.
"I can sorta see why you kept this from me," Harry said.
"I did not think you needed this weighing on you," Dumbledore said. "But that is still no excuse. You deserved to know the truth."
Harry nodded glumly. He supposed Dumbledore was right. That didn't make it easier though.
There was a pause before Johnny spoke.
"Now that we've gotten that out of the way." He began. "Tell me about this prophecy."
Harry heard a few paintings of the former Headmaster's of Hogwarts grumble, and one muttered "impudence."
But Dumbledore did tell Johnny. By the end of it, Johnny was looking at Harry like he'd never seen him before.
"It's him or Voldemort in the end? One of them has to die?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely.
Silence. It was only for a few seconds but it felt longer.
"The Order should know," Johnny said.
"It doesn't affect them," Dumbledore answered.
Johnny opened his mouth and then closed it again.
"They knew what they were protecting, those who guarded it last year." Dumbledore continued. "Moody, Sturgis, Hestia, Tonks, Arthur, Remus, Kingsley. They all knew it involved Voldemort in some capacity. Sirius, Molly and Snape too."
"But not Harry," Johnny said.
"But not Harry," Dumbledore confirmed.
Johnny did not speak after this, though he looked like he wanted to. His expression was conflicted. Anger and anguish battling for dominance on his face.
"I think it is time to begin," Dumbledore said after a while. "I have a memory from one Bob Ogden. He was once an Auror a long time ago. His family also makes quite a nice bourbon. He died three years ago, but not before I was able to track him down and persuade him to give his recollection of this particular event to me."
He uncorked a vial with a silver wispy strand of what Harry knew to be a memory. Dumbledore guided it out of the vial with his wand and brought it over to the Pensieve.
"Let us take a trip down memory lane with Mr. Ogden," Dumbledore said.
Just over a half-hour later, he and Johnny were leaving Dumbledore's office together. Johnny had offered to walk him back to his dorm so he didn't get in trouble. Harry had the Marauder's Map out to avoid Prefects.
"I guess with relatives like those, it's no wonder he grew up to be crazy," Johnny said.
"He never actually grew up with them," Harry pointed out, though he agreed with Johnny.
"Still..." Johnny said.
"It's hard to fully take in that he actually had parents," Harry admitted. "I've always seen him as a monster, something that wasn't human."
"I get what you mean," Johnny said, nodding. "But if anything that only proves that he's not some immortal being. That he can be killed."
Harry shrugged as they paused to let Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, walk down another corridor out of their way. "I guess. It feels impossible though. It won't be easy."
"These things never are," Johnny said as they continued on their way.
Eventually, they reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower, the Fat Lady eyed them suspiciously.
"Out after hours, are we?" She asked in an accusatory tone.
"He had a meeting with Dumbledore," Johnny said, "I was asked to walk him back here."
The Fat Lady regarded Johnny for a moment, clearly trying to gauge how much she could trust his word.
"Alright then," she said after a moment.
Before Harry could bid Johnny good night, he was pulled into a loose but meaningful hug.
He'd only ever seen Johnny hug Hermione before, and even then she was the one who always initiated it.
"It's unfair." He said quietly. "You're just a kid."
"I'm sixteen," Harry protested weakly, "and you're not that much older than me. You must have been so young when - when it happened to you."
Johnny pulled away. "I was fifteen."
"See? That's way worse." Harry told him. Uncomfortable with Johnny worrying over him. He always seemed so strong to Harry. To see him with a look of anguish on his face was jarring. Even when he asked Harry to keep the man he saw him talking to while Harry possessed Nagini a secret, he was calm in his request, even if there was some hidden pain behind his eyes. "You were practically a kid too. I don't know how you kept going."
"I haven't felt like one in a long time," Johnny admitted.
"Same," Harry said.
They stared at each other for a few moments.
He found solace in the fact that there was someone else who felt like he did. Someone who finally understood. It was a powerful feeling.
"I should go in," Harry said eventually, his voice coming out weird.
"Yeah," Johnny said, righting himself.
"Goodnight, Johnny," Harry said.
Johnny nodded. "'Night."
He went to bed, feeling very emotional. Everyone was already asleep.
Harry stared at the ceiling of his four-poster until sleep finally claimed him.