A/N: HARRY POV
*
Harry watched Hermione's last class leave. First year Slytherins. They seemed to be different to teach than to be taught with – although some of them did jog unpleasant memories. He had been talking with her in the classroom when the class had come in for their end of year exam.
Some of them, however, were quite bright, and were perfectly courteous. Aaron Bulstrode was an exceptionally good student, and two of his friends were also going along the right lines. He was so bright, it made Harry wonder whether he was in the right house or not – but then he reminded himself that the sorting hat was never wrong. If anyone knew that, he should.
After they left, he and Hermione were left in the room.
'So you can still make tonight?' she asked him, as she began moving desks into place.
'What?' Harry asked, and got up to help her.
'Oh,' she said, confused, 'so you mean Ginny didn't tell you?'
'Didn't tell me what?' Harry was confused.
'We're going out tonight,' Hermione said, pushing the last desk into place and daintily sitting on it.
'Oh, then if you want me to babysit…'
'No Harry!' she exclaimed, and then sighed, exasperated. 'We want you to come [I]with[/I] us.'
'Us?'
'Ron, Ginny and I. Ginny was supposed to tell you – we're going out to the Carving Knife … Fink's got some coc[I][/I]ktail or the other he wants launching. So are you booked up for tonight?'
'No,' he said, without hesitation. 'As long as I don't have to drink too much of this concoction of Fink's.'
They both laughed, for they had both been testers of Fink's coc[I][/I]ktails before. They didn't dislike them, they just had to be careful of the amount you drunk, otherwise "The Stomach Churner" and "The Room Spinner" would lives up to their names!
'Exactly,' she said, 'what's the point in having three drinks when you can just have one Head Banger?' There was a cry from the corner. 'Oh [I]honestly[/I] Daisy!' Hermione said, and picked the scowling child up. 'Sometimes I wonder where you got your noisy genes from.'
'Probably from Viktor "Loudmouth" Krum,' Harry said sarcastically, causing Hermione to give him an evil look.
Suddenly a bird landed on the windowsill, a very white feathery owl, still with the same haughty demeanour as ever before. There was a letter tied around her leg, and Harry could see that it bore the Hogwarts crest – obviously a letter from someone inside the school, then.
'Hedwig!' he said. 'What have you got for me tonight, then?'
He took the letter from her, and opened it. Narrow curly handwriting filled the page that could only be one person's.
'It's from Dumbledore,' he said, glancing down the page just to check.
'Is it about… what we were talking about?' Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry hesitated. There really wasn't much to say at all, as there was only two or three sentences on the whole page.
'I'm not sure,' he said, 'let me read it to you. [I]Dear Harry. I need to have a word with you about Aaron Bulstrode again, but about something else. I have thought of some information, which may involve you. Feel free to drop into my office any time you like, and make sure Hermione comes too. You know the password. Albus Dumbledore.[/I]'
'I wonder what it is,' pondered Hermione, 'and how come it involves you?' She sounded curious.
'He said it concerned me, but nothing else' Harry said, 'and how, I cannot imagine. But it cannot be anything huge,' he reassured her, which made her smile. 'We already know so much!'
'But there is much we don't know…' she said mysteriously.
'You can say that again!' Harry exclaimed. 'I feel the only person I know everything about is myself!'
Hermione let out a short 'ha!' as if to say, "as if."
'What?' Harry asked, genuinely shocked. 'Are you trying to say [I]I[/I] can't trust [I]myself?'[/I]
'Yes!' Hermione said, as though this was obvious. 'You don't know everything about yourself! Or you're hiding things!'
'I am not! I have never!' Harry protested indignantly, which caused a roll of the eyes from Hermione.
'You forget, Harry Potter, that I know you,' she gave a coy smile, as they left the room.
*
As Harry came home that night, a lot of things were running through his mind. They weren't running very clearly, or in very straight lines, due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but running, they were.
Hermione's words had struck him. Harry laughed slightly, for she had probably meant them to. [I]'Yes!' Hermione said, as though this was obvious. 'You don't know everything about yourself! Or you're hiding things!'[/I]
He had vehemently denied this, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt she was right. He had lived almost eighteen years of his life, not knowing who his real descendant was. Who was to say there wasn't more! But he didn't think he was in denial, was he? And if he was, what was he in denial from?
The night had gone averagely, with polite conversation passing between Ginny and himself, and Ron and Hermione all over each other like never before.
'Well I suppose they have got a hell of a lot of catching up to do,' Ginny had said, when Hermione had slipped off for a bathroom break yet again that evening, and Ron had felt so chivalrous as to go and wait for her.
Now he was home, and as he staggered into his room, a memory came to him. It was a memory from not so long ago, and he wasn't quite sure what it meant, but if he just found out…
It was his dream. The dream with the old man, and the second dream (or were they connected?) with Ginny as that horrible harpy. Out of his desk he pulled a translucent device. It looked a bit like an old wax tablet, only made from some unknown material. It was a dream analyser.
Very rare, and very, very precious, it had been a present from Sirius to him on the eve of his eighteenth birthday. He did not use it often, sometimes scared at what it would come out with, but on this occasion he felt he had to find out what his dreams meant.
He told the story to the analyser. How he had walked down the street that had seemed to familiar, yet he could not recognise it. The boy on the balcony, and the old man who told him the prophecy. Then of how he a dream he woke up, and saw Ginny, and she had looked beautiful. Then when Harry had given into desire, she had been nothing but a harpy.
He told everything to the dream analyser, and waited patiently for the result. After about half an hour of waiting, they came. Harry took one look at the analyser, preparing to read something of doom, or fate. All his life people had predicted his death … and it had given him a natural abhorrence for any kind of divination.
Slowly, he started to read what it said.
Words started to appear on the dream analyser, and Harry read them as they appeared. The first few sentences alone shocked him greatly.
My dear, it started, it would seem that a few things have come from the information in your dreams. But the main one I can tell you is that you are in love. Big time. You've really fallen for someone, my boy.
From hair I can tell the sensitivity, and the balcony is a big clue. There was a balcony in [I]Romeo and Juliet,[/I] and the appearance of it in dreams can be very significant. The boy on the balcony can be a sign of young power developing, but whether that is connected with love, even I cannot say…
The house… now that can mean honour and dignity, which could also be a sign that you are repressing this love, am I right? Or even denying it. I could be giving you a big shock by telling you how you feel.
Harry couldn't believe what he was reading, but the more he read, the more his mind cleared.
The angel, or the woman who looked like one. This means big success in love. I don't know why you're repressing this, boy, because from what I can see this might be your one.
[I]You're "one,"[/I] Harry thought, slightly sceptically.
But then again… he read, this dream strikes me a slightly odd. It's very very clear, and you seem to remember details. I would be inclined to think this is some kind of premonition… without meaning to scare. If you have had premonitions before I think it is [I]extremely[/I] likely that you could be foreseeing the future.
Great, thought Harry. Premonitions and predictions. Wasn't he just the regular Professor Trelawney!
But as he went to bed, and drifted off to sleep, premonitions weren't on his mind.
Ginny was.
He liked her. He [I]really[/I] liked her. He hadn't been wrong when he was seventeen, just messed up. But what could he do? There was nothing he could think of. Ginny would never love him again, would she?
*
Harry watched Hermione's last class leave. First year Slytherins. They seemed to be different to teach than to be taught with – although some of them did jog unpleasant memories. He had been talking with her in the classroom when the class had come in for their end of year exam.
Some of them, however, were quite bright, and were perfectly courteous. Aaron Bulstrode was an exceptionally good student, and two of his friends were also going along the right lines. He was so bright, it made Harry wonder whether he was in the right house or not – but then he reminded himself that the sorting hat was never wrong. If anyone knew that, he should.
After they left, he and Hermione were left in the room.
'So you can still make tonight?' she asked him, as she began moving desks into place.
'What?' Harry asked, and got up to help her.
'Oh,' she said, confused, 'so you mean Ginny didn't tell you?'
'Didn't tell me what?' Harry was confused.
'We're going out tonight,' Hermione said, pushing the last desk into place and daintily sitting on it.
'Oh, then if you want me to babysit…'
'No Harry!' she exclaimed, and then sighed, exasperated. 'We want you to come [I]with[/I] us.'
'Us?'
'Ron, Ginny and I. Ginny was supposed to tell you – we're going out to the Carving Knife … Fink's got some coc[I][/I]ktail or the other he wants launching. So are you booked up for tonight?'
'No,' he said, without hesitation. 'As long as I don't have to drink too much of this concoction of Fink's.'
They both laughed, for they had both been testers of Fink's coc[I][/I]ktails before. They didn't dislike them, they just had to be careful of the amount you drunk, otherwise "The Stomach Churner" and "The Room Spinner" would lives up to their names!
'Exactly,' she said, 'what's the point in having three drinks when you can just have one Head Banger?' There was a cry from the corner. 'Oh [I]honestly[/I] Daisy!' Hermione said, and picked the scowling child up. 'Sometimes I wonder where you got your noisy genes from.'
'Probably from Viktor "Loudmouth" Krum,' Harry said sarcastically, causing Hermione to give him an evil look.
Suddenly a bird landed on the windowsill, a very white feathery owl, still with the same haughty demeanour as ever before. There was a letter tied around her leg, and Harry could see that it bore the Hogwarts crest – obviously a letter from someone inside the school, then.
'Hedwig!' he said. 'What have you got for me tonight, then?'
He took the letter from her, and opened it. Narrow curly handwriting filled the page that could only be one person's.
'It's from Dumbledore,' he said, glancing down the page just to check.
'Is it about… what we were talking about?' Hermione asked tentatively.
Harry hesitated. There really wasn't much to say at all, as there was only two or three sentences on the whole page.
'I'm not sure,' he said, 'let me read it to you. [I]Dear Harry. I need to have a word with you about Aaron Bulstrode again, but about something else. I have thought of some information, which may involve you. Feel free to drop into my office any time you like, and make sure Hermione comes too. You know the password. Albus Dumbledore.[/I]'
'I wonder what it is,' pondered Hermione, 'and how come it involves you?' She sounded curious.
'He said it concerned me, but nothing else' Harry said, 'and how, I cannot imagine. But it cannot be anything huge,' he reassured her, which made her smile. 'We already know so much!'
'But there is much we don't know…' she said mysteriously.
'You can say that again!' Harry exclaimed. 'I feel the only person I know everything about is myself!'
Hermione let out a short 'ha!' as if to say, "as if."
'What?' Harry asked, genuinely shocked. 'Are you trying to say [I]I[/I] can't trust [I]myself?'[/I]
'Yes!' Hermione said, as though this was obvious. 'You don't know everything about yourself! Or you're hiding things!'
'I am not! I have never!' Harry protested indignantly, which caused a roll of the eyes from Hermione.
'You forget, Harry Potter, that I know you,' she gave a coy smile, as they left the room.
*
As Harry came home that night, a lot of things were running through his mind. They weren't running very clearly, or in very straight lines, due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but running, they were.
Hermione's words had struck him. Harry laughed slightly, for she had probably meant them to. [I]'Yes!' Hermione said, as though this was obvious. 'You don't know everything about yourself! Or you're hiding things!'[/I]
He had vehemently denied this, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt she was right. He had lived almost eighteen years of his life, not knowing who his real descendant was. Who was to say there wasn't more! But he didn't think he was in denial, was he? And if he was, what was he in denial from?
The night had gone averagely, with polite conversation passing between Ginny and himself, and Ron and Hermione all over each other like never before.
'Well I suppose they have got a hell of a lot of catching up to do,' Ginny had said, when Hermione had slipped off for a bathroom break yet again that evening, and Ron had felt so chivalrous as to go and wait for her.
Now he was home, and as he staggered into his room, a memory came to him. It was a memory from not so long ago, and he wasn't quite sure what it meant, but if he just found out…
It was his dream. The dream with the old man, and the second dream (or were they connected?) with Ginny as that horrible harpy. Out of his desk he pulled a translucent device. It looked a bit like an old wax tablet, only made from some unknown material. It was a dream analyser.
Very rare, and very, very precious, it had been a present from Sirius to him on the eve of his eighteenth birthday. He did not use it often, sometimes scared at what it would come out with, but on this occasion he felt he had to find out what his dreams meant.
He told the story to the analyser. How he had walked down the street that had seemed to familiar, yet he could not recognise it. The boy on the balcony, and the old man who told him the prophecy. Then of how he a dream he woke up, and saw Ginny, and she had looked beautiful. Then when Harry had given into desire, she had been nothing but a harpy.
He told everything to the dream analyser, and waited patiently for the result. After about half an hour of waiting, they came. Harry took one look at the analyser, preparing to read something of doom, or fate. All his life people had predicted his death … and it had given him a natural abhorrence for any kind of divination.
Slowly, he started to read what it said.
Words started to appear on the dream analyser, and Harry read them as they appeared. The first few sentences alone shocked him greatly.
My dear, it started, it would seem that a few things have come from the information in your dreams. But the main one I can tell you is that you are in love. Big time. You've really fallen for someone, my boy.
From hair I can tell the sensitivity, and the balcony is a big clue. There was a balcony in [I]Romeo and Juliet,[/I] and the appearance of it in dreams can be very significant. The boy on the balcony can be a sign of young power developing, but whether that is connected with love, even I cannot say…
The house… now that can mean honour and dignity, which could also be a sign that you are repressing this love, am I right? Or even denying it. I could be giving you a big shock by telling you how you feel.
Harry couldn't believe what he was reading, but the more he read, the more his mind cleared.
The angel, or the woman who looked like one. This means big success in love. I don't know why you're repressing this, boy, because from what I can see this might be your one.
[I]You're "one,"[/I] Harry thought, slightly sceptically.
But then again… he read, this dream strikes me a slightly odd. It's very very clear, and you seem to remember details. I would be inclined to think this is some kind of premonition… without meaning to scare. If you have had premonitions before I think it is [I]extremely[/I] likely that you could be foreseeing the future.
Great, thought Harry. Premonitions and predictions. Wasn't he just the regular Professor Trelawney!
But as he went to bed, and drifted off to sleep, premonitions weren't on his mind.
Ginny was.
He liked her. He [I]really[/I] liked her. He hadn't been wrong when he was seventeen, just messed up. But what could he do? There was nothing he could think of. Ginny would never love him again, would she?