One Tin Soldier
Chapter Three: Soil and the Seeker
Disclaimer: I woke up one day and wasn't J.K. Rowling. I was sad, so I decided to write Fanfiction, and this is what you get!
A/N: Thanks to all reviewers!
Firebreath: * blush* thank you for all of the input! Wonkey is my style!
Mella deRanged: Thank you for the advice, always appreciated, and in this chapter, duly noted.
Evil Lady: * sweats over keyboard * trying! Have mercy! I will try to make things a bit clearer later, and will definitely try to go back and HTML this sucker so the italics actually appear.
Kersten: Glad to hear from you, as always. * ultra super blush * and, um, thanks! ^-^
Punky Toofster: me, AgRe. Seriously, though, I appreciate someone commenting on grammar, I did not know if I was doing that well.
Annabelle Lauren: Thank you, madam!
PadfootOldButtyOldPal: Overdone romance is indeed rancid... and flirting at this point would be rather unfair.
Sweetie: Thank you, will do!
Psy-Girl: Thank you for the wonderful advice, it helped me to not tick people off, which I like to avoid. And thanks for your kind words!
SillyGillie: Thank you for my first review! You've bolstered my confidence by actually responding!
Thank you to everyone!
~~~~~
Dumbledore stirred suddenly from his sleep. There was a heavy pounding on his door. He woke up, nodding slightly at the door, which leapt aside obediently. Harry stood on the other side, looking a bit confused, yet unmistakably angry. He walked in with stride of someone who was afraid of nothing because he had everything to lose. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light as he glared at his Headmaster.
He was growing up too quickly, and it hurt the old man's heart to see it.
"What was the idea with making such a big deal about Voldemort getting inside my head?"
Harry stood there with his hands clenched at his sides, not knowing he had assumed the same position his mother had when angry, not knowing he was approaching his father's height, not knowing his temper was that of Sirius, or that he was perhaps the boldest student Dumbledore had ever had the pleasure of educating. Blue eyes glinted behind half-moon spectacles in the moonshadow.
"Harry..." The boy snapped his head to meet his gaze. "Harry, why do you not trust me?"
Harry seemed taken aback. "Well, where shall I start! I mean, you hid a great lot of information from me, and seemed to think I would fair just as fine without it, yet now you seem to be being completely sincere! I know you better than that, Professor, and I want the reason you keep making a bloody big lot of deal about Voldemort invading my mind! I also want to know how you could even begin to see that I am not alone! I have been alone since I was a baby, and I'm still alone. And now, NOW I seem to be out to kill my friends and what is left of my family. So I want to ask you, Professor Dumbledore, why things seem to be growing gradually worse, yet you still manage to only tell me what I know, despite the fact that I trust you, and that I always have!" Harry was cut of by a raised hand.
"If you trust me, Harry, then why are you yelling? You'll wake the whole house."
Harry caught himself, and panted for a few moments before going on. "Tell me. Everything."
Dumbledore gazed at the floor sadly. " I cannot."
"Why not, sir?" Harry's tone became aggressive again, and Dumbledore's eyes met his imidiatly.
"To protect you."
"Oh, fat load of good that has done!" Harry kicked the mattress silently, glaring at the floor. "I've lost my parents, my godfather, and now it seems like Voldemort wants to kill one of my friends! I put everyone I care about in danger, and the people who I don't care about are in even worse trouble, I mean look at myself!"
The elderly wizard sighed deeply at this.
"Perhaps that is why you are in danger, you have ceased to care."
" But I care about them, and they keep dying! Now it seems like Hermione is in danger..."
"She was born to a non-wizarding family, Harry, you know this is not entirely your fault." Harry's eyes shot up.
"Entirely? Professor, I can tell when you are hiding something, and you are now. What are you not telling me?"
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "My boy, you have placed your finger upon it yourself, I cannot tell you what I am hiding, but otherwise I am completely sincere with you when at all possible. And I am afraid in regards to Miss Granger, there is nothing I can tell."
"Then at least tell me why you are making such a mess of this trouble I have with Voldemort! Surely he isn't listening in yet! I would know!" Harry bent forward, glaring.
Dumbledore looked grave. "Did he know at first when you were?"
Harry swallowed his words and looked at his Headmaster. He looked around and stared out the windows trying to think clearly. It wasn't this serious... and beyond this, what could he do?
"Professor... Dumbledore..?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you think that I killed Sirius?"
Dumbledore appraised Harry. Somehow, he began to realize that the truth was worthwhile.
"In a way, each of us were responsible. Voldemort set out to kill him as a reward to one of his servants. It was only as much your fault as any other's, and blaming yourself will do no good."
Harry nodded after a few moments, and turned away.
He trailed back to his room without a goodbye and locked his door quietly. Closing his eyes, he sought out sleep, thankful that this night was dreamless, and that when he awoke all was right in Grimwauld Place.
~~~~~
Molly Weasley smiled fondly down at the children as they filed out of a company car and moved Harry and Hermione's possessions into the rooms upstairs. Moodey carted his trunk easily, and levitated it up the stairs. Remus Lupin slid out of the car, having himself decided only that morning to aid in Harry's training.
It seemed that moving took less time than one would have thought, and with Moodey and Lupin to see after the children outside, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley worked on dinner. Bill and Charley laughed heartily with their younger brothers and Ginny chased after a sparrow on one of the brooms, racing with Ron. Harry had taken his only newly relinquished Firebolt and was enjoying the sensation of flight in the solitude surrounding the Burrow. Laughing a bit on the memory of Mrs. Weasley's shockingly friendly curiosity regarding Harry's 'donation' to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, he flew free, knowing that any attempt Voldemort might make to project himself could be stifled by a quick yell to one of his previous Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. He surveyed the landscape below, unconsciously sizing up Ron, the newest Griffindor keeper. He waved amusedly to Ginny as she smacked Ron upside the head with the sparrow she just caught, and laughed when one of the twins flipped themselves onto a new broom they had bought and sped through the shocked group.
Harry looked down elsewhere, and spotted a solitary figure wandering over the brushy landscape. He ducked a bit closer, and looked down at the top of Hermione's head.
She was walking among the thorns, gazing at different trees. She looked somewhat lost, although Harry guessed it was only her thoughts that were beyond rambling. She sat down in a circle of stones, and stared into the distance.
A very strange thought occurred to him. She was suddenly far more similar to him, though he felt a bit odd about not noticing before. She, too, had lost her parents, somehow it hit him, high above the low lying clouds. For the first time, Harry felt the strange obligation to help her. He turned his broom in the air.
After another twenty minuets of observation, he flew back to the Burrow, convinced that after a few days of Occlumeny, he would have to find her. By nature, or perhaps good fortune, the Seeker of Griffindor knew just where to go.
Over dinner, Hermione kept her eyes on the food, but Harry kept his eyes fixed on his newly assumed ward.
~~~~~
Chapter Three: Soil and the Seeker
Disclaimer: I woke up one day and wasn't J.K. Rowling. I was sad, so I decided to write Fanfiction, and this is what you get!
A/N: Thanks to all reviewers!
Firebreath: * blush* thank you for all of the input! Wonkey is my style!
Mella deRanged: Thank you for the advice, always appreciated, and in this chapter, duly noted.
Evil Lady: * sweats over keyboard * trying! Have mercy! I will try to make things a bit clearer later, and will definitely try to go back and HTML this sucker so the italics actually appear.
Kersten: Glad to hear from you, as always. * ultra super blush * and, um, thanks! ^-^
Punky Toofster: me, AgRe. Seriously, though, I appreciate someone commenting on grammar, I did not know if I was doing that well.
Annabelle Lauren: Thank you, madam!
PadfootOldButtyOldPal: Overdone romance is indeed rancid... and flirting at this point would be rather unfair.
Sweetie: Thank you, will do!
Psy-Girl: Thank you for the wonderful advice, it helped me to not tick people off, which I like to avoid. And thanks for your kind words!
SillyGillie: Thank you for my first review! You've bolstered my confidence by actually responding!
Thank you to everyone!
~~~~~
Dumbledore stirred suddenly from his sleep. There was a heavy pounding on his door. He woke up, nodding slightly at the door, which leapt aside obediently. Harry stood on the other side, looking a bit confused, yet unmistakably angry. He walked in with stride of someone who was afraid of nothing because he had everything to lose. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light as he glared at his Headmaster.
He was growing up too quickly, and it hurt the old man's heart to see it.
"What was the idea with making such a big deal about Voldemort getting inside my head?"
Harry stood there with his hands clenched at his sides, not knowing he had assumed the same position his mother had when angry, not knowing he was approaching his father's height, not knowing his temper was that of Sirius, or that he was perhaps the boldest student Dumbledore had ever had the pleasure of educating. Blue eyes glinted behind half-moon spectacles in the moonshadow.
"Harry..." The boy snapped his head to meet his gaze. "Harry, why do you not trust me?"
Harry seemed taken aback. "Well, where shall I start! I mean, you hid a great lot of information from me, and seemed to think I would fair just as fine without it, yet now you seem to be being completely sincere! I know you better than that, Professor, and I want the reason you keep making a bloody big lot of deal about Voldemort invading my mind! I also want to know how you could even begin to see that I am not alone! I have been alone since I was a baby, and I'm still alone. And now, NOW I seem to be out to kill my friends and what is left of my family. So I want to ask you, Professor Dumbledore, why things seem to be growing gradually worse, yet you still manage to only tell me what I know, despite the fact that I trust you, and that I always have!" Harry was cut of by a raised hand.
"If you trust me, Harry, then why are you yelling? You'll wake the whole house."
Harry caught himself, and panted for a few moments before going on. "Tell me. Everything."
Dumbledore gazed at the floor sadly. " I cannot."
"Why not, sir?" Harry's tone became aggressive again, and Dumbledore's eyes met his imidiatly.
"To protect you."
"Oh, fat load of good that has done!" Harry kicked the mattress silently, glaring at the floor. "I've lost my parents, my godfather, and now it seems like Voldemort wants to kill one of my friends! I put everyone I care about in danger, and the people who I don't care about are in even worse trouble, I mean look at myself!"
The elderly wizard sighed deeply at this.
"Perhaps that is why you are in danger, you have ceased to care."
" But I care about them, and they keep dying! Now it seems like Hermione is in danger..."
"She was born to a non-wizarding family, Harry, you know this is not entirely your fault." Harry's eyes shot up.
"Entirely? Professor, I can tell when you are hiding something, and you are now. What are you not telling me?"
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "My boy, you have placed your finger upon it yourself, I cannot tell you what I am hiding, but otherwise I am completely sincere with you when at all possible. And I am afraid in regards to Miss Granger, there is nothing I can tell."
"Then at least tell me why you are making such a mess of this trouble I have with Voldemort! Surely he isn't listening in yet! I would know!" Harry bent forward, glaring.
Dumbledore looked grave. "Did he know at first when you were?"
Harry swallowed his words and looked at his Headmaster. He looked around and stared out the windows trying to think clearly. It wasn't this serious... and beyond this, what could he do?
"Professor... Dumbledore..?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you think that I killed Sirius?"
Dumbledore appraised Harry. Somehow, he began to realize that the truth was worthwhile.
"In a way, each of us were responsible. Voldemort set out to kill him as a reward to one of his servants. It was only as much your fault as any other's, and blaming yourself will do no good."
Harry nodded after a few moments, and turned away.
He trailed back to his room without a goodbye and locked his door quietly. Closing his eyes, he sought out sleep, thankful that this night was dreamless, and that when he awoke all was right in Grimwauld Place.
~~~~~
Molly Weasley smiled fondly down at the children as they filed out of a company car and moved Harry and Hermione's possessions into the rooms upstairs. Moodey carted his trunk easily, and levitated it up the stairs. Remus Lupin slid out of the car, having himself decided only that morning to aid in Harry's training.
It seemed that moving took less time than one would have thought, and with Moodey and Lupin to see after the children outside, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley worked on dinner. Bill and Charley laughed heartily with their younger brothers and Ginny chased after a sparrow on one of the brooms, racing with Ron. Harry had taken his only newly relinquished Firebolt and was enjoying the sensation of flight in the solitude surrounding the Burrow. Laughing a bit on the memory of Mrs. Weasley's shockingly friendly curiosity regarding Harry's 'donation' to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, he flew free, knowing that any attempt Voldemort might make to project himself could be stifled by a quick yell to one of his previous Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. He surveyed the landscape below, unconsciously sizing up Ron, the newest Griffindor keeper. He waved amusedly to Ginny as she smacked Ron upside the head with the sparrow she just caught, and laughed when one of the twins flipped themselves onto a new broom they had bought and sped through the shocked group.
Harry looked down elsewhere, and spotted a solitary figure wandering over the brushy landscape. He ducked a bit closer, and looked down at the top of Hermione's head.
She was walking among the thorns, gazing at different trees. She looked somewhat lost, although Harry guessed it was only her thoughts that were beyond rambling. She sat down in a circle of stones, and stared into the distance.
A very strange thought occurred to him. She was suddenly far more similar to him, though he felt a bit odd about not noticing before. She, too, had lost her parents, somehow it hit him, high above the low lying clouds. For the first time, Harry felt the strange obligation to help her. He turned his broom in the air.
After another twenty minuets of observation, he flew back to the Burrow, convinced that after a few days of Occlumeny, he would have to find her. By nature, or perhaps good fortune, the Seeker of Griffindor knew just where to go.
Over dinner, Hermione kept her eyes on the food, but Harry kept his eyes fixed on his newly assumed ward.
~~~~~