One Tin Soldier
Chapter Thirteen: Days
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: Sorry for taking so long, thanks Dvomang!
~~~~~
Two days after his encounter in Dumbledore's office, Harry found himself at breakfast early.
He stared through the envelope tiredly, carefully trying to read the lettering. Next to him, Ron nursed a few bites he had received while trying to wrest Hermione's letter from the owl. Unfortunately, reading was to no avail. Harry sat down huffily, putting the closed letter beside him, and continued to eat his eggs. Ron groaned, and began to eat with his good hand.
The mystery of Hermione's secret had plagued Harry through his double-potions class, in which he had already lost ten points from his house, and Transfiguration, in which he had gained back the selfsame ten points. The brown haired girl bobbed through the classes, answering questions with ease and somehow maintaining the previous years courses on a sixth-years time constraint. It was no longer a wonder to either of the boys that she had turned down any hope of becoming a prefect once more, but the fact that she seemed to spend her time in the library with them studying from books that didn't even pertain to her subject matter truly confused both of them. More puzzling still, perhaps, were her absences from Harry's Occlumency lessons, which Ginny and Ron reported to as moral support faithfully.
So it was that on the second morning of school, Ron and Harry had taken the bother of cornering, and eventually bribing, an owl carrying a letter for Hermione. Harry felt rather foolish, however something in her behavior prescribed the only logical course of action to a boy like Harry- investigation. Ron, who initially disagreed severely, was swayed instantly by Ginny's speculation on the matter the previous night.
"Perhaps.... perhaps prof... She and Lupin... have taken a fancy to each other." The little redhead wondered, staring wide-eyed into the fire.
Harry darted nervous glances at the main door, waiting for Hermione to enter. He smoothed the occasional crease on the letter, muttering to himself how peculiar it was that she was late enough to breakfast for them to catch the owl. Neville looked at them, still fascinated by their behavior.
"Erm..."
"Don't ask, Neville, please, don't ask, because I can't explain it myself." Ron muttered, dabbing at a welling of blood from his index finger with a napkin.
Hermione swept in behind Harry a moment later, looking puzzled. She picked up the letter, eying them suspiciously, and grabbed a turnover before making a hasty leave. He stared after her, eyes bugging.
"You catch what I'm talking about? She's acting mad, hovering around at all hours!" He looked at the other two boys, throwing a hand at the door.
"M....Maybe she's taken a fancy to a boy, or something?" Neville speculated.
"That," Ron groaned, "Is exactly what we're afraid of..."
Further down the table, Lavender and Parvati Patil giggled about something. Ron looked down at them, curious. Harry, too, looked down, but stared past the girls to the Slytherine table. Draco stared at a wall hanging, pale eyes narrowed. Harry gaped a bit as he realized that Crebbe and Goyle were sitting far from him, and that there was space between the once famous leader of Slytherine and his house mates, although only the slightest distance, really. Harry couldn't help but stare.
At that moment, Draco turned his pale eyes to meet Harry's, narrowed them, and turned back to his plate. It seemed rather odd that there was no threat attached to the motion, yet Harry found no desire to fight. Instead, he turned and began to work on his own pile of eggs.
Something was awry, but Harry couldn't understand for the life of him what that something was. Glaring, he stuffed his mouth, not at all looking forward to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After all, Class with Slytherine made the dark arts nearer to home than ever.
Through the windows of the Great Hall, he saw Hermione's head bounce past. Sighing, he watched his plate clear, and stood for class.
~
Moody seemed in high good mood for the second day of classes, and in particular for his own usually dismal personality. He wandered around the room, surveying the students with a somewhat frightening glee. The Slytherine students stared back imperiously, Draco watched him with the smallest traces of apprehension, and the Griffindors practically cheered. Their time had come, and they would not let their general good mood be dulled, even by the suspicious cage-like structure in the corner.
Harry, for his own part, was both nervous and excited. Despite the fact that these lessons often required the risk of life and limb, he invariably had come out with gained knowledge in any encounter with Moodey. He stared eagerly at the front of the room, glancing uneasily the small letter that Hermione wrote and re-wrote next to him. His throat clenched a bit as he read small snips of the text, and his heart thumped occasionally.
Annoyed, she flipped her book open so that the cover slapped the back of his knuckles, awakening him. He blinked, yelping slightly, only to catch a wide smile playing on his instructors lips as he walked bye.
There was the sound of a throat clearing.
"Welcome to your first year of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Moody said with his own semblance of a smile. Most of the students paused, murmuring, and looked at each other with intense puzzlement.
"Everything you have learned up to this point may well serve you well in a world of peace. I, however, do not want any of you to walk into this world without the arms you need. It would be a betrayal to my oath as a teacher." He stared at all of them.
For a few moments the crooked man wandered vaguely before them, before speaking once more. "There are a few things you will have to face in this class, and in the world you are going to be growing up in. Look at everyone around you."
Most of the children looked around for a few moments at the already familiar faces, and then up at him expectantly. Draco stared at the board behind him, eyes still set in a stony, unpenetrable glare. Harry paused after his eyes grazed over Hermione and Ron and settled on Draco. The two of them locked eyes, then quickly looked away as Moody's voice snapped them back to focus.
"I am not particularly adept at prediction, but statistics, I actually have a mind for." There was silence at this, and so he went on, " What I can tell you is this: Three of the people in this room will turn to the dark side before Voldemort is vanquished. Another two will be murdured. And one will use a forbidden curse on a fellow human."
There were a few gasps, and looks of horror, and many glances at Draco, who remained aloof in his thoughts. Ron was one of the many who had pinned him as the wielder of the curse, and Hermione, too, gazed at him, although her look was entirely different than one of accusation. She had the same ponderous, half-expectant gaze that made Harry's skin crawl. He sat, listening to the drum of the lecture as Moody outlined the year's plan, and waited for some sign. Outside, dark black horses of bones floated in the sky. He watched apathetically, not really wanting to register the signs of death. He averted his eyes, and in doing so they fell on Hermione's paper as she scrawled her inevitable notes.
It was then that he spotted the words 'Larian Wings". Harry looked for a moment at the words before something clicked, and he scribbled the two little words into the corner of his paper, after which he covered them firmly with his thumb, sneaking a furtive glance at the girl next to him. He moved his eyes over to the paper again, cautiously, and caught another set of words.
'I think I might love him' her neat, spiraling writing read.
His eyes widened, and he accidentally slammed his book shut on his hand a few moments later when class was ended with the assignment of a paper on the necessity and main areas of study in DADA. He winced in pain, and gawked at the words on the paper, panic setting in. He wrote a short note and slipped it to Ron as they exited, the three of them walking to lunch.
His note read: 'I think Gin was right.'
The redhead gave him a look of horror. At that precise moment, Lupin walked past, and Hermione slipped easily across the hall and away from them at the older man's side. Ron stared in disgust, and Harry, for all of his research, felt as if he could not have been more miserable.
~~~
Chapter Thirteen: Days
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: Sorry for taking so long, thanks Dvomang!
~~~~~
Two days after his encounter in Dumbledore's office, Harry found himself at breakfast early.
He stared through the envelope tiredly, carefully trying to read the lettering. Next to him, Ron nursed a few bites he had received while trying to wrest Hermione's letter from the owl. Unfortunately, reading was to no avail. Harry sat down huffily, putting the closed letter beside him, and continued to eat his eggs. Ron groaned, and began to eat with his good hand.
The mystery of Hermione's secret had plagued Harry through his double-potions class, in which he had already lost ten points from his house, and Transfiguration, in which he had gained back the selfsame ten points. The brown haired girl bobbed through the classes, answering questions with ease and somehow maintaining the previous years courses on a sixth-years time constraint. It was no longer a wonder to either of the boys that she had turned down any hope of becoming a prefect once more, but the fact that she seemed to spend her time in the library with them studying from books that didn't even pertain to her subject matter truly confused both of them. More puzzling still, perhaps, were her absences from Harry's Occlumency lessons, which Ginny and Ron reported to as moral support faithfully.
So it was that on the second morning of school, Ron and Harry had taken the bother of cornering, and eventually bribing, an owl carrying a letter for Hermione. Harry felt rather foolish, however something in her behavior prescribed the only logical course of action to a boy like Harry- investigation. Ron, who initially disagreed severely, was swayed instantly by Ginny's speculation on the matter the previous night.
"Perhaps.... perhaps prof... She and Lupin... have taken a fancy to each other." The little redhead wondered, staring wide-eyed into the fire.
Harry darted nervous glances at the main door, waiting for Hermione to enter. He smoothed the occasional crease on the letter, muttering to himself how peculiar it was that she was late enough to breakfast for them to catch the owl. Neville looked at them, still fascinated by their behavior.
"Erm..."
"Don't ask, Neville, please, don't ask, because I can't explain it myself." Ron muttered, dabbing at a welling of blood from his index finger with a napkin.
Hermione swept in behind Harry a moment later, looking puzzled. She picked up the letter, eying them suspiciously, and grabbed a turnover before making a hasty leave. He stared after her, eyes bugging.
"You catch what I'm talking about? She's acting mad, hovering around at all hours!" He looked at the other two boys, throwing a hand at the door.
"M....Maybe she's taken a fancy to a boy, or something?" Neville speculated.
"That," Ron groaned, "Is exactly what we're afraid of..."
Further down the table, Lavender and Parvati Patil giggled about something. Ron looked down at them, curious. Harry, too, looked down, but stared past the girls to the Slytherine table. Draco stared at a wall hanging, pale eyes narrowed. Harry gaped a bit as he realized that Crebbe and Goyle were sitting far from him, and that there was space between the once famous leader of Slytherine and his house mates, although only the slightest distance, really. Harry couldn't help but stare.
At that moment, Draco turned his pale eyes to meet Harry's, narrowed them, and turned back to his plate. It seemed rather odd that there was no threat attached to the motion, yet Harry found no desire to fight. Instead, he turned and began to work on his own pile of eggs.
Something was awry, but Harry couldn't understand for the life of him what that something was. Glaring, he stuffed his mouth, not at all looking forward to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. After all, Class with Slytherine made the dark arts nearer to home than ever.
Through the windows of the Great Hall, he saw Hermione's head bounce past. Sighing, he watched his plate clear, and stood for class.
~
Moody seemed in high good mood for the second day of classes, and in particular for his own usually dismal personality. He wandered around the room, surveying the students with a somewhat frightening glee. The Slytherine students stared back imperiously, Draco watched him with the smallest traces of apprehension, and the Griffindors practically cheered. Their time had come, and they would not let their general good mood be dulled, even by the suspicious cage-like structure in the corner.
Harry, for his own part, was both nervous and excited. Despite the fact that these lessons often required the risk of life and limb, he invariably had come out with gained knowledge in any encounter with Moodey. He stared eagerly at the front of the room, glancing uneasily the small letter that Hermione wrote and re-wrote next to him. His throat clenched a bit as he read small snips of the text, and his heart thumped occasionally.
Annoyed, she flipped her book open so that the cover slapped the back of his knuckles, awakening him. He blinked, yelping slightly, only to catch a wide smile playing on his instructors lips as he walked bye.
There was the sound of a throat clearing.
"Welcome to your first year of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Moody said with his own semblance of a smile. Most of the students paused, murmuring, and looked at each other with intense puzzlement.
"Everything you have learned up to this point may well serve you well in a world of peace. I, however, do not want any of you to walk into this world without the arms you need. It would be a betrayal to my oath as a teacher." He stared at all of them.
For a few moments the crooked man wandered vaguely before them, before speaking once more. "There are a few things you will have to face in this class, and in the world you are going to be growing up in. Look at everyone around you."
Most of the children looked around for a few moments at the already familiar faces, and then up at him expectantly. Draco stared at the board behind him, eyes still set in a stony, unpenetrable glare. Harry paused after his eyes grazed over Hermione and Ron and settled on Draco. The two of them locked eyes, then quickly looked away as Moody's voice snapped them back to focus.
"I am not particularly adept at prediction, but statistics, I actually have a mind for." There was silence at this, and so he went on, " What I can tell you is this: Three of the people in this room will turn to the dark side before Voldemort is vanquished. Another two will be murdured. And one will use a forbidden curse on a fellow human."
There were a few gasps, and looks of horror, and many glances at Draco, who remained aloof in his thoughts. Ron was one of the many who had pinned him as the wielder of the curse, and Hermione, too, gazed at him, although her look was entirely different than one of accusation. She had the same ponderous, half-expectant gaze that made Harry's skin crawl. He sat, listening to the drum of the lecture as Moody outlined the year's plan, and waited for some sign. Outside, dark black horses of bones floated in the sky. He watched apathetically, not really wanting to register the signs of death. He averted his eyes, and in doing so they fell on Hermione's paper as she scrawled her inevitable notes.
It was then that he spotted the words 'Larian Wings". Harry looked for a moment at the words before something clicked, and he scribbled the two little words into the corner of his paper, after which he covered them firmly with his thumb, sneaking a furtive glance at the girl next to him. He moved his eyes over to the paper again, cautiously, and caught another set of words.
'I think I might love him' her neat, spiraling writing read.
His eyes widened, and he accidentally slammed his book shut on his hand a few moments later when class was ended with the assignment of a paper on the necessity and main areas of study in DADA. He winced in pain, and gawked at the words on the paper, panic setting in. He wrote a short note and slipped it to Ron as they exited, the three of them walking to lunch.
His note read: 'I think Gin was right.'
The redhead gave him a look of horror. At that precise moment, Lupin walked past, and Hermione slipped easily across the hall and away from them at the older man's side. Ron stared in disgust, and Harry, for all of his research, felt as if he could not have been more miserable.
~~~