Xenith
"Humanity does not ask us to be happy. It merely asks us to be brilliant on its behalf. Survival first, then happiness as we can manage it."
~~~Orson Scott Card: 'Ender's Game
Chapter Twenty-four
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said at the end of her Advanced Transfiguration class. "A moment please?" Hermione held back from her departing classmates and approached the professor's desk.
"Yes, Professor?" She asked, perching her books on the edge of the desk.
"I believe Mr Weasley has already informed you of what I am about to propose?"
"I believe so, Professor."
"And what are your thoughts on that?"
"Well, I haven't had a chance to go to the library yet, so I'm not exactly sure."
Professor McGonagall let a rare grin creep across her mouth. "Miss Granger, you are the brightest witch I've come across in years and I am quite glad that you have chosen to move ahead of some of your friends in regards to this class, but I do not believe that you are reaping any benefit from being in it."
"Professor!"
"Listen to what I am saying Miss Granger, the Headmaster and I would greatly appreciate your help in the development of the spell Mr Weasley informed you of on Halloween. Professor Flitwick has this period open and we would like it very much if you would spend this time working with him."
"But Professor, what about my OWLs!? This is my favourite class; I was looking forward to it!" Hermione cried, torn between the opportunity Professor McGonagall was presenting and the tests she'd been looking forward to for ages.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall laughed. "I understand your desire to do your very best on your OWLs, but I believe that this matter is more worthy of your attention. But either way this is your choice to make."
"Why don't you just call in a professional charmer?" Hermione asked.
"Because the only known professional charmer was killed in the attack at Gringotts; she was setting up protection charms. Because of this the bank defenses were less and it gave an opening for You-Know-Who to launch an attack. He knew of her work there and of how dangerous she could be if enlisted by Dumbledore." Hermione was quiet, it was the first time anyone had mentioned the attack in weeks and the only time anyone had really explained what had happened. Even the Prophet hadn't gone into great detail.
"Alright," Hermione nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good. You are to meet Professor Flitwick in your usual Chaarms classroom and he will then then take you somewhere where there will not be the chance of you being overheard. Mr Weasley has told you the theories that we have been working on?"
"Yes, Professsor."
"And you are currently enrolled in an Arithmacy class?"
"Yes."
"Very good, I must admit that mathematics is not my forte and the Headmaster is loathe to involve many more people in this project. He was quite wary to even involve you, but we needed your help in this matter."
"Please Professor, I don't think I understand. Why would you need me? Surely there are more experienced wizards out there who would be more then willing to help."
"I am afraid that that is something I cannot tell you at the moment. This room has not been secured."
"Yes Professor."
"You may go now."
"Thank you." And she scurried from the classroom, late for Herbology.
"Hermione!" Ron hissed at her as she slid into her seat between her two best friends; mumbling a hurried apology to Professor Sprout.
"It was about what you told me on Halloween, Ron." She whispered back.
"What'd he tell you on Halloween?" Harry asked from Hermione's other side.
Hermione looked to Ron for her answer, he shook his head. "We can't say yet, Harry." Ron answered for her.
"What? Why?" Harry asked dropping his sheers on the Dancing Dandelion (more commonly known as the 'Daemon Dandelion' among the students) he was pruning. "This is about me, isn't it?"
"Not everything we talk about has to do with you, Harry Potter." Hermione said, taking up her own sheers and going at the Daemon.
"Yeah, but this is." Ron added unhelpfully.
"And I can't know because . . ?" He folded his arms and turned fully on Ron and Hermione, the whole look of him quite imposing in and of itself. Ron wondered vaguely if Harry was aware of it.
"You'll know, but not now. There are too many students. The area isn't secure." Ron's eyes rested momentarily on Malfoy.
"Alright, but---" Harry cut off as the Dancing Dandelion lunged at him, it's cleverly hidden fangs elongating as it sailed through the air. Harry's eyes widened as his left hand flew out in front of him to block the plant as the other dipped into his robes for his wand. He needn't have bothered with the wand, however, because the Dandelion had halted in mid air, inches away from his outstretched palm. The plant began to writhe and scream its queer high-pitched call when it found its prey had outwitted it and it could not get back to its pot and comrades.
"Harry, put it down!" Hermione hissed, trying to block Harry from the rest of the class, Ron moving to his other side to attempt the same. "People are starting to look.
"I can't!" Harry hissed back, shaking his hand in effort to dislodge the screaming plant, only to make the problem worse as the Dancing Dandelion screamed all the more.
"Mr Potter! What are you doing?" Professor Sprout called across the greenhouse as she made her way through the tables of students to the three Gryffindors.
"Nothing." The three answered in unison, Harry dropping the hand with the Dandelion below the table.
"Lift your hand, Mr Potter." She directed, hands on her hips.
"He can't," Hermione piped up.
"I won't ask you again."
"Do you think you might dismiss the class before I do?" Harry asked meekly, taking note of the fifth years now eyeing him.
"No, lift your hand."
Harry did as he was told, lifting his hand, the Daemon Dandelion coming up with it.
"What have you done!?" Her face paled as she saw her precious plant screaming and thrashing in fright and hovering in front of his hand.
"I'm not exactly sure, Professor." Harry said honestly.
"Well, put'em down, then."
"Professor, I don't believe he can." Hermione said.
"Never mind," Professor Sprout said, pulling on her dragon-hide gloves and reaching for the plant. Her fingers curled around the flower and she pulled at it with all her might to no avail. "Potter, go to the hospital wing. I have no idea what you've done but perhaps Madam Pomfrey will be able to remove him." Harry didn't move. "Go, get along!"
"Professor . . ?" Ron asked.
"Go, go!" She said, shooing Ron and Hermione out after him. "And don't be late again, Miss Granger!"
"I won't!" Hermione called over her shoulder as they rushed out onto the grounds after Harry---who was moving surprisingly fast over the grass, the wind catching and sending a small twister of leaves to soaring beneath him, picking up his robes and sending them swirling about his body. Hermione was struck, for a moment, by how positively stunning Harry looked striding away over the castle grounds. She paused, and watched as Ron ran to caught up with Harry and spun him around, saying something Hermione couldn't hear, and looked just as magnificent. And then it hit her, they looked so positively stunning because they looked like adults. Like men.
And they were. They really were.
And just as soon as it happened the illusion was shattered. Harry started swinging his arm around, trying desperately to free the flowered creature.
"Hermione!" Ron called.
"Herm, I wouldn't mind a bit of help here!" Harry added.
"Coming!" and she trotted over to her two friends.
Ron had wrapped the sleeves of his robes around his hand and was motioning for Hermione to do the same. "Come on, Herm, we have to handle this."
"Why us? Why can't we just go up to Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, wrapping her hands nonetheless.
"Because Harry doesn't want to." Ron growled, wrapping his hands around the still screaming Dandelion.
"Ron . . ."
"Harry doesn't WANT to. Now come on."
Hermione grabbed hold of the top of the flower, her robes, thankfully, quieting the screaming.
"Now, on three," Harry and Hermione nodded. "Make sure you focus all of you magic on forcing the Daemon away, Harry. One . . . two . . . three!" The three Gryffindors pulled and pushed as hard as the possibly could and dislodged the plant, falling to the grass with a grunt and a thud.
Ron leapt to his feet and hurled the Dancing Dandelion into the lake.
"Now, would you care to explain what just happened, Harry?" He demanded.
"I don't know, Ron. Stuff like that's been happening for the past few weeks." He brought his legs up and propped his elbow on them, head sagging. "I can't control it, and I'm not getting any sleep, or any homework done . . ." he trailed off, running his finger unconsciously over his scar.
"Harry, you have to talk to us. Why aren't you sleeping?" Hermione asked, crawling over to min.
"There's so much I have to do, I don't get back to the dorm till two or three every morning."
"What?"
"I'm training."
"Harry," she crouched in front of him, putting her hand beneath his chin and turning his face up. "You don't have to do this. It's not your responsibility."
Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering.
"Yes, I do, Herm." He said finally.
"It's not right for them to be putting so much pressure on you." Ron said, coming up behind Hermione and putting his hands on her shoulders.
"They've got no-one else."
"They've got everyone else." Hermione tried to sooth him, resting her hand on his cheek.
"No, Hermione, they don't." Harry locked his eyes with her's and continued in his tragic tones. "Dumbledore told me so. The reason Voldemort was after my parents in the first place was because he knew that my dad would be able to defeat him."
"What do you mean?"
"It's part of the Potter bloodline. There's something in our blood that gives us an upper hand in matters such as this."
"Then why didn't your dad kill him when he, you know, in Godricks Hallow?" Ron asked.
"Because, whatever it is inside us, my dad had never tapped into; that's why Voldemort, was able to kill . . . kill him." He choked out.
"You don't have to tell us, Harry, it's alright." Ron said softly.
"No, I need to," He took a deep breath and continued. "When Voldemort tried to kill me too it was instinct that allowed me to tap into that special source of power that seems to run through the Potter line. I was so young that what I did---was able to do---was automatic. I can't remember how I did it though, so I have to train." Harry sighed. "But now Voldemort can't be killed with a simple 'Avada Kedavra', there has to be something else. But there IS nothing else. How can you kill something that has managed to make itself virtually immortal?" Hermione moved her hand to Harry's and gripped it tight, startling Harry and making him look at her for the first time.
"That's what we couldn't tell you in the greenhouses, Harry," she said. "Professor's McGonagall and Flitwick have been working on several theories on how we might be able to finally kill You-Know-Who once and for all."
"What? How?"
"Well, the details are far from worked out yet, but they've requested my assistance."
"Why you? Why not a professional charmer, or something?" Harry said, not wanting to involve his two best friends anymore then they already were.
"That's what I asked too, but Professor McGonagall told me the last known one was killed in the attack a few weeks ago and that I'm the most promising substitute available."
"I don't want you to do this, Herm." Harry said solemnly. "You don't have to do this . . . you don't have to get involved in this."
"Harry, I---we---got involved in this the moment you two saved me from that troll. The moment we became friends."
"Then maybe---" Harry choked out, his eyes shining. "---maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."
"Harry!" Ron snapped, eyes sharp.
---
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*
"Humanity does not ask us to be happy. It merely asks us to be brilliant on its behalf. Survival first, then happiness as we can manage it."
~~~Orson Scott Card: 'Ender's Game
Chapter Twenty-four
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said at the end of her Advanced Transfiguration class. "A moment please?" Hermione held back from her departing classmates and approached the professor's desk.
"Yes, Professor?" She asked, perching her books on the edge of the desk.
"I believe Mr Weasley has already informed you of what I am about to propose?"
"I believe so, Professor."
"And what are your thoughts on that?"
"Well, I haven't had a chance to go to the library yet, so I'm not exactly sure."
Professor McGonagall let a rare grin creep across her mouth. "Miss Granger, you are the brightest witch I've come across in years and I am quite glad that you have chosen to move ahead of some of your friends in regards to this class, but I do not believe that you are reaping any benefit from being in it."
"Professor!"
"Listen to what I am saying Miss Granger, the Headmaster and I would greatly appreciate your help in the development of the spell Mr Weasley informed you of on Halloween. Professor Flitwick has this period open and we would like it very much if you would spend this time working with him."
"But Professor, what about my OWLs!? This is my favourite class; I was looking forward to it!" Hermione cried, torn between the opportunity Professor McGonagall was presenting and the tests she'd been looking forward to for ages.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall laughed. "I understand your desire to do your very best on your OWLs, but I believe that this matter is more worthy of your attention. But either way this is your choice to make."
"Why don't you just call in a professional charmer?" Hermione asked.
"Because the only known professional charmer was killed in the attack at Gringotts; she was setting up protection charms. Because of this the bank defenses were less and it gave an opening for You-Know-Who to launch an attack. He knew of her work there and of how dangerous she could be if enlisted by Dumbledore." Hermione was quiet, it was the first time anyone had mentioned the attack in weeks and the only time anyone had really explained what had happened. Even the Prophet hadn't gone into great detail.
"Alright," Hermione nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good. You are to meet Professor Flitwick in your usual Chaarms classroom and he will then then take you somewhere where there will not be the chance of you being overheard. Mr Weasley has told you the theories that we have been working on?"
"Yes, Professsor."
"And you are currently enrolled in an Arithmacy class?"
"Yes."
"Very good, I must admit that mathematics is not my forte and the Headmaster is loathe to involve many more people in this project. He was quite wary to even involve you, but we needed your help in this matter."
"Please Professor, I don't think I understand. Why would you need me? Surely there are more experienced wizards out there who would be more then willing to help."
"I am afraid that that is something I cannot tell you at the moment. This room has not been secured."
"Yes Professor."
"You may go now."
"Thank you." And she scurried from the classroom, late for Herbology.
"Hermione!" Ron hissed at her as she slid into her seat between her two best friends; mumbling a hurried apology to Professor Sprout.
"It was about what you told me on Halloween, Ron." She whispered back.
"What'd he tell you on Halloween?" Harry asked from Hermione's other side.
Hermione looked to Ron for her answer, he shook his head. "We can't say yet, Harry." Ron answered for her.
"What? Why?" Harry asked dropping his sheers on the Dancing Dandelion (more commonly known as the 'Daemon Dandelion' among the students) he was pruning. "This is about me, isn't it?"
"Not everything we talk about has to do with you, Harry Potter." Hermione said, taking up her own sheers and going at the Daemon.
"Yeah, but this is." Ron added unhelpfully.
"And I can't know because . . ?" He folded his arms and turned fully on Ron and Hermione, the whole look of him quite imposing in and of itself. Ron wondered vaguely if Harry was aware of it.
"You'll know, but not now. There are too many students. The area isn't secure." Ron's eyes rested momentarily on Malfoy.
"Alright, but---" Harry cut off as the Dancing Dandelion lunged at him, it's cleverly hidden fangs elongating as it sailed through the air. Harry's eyes widened as his left hand flew out in front of him to block the plant as the other dipped into his robes for his wand. He needn't have bothered with the wand, however, because the Dandelion had halted in mid air, inches away from his outstretched palm. The plant began to writhe and scream its queer high-pitched call when it found its prey had outwitted it and it could not get back to its pot and comrades.
"Harry, put it down!" Hermione hissed, trying to block Harry from the rest of the class, Ron moving to his other side to attempt the same. "People are starting to look.
"I can't!" Harry hissed back, shaking his hand in effort to dislodge the screaming plant, only to make the problem worse as the Dancing Dandelion screamed all the more.
"Mr Potter! What are you doing?" Professor Sprout called across the greenhouse as she made her way through the tables of students to the three Gryffindors.
"Nothing." The three answered in unison, Harry dropping the hand with the Dandelion below the table.
"Lift your hand, Mr Potter." She directed, hands on her hips.
"He can't," Hermione piped up.
"I won't ask you again."
"Do you think you might dismiss the class before I do?" Harry asked meekly, taking note of the fifth years now eyeing him.
"No, lift your hand."
Harry did as he was told, lifting his hand, the Daemon Dandelion coming up with it.
"What have you done!?" Her face paled as she saw her precious plant screaming and thrashing in fright and hovering in front of his hand.
"I'm not exactly sure, Professor." Harry said honestly.
"Well, put'em down, then."
"Professor, I don't believe he can." Hermione said.
"Never mind," Professor Sprout said, pulling on her dragon-hide gloves and reaching for the plant. Her fingers curled around the flower and she pulled at it with all her might to no avail. "Potter, go to the hospital wing. I have no idea what you've done but perhaps Madam Pomfrey will be able to remove him." Harry didn't move. "Go, get along!"
"Professor . . ?" Ron asked.
"Go, go!" She said, shooing Ron and Hermione out after him. "And don't be late again, Miss Granger!"
"I won't!" Hermione called over her shoulder as they rushed out onto the grounds after Harry---who was moving surprisingly fast over the grass, the wind catching and sending a small twister of leaves to soaring beneath him, picking up his robes and sending them swirling about his body. Hermione was struck, for a moment, by how positively stunning Harry looked striding away over the castle grounds. She paused, and watched as Ron ran to caught up with Harry and spun him around, saying something Hermione couldn't hear, and looked just as magnificent. And then it hit her, they looked so positively stunning because they looked like adults. Like men.
And they were. They really were.
And just as soon as it happened the illusion was shattered. Harry started swinging his arm around, trying desperately to free the flowered creature.
"Hermione!" Ron called.
"Herm, I wouldn't mind a bit of help here!" Harry added.
"Coming!" and she trotted over to her two friends.
Ron had wrapped the sleeves of his robes around his hand and was motioning for Hermione to do the same. "Come on, Herm, we have to handle this."
"Why us? Why can't we just go up to Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, wrapping her hands nonetheless.
"Because Harry doesn't want to." Ron growled, wrapping his hands around the still screaming Dandelion.
"Ron . . ."
"Harry doesn't WANT to. Now come on."
Hermione grabbed hold of the top of the flower, her robes, thankfully, quieting the screaming.
"Now, on three," Harry and Hermione nodded. "Make sure you focus all of you magic on forcing the Daemon away, Harry. One . . . two . . . three!" The three Gryffindors pulled and pushed as hard as the possibly could and dislodged the plant, falling to the grass with a grunt and a thud.
Ron leapt to his feet and hurled the Dancing Dandelion into the lake.
"Now, would you care to explain what just happened, Harry?" He demanded.
"I don't know, Ron. Stuff like that's been happening for the past few weeks." He brought his legs up and propped his elbow on them, head sagging. "I can't control it, and I'm not getting any sleep, or any homework done . . ." he trailed off, running his finger unconsciously over his scar.
"Harry, you have to talk to us. Why aren't you sleeping?" Hermione asked, crawling over to min.
"There's so much I have to do, I don't get back to the dorm till two or three every morning."
"What?"
"I'm training."
"Harry," she crouched in front of him, putting her hand beneath his chin and turning his face up. "You don't have to do this. It's not your responsibility."
Harry was quiet for a long moment before answering.
"Yes, I do, Herm." He said finally.
"It's not right for them to be putting so much pressure on you." Ron said, coming up behind Hermione and putting his hands on her shoulders.
"They've got no-one else."
"They've got everyone else." Hermione tried to sooth him, resting her hand on his cheek.
"No, Hermione, they don't." Harry locked his eyes with her's and continued in his tragic tones. "Dumbledore told me so. The reason Voldemort was after my parents in the first place was because he knew that my dad would be able to defeat him."
"What do you mean?"
"It's part of the Potter bloodline. There's something in our blood that gives us an upper hand in matters such as this."
"Then why didn't your dad kill him when he, you know, in Godricks Hallow?" Ron asked.
"Because, whatever it is inside us, my dad had never tapped into; that's why Voldemort, was able to kill . . . kill him." He choked out.
"You don't have to tell us, Harry, it's alright." Ron said softly.
"No, I need to," He took a deep breath and continued. "When Voldemort tried to kill me too it was instinct that allowed me to tap into that special source of power that seems to run through the Potter line. I was so young that what I did---was able to do---was automatic. I can't remember how I did it though, so I have to train." Harry sighed. "But now Voldemort can't be killed with a simple 'Avada Kedavra', there has to be something else. But there IS nothing else. How can you kill something that has managed to make itself virtually immortal?" Hermione moved her hand to Harry's and gripped it tight, startling Harry and making him look at her for the first time.
"That's what we couldn't tell you in the greenhouses, Harry," she said. "Professor's McGonagall and Flitwick have been working on several theories on how we might be able to finally kill You-Know-Who once and for all."
"What? How?"
"Well, the details are far from worked out yet, but they've requested my assistance."
"Why you? Why not a professional charmer, or something?" Harry said, not wanting to involve his two best friends anymore then they already were.
"That's what I asked too, but Professor McGonagall told me the last known one was killed in the attack a few weeks ago and that I'm the most promising substitute available."
"I don't want you to do this, Herm." Harry said solemnly. "You don't have to do this . . . you don't have to get involved in this."
"Harry, I---we---got involved in this the moment you two saved me from that troll. The moment we became friends."
"Then maybe---" Harry choked out, his eyes shining. "---maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore."
"Harry!" Ron snapped, eyes sharp.
---
¸..· ´¨¨)) -:¦:-
¸.·´ ·´¨¨))
((¸¸.·´ ..·´ -:¦:- tbc -:¦:-
-:¦:- ((¸¸.·´*