Um.. Not to sound naïve, but just what exactly IS a Mary Sue? I feel like
back in fifth grade when everyone knew what '69' meant but me... ah well, I
suppose it isn't that important, but I'd like to know just the same.
Don't have much of a rant, except that sweet single still hasn't accepted my apology.. Major. Heartfelt. Sigh.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Harry was NOT in a good mood. He is also Veela, and the two make a dangerous mix.
After gathering all of his school supplies, he begrudgingly made his way to Dumbledore's office. Upon reaching the statue guarding it, Harry realized that Dumbledore had once again 'forgotten' to tell him the password. He didn't even bother guessing this time.
Harry let out a low, animalistic growl at the gargoyle, to which it must have decided was close enough to the actual password to let him through. With far more dignity reserved than compared to the last time, the Gargoyle slid aside to make way for the black-haired teen.
Harry walked in, took his customary seat in front of the Headmaster's desk, and waited for him to say something.
"Harry, I was paid a visit by Dobby at about Five thirty this morning. He said, and I quote, 'Harry Potter Sir is in the kitchens with a girl, sir, and I don't want Harry Potter Sir to get into any trouble'. Would you like to explain your actions, or shall I just inform Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore was obviously not too impressed with Harry's reluctance to this meeting, and his calcatrant attitude was not helping the matter at all.
"Allow me to answer a question with a question, Professor. I'll tell you everything you want to know, the unbiased truth, if you'll do the same for me. Deal?"
Albus mulled it over in his head a bit, before agreeing by way of nodding.
"I'm serious about this, Albus." The headmaster gave him a stern glare, warning him not to call him by his first name, words unneccessary. "If I found out that you lied to me about anything said here, I'll not be happy. As of yesterday morning, an unhappy Harry equals an unhealthy 'everyone in the vicinity'. A nod of the head is NOT acceptable."
Harry perhaps may have been a little harsh, but those irritating 'trust-me' vibes combined with the knowledge of having to deal with Snape directly afterwards has him, shall we say, a little edgy.
Dumbledore straightened up in his chair, obviously comprehending the seriousness of the situation. This was the crossroads, where whatever was bothering Harry would be the deciding factor to whether or not he would continue to support the Headmaster. Up until now, Harry had always believed Albus's decisions regarding him were honorable, but were he to choose to do so, Harry could just up and leave everything, perhaps dooming the wizarding world to the wrath of Voldemort.
"Would a magical contract be concrete enough?" he asked, as professional as he would be were he dealing with the idiot Fudge.
"Agreed," Harry stated boldly, knowing that breach of magical contract brought severe repercussions upon the trespasser.
The contract was written up, and both signed with their names, a drop of blood, and a magical signature. Completely and utterly binding.
"Okay," Harry began after the contract was duplicated, one given to each of the participants. He stood, and began to pace. "Do you mind if I ask my question first?"
The headmaster calmly made a sweeping gesture away from his chest with both hands, palm up, before re-steepling them in front of him, propping his elbows up on the desk, an open look on his face.
Harry took that as a yes. "What I want to know, is why are you giving off empathic suggestions to trust you? Now that I can feel them, it makes me really want to just leave and never speak to you again. I mean, why would anyone who is ACTUALLY trustworthy need to empathically make people trust in them?"
The headmaster sighed, actually sighed. He reached into a drawer in his desk, and Harry was bracing himself for some kind of weapon of the Harry- destroying sort. What he pulled out, however, was nothing more than a book.
He flipped through it, somehow casually and quickly at the same time. He finally found the page he was looking for, and so he set it on his desk, turned it around so that Harry could read it, and pushed it towards the boy. "I was wondering how long it would be before one of my students actually found out." He chuckled to himself. "I did make it through over eighty years at this school before it happened. Congratulations, Harry. You are the first."
Harry looked down onto the page, which showed a wizened mage with a long white beard, holding a staff and electricity crackling around him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ 'Quezacotyl'
The Quezacotyl are elemental beings of lightning, of which little is known about. They are known to take on human form, and when they do so, appear similar to the illustration above. Their control over the element is based loosely around emotions, the extent of which is also unknown. Rumored to be mischief-makers by nature, they will often play mind games with humans just for the thrill of it.
For more information on elemental beings, reference 'Elemental Creatures Of The Physical Plane', by Ira O. Te-buk.
Harry sat back down in the chair heavily, quite flabbergasted. "So, you are one of these lightning beings?"
The headmaster shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Not exactly. One of my distant ancestors was one, and by my generation, the blood has thinned to an almost undetectable degree. Let me ask you a few questions, Harry. Have you ever heard of anyone living to one hundred fifty seven natually? Or have you ever met anyone besides myself whose eyes 'twinkle' when amused? Those things, coupled with my mischievous nature, my... 'Trust-me' suggestions and a few other things are all qualities shown by my heritage. I honestly have no control over the empathic suggestions, and I have strived my entire life not to use it to an unfair advantage."
"But then why didn't Fudge believe you when you told him Voldemort was back?" Harry asked, not really that angry anymore, but now openly curious.
"From what I understand about my gifts, my influence won't affect someone who doesn't trust their own instincts. Minister Fudge, and a few others I have met over the course of my life fall into that category."
Harry nodded silently, letting this new revelation sink in.
Dumbledore, however, took this as his opportunity for 'his turn'.
"So, if I may ask now, why were you in the kitchens with a girl at five- thirty this morning?"
Harry groaned and stood, beginning his pacing once again. "The girl, Casey, snuck into my room in the middle of the night to sleep next to me. I woke up early, and brought her down not only because I was hungry, but because I wanted to know what the hell was going on!"
"And what was her explanation for it?"
Harry shook his head, not looking up from the carpet nor stopping his pacing. "It really doesn't matter, I know why she did it."
"And that would be?"
Harry slumped over in resignation, before turning a wary eye to the headmaster. "What I am about to show you is for your eyes only, sir. Can I trust you, I mean REALLY trust you to keep this a secret? Even from the Order?"
Albus nodded gravely. "I will keep your secret, as you will keep mine. We are equally bound by the contract, Harry."
Harry closed his eyes, stopping his pacing, and turned to face the headmaster. He reopened his eyes with a determined glint apparent. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket, casting a powerful locking charm on the door, before placing blinding and deafening spells on each and every portrait, occupied or not, in the office.
He turned to face the headmaster once again, a moment of doubt flickering over his schooled features in a fraction of a second, yet the headmaster still caught it.
"Well, Harry?"
Harry shucked off his robe in a dramatic fashion, pulling his shirt piece and tie over his head before the garment had settled onto the floor. He then spread his wings, making him look imposing and intimidating, yet even the headmaster, whom is as straight as they come, had to concede that he had an aesthetic beauty that could not be denied.
The headmaster was not expecting this at all. "You are Veela, Harry?" he asked, his eyebrows crested just underneath his tall pointed hat.
Harry let his wings relax, and his head bowed involuntarily. "I believe so, sir."
Dumbledore stroked his beard, contemplating the turn of events. "This explains some things I had been wondering about last year. Do sit, Harry. We have much to discuss, I believe."
Harry retook his seat, leaning forward so his wings could rest in their natural position without being smashed into the back of the chair.
"Last year, you were uncharacteristically moody, culminating with the partial destruction of my office, do you remember?"
Harry chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it. "How could I forget?"
Dumbledore plowed right on, unperturbed. "At the time, I judged your reasoning behind it as teenage angst coupled with the stress of your predicament."
"Predicament meaning being targeted for death almost since birth?" Harry queried with sarcasm, his emotions once again getting to his mouth before his brain did.
Yes, well, I didn't think you needed to be reminded yet again of that. Anyway, I should have seen it as a sign of a developing Veela. Have you taken any steps to get help with this yet?"
"I wrote to Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour yesterday almost immediately after I matured. I'm still waiting for a reply, but I was planning on meeting with them at Hogsmeade this weekend."
The mage nodded, saying "That is the exact first step I would have taken, in your situation. However, you will need to be accompanied by a few members of the order during your visit. We can't be too careful after the events of last year."
Harry didn't like it, but did see the wisdom in it. "Very well, but I am meeting with the Delacours alone. They can wait outside the room if they wish, but I'm not about to let more people know about this than I have to."
Albus conceded the point, knowing that he had kept his own part-human status a secret from as many as he could as well. "Well, I can't imagine that your morning routine has been easy lately, given your new, ahem, appearance, has it?"
Harry shook his head. "I had to beg Hermione to let me use the prefects bathroom, and then Cho walked in on me when I was wearing only my boxers." He shrugged. "It's not that part that bothers me, although perhaps it should. It's the fact that she saw my wings, and I had to tell her it was a Weasley twins prank to keep my secret."
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Here is what I propose, Harry. Firstly, I will find out if Ms. Chang has told anyone about it, then memory charm her and anyone she told. Keeping your secret away from Voldemort is top priority, and the memory charms, while regrettable, ARE necessary. Can you think of anyone else that needs to be charmed?"
Harry began to shake his head, but spoke when a thought came to him. "Um, Professor Sprout hit on me during Herbology yesterday. She apologized profusely afterwards, and I know that she couldn't help it, but I can't imagine that the memory of the incident is sitting very well with her. I mean, it's not like I can just walk up to her and say 'Sorry about all that, but it was really my fault. You see, I'm a Veela, and that's why you were trying to seduce me'."
Albus readily agreed, for he had always liked the kind-hearted professor, and he knew that the incident must be eating away at her from the inside out.
"I'm afraid that we must arrange new sleeping and bathing quarters for you though. I believe I can persuade the castle to add on a private bedroom and bathroom for you, and it should be completed by nightfall. Are there any... special requirements you need?"
Harry thought for a moment, before answering in the affirmative. "The charm that keeps boys from entering the girl's dormitory, can that be modified to only allow in people that I choose?"
"I'll speak with Filius about it over lunch. Now, if there is nothing else, I believe you have a little over half of Potions class left. You should run along, and we'll speak again after your meeting with the Delacours."
Harry made no outward sign that he had heard, but reached for his discarded clothing and reapplied it, effectively hiding his wings once again. He picked up his school bag, slung it over his shoulder, and made for the door. Just as he reached for the handle, the professor's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Your secret, contract or not, IS safe with me Harry. I hope that you can learn to place your trust in me once again, as I place mine in you."
He nodded, not turning around, and opened the door, breaking the charm that kept it locked to the outside in the process, making his way down to the dungeons for class.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Harry walked into potions, and directly to his seat next to Hermione. Sitting down, he glanced over at what page the class was working on and opened his textbook to the appropriate number.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our resident celebrity," drawled the voice of the potions teacher. "I guess we can't expect the 'famous' Harry Potter to abide by the rules as everyone else must. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect to the rules, Potter."
Harry looked up from his textbook to glare at Snape directly in the eye. "I had a meeting with the Headmaster, and I was told he informed you of it before hand, sir."
Snape's smirk stretched even wider, and his right eyebrow rose. "Ten more points for your cheek, Potter. Do you have more to say?"
Harry stood, fuming, trying vainly to keep his hands from igniting into flame. Hermione reached up with a hand to try and pull him back down to a sitting position, but when her hand touched his shoulder, he turned his gaze down on her.
Small purple flames were licking around the edges of his irises, and a series of inner explosions could be felt by gazing into his emerald orbs alone. She quickly withdrew her hand, and turned her attention back to her text, not willing to draw the wrath of the irate Veela onto herself.
He stepped around the desk, and walked directly up to the Professor. Two days ago, Snape had towered over him, but with the changes brought on by Harry's maturity, he now barely had to tilt his head to keep eye contact with the six foot four man.
He whispered, so that no one else could hear. "Your office, right now Snape. We need to have a little chat."
He then turned and stalked into the adjoining room, his robes billowing slightly behind him, a telltale signal to any who knew Harry that he was above and beyond angry.
The professor walked into the room behind him eagerly, for he had been waiting for Potter to overstep his boundaries from the first day he laid eyes on him.
Harry stalked to the center of the office, Snape directly behind him. As soon as he reached a point where he was sure the other man was in the room, he whirled around, and threw a small purple fireball at the door, slamming it shut.
Severus's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he looked upon the man- child. Purple flames originating at his hands, but travelling up to his elbows were flaring brightly from where the teen had his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Purple fire was also completely enveloping his eyes, giving off the effect that it was deep within his skull that the flame originated, and the eyes were the only outlet for them to show themselves.
He spoke, in a deadly calm voice. "The headmaster DID tell you I would be late, yet still you choose to belittle me at every chance that you get. It ends now, Snape. So help you god, it ends now."
"You're just like your father, always thinking that you are better than everyone else. Someone has to deflate that oversized head of yours, and since everyone else is too busy kissing your ass to do it, I will gladly accept THAT particular responsibility."
"I AM NOT MY FATHER! You'd do well to learn that, Snivillus. You are nothing but a petty, childish man, and I am not going to take it anymore." The fire that had before only reached his elbows, now reached up to his shoulders, and the flames from his eyes were burning out to the sides, almost reaching his ears.
"Well then Potter, It seems we have come to an impasse. It just so happens that there is nothing you can do about it. One hundred points from Gryffindor and detention this weekend, and every weekend after that until you graduate for insubordination."
Harry stepped to within an inch of Snape's face, the purple fire in his eyes singing the older man's eyebrows. He grasped his tie, and pulled the teacher closer so that their noses were touching.
"You're wrong, Snape. There IS something I can do about it. I'm going to beat you to within an inch of your life, then memory charm you, and hopefully I won't have to deal with you again for the rest of the year."
Snape swallowed convulsively. It wasn't like him to be intimidated by a mere student, which he was, so he tried his best to seem in control. "Is that a threat, Potter?"
"No, Snape, that is a promise." Harry smiled a wicked, evil smile.
One handed, the threw the professor to the side of the room by his necktie, into a shelving apparatus holding many potions ingredients. The instant he let go of the tie, the purple flames engulfed a large amount of his tie, shirt, and cloak.
Bleeding from the temple, Snape stumbled towards the door while simultaneously patting away the fire on his clothing. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice that the fireball Harry had closed the door with had engulfed the entire interior of the door until he was almost grasping the handle. It would have seared the flesh from hands were he to have completed the movement.
He turned around wide eyed, to see the entire interior of his office alight in purple flame, and the demon, as he was sure, stalking towards him, purple fire encasing his entire frame and large, black wings protruding from his back, heralding the coming of pain incarnate.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Hermione had been patiently making her potion, but worrying about what was taking Harry so long in the office. Malfoy's taunts of Harry finally getting expelled were not making matters any better. Just as she was contemplating how much trouble she could possibly get into by interrupting their 'chat', the door to the office opened, and Harry walked out, much calmer than he had been when he went in, levitating a badly bruised, bloody, and charred Professor Snape behind him on a stretcher.
Immediately the Slytherin side of the room stood, and made to rush him to avenge their fallen father figure, but it only took a glare from Harry to stop them all, each and every one, in their tracks. "You don't want to do that," was all he said to them, and they looked at each other, fearful, trying to see for themselves if anyone of them was brave enough to actually confront the imposing Gryffindor.
He dismissed them as any threat almost immediately, and turned to Hermione. "'Mione, as you are undoubtedly the smartest of us lot, and the only prefect in the room, you are in charge for the rest of the class." He turned to the rest of the class. "Does anyone have a problem with that?" Everyone, even Malfoy (who interestingly had become even more pale than usual), wisely kept their mouths shut.
Harry didn't acknowledge the class at all, for it was a rhetorical question. He swept out of the dungeons, towards the hospital wing, the unconscious head of Slytherin house in tow.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
He arrived at the Hospital Wing, only to have Madame Pomfrey make him rush the fallen Professor to the nearest cot.
"What happened here?" she asked him exasperatedly, fearing that he had been the one to do it.
"The Professor and I were having a private, heated discussion, and I had my wand in my hand. What I think happened, was that my wand shot some sparks, and that started a fire in his office. He tried to fight it, but was overtaken. I barely got the fire extinguished myself, before I hurried him up here."
She looked at him quizzically, not wanting to believe the tale when her own version that she had created was so much simpler.
Harry sensed that she didn't quite believe him, so he looked her deep in the eyes, putting on his 'puppy-dog' look, and willing her to be attracted to him. "You DO believe me, don't you?"
Her gaze softened, her eyes wandering down the center of the open cloak he had transfigured from a melted potions vial before he left the office, his own being destroyed by the fire. Her eyes rested on his abdomen, the muscles defined there as one would see in a bodybuilding contest, and she nodded her head.
"Of course I do, Harry. May I call you Harry?"
He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind the attractive older woman's ear. "Only if I can call you Poppy."
The seasoned mediwitch giggled like a schoolgirl, and as much as Harry was enjoying using his powers of seduction on the older woman, he did concede that she needed to be tending to Snivillous. "I must inform the Headmaster, Poppy. Please do what you an for Sni..., er, Professor Snape."
Poppy shook her head clear, remembering what she was paid to do, and ushered him gently out of the wing, using the palms of her hands on his buttocks to push him. Harry really didn't mind that much.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*
On the walk to the headmaster's office, for the third time in two days, he ran the events of the last hour over in his head. He took his time, pacing at a leisurely stroll, not only fearing the conversation with the headmaster, but also wanting to figure out just when he stopped being Harry and started being The Veela.
The old Harry never, EVER, would have used his powers like he just did with Poppy, even if there wasn't a critically injured man in need of her attention. He acted selfishly, which was something he almost never did, and the short delay he caused may have cost Snape dearly. Not only that, but he actually ENJOYED seducing the older woman. It gave him a thrill, and if his morals had slipped just a bit more, he would no longer be a virgin, Snape's health be damned. When he stopped to think about it, only yesterday he had run away from twins, TWINS, who tried to bed him, and now here he was, seducing a woman thirty years his senior.
It wasn't just his motives that had seemed out of place, either. Transfiguration wasn't Harry's best subject, and he would be the first to admit it. Yet, he just picked up the melted vial, held his wand at it, and pictured his cloak in his mind. It was all so clear, and the easiest piece of magic Harry had ever done, yet it should have been the hardest.
Oh yes, did he have a LOT of questions for Fleur and Gabrielle on Saturday.
Stopping just outside the Gargoyle, again, he decided to test a theory. He held out his wand, pictured his modified shirt front, and just let the magic flow. From thin air the shirt-tie combination appeared, at first misty and smoke-like, but soon gaining solidity. He had even modified it so that instead of having to unbutton and then re-button the front after he had placed it on his neck, it now had a clasp in the back of the collar to just slip on and off. He put it on, charmed the front of his robe shut, and asked the Gargoyle to 'Please move aside, this is an emergency."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Harry walked into the office yet again, and Dumbledore looked up from his paperwork with a quizzical expression.
"Harry? Shouldn't you be in Potions right about now?" he asked, disappointed that Harry had ditched his lesson.
"Do you remember you telling me this morning to make sure that Snape knew about our meeting, and that it would be dangerous for him to be pushing my buttons?"
"That's Professor Snape, Harry, and yes, I did make sure he knew. Why do you bring that up?" he asked, fearing the answer.
"You're wrong. It's just Snape now, he won't be fit to teach for the rest of the year, at the VERY least. He's in the Hospital wing, and Poppy is tending to him as we speak. He intentionally angered a Veela and in doing so, should thank his lucky stars that he is even still breathing."
Dumbledore hunched back into his chair, rubbing his temples with his hands. He looked back up to Harry, a disappointed, yet understanding look on his face. "I know that you are still trying to control your new powers, Harry, but I an extremely disappointed in you. You intentionally injured a man, a man vital to your survival whether you like it or not. I hope, for your sake, that he makes a speedy recovery."
Harry turned to walk out, mumbling "I wouldn't count on it" under his breath.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
He made his way to Gryffindor tower, and only Katie Bell and a few other seventh years were present, Casey not amongst them. He made his way over to his teammate, and asked if he could speak to her in private.
She agreed, blushing, to which Harry rolled his eyes.
He led her over to a pair of comfortable armchairs in the corner of the room, a place where 'Mione frequently studied. "Listen, I'm in dire need of a shower, so I'll make this quick. I was approached by this 'Casey' girl from your year, and I've never even talked to her before. What can you tell me about her?"
Katie looked at him shocked. "Casey, about yea tall," she held up her hand just a little over her head, "Blonde hair, blue eyes, Casey?"
Harry nodded. "That's the one."
"And she actually spoke to you voluntarily?"
He nodded again.
"I wonder what she has up her sleeve..." she trailed off, and Harry wanted to know the end of that sentence.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, truly and utterly confused.
"Well, I don't know if I should be telling you this," to which Harry responded with 'the look', "well, alright. That girl has never had a kind word to say about you, Harry. EVER. I have no idea what would make her approach you, but I wouldn't be too open with her. I'd say that I trust her as far as I can throw her, but the fact of the matter is that if I tried, I could probably heave her about fourteen feet."
Harry would have laughed, if he weren't so conflicted. "She told me that she has had a crush on me ever since my first year...." he trailed off this time, and Katie looked shocked.
"I can't belie.., why would sh... Oh god, I'll bet someone jinxed her into doing it as revenge or something, and she is gonna blame me. Why oh WHY do I always find myself in these situations?"
Harry managed a chuckle, leaning back into his armchair. "If I had a nickel for every time I asked myself that..." to which she replied, "Um, Harry? What's a nickel?"
Harry shook his head, taking in a deep breath and henceforth inadvertently reminding himself that he needed a shower. "I really, really need that shower, Katie. I guess I'll see you at lunch, okay?"
"K, bye Harry."
He got up, and made his way over to the prefect's private bath, looking forward to de-stinkify-ing himself after the nasty fire he had been a party to earlier.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Harry sat down, at the Gryffindor lunch table this day, with all of the Slytherins, even the females, giving him death glares and gestures of retribution. He shook his head, feeling guilty about his actions earlier, when he noticed a seventh year boy sitting next to him that he had never talked to either. 'Man, you really need to start meeting your housemates,' a voice in the back of his mind said to him.
"Um, excuse me," he began, turning to the boy. "I know that we've never talked before, but I need to ask you a question or two, if that's okay with you?"
The boy shrugged, making the curly brown hair on his head bob a bit. "Sure, I don't see why not."
"Um, well, first of all, what is your name?"
"Kyle," he said, "Kyle Habbencroft."
"Well, Kyle, this is about that Casey girl in your year. I've heard that she doesn't really like me, others are telling me that I should ask her out. I was kind of hoping to get some insight into her, and figure out who is lying to me."
Kyle's eyebrows rose of their own accord, and he asked with a puzzled expression, "You mean no one ever told you?"
Harry's own brows, however, furrowed in frustration. "Told me what?"
He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry looked him in the eye. The boy didn't flinch or blush, which probably meant that he is straight by Harry's reasoning, and therefore has less of a chance of an ulterior motive for what he was about to tell him.
"Casey, the stupid girl, is probably the only Gryffindor that DOESN'T like you. In fact, the only words I ever remember hearing out of her mouth are things like 'Potter always needs to be the center of attention,' and 'If Potter loses us one more house point, I'm going to string him up by his balls.'"
Harry flinched at the last quote, to which Kyle chuckled. "So she really doesn't like me then, does she."
"Harry," he said. "Although I could be mistaken, I'm pretty sure that I've never even heard her refer to you by your first name. I think that that in itself is enough to tell me that she doesn't like you."
Harry nodded, a constricting feeling in his chest, and stared at his empty plate. "You know, I don't think that I am that hungry anymore. It was nice meeting you Kyle, I'll talk to you again sometime."
He rose and quickly headed back to the tower, not wanting to be around anyone at the moment.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
He had been lying on his bed in the boy's dorm staring at the underside of the canopy for the last hour, probably for the last time if Dumbledore held up his end of the bargain, contemplating what to do about Casey. He really did have an enjoyable breakfast with her, and she seemed like someone who could like him for him, not for his fame.
'I should have known better,' he told himself bitterly, wiping away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. He was so far into his depression, that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps, or the caring voice that was calling his name as she approached. Only when she gently grabbed his shoulder did he turn around to see the concerned face of his bushy-haired best friend.
"Hey Harry, what's wrong? Is this about Snape? Because you really can't hold yourself accountable for what happened, he pushed you, and what you did in retaliation, whatever it was, is normal for Veela. Dumbledore told everyone at lunch that a fire had started during your meeting, and he was badly hurt trying to contain it. I certainly don't think any less of you, though I should for making me put up with all of those Slytherins for an hour."
Harry managed a small smile, before his face turned serious again. "That girl at breakfast, Casey? Did you know that she hates me?" he asked, knowing that he could trust her above all others.
Hermione, to his horror, nodded sadly. "That's why Ginny and I were so confused when she sat next to you and you introduced her to us in a friendly way. What happened?"
So Harry proceeded to tell her about the entire bullshit story she had told him, probably just to get him into the sack. By the end of it, Harry was crying openly into her shoulder, his entire body racking with his sobs.
Hermione stroked the back of his head, knowing that rubbing his back would probably mean rubbing his wings and she didn't want to hurt him anymore than she already had, and quietly asked why he was so upset.
"I thought I had finally found someone who could like me for being Harry, Not the Boy-Who-Lived. She fed me this entire story about always liking me, and here I find out that she lied to me just to try and get me into bed." He stood up, wiping his tears onto his sleeves. "Well that's it. I know at least one girl who has agreed to go on a date with me before all of this.. this. Shit, and I'll be damned if I'm going to pass her up again."
He made his way to the door, but didn't make it out of the room before Hermione turned him back around. "Are you sure you want to do that right away, Harry? I mean, you've been crying for like an hour, and your eyes have... why aren't your eyes puffy, Harry?"
Harry shrugged, an impish grin on his face. "I'm Veela, Hermione, I'm not allowed to look bad."
He left the boys dorm, swerved around an angry Ron who obviously wanted to interrogate him, and saw just the person he was looking for.
He grabbed Parvati by the hand, pulled her out the armchair where she was chatting with Lavender, and whispered in her ear "Lets go get your sister. I was wrong about the other night, and I plan on making it up to both of you-" he moved his face back in front of her, catching her eyes with a short sultry look while moving to her other ear. "making it up to you like you can't possibly imagine." He brushed his lips just underneath her earlobe, and she shivered uncontrollably.
Parvati pushed him back and held him at arm's length looking back and forth between his eyes, checking him for honesty. Whatever she saw obviously pleased her, because she gave a short hop and squealed like a little girl before snatching up his hand in hers and leading the way towards the Ravenclaw dorm rooms.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
I'll bet you are all wondering why I even introduced Casey, only to write her out again. Basically I needed Harry to realize that he needs to take what he can get, and I didn't want to use a canon character for that.
Let me know what you think!
(This chapter is three pages longer than the others. I'm getting better!)
Don't have much of a rant, except that sweet single still hasn't accepted my apology.. Major. Heartfelt. Sigh.
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Harry was NOT in a good mood. He is also Veela, and the two make a dangerous mix.
After gathering all of his school supplies, he begrudgingly made his way to Dumbledore's office. Upon reaching the statue guarding it, Harry realized that Dumbledore had once again 'forgotten' to tell him the password. He didn't even bother guessing this time.
Harry let out a low, animalistic growl at the gargoyle, to which it must have decided was close enough to the actual password to let him through. With far more dignity reserved than compared to the last time, the Gargoyle slid aside to make way for the black-haired teen.
Harry walked in, took his customary seat in front of the Headmaster's desk, and waited for him to say something.
"Harry, I was paid a visit by Dobby at about Five thirty this morning. He said, and I quote, 'Harry Potter Sir is in the kitchens with a girl, sir, and I don't want Harry Potter Sir to get into any trouble'. Would you like to explain your actions, or shall I just inform Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore was obviously not too impressed with Harry's reluctance to this meeting, and his calcatrant attitude was not helping the matter at all.
"Allow me to answer a question with a question, Professor. I'll tell you everything you want to know, the unbiased truth, if you'll do the same for me. Deal?"
Albus mulled it over in his head a bit, before agreeing by way of nodding.
"I'm serious about this, Albus." The headmaster gave him a stern glare, warning him not to call him by his first name, words unneccessary. "If I found out that you lied to me about anything said here, I'll not be happy. As of yesterday morning, an unhappy Harry equals an unhealthy 'everyone in the vicinity'. A nod of the head is NOT acceptable."
Harry perhaps may have been a little harsh, but those irritating 'trust-me' vibes combined with the knowledge of having to deal with Snape directly afterwards has him, shall we say, a little edgy.
Dumbledore straightened up in his chair, obviously comprehending the seriousness of the situation. This was the crossroads, where whatever was bothering Harry would be the deciding factor to whether or not he would continue to support the Headmaster. Up until now, Harry had always believed Albus's decisions regarding him were honorable, but were he to choose to do so, Harry could just up and leave everything, perhaps dooming the wizarding world to the wrath of Voldemort.
"Would a magical contract be concrete enough?" he asked, as professional as he would be were he dealing with the idiot Fudge.
"Agreed," Harry stated boldly, knowing that breach of magical contract brought severe repercussions upon the trespasser.
The contract was written up, and both signed with their names, a drop of blood, and a magical signature. Completely and utterly binding.
"Okay," Harry began after the contract was duplicated, one given to each of the participants. He stood, and began to pace. "Do you mind if I ask my question first?"
The headmaster calmly made a sweeping gesture away from his chest with both hands, palm up, before re-steepling them in front of him, propping his elbows up on the desk, an open look on his face.
Harry took that as a yes. "What I want to know, is why are you giving off empathic suggestions to trust you? Now that I can feel them, it makes me really want to just leave and never speak to you again. I mean, why would anyone who is ACTUALLY trustworthy need to empathically make people trust in them?"
The headmaster sighed, actually sighed. He reached into a drawer in his desk, and Harry was bracing himself for some kind of weapon of the Harry- destroying sort. What he pulled out, however, was nothing more than a book.
He flipped through it, somehow casually and quickly at the same time. He finally found the page he was looking for, and so he set it on his desk, turned it around so that Harry could read it, and pushed it towards the boy. "I was wondering how long it would be before one of my students actually found out." He chuckled to himself. "I did make it through over eighty years at this school before it happened. Congratulations, Harry. You are the first."
Harry looked down onto the page, which showed a wizened mage with a long white beard, holding a staff and electricity crackling around him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ 'Quezacotyl'
The Quezacotyl are elemental beings of lightning, of which little is known about. They are known to take on human form, and when they do so, appear similar to the illustration above. Their control over the element is based loosely around emotions, the extent of which is also unknown. Rumored to be mischief-makers by nature, they will often play mind games with humans just for the thrill of it.
For more information on elemental beings, reference 'Elemental Creatures Of The Physical Plane', by Ira O. Te-buk.
Harry sat back down in the chair heavily, quite flabbergasted. "So, you are one of these lightning beings?"
The headmaster shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "Not exactly. One of my distant ancestors was one, and by my generation, the blood has thinned to an almost undetectable degree. Let me ask you a few questions, Harry. Have you ever heard of anyone living to one hundred fifty seven natually? Or have you ever met anyone besides myself whose eyes 'twinkle' when amused? Those things, coupled with my mischievous nature, my... 'Trust-me' suggestions and a few other things are all qualities shown by my heritage. I honestly have no control over the empathic suggestions, and I have strived my entire life not to use it to an unfair advantage."
"But then why didn't Fudge believe you when you told him Voldemort was back?" Harry asked, not really that angry anymore, but now openly curious.
"From what I understand about my gifts, my influence won't affect someone who doesn't trust their own instincts. Minister Fudge, and a few others I have met over the course of my life fall into that category."
Harry nodded silently, letting this new revelation sink in.
Dumbledore, however, took this as his opportunity for 'his turn'.
"So, if I may ask now, why were you in the kitchens with a girl at five- thirty this morning?"
Harry groaned and stood, beginning his pacing once again. "The girl, Casey, snuck into my room in the middle of the night to sleep next to me. I woke up early, and brought her down not only because I was hungry, but because I wanted to know what the hell was going on!"
"And what was her explanation for it?"
Harry shook his head, not looking up from the carpet nor stopping his pacing. "It really doesn't matter, I know why she did it."
"And that would be?"
Harry slumped over in resignation, before turning a wary eye to the headmaster. "What I am about to show you is for your eyes only, sir. Can I trust you, I mean REALLY trust you to keep this a secret? Even from the Order?"
Albus nodded gravely. "I will keep your secret, as you will keep mine. We are equally bound by the contract, Harry."
Harry closed his eyes, stopping his pacing, and turned to face the headmaster. He reopened his eyes with a determined glint apparent. He pulled his wand from his robe pocket, casting a powerful locking charm on the door, before placing blinding and deafening spells on each and every portrait, occupied or not, in the office.
He turned to face the headmaster once again, a moment of doubt flickering over his schooled features in a fraction of a second, yet the headmaster still caught it.
"Well, Harry?"
Harry shucked off his robe in a dramatic fashion, pulling his shirt piece and tie over his head before the garment had settled onto the floor. He then spread his wings, making him look imposing and intimidating, yet even the headmaster, whom is as straight as they come, had to concede that he had an aesthetic beauty that could not be denied.
The headmaster was not expecting this at all. "You are Veela, Harry?" he asked, his eyebrows crested just underneath his tall pointed hat.
Harry let his wings relax, and his head bowed involuntarily. "I believe so, sir."
Dumbledore stroked his beard, contemplating the turn of events. "This explains some things I had been wondering about last year. Do sit, Harry. We have much to discuss, I believe."
Harry retook his seat, leaning forward so his wings could rest in their natural position without being smashed into the back of the chair.
"Last year, you were uncharacteristically moody, culminating with the partial destruction of my office, do you remember?"
Harry chuckled, but there was no mirth behind it. "How could I forget?"
Dumbledore plowed right on, unperturbed. "At the time, I judged your reasoning behind it as teenage angst coupled with the stress of your predicament."
"Predicament meaning being targeted for death almost since birth?" Harry queried with sarcasm, his emotions once again getting to his mouth before his brain did.
Yes, well, I didn't think you needed to be reminded yet again of that. Anyway, I should have seen it as a sign of a developing Veela. Have you taken any steps to get help with this yet?"
"I wrote to Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour yesterday almost immediately after I matured. I'm still waiting for a reply, but I was planning on meeting with them at Hogsmeade this weekend."
The mage nodded, saying "That is the exact first step I would have taken, in your situation. However, you will need to be accompanied by a few members of the order during your visit. We can't be too careful after the events of last year."
Harry didn't like it, but did see the wisdom in it. "Very well, but I am meeting with the Delacours alone. They can wait outside the room if they wish, but I'm not about to let more people know about this than I have to."
Albus conceded the point, knowing that he had kept his own part-human status a secret from as many as he could as well. "Well, I can't imagine that your morning routine has been easy lately, given your new, ahem, appearance, has it?"
Harry shook his head. "I had to beg Hermione to let me use the prefects bathroom, and then Cho walked in on me when I was wearing only my boxers." He shrugged. "It's not that part that bothers me, although perhaps it should. It's the fact that she saw my wings, and I had to tell her it was a Weasley twins prank to keep my secret."
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Here is what I propose, Harry. Firstly, I will find out if Ms. Chang has told anyone about it, then memory charm her and anyone she told. Keeping your secret away from Voldemort is top priority, and the memory charms, while regrettable, ARE necessary. Can you think of anyone else that needs to be charmed?"
Harry began to shake his head, but spoke when a thought came to him. "Um, Professor Sprout hit on me during Herbology yesterday. She apologized profusely afterwards, and I know that she couldn't help it, but I can't imagine that the memory of the incident is sitting very well with her. I mean, it's not like I can just walk up to her and say 'Sorry about all that, but it was really my fault. You see, I'm a Veela, and that's why you were trying to seduce me'."
Albus readily agreed, for he had always liked the kind-hearted professor, and he knew that the incident must be eating away at her from the inside out.
"I'm afraid that we must arrange new sleeping and bathing quarters for you though. I believe I can persuade the castle to add on a private bedroom and bathroom for you, and it should be completed by nightfall. Are there any... special requirements you need?"
Harry thought for a moment, before answering in the affirmative. "The charm that keeps boys from entering the girl's dormitory, can that be modified to only allow in people that I choose?"
"I'll speak with Filius about it over lunch. Now, if there is nothing else, I believe you have a little over half of Potions class left. You should run along, and we'll speak again after your meeting with the Delacours."
Harry made no outward sign that he had heard, but reached for his discarded clothing and reapplied it, effectively hiding his wings once again. He picked up his school bag, slung it over his shoulder, and made for the door. Just as he reached for the handle, the professor's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Your secret, contract or not, IS safe with me Harry. I hope that you can learn to place your trust in me once again, as I place mine in you."
He nodded, not turning around, and opened the door, breaking the charm that kept it locked to the outside in the process, making his way down to the dungeons for class.
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Harry walked into potions, and directly to his seat next to Hermione. Sitting down, he glanced over at what page the class was working on and opened his textbook to the appropriate number.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our resident celebrity," drawled the voice of the potions teacher. "I guess we can't expect the 'famous' Harry Potter to abide by the rules as everyone else must. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect to the rules, Potter."
Harry looked up from his textbook to glare at Snape directly in the eye. "I had a meeting with the Headmaster, and I was told he informed you of it before hand, sir."
Snape's smirk stretched even wider, and his right eyebrow rose. "Ten more points for your cheek, Potter. Do you have more to say?"
Harry stood, fuming, trying vainly to keep his hands from igniting into flame. Hermione reached up with a hand to try and pull him back down to a sitting position, but when her hand touched his shoulder, he turned his gaze down on her.
Small purple flames were licking around the edges of his irises, and a series of inner explosions could be felt by gazing into his emerald orbs alone. She quickly withdrew her hand, and turned her attention back to her text, not willing to draw the wrath of the irate Veela onto herself.
He stepped around the desk, and walked directly up to the Professor. Two days ago, Snape had towered over him, but with the changes brought on by Harry's maturity, he now barely had to tilt his head to keep eye contact with the six foot four man.
He whispered, so that no one else could hear. "Your office, right now Snape. We need to have a little chat."
He then turned and stalked into the adjoining room, his robes billowing slightly behind him, a telltale signal to any who knew Harry that he was above and beyond angry.
The professor walked into the room behind him eagerly, for he had been waiting for Potter to overstep his boundaries from the first day he laid eyes on him.
Harry stalked to the center of the office, Snape directly behind him. As soon as he reached a point where he was sure the other man was in the room, he whirled around, and threw a small purple fireball at the door, slamming it shut.
Severus's eyes nearly popped out of his head, and he looked upon the man- child. Purple flames originating at his hands, but travelling up to his elbows were flaring brightly from where the teen had his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Purple fire was also completely enveloping his eyes, giving off the effect that it was deep within his skull that the flame originated, and the eyes were the only outlet for them to show themselves.
He spoke, in a deadly calm voice. "The headmaster DID tell you I would be late, yet still you choose to belittle me at every chance that you get. It ends now, Snape. So help you god, it ends now."
"You're just like your father, always thinking that you are better than everyone else. Someone has to deflate that oversized head of yours, and since everyone else is too busy kissing your ass to do it, I will gladly accept THAT particular responsibility."
"I AM NOT MY FATHER! You'd do well to learn that, Snivillus. You are nothing but a petty, childish man, and I am not going to take it anymore." The fire that had before only reached his elbows, now reached up to his shoulders, and the flames from his eyes were burning out to the sides, almost reaching his ears.
"Well then Potter, It seems we have come to an impasse. It just so happens that there is nothing you can do about it. One hundred points from Gryffindor and detention this weekend, and every weekend after that until you graduate for insubordination."
Harry stepped to within an inch of Snape's face, the purple fire in his eyes singing the older man's eyebrows. He grasped his tie, and pulled the teacher closer so that their noses were touching.
"You're wrong, Snape. There IS something I can do about it. I'm going to beat you to within an inch of your life, then memory charm you, and hopefully I won't have to deal with you again for the rest of the year."
Snape swallowed convulsively. It wasn't like him to be intimidated by a mere student, which he was, so he tried his best to seem in control. "Is that a threat, Potter?"
"No, Snape, that is a promise." Harry smiled a wicked, evil smile.
One handed, the threw the professor to the side of the room by his necktie, into a shelving apparatus holding many potions ingredients. The instant he let go of the tie, the purple flames engulfed a large amount of his tie, shirt, and cloak.
Bleeding from the temple, Snape stumbled towards the door while simultaneously patting away the fire on his clothing. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice that the fireball Harry had closed the door with had engulfed the entire interior of the door until he was almost grasping the handle. It would have seared the flesh from hands were he to have completed the movement.
He turned around wide eyed, to see the entire interior of his office alight in purple flame, and the demon, as he was sure, stalking towards him, purple fire encasing his entire frame and large, black wings protruding from his back, heralding the coming of pain incarnate.
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Hermione had been patiently making her potion, but worrying about what was taking Harry so long in the office. Malfoy's taunts of Harry finally getting expelled were not making matters any better. Just as she was contemplating how much trouble she could possibly get into by interrupting their 'chat', the door to the office opened, and Harry walked out, much calmer than he had been when he went in, levitating a badly bruised, bloody, and charred Professor Snape behind him on a stretcher.
Immediately the Slytherin side of the room stood, and made to rush him to avenge their fallen father figure, but it only took a glare from Harry to stop them all, each and every one, in their tracks. "You don't want to do that," was all he said to them, and they looked at each other, fearful, trying to see for themselves if anyone of them was brave enough to actually confront the imposing Gryffindor.
He dismissed them as any threat almost immediately, and turned to Hermione. "'Mione, as you are undoubtedly the smartest of us lot, and the only prefect in the room, you are in charge for the rest of the class." He turned to the rest of the class. "Does anyone have a problem with that?" Everyone, even Malfoy (who interestingly had become even more pale than usual), wisely kept their mouths shut.
Harry didn't acknowledge the class at all, for it was a rhetorical question. He swept out of the dungeons, towards the hospital wing, the unconscious head of Slytherin house in tow.
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He arrived at the Hospital Wing, only to have Madame Pomfrey make him rush the fallen Professor to the nearest cot.
"What happened here?" she asked him exasperatedly, fearing that he had been the one to do it.
"The Professor and I were having a private, heated discussion, and I had my wand in my hand. What I think happened, was that my wand shot some sparks, and that started a fire in his office. He tried to fight it, but was overtaken. I barely got the fire extinguished myself, before I hurried him up here."
She looked at him quizzically, not wanting to believe the tale when her own version that she had created was so much simpler.
Harry sensed that she didn't quite believe him, so he looked her deep in the eyes, putting on his 'puppy-dog' look, and willing her to be attracted to him. "You DO believe me, don't you?"
Her gaze softened, her eyes wandering down the center of the open cloak he had transfigured from a melted potions vial before he left the office, his own being destroyed by the fire. Her eyes rested on his abdomen, the muscles defined there as one would see in a bodybuilding contest, and she nodded her head.
"Of course I do, Harry. May I call you Harry?"
He tucked a stray wisp of hair behind the attractive older woman's ear. "Only if I can call you Poppy."
The seasoned mediwitch giggled like a schoolgirl, and as much as Harry was enjoying using his powers of seduction on the older woman, he did concede that she needed to be tending to Snivillous. "I must inform the Headmaster, Poppy. Please do what you an for Sni..., er, Professor Snape."
Poppy shook her head clear, remembering what she was paid to do, and ushered him gently out of the wing, using the palms of her hands on his buttocks to push him. Harry really didn't mind that much.
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On the walk to the headmaster's office, for the third time in two days, he ran the events of the last hour over in his head. He took his time, pacing at a leisurely stroll, not only fearing the conversation with the headmaster, but also wanting to figure out just when he stopped being Harry and started being The Veela.
The old Harry never, EVER, would have used his powers like he just did with Poppy, even if there wasn't a critically injured man in need of her attention. He acted selfishly, which was something he almost never did, and the short delay he caused may have cost Snape dearly. Not only that, but he actually ENJOYED seducing the older woman. It gave him a thrill, and if his morals had slipped just a bit more, he would no longer be a virgin, Snape's health be damned. When he stopped to think about it, only yesterday he had run away from twins, TWINS, who tried to bed him, and now here he was, seducing a woman thirty years his senior.
It wasn't just his motives that had seemed out of place, either. Transfiguration wasn't Harry's best subject, and he would be the first to admit it. Yet, he just picked up the melted vial, held his wand at it, and pictured his cloak in his mind. It was all so clear, and the easiest piece of magic Harry had ever done, yet it should have been the hardest.
Oh yes, did he have a LOT of questions for Fleur and Gabrielle on Saturday.
Stopping just outside the Gargoyle, again, he decided to test a theory. He held out his wand, pictured his modified shirt front, and just let the magic flow. From thin air the shirt-tie combination appeared, at first misty and smoke-like, but soon gaining solidity. He had even modified it so that instead of having to unbutton and then re-button the front after he had placed it on his neck, it now had a clasp in the back of the collar to just slip on and off. He put it on, charmed the front of his robe shut, and asked the Gargoyle to 'Please move aside, this is an emergency."
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Harry walked into the office yet again, and Dumbledore looked up from his paperwork with a quizzical expression.
"Harry? Shouldn't you be in Potions right about now?" he asked, disappointed that Harry had ditched his lesson.
"Do you remember you telling me this morning to make sure that Snape knew about our meeting, and that it would be dangerous for him to be pushing my buttons?"
"That's Professor Snape, Harry, and yes, I did make sure he knew. Why do you bring that up?" he asked, fearing the answer.
"You're wrong. It's just Snape now, he won't be fit to teach for the rest of the year, at the VERY least. He's in the Hospital wing, and Poppy is tending to him as we speak. He intentionally angered a Veela and in doing so, should thank his lucky stars that he is even still breathing."
Dumbledore hunched back into his chair, rubbing his temples with his hands. He looked back up to Harry, a disappointed, yet understanding look on his face. "I know that you are still trying to control your new powers, Harry, but I an extremely disappointed in you. You intentionally injured a man, a man vital to your survival whether you like it or not. I hope, for your sake, that he makes a speedy recovery."
Harry turned to walk out, mumbling "I wouldn't count on it" under his breath.
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He made his way to Gryffindor tower, and only Katie Bell and a few other seventh years were present, Casey not amongst them. He made his way over to his teammate, and asked if he could speak to her in private.
She agreed, blushing, to which Harry rolled his eyes.
He led her over to a pair of comfortable armchairs in the corner of the room, a place where 'Mione frequently studied. "Listen, I'm in dire need of a shower, so I'll make this quick. I was approached by this 'Casey' girl from your year, and I've never even talked to her before. What can you tell me about her?"
Katie looked at him shocked. "Casey, about yea tall," she held up her hand just a little over her head, "Blonde hair, blue eyes, Casey?"
Harry nodded. "That's the one."
"And she actually spoke to you voluntarily?"
He nodded again.
"I wonder what she has up her sleeve..." she trailed off, and Harry wanted to know the end of that sentence.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked, truly and utterly confused.
"Well, I don't know if I should be telling you this," to which Harry responded with 'the look', "well, alright. That girl has never had a kind word to say about you, Harry. EVER. I have no idea what would make her approach you, but I wouldn't be too open with her. I'd say that I trust her as far as I can throw her, but the fact of the matter is that if I tried, I could probably heave her about fourteen feet."
Harry would have laughed, if he weren't so conflicted. "She told me that she has had a crush on me ever since my first year...." he trailed off this time, and Katie looked shocked.
"I can't belie.., why would sh... Oh god, I'll bet someone jinxed her into doing it as revenge or something, and she is gonna blame me. Why oh WHY do I always find myself in these situations?"
Harry managed a chuckle, leaning back into his armchair. "If I had a nickel for every time I asked myself that..." to which she replied, "Um, Harry? What's a nickel?"
Harry shook his head, taking in a deep breath and henceforth inadvertently reminding himself that he needed a shower. "I really, really need that shower, Katie. I guess I'll see you at lunch, okay?"
"K, bye Harry."
He got up, and made his way over to the prefect's private bath, looking forward to de-stinkify-ing himself after the nasty fire he had been a party to earlier.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*
Harry sat down, at the Gryffindor lunch table this day, with all of the Slytherins, even the females, giving him death glares and gestures of retribution. He shook his head, feeling guilty about his actions earlier, when he noticed a seventh year boy sitting next to him that he had never talked to either. 'Man, you really need to start meeting your housemates,' a voice in the back of his mind said to him.
"Um, excuse me," he began, turning to the boy. "I know that we've never talked before, but I need to ask you a question or two, if that's okay with you?"
The boy shrugged, making the curly brown hair on his head bob a bit. "Sure, I don't see why not."
"Um, well, first of all, what is your name?"
"Kyle," he said, "Kyle Habbencroft."
"Well, Kyle, this is about that Casey girl in your year. I've heard that she doesn't really like me, others are telling me that I should ask her out. I was kind of hoping to get some insight into her, and figure out who is lying to me."
Kyle's eyebrows rose of their own accord, and he asked with a puzzled expression, "You mean no one ever told you?"
Harry's own brows, however, furrowed in frustration. "Told me what?"
He put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry looked him in the eye. The boy didn't flinch or blush, which probably meant that he is straight by Harry's reasoning, and therefore has less of a chance of an ulterior motive for what he was about to tell him.
"Casey, the stupid girl, is probably the only Gryffindor that DOESN'T like you. In fact, the only words I ever remember hearing out of her mouth are things like 'Potter always needs to be the center of attention,' and 'If Potter loses us one more house point, I'm going to string him up by his balls.'"
Harry flinched at the last quote, to which Kyle chuckled. "So she really doesn't like me then, does she."
"Harry," he said. "Although I could be mistaken, I'm pretty sure that I've never even heard her refer to you by your first name. I think that that in itself is enough to tell me that she doesn't like you."
Harry nodded, a constricting feeling in his chest, and stared at his empty plate. "You know, I don't think that I am that hungry anymore. It was nice meeting you Kyle, I'll talk to you again sometime."
He rose and quickly headed back to the tower, not wanting to be around anyone at the moment.
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He had been lying on his bed in the boy's dorm staring at the underside of the canopy for the last hour, probably for the last time if Dumbledore held up his end of the bargain, contemplating what to do about Casey. He really did have an enjoyable breakfast with her, and she seemed like someone who could like him for him, not for his fame.
'I should have known better,' he told himself bitterly, wiping away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. He was so far into his depression, that he didn't hear the approaching footsteps, or the caring voice that was calling his name as she approached. Only when she gently grabbed his shoulder did he turn around to see the concerned face of his bushy-haired best friend.
"Hey Harry, what's wrong? Is this about Snape? Because you really can't hold yourself accountable for what happened, he pushed you, and what you did in retaliation, whatever it was, is normal for Veela. Dumbledore told everyone at lunch that a fire had started during your meeting, and he was badly hurt trying to contain it. I certainly don't think any less of you, though I should for making me put up with all of those Slytherins for an hour."
Harry managed a small smile, before his face turned serious again. "That girl at breakfast, Casey? Did you know that she hates me?" he asked, knowing that he could trust her above all others.
Hermione, to his horror, nodded sadly. "That's why Ginny and I were so confused when she sat next to you and you introduced her to us in a friendly way. What happened?"
So Harry proceeded to tell her about the entire bullshit story she had told him, probably just to get him into the sack. By the end of it, Harry was crying openly into her shoulder, his entire body racking with his sobs.
Hermione stroked the back of his head, knowing that rubbing his back would probably mean rubbing his wings and she didn't want to hurt him anymore than she already had, and quietly asked why he was so upset.
"I thought I had finally found someone who could like me for being Harry, Not the Boy-Who-Lived. She fed me this entire story about always liking me, and here I find out that she lied to me just to try and get me into bed." He stood up, wiping his tears onto his sleeves. "Well that's it. I know at least one girl who has agreed to go on a date with me before all of this.. this. Shit, and I'll be damned if I'm going to pass her up again."
He made his way to the door, but didn't make it out of the room before Hermione turned him back around. "Are you sure you want to do that right away, Harry? I mean, you've been crying for like an hour, and your eyes have... why aren't your eyes puffy, Harry?"
Harry shrugged, an impish grin on his face. "I'm Veela, Hermione, I'm not allowed to look bad."
He left the boys dorm, swerved around an angry Ron who obviously wanted to interrogate him, and saw just the person he was looking for.
He grabbed Parvati by the hand, pulled her out the armchair where she was chatting with Lavender, and whispered in her ear "Lets go get your sister. I was wrong about the other night, and I plan on making it up to both of you-" he moved his face back in front of her, catching her eyes with a short sultry look while moving to her other ear. "making it up to you like you can't possibly imagine." He brushed his lips just underneath her earlobe, and she shivered uncontrollably.
Parvati pushed him back and held him at arm's length looking back and forth between his eyes, checking him for honesty. Whatever she saw obviously pleased her, because she gave a short hop and squealed like a little girl before snatching up his hand in hers and leading the way towards the Ravenclaw dorm rooms.
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I'll bet you are all wondering why I even introduced Casey, only to write her out again. Basically I needed Harry to realize that he needs to take what he can get, and I didn't want to use a canon character for that.
Let me know what you think!
(This chapter is three pages longer than the others. I'm getting better!)