Alesco
Chapter Five--Early Morning Conversations
*
Harry studied the try-out flyers he and Ron had finally agreed upon. They'd just posted them on the Gryffindor notice board, and he had to admit that he was very proud of them. They were on yellow parchment, and Harry and Ron had gone to the library to look up charms to cause the picture of the Gryffindor flag on them to wave gently, as if in a breeze. When Harry had suggested they ask Hermione about the charm, Ron had gotten overly irritated about Hermione's dislike of Quidditch. Harry began to say to Ron that he was pretty sure Hermione didn't dislike Quidditch, she just had other "favorite things", but Ron just became sulky and muttered a few choice words. Harry wasn't sure what his problem was...but he had a good idea.
It was nearly midnight, so they'd thankfully posted the flyers when everyone else was in bed. Ron rubbed his eyes and said he was going to turn in. Harry agreed, and followed him up to the boy's dormitory.
Harry pulled on his pajamas silently and slid into bed, saying good-night softly toward Ron's four-poster. He heard Ron wish him good-night, and he put out his wand and slid it under his pillow after closing his curtains. These days, he chose not to go anywhere or do anything without his wand close by---even during the summer. He'd even got into the habit of keeping his glasses on all night long.
Harry didn't want to think of the summer. The only good thing to come of it was Aunt Petunia, finally explaining to him what the howler she had received last year had meant. He'd had to beg repeatedly for this tiny bit of information. At last, he felt that his Aunt had began to fear the threat Mad-Eye Moody had made to the Dursley's before they left King's Cross station.
....Summer at 4 Privet Drive....
Aunt Petunia, at home alone with Harry (as Dudley was off with his bully friends and Uncle Vernon was at work), sat nervously on the sofa, wringing her hands. She had a defiant look on her face, but also appeared to want to "get it off her chest."
"What WAS that UNGODLY howler thing, anyway?" She began.
"You only receive it if the sender is very angry with you." Harry stated matter-of-factly, in a tone reserved only for the very stupid or the very young.
"Well, whatever you call it, I've received one before." She blurted, looking furious.
"When?" Harry growled.
Aunt Petunia appeared not to want to talk about it. After some urging, which was very exhausting, she finally said, "I got the other one about fourteen years ago." At this, Harry was amazed to see a very brief look of shame cross his Aunt's eyes. It was gone in an instant, though.
She continued in a rush, "I was in the car, and had just arrived at the orphanage to drop you off." She paused briefly, to see the Harry narrow his eyes in anger. "Yes, well, we already had one child to deal with, we never made any obligations to take you on. Then, this great bird came flapping through the car window. Thank God Vernon wasn't with me, he would have had a stroke! And that red envelope just lay there, smoking, and I refused to touch it. Then it screamed that if I were to leave you at the orphanage, terrible things would happen. Terrible, terrible things. As it burned itself, I knew I'd better take you home. Knowing the kind of freaks your parents associated with, I was afraid my family would be dead by morning." She finished, looking smug and fearful all at once.
~*~
As Harry lay in bed, thinking about that day, he remembered what he'd said to his Aunt afterward. He'd told her he wished she would have left him at the orphanage, and ignored the howler.
But now, even after all those terrible years with the Dursley's, he began to reconsider those words. He never would have become the kind of person he was now if he hadn't dealt with all the anguish. He might not have appreciated all he had now. And if he'd ever lived elsewhere, and been admitted to Hogwarts, he might have turned into a Slytherin like Draco. He might not have had the sense to plead with the Sorting Hat not to put him into that dreadful house.
Harry wondered what had given him such clarity of thinking; so shortly after the hard summer and even harder school year. Then, his mind turned to more recent, more pleasant occurrences.
Harry had spent his early mornings during the bulk of the month sitting quietly on the Quidditch pitch. It didn't take long for him to realize the girl he'd noticed that first morning was there every day, too. It appeared she liked to bring her books with her and study. For several mornings, Harry ignored her...until he realized one day that she had noticed him, too. He saw her look up at him occasionally. For a long time, Harry wondered if maybe his presence was distracting...after all, she was here alone. Maybe she could only study by herself, in total quiet.
The next several days Harry became anxious. Instead of lying on his bench and watching the clouds roll overhead, he was watching the girl sitting across the field from him. He didn't even know who she was, since she was so far away. At one point, Harry inwardly laughed. What if she turned out to be Cho Chang? Now, that would be a bit awkward.
Another day passed, and Harry's curiosity got the better of him. He had got up and walked across the field...
....That day, on the Quidditch pitch....
He realized who it was, the moment he came closer. It was Susan Bones, niece of Madam Bones, who was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He knew the moment he saw the long plait of reddish-brown hair that was lying across her shoulder.
He remembered that she was part of the D.A. last year, but he hadn't ever spoken privately to her. Maybe this was a bad idea....
He couldn't turn away since he'd gotten this far. Thankfully, Susan was looking at him and smiling. "Hi-ya, Harry. Nice morning, isn't it?" She was clearing of a space on the bench beside her.
"Hi Susan. Yes, it is." Harry stood in front of her for a while, not sure what to do or say now. He put his hands in his pockets and pretended to be interested in the high goal rings.
"Why don't you sit down?" Susan said, and if he wasn't so nervous, he could swear there was a little hitch in her voice.
"Oh, ok, thanks." Harry walked over and sat on the bench, trying to make she he wasn't too close to Susan, but not too far away. There was silence for a few moments, as Susan turned attention back to the parchment she was writing on. She sat there, poised over it with the tip of her quill, and was chewing her upper lip.
Harry sat up. Maybe he should leave. She was working, and he was only bothering her...
"So, Harry, you come out here often, don't you?" Susan was asking. Harry turned to look her in the eye, and hers darted away. She looked at her hands.
"Well, yeah, I have, recently." He said, and cleared his throat.
"I know--I mean, I've been coming out here ever since fourth year, and I was surprised to see someone else this year." Susan was writing and talking at the same time, a skill Harry had never perfected. "It's really nice out here in the mornings, don't you think?" She looked up at him and smiled.
"Yeah." Harry turned away quickly. He was beginning to get an odd, warm tingle in his nether regions. Maybe it was time to go get breakfast?
Susan had turned back to her work. "I relax so much more out here than I do anywhere else."
Harry had felt himself smile. Warmth had spread throughout his body. "So do I."
~*~
At that, they had began to converse more freely. She talked about her Aunt, and her Aunt's work at the Ministry of Magic. He talked about some of the events of last year, as most of the school already knew the basics. She talked about her family, and the fact that her father had been killed by death eaters when she was just a baby. Her mother had remarried a Muggle, whom she considered her own father. And Harry learned that Susan wasn't doing her homework, she was writing fictional stories.
Before Harry left for breakfast that day, he began to wonder if the Sorting Hat had been wrong about Susan, too. She was smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, brave enough to be a Gryffindor, and pretty enough to be....
That was when Harry's silent musings ended. He opened his eyes, aware that he was lying in his bed. It didn't surprise him as much as the fact that his alarm was sounding, and it was another day...another brilliant morning.
~*~
Several hours later, Harry was sitting at breakfast with his two best friends. He was thinking about that morning, and his talk with Susan. There had been a brief rain shower overnight, and the Quidditch pitch had glistened with drops of water; and the scent of the earth wafted over them. Harry couldn't think of a better place to be....and the company hadn't been bad, either.
"Harry? Harry! Did you hear what I just asked you?" Hermione was staring at him, waving a hand in front of his eyes to get his attention.
Harry allowed himself to focus on her, with a small smile. "Uh, no, Hermione...what was it?"
"For Merlin's sake, Harry, you were just sitting there, staring into space. Ron and I thought you'd been possessed." He suddenly realized how worried the inhabitants of Gryffindor table were, as several other students, including Neville and Ginny, were looking at him anxiously. Harry frowned and glared at them all.
"I'm fine." Harry began to feel the irritation he'd experienced during the summer wash over him.
Hermione's face began to lose some of its earlier paleness. She leaned in on him and whispered, "I just asked you if you've....had any pains in your scar recently."
This was the last thing Harry wanted to think about. Since she brought it up, he had to admit to himself that he hadn't felt any pains in his scar recently. In fact, he hadn't felt anything more than a subtle twinge since Voldemort attempted to possess him last year in the Ministry of Magic. It was very strange....and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it up until now.
"No, I haven't." Harry said, in a puzzled voice. He reached up and gently rubbed the scar.
Hermione pursed her lips and said softly, in a satisfied tone, "As far as I'm concerned, I think it's a good thing."
Harry's brow furrowed and he looked up at her, dropping his hand from the scar. "Why do you think that? What if Voldemort has other plans for me now, which don't involve invading my mind?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think you've changed, Harry. Something you've been doing is clearing your mind so Voldemort can't invade it."
Harry smiled, and ate a piece of bacon and some toast. After a while, Hermione got up, saying she needed a quick word with Professor McGonagall. Harry noticed Ron watching her intently, until she was out of earshot.
"Hey, Harry." Ron said nervously, still looking at Hermione.
"Yeah?"
Ron turned fully to Harry, talking rapidly, suddenly anxious
"It's-two-weeks-until-Hermione's-sixteenth-birthday-what-do-we-do?"
"Huh?" Harry gave him a "are-you-bloody-insane" look.
"Hermione's birthday. Sixteenth. Two weeks." Ron said, trying to breathe between the words.
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "You want to know what we're going to do?" He asked Ron matter-of-factly.
Ron nodded.
Harry burst out laughing. He patted his friend's back. No matter how much Hermione and Ron fought, he'd figured that by now Ron would know. He knew for certain Ron was smitten with Hermione...for a while, he wasn't certain she returned the feelings. But since she'd called Ron "passionate" right before the 1st year sorting, Harry was pretty sure she felt the same way for Ron. Something had happened during the summer, and he was sure it hadn't been a regular fight...
Ron was staring at him. Harry stopped laughing, smiled, and said simply, "It's not what WE'RE going to do, Ron, it's what YOU'RE going to do."
While Ron gaped at him soundlessly, Harry got up and draped his bag over his shoulders. Harry was sure Ron was going to ask him what he meant, if Hermione hadn't come back from her talk with Professor McGonagall.
"Guess what, Ron?" Hermione asked, looking affronted.
Ron, still curious about what Harry had said, turned to Hermione.
She reached out and opened her palm. Professor Forester's sugar quill lay in it.
"The quill is okay. You were right, Ron. I'm sorry." She said softly.
Harry expected Ron to take the quill. Instead, Ron asked her steadily, "Do you like black liquorice?"
Hermione was surprised. "Well, yes."
"Then it's yours." Ron said firmly. "Besides, I like this one better." He pulled another quill out of his pocket, and Hermione blushed. Harry recognized Ron's quill as a brand Hermione used all the time.
Harry grinned. Maybe a blind man can drink when led to water........
Chapter Five--Early Morning Conversations
*
Harry studied the try-out flyers he and Ron had finally agreed upon. They'd just posted them on the Gryffindor notice board, and he had to admit that he was very proud of them. They were on yellow parchment, and Harry and Ron had gone to the library to look up charms to cause the picture of the Gryffindor flag on them to wave gently, as if in a breeze. When Harry had suggested they ask Hermione about the charm, Ron had gotten overly irritated about Hermione's dislike of Quidditch. Harry began to say to Ron that he was pretty sure Hermione didn't dislike Quidditch, she just had other "favorite things", but Ron just became sulky and muttered a few choice words. Harry wasn't sure what his problem was...but he had a good idea.
It was nearly midnight, so they'd thankfully posted the flyers when everyone else was in bed. Ron rubbed his eyes and said he was going to turn in. Harry agreed, and followed him up to the boy's dormitory.
Harry pulled on his pajamas silently and slid into bed, saying good-night softly toward Ron's four-poster. He heard Ron wish him good-night, and he put out his wand and slid it under his pillow after closing his curtains. These days, he chose not to go anywhere or do anything without his wand close by---even during the summer. He'd even got into the habit of keeping his glasses on all night long.
Harry didn't want to think of the summer. The only good thing to come of it was Aunt Petunia, finally explaining to him what the howler she had received last year had meant. He'd had to beg repeatedly for this tiny bit of information. At last, he felt that his Aunt had began to fear the threat Mad-Eye Moody had made to the Dursley's before they left King's Cross station.
....Summer at 4 Privet Drive....
Aunt Petunia, at home alone with Harry (as Dudley was off with his bully friends and Uncle Vernon was at work), sat nervously on the sofa, wringing her hands. She had a defiant look on her face, but also appeared to want to "get it off her chest."
"What WAS that UNGODLY howler thing, anyway?" She began.
"You only receive it if the sender is very angry with you." Harry stated matter-of-factly, in a tone reserved only for the very stupid or the very young.
"Well, whatever you call it, I've received one before." She blurted, looking furious.
"When?" Harry growled.
Aunt Petunia appeared not to want to talk about it. After some urging, which was very exhausting, she finally said, "I got the other one about fourteen years ago." At this, Harry was amazed to see a very brief look of shame cross his Aunt's eyes. It was gone in an instant, though.
She continued in a rush, "I was in the car, and had just arrived at the orphanage to drop you off." She paused briefly, to see the Harry narrow his eyes in anger. "Yes, well, we already had one child to deal with, we never made any obligations to take you on. Then, this great bird came flapping through the car window. Thank God Vernon wasn't with me, he would have had a stroke! And that red envelope just lay there, smoking, and I refused to touch it. Then it screamed that if I were to leave you at the orphanage, terrible things would happen. Terrible, terrible things. As it burned itself, I knew I'd better take you home. Knowing the kind of freaks your parents associated with, I was afraid my family would be dead by morning." She finished, looking smug and fearful all at once.
~*~
As Harry lay in bed, thinking about that day, he remembered what he'd said to his Aunt afterward. He'd told her he wished she would have left him at the orphanage, and ignored the howler.
But now, even after all those terrible years with the Dursley's, he began to reconsider those words. He never would have become the kind of person he was now if he hadn't dealt with all the anguish. He might not have appreciated all he had now. And if he'd ever lived elsewhere, and been admitted to Hogwarts, he might have turned into a Slytherin like Draco. He might not have had the sense to plead with the Sorting Hat not to put him into that dreadful house.
Harry wondered what had given him such clarity of thinking; so shortly after the hard summer and even harder school year. Then, his mind turned to more recent, more pleasant occurrences.
Harry had spent his early mornings during the bulk of the month sitting quietly on the Quidditch pitch. It didn't take long for him to realize the girl he'd noticed that first morning was there every day, too. It appeared she liked to bring her books with her and study. For several mornings, Harry ignored her...until he realized one day that she had noticed him, too. He saw her look up at him occasionally. For a long time, Harry wondered if maybe his presence was distracting...after all, she was here alone. Maybe she could only study by herself, in total quiet.
The next several days Harry became anxious. Instead of lying on his bench and watching the clouds roll overhead, he was watching the girl sitting across the field from him. He didn't even know who she was, since she was so far away. At one point, Harry inwardly laughed. What if she turned out to be Cho Chang? Now, that would be a bit awkward.
Another day passed, and Harry's curiosity got the better of him. He had got up and walked across the field...
....That day, on the Quidditch pitch....
He realized who it was, the moment he came closer. It was Susan Bones, niece of Madam Bones, who was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He knew the moment he saw the long plait of reddish-brown hair that was lying across her shoulder.
He remembered that she was part of the D.A. last year, but he hadn't ever spoken privately to her. Maybe this was a bad idea....
He couldn't turn away since he'd gotten this far. Thankfully, Susan was looking at him and smiling. "Hi-ya, Harry. Nice morning, isn't it?" She was clearing of a space on the bench beside her.
"Hi Susan. Yes, it is." Harry stood in front of her for a while, not sure what to do or say now. He put his hands in his pockets and pretended to be interested in the high goal rings.
"Why don't you sit down?" Susan said, and if he wasn't so nervous, he could swear there was a little hitch in her voice.
"Oh, ok, thanks." Harry walked over and sat on the bench, trying to make she he wasn't too close to Susan, but not too far away. There was silence for a few moments, as Susan turned attention back to the parchment she was writing on. She sat there, poised over it with the tip of her quill, and was chewing her upper lip.
Harry sat up. Maybe he should leave. She was working, and he was only bothering her...
"So, Harry, you come out here often, don't you?" Susan was asking. Harry turned to look her in the eye, and hers darted away. She looked at her hands.
"Well, yeah, I have, recently." He said, and cleared his throat.
"I know--I mean, I've been coming out here ever since fourth year, and I was surprised to see someone else this year." Susan was writing and talking at the same time, a skill Harry had never perfected. "It's really nice out here in the mornings, don't you think?" She looked up at him and smiled.
"Yeah." Harry turned away quickly. He was beginning to get an odd, warm tingle in his nether regions. Maybe it was time to go get breakfast?
Susan had turned back to her work. "I relax so much more out here than I do anywhere else."
Harry had felt himself smile. Warmth had spread throughout his body. "So do I."
~*~
At that, they had began to converse more freely. She talked about her Aunt, and her Aunt's work at the Ministry of Magic. He talked about some of the events of last year, as most of the school already knew the basics. She talked about her family, and the fact that her father had been killed by death eaters when she was just a baby. Her mother had remarried a Muggle, whom she considered her own father. And Harry learned that Susan wasn't doing her homework, she was writing fictional stories.
Before Harry left for breakfast that day, he began to wonder if the Sorting Hat had been wrong about Susan, too. She was smart enough to be a Ravenclaw, brave enough to be a Gryffindor, and pretty enough to be....
That was when Harry's silent musings ended. He opened his eyes, aware that he was lying in his bed. It didn't surprise him as much as the fact that his alarm was sounding, and it was another day...another brilliant morning.
~*~
Several hours later, Harry was sitting at breakfast with his two best friends. He was thinking about that morning, and his talk with Susan. There had been a brief rain shower overnight, and the Quidditch pitch had glistened with drops of water; and the scent of the earth wafted over them. Harry couldn't think of a better place to be....and the company hadn't been bad, either.
"Harry? Harry! Did you hear what I just asked you?" Hermione was staring at him, waving a hand in front of his eyes to get his attention.
Harry allowed himself to focus on her, with a small smile. "Uh, no, Hermione...what was it?"
"For Merlin's sake, Harry, you were just sitting there, staring into space. Ron and I thought you'd been possessed." He suddenly realized how worried the inhabitants of Gryffindor table were, as several other students, including Neville and Ginny, were looking at him anxiously. Harry frowned and glared at them all.
"I'm fine." Harry began to feel the irritation he'd experienced during the summer wash over him.
Hermione's face began to lose some of its earlier paleness. She leaned in on him and whispered, "I just asked you if you've....had any pains in your scar recently."
This was the last thing Harry wanted to think about. Since she brought it up, he had to admit to himself that he hadn't felt any pains in his scar recently. In fact, he hadn't felt anything more than a subtle twinge since Voldemort attempted to possess him last year in the Ministry of Magic. It was very strange....and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it up until now.
"No, I haven't." Harry said, in a puzzled voice. He reached up and gently rubbed the scar.
Hermione pursed her lips and said softly, in a satisfied tone, "As far as I'm concerned, I think it's a good thing."
Harry's brow furrowed and he looked up at her, dropping his hand from the scar. "Why do you think that? What if Voldemort has other plans for me now, which don't involve invading my mind?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I think you've changed, Harry. Something you've been doing is clearing your mind so Voldemort can't invade it."
Harry smiled, and ate a piece of bacon and some toast. After a while, Hermione got up, saying she needed a quick word with Professor McGonagall. Harry noticed Ron watching her intently, until she was out of earshot.
"Hey, Harry." Ron said nervously, still looking at Hermione.
"Yeah?"
Ron turned fully to Harry, talking rapidly, suddenly anxious
"It's-two-weeks-until-Hermione's-sixteenth-birthday-what-do-we-do?"
"Huh?" Harry gave him a "are-you-bloody-insane" look.
"Hermione's birthday. Sixteenth. Two weeks." Ron said, trying to breathe between the words.
Harry chuckled and shook his head. "You want to know what we're going to do?" He asked Ron matter-of-factly.
Ron nodded.
Harry burst out laughing. He patted his friend's back. No matter how much Hermione and Ron fought, he'd figured that by now Ron would know. He knew for certain Ron was smitten with Hermione...for a while, he wasn't certain she returned the feelings. But since she'd called Ron "passionate" right before the 1st year sorting, Harry was pretty sure she felt the same way for Ron. Something had happened during the summer, and he was sure it hadn't been a regular fight...
Ron was staring at him. Harry stopped laughing, smiled, and said simply, "It's not what WE'RE going to do, Ron, it's what YOU'RE going to do."
While Ron gaped at him soundlessly, Harry got up and draped his bag over his shoulders. Harry was sure Ron was going to ask him what he meant, if Hermione hadn't come back from her talk with Professor McGonagall.
"Guess what, Ron?" Hermione asked, looking affronted.
Ron, still curious about what Harry had said, turned to Hermione.
She reached out and opened her palm. Professor Forester's sugar quill lay in it.
"The quill is okay. You were right, Ron. I'm sorry." She said softly.
Harry expected Ron to take the quill. Instead, Ron asked her steadily, "Do you like black liquorice?"
Hermione was surprised. "Well, yes."
"Then it's yours." Ron said firmly. "Besides, I like this one better." He pulled another quill out of his pocket, and Hermione blushed. Harry recognized Ron's quill as a brand Hermione used all the time.
Harry grinned. Maybe a blind man can drink when led to water........