Only a sudden drop in the buzzing murmurs of Harry's classmates announced the beginning of Charms class to Harry who was firmly entrenched in his belief that if he ignored the whispers, looks and even overt questions of, "Is it true, Harry?" then it would all go away. Eventually.
It always did, he tried to remind himself. The whispers about him being a parselmouth and an heir of Slytherin, the belief that he'd snuck his name into the Goblet of Fire in a hunger for more fame and attention, the murmurs about what his role had really been in Cedric Diggory's death and the scandals surrounding Harry's claim of witnessing Voldemort's rebirth; these were all things that had passed with time. These nasty morsels of delectable gossip had been gluttonously eaten up and regurgitated at length before they each, eventually, died down; unproven.
But this was different, he realised. The now public knowledge that Harry was deemed by a prophecy as one with the power to vanquish Voldemort for good was finally—finally—an explanation of sorts that brought substance to the legend of The Boy Who Lived. This was finally an explanation of sorts as to why Harry was always involved in anything to do with Voldemort. Whether it was saving the Philosopher's Stone from some possessed Voldemort-minion, wielding a great sword about and slaying a hundred-year old Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets or why Harry was the one who walked away when Diggory didn't. Finally—and Harry could hear the whispers even now, amidst the prattling on of Professor Flitwick—they all thought they now understood why Harry Potter had been targeted as a baby and why, when no one else did, he survived being marked for death; he was one with the power.
"...he's ought to be the one to do in You-Know-Who!"
"...it's why You-Know-Who went after him in the first place! He knew Potter would be powerful."
"...he beat him as a baby! Imagine what he could do now!"
"Wonder why he's sitting around here in school with the lot of us. Shouldn't he be off hunting down You-Know-Who before he gets on to more killing and terrorizing?"
"He's been training with Dumbledore all along—he's the Headmaster's apprentice, you know!"
Expectations; they weighed ever so heavily upon Harry's mind as his ears couldn't help but pick up random whispers.
The comments continued though the morning as he made his way around to classes. He ignored them all stoically while, secretly, he longed to rant at Dumbledore about all these ever-increasing expectations. Especially the ones that were borne of the belief that Harry had been Dumbledore's apprentice all along. They'd expect Harry to be every bit as capable and skilful as Dumbledore who was, incidentally, just the greatest wizard of the age. No great expectations there.
Harry felt Dumbledore owed it to him to make sure Harry wouldn't and couldn't fail these expectations. He wanted to demand that Dumbledore open up his brain and wisdom and pour it all forth for Harry to absorb as quickly as possible because Harry knew all too well that he wasn't half the wizard everyone now thought he was.
On the way into the Great Hall for lunch, the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy cut through the chattering of the rest of the students.
"Hey, Weasel! I heard your brother is excited to finally get a real place to stay. Said even a prison cell is a step up from your hole in the ground hovel!" Malfoy called out as he pointed and laughed hatefully at Ron who was just a few paces ahead of Harry. Harry saw Pansy Parkinson simpering and clinging to Malfoy's side.
"That's rich coming from you, Malfoy," Ron said coolly as he stopped to face him. "Perhaps he and your dad are cell mates, eh?"
Harry moved up to Ron's side just as Neville closed in on the other. "Come on, Ron," Harry said as he nudged him along towards the Gryffindor table. "Malfoy's just jealous his dad has to share headline space with anyone else."
At this, Malfoy scoffed loudly. "Me?! Hah! You must be joking, Potter!" he said incredulously. "You're the one with all the press clippings! You're the one with a headline every other day and people fawning all over you because they think you're so special. You're not!" he spat viciously. "You're nothing!"
"Stuff it, Malfoy!" Neville said warningly as he too tugged at Ron's elbow to get them to move along.
"Look at Longbottom!" Malfoy said as he laughed again. "He gets mentioned once in the paper and now he thinks he's all hung like a hippogriff!" Harry saw Neville's face redden at this as they both continued to escort Ron to the Gryffindor table.
"Forget Malfoy," Harry said as the three of them sat down at the table. "Amazing how he finds the bollocks to make fun of anyone else who has a family member getting convicted of a crime."
Ron snorted at this and said, "Yeah, compared to his dad, Percy's a saint!"
Harry and Ron looked at each other. Harry saw the faintest traces of pained emotion cross Ron's face and Harry's stress at the day eased away as he concerned himself with how Ron was coping. "All right there, mate?" he asked as he lifted a platter of sandwiches from the middle of the table and offered it over to Ron.
Ron turned his focus to the sandwiches and, selecting a random handful, nodded, saying, "Yeah, not bad."
Harry turned then to offer the platter to Neville on his other side and paused, remembering what Malfoy had said. "Say, Neville, what did Malfoy mean when he said you were in the paper? I kind of have to admit, I really didn't read it at all this morning."
At this, Neville's cheeks glowed a brilliant red and he looked like he was testing the anti-apparition wards of Hogwarts right then and there. He was looking only at his plate and, although Harry could see his lips moving, there was no sound to be heard.
"Neville?" Harry prodded.
Neville wasn't answering. Instead, he was hastily wrapping his sandwich in a napkin and now mumbling, "Need...go...greenhouse...later." Harry watched him hasten away from the table and out of the Great Hall.
"Ron?" Harry asked then, swivelling to face the other side.
Ron's mouth was full and he had a smudge of butter at the corner of his mouth that was threatening to fall into his lap as he chewed. "Hmmh?" he grunted through his mouthful of food.
Harry rolled his eyes as he turned back to his plate, saying grumpily, "Fine. Everyone can read all about me and all sorts of rubbish in any old rag that's in print but no one wants to tell me what Malfoy was on about Neville." Ron was working on a mouthful of food and held up one hand, telling Harry to hold on.
But before Ron could swallow, Ginny breezed in and sat across from Harry and Ron. "See you two are managing to sit beside each other today. That's good news," she said airily. "Harry, please pass me the pumpkin juice." As Harry did, impatiently waiting for Ron to regain his ability to speak, she asked, "So, what are you being tetchy about today?"
"Me?" Harry asked with a touch of annoyance.
Ginny didn't let him get started on his justifying his attitude of the day and talked over him, saying, "I just saw Neville leaving the Hall in a rush. Poor him, he's been on the end of just as many curious looks as you today, I'd imagine. Unfortunately, unlike you, he's not at all used to it."
"What are you on about?" Harry asked.
"The paper," Ginny said as if it were obvious. "The article your favorite reporter, Rita Skeeter, did on you and the prophecy news. She said, according to Ministry archives, Neville was down as the only other known candidate for your prophecy as you were the only boys born around the proper time. She said the Ministry only knew for sure it was you after you did in You-Know-Who as a baby. I heard Malfoy earlier in the hallway making all sorts of cracks about Neville being the Boy Who Thankfully Isn't Famous and loads of other rubbish."
Beside Harry, Ron was nodding and with a loud gulp, finally swallowed his food. "Yeah, I saw that too. I can't help but look at him now and wonder what it would be like if he'd been the famous one all along."
Harry blinked, biting the inside of his cheek as he peeled away the wilted edge of the lettuce on his sandwich.
"Did you already know, Harry?" Ginny asked shrewdly.
Harry could only nod. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to be Neville right about now but he sure as hell knew all about having people stare at you all day long.
"Well," said Ginny brightly then. "This should at least cheer you up—all Defense classes are cancelled today. There's a note on the door. At least you don't have to see Snape at all today."
"What?" Harry's head perked up at this. "Why Not? Is..." He wondered where Snape was that he couldn't be around for class. He wondered if Snape had returned yet from last night. He even wondered if Snape was returning at all after last night and especially in light of his condition after his last return from Voldemort.
"Brilliant!" Ron said happily. "Isn't that brilliant, Harry?" But at Harry's dark look, Ron's grin faltered. "Wha—"
"That means he's not back yet," Harry whispered hurriedly to Ron. "From last night. Why else would he not be here today?"
"Oh," Ron said and then his eyes widened. "Ooh!"
Harry nodded. He needed to find out what happened to Snape.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's voice called just as Harry's hand rose to knock on the worn oak door.
Fawkes trilled a greeting of his own as Harry pushed open the door to see Dumbledore seated in his high-backed chair while an irritated (and perfectly uninjured-looking) Snape prowled back and forth in front of the Headmaster's fireplace.
"Good afternoon, Harry. Pepper Imp?" Dumbledore offered.
Harry just shook his head. "No, sir. I was just, er, curious—" Snape snorted at this and Harry turned to face him, "—as to how you'd gotten on last night with your...mission."
Snape looked highly sceptical.
"I heard all your classes were cancelled for the day," Harry added by way of explanation.
"Ah yes," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "We were just discussing Professor Snape's inability to make his classes today. He only just now returned. I was just suggesting to him that if this were to ever happen in the future, he might—"
"I'm not handing my classes over to this already arrogant whelp!" Snape burst out as he pointed one long, yellowed finger at Harry with contempt.
Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "My, but wouldn't you say, Severus, that it would be nice—"
"No!" Snape snapped.
"I was merely suggesting—"
"No!" Snape said as he gritted his teeth, crossed his arms and stomped a foot in petulant protest.
Dumbledore sighed.
"Er, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said tentatively. "I don't think I'd feel very comfortable with that idea either."
Dumbledore looked disappointed. "But you've been doing such a fine job with the third years, Harry! Their mid-term exams came out brilliantly and I quite think you have a knack for teaching."
Harry was shaking his head. "But they're only third years."
"I will not stand for this, Headmaster!" Snape said warningly. "If you insist I have a teaching assistant on hand to take over classes then so be it but I will choose who that is and I can assure you it would not be Potter!"
Dumbledore sighed again. "Very well, then," he said resignedly. Softly, he added, "It was only a suggestion."
Before Snape could retort and tell Dumbledore what he could do with his suggestion, Harry asked, "How did it go with Voldemort, Professor?"
Snape stiffened at the name and it was Dumbledore who responded, "Professor Snape had a rather successful mission last night."
Harry looked at Snape who was glaring challengingly right back at him. "So, you regained some favourer then?" Harry asked slowly.
Snape's eyes narrowed as he said haughtily, "The Dark Lord is almost always fickle and I believe I had the good fortune offering to him the only good news he'd had in days."
"Yes, I can imagine he's not pleased at all," Dumbledore said with a smile. "His spies in the Ministry are now being put in a very difficult position with Fudge gone and the Imperius Curse an unsavoury excuse. Any spies remaining will be forced to go deeper under cover and their effectiveness shall surely be hampered."
A clock on Dumbledore's desk then chimed once and, after pulling out a gold pocket watch for a consultation, Dumbledore announced, "I have a brief firecall to make. If you would both excuse me for a few minutes." He rose from his seat and smiled benignly at Harry and then at Snape. "Please do remain here; I will only be a few minutes."
After Dumbledore swept up a spiral set of steps that disappeared behind a bookcase Harry looked back to Snape. "So, you convinced Vol--him that Ron's comments on the prophecy were just coincidental?"
Snape looked down his long hooked nose at Harry as he said, "The Dark Lord already knew of the impending public release of the opening lines of the prophecy as he knew them. He believes you only just told your friends that which was made public knowledge today.
"He was, however, most pleased about uncovering a weakness in one of your close friends," Snape said slowly. "You can rest assured that he will not allow it to go unexploited. If I were you, Potter," Snape said with a frightening amount of cheer, "I would publicly and irrevocably break off all ties with Weasley as soon as possible. His weaknesses are a danger to you as we speak."
Snape seemed to grow incredibly smug after this pronouncement as he watched Harry's reaction.
"I—you've got to be—no way!" Harry said indignantly. Snape wasn't about to convince Harry to abandon Ron now when he'd finally come clean with what had been causing all his problems.
Snape glowered menacingly. "Potter—do you not know what Weasley thinks of you? He is jealous of you. He envies you. Do you not know this?" Snape said forcefully as his black eyes glittered. "I saw quite clearly the preponderance of his feelings towards you, Potter. Did you not know he covets your very own Miss Granger? Hmm? He's consumed with anger towards her and surrounding her—"
"No!" Harry said angrily. "He's not jealous of me—he's jealous of what I have. So what if he wishes he had my fame? I'm sure he's not the only one!"
Snape's conviction seemed undeterred. "There is no difference, Potter. I know what I saw in his mind last night."
Harry glared at Snape. "What were you probing for? What was your focus when you cursed him?" He couldn't help but wonder.
Harry had always known in the back of his mind that there existed a part of Ron that would always be jealous of what Harry had, despite his never wanting it in the first place. Ever since Hermione had pointed it out to Harry when Ron had finally had too much of Harry getting things handed to him that Ron longed for when the names had come out of the Goblet of Fire, Harry had known this. It had always been there.
Snape's ink black eyes glittered as his lip curled and he said, "I delved into his mind to ask why he snapped. I sought to see what underlying feelings were there and what would make him publicly denounce a five-year friendship with the Boy Who Lived. I searched, Potter, for his motivation and found a whole host of resentment just—for—you." The last few words were said with clipped emphasis and made Harry's hand itch with longing to strike out and smack into Snape's curling upper lip.
"Maddening, isn't it, Potter?" he hissed is low whisper. "To know you can't trust even those who know you and who you've called a friend...you can never be sure which friend is your enemy..."
It'd be worth a month of detention, Harry thought, just get in one good hit in on this evil, greasy son of a--
"Ah, where were we then?" Dumbledore said brightly, announcing his return as he swept back down the small side staircase. He peered over his silver, half-moon glasses at Harry and then at Snape before saying, "I hope I didn't try anyone's patience too long in keeping either of you waiting."
Snape drew himself up tall and intoned imperiously, "I have given you my report, Headmaster, and I believe that concludes my business here."
Dumbledore and Snape then exchanged a long look and Harry, wishing to clear both of them from his sight for the moment, turned and walked along the edge of the circular room. As he strolled a few steps along the wall, his eyes passed over one curious portrait to the next until his eye caught upon an image of himself. It was a mirror, a small gold-framed mirror in the shape of a sun and almost exactly at his eye level. He'd never noticed this small gilded mirror before in amongst all the portraits that lined the walls of the Headmaster's office from ceiling to floor. At the moment, it reflected his own tense and troubled face.
He almost expected some snarky comment from the mirror as the ones in the boys' toilets often made. But the mirror remained silent; reflecting an image of himself that appeared to be studying him with curiosity.
The reflected image seemed absurd; ill matched as a representation of who he felt himself to be. Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the near-identical face he'd seen that was his father's through the memory in Snape's penseive. It was all there; the same untidy jet black hair, the thin angular face with glasses perched upon his nose. But where his father had had darker, hazel eyes, Harry had bright green ones and where his father had had an unblemished forehead, Harry had one that paled in comparison to the pink, lightening bolt shaped scar that ran from his brow up into his hairline.
A roar of fire behind him announced Snape's departure through the fireplace but Harry was still riveted to his own reflection and especially to his scar. He was marked.
...marked as an equal...
He'd been marked since before he was born. He was marked where everyone and anyone could and would see and know he was the Boy Who Lived. Now, thanks to the first few lines of the prophecy going public, everyone also knew the Boy Who Lived wasn't just a legend from some past event; he was a legend with more fated to come.
He'd give anything to hide from that legend; that burden. Even with his developing skills as a Metamorphmagus, Harry had never once made his scar fade one whit and he had the sneaking suspicion that he never would. Masking spells didn't work on it and obscuring charms only diverted attention away from it if one didn't already know it was there. He was marked for life. How ever long that would be.
He heard Dumbledore rise from his chair. "Is there something you'd like to ask me, Harry?" The sound of a nearby portrait shifting and an old headmaster clearing his throat could be heard in the silence. Harry heard Dumbledore's robes as he moved nearer and then paused a few feet behind him, just out of view in the mirror's reflection. "Perhaps you're more inclined, due to recent events, to yell at me?" he said softly.
Harry couldn't see the point. Talking couldn't change what was done and yelling wouldn't help communicate anything he'd not already said before. He'd learned long ago that the clearest answers were those said without words.
Dumbledore sighed and suggested then with weary amusement, "Hex me, perhaps?"
Now that, was much more tempting.
"You tell me, sir," Harry said, still facing his reflection in the mirror and beginning to gather in his thoughts. He focused on the image before him--his face with his scar prominently visible--and, as he turned to face Dumbledore, this was the image he put foremost in his mind to be projected forth through his eyes. "Tell me what I am supposed to ask you. Better yet, tell me what I don't know." Dumbledore's keen blue eyes were unfathomable. "Because all I know, sir, is that I don't know enough."
Sorrow...
Such burdens for one so young...
Pity...
Harry swallowed at the feelings he saw as Dumbledore's light blue eyes peered at him over his glasses. He didn't want anyone's pity. It was an effort to remain looking into the headmaster's eyes but part of Harry was breathlessly excited to possibly be able to find out just how it was that Dumbledore really saw him; what he really thought of Harry.
Focusing on his projected image, Harry heard himself distantly speak, "I don't know what it is I need to know. I don't know what questions I need to ask." He was thinking out loud and part of him knew he should be asking a question here but...the right question was escaping him.
"You should know, Harry," Dumbledore said in all seriousness. "That I care about you a great deal."
Reflexively Harry turned his head and looked away. That wasn't what he'd been looking for. He wasn't sure what he'd been looking for, but that wasn't it.
"I'll do everything I can, Harry, to help you succeed and there are a great number of people who feel quite similar. That's the most important thing I'd have you know, Harry."
Harry let out a breath that he'd not known he'd been holding. How was this supposed to help him? He could see it now: standing in front of Voldemort and declaring, "I have people who care about me!" while Voldemort then laughed mockingly and said, "That's nice. Perhaps they'll hold a Celebration for you someday after I kill you." Oh yes, this was knowledge that would certainly come in ever so handy, Harry thought sarcastically to himself.
Besides, he thought nastily, Dumbledore only cares about you because of the prophecy. If the prophecy had never been made, would Dumbledore care so much about Harry?
He heard Dumbledore move a step closer.
"Really, Harry, not knowing what is before you and what knowledge will come in handy is not something you from which, you, exclusively suffer. No one can truly know that. In fact, in a way, that is where the prophecy, and what it foretells, may give you an advantage. You--"
"It doesn't give me any sense of advantage, sir," Harry cut in tersely. "It gives me a sense of urgency, a sense of...impending..." he didn't want to say 'doom'. No, he definitely did not want to say 'doom'. "Some...inevitable..." The right words were not coming and the ones that were, Harry wasn't willing to accept.
Dumbledore laid a hand upon Harry's shoulder. "You'll find that the word you choose with which to finish that sentence, Harry, will define your life until whatever it is you see as inevitable has come to pass."
Harry felt his face scrunch up in irritation. He didn't need some vague sort of wisdom imparted to him. He needed clear and direct guidance. Hell, he'd do whatever it took to get everything over with if someone would just tell him what to do. He hated the waiting, the not knowing, the utter helplessness of being unsure about what the next day would bring and the fear that, eventually, Voldemort would find a way to get to him before he could get to Voldemort.
With clenched teeth, he said, "Why don't you just tell me, sir, what word I should use to define my life? I'm here, aren't I? I'm here and willing to accept I have no choice. Just tell me what I should do!" His last words rang out in the stuffy silence of the circular office and Harry felt about ready to come undone.
"Continue to be a student, Harry," Dumbledore said after several moments. "Continue to learn the skills one needs to go on in any life. You are who you need to be--you always have been. But becoming the best wizard you can be will take time. Continue teaching your fellow students how to defend themselves for each one you teach, may then teach another." Dumbledore's hand upon Harry's shoulder squeezed tightly and his voice fell to a tremulous whisper as he then said, "Continue to be more courageous and honourable than any man I have ever met."
Harry couldn't meet Dumbledore's eyes.
Dumbledore's hand dropped from his shoulder and the headmaster turned back to his desk. "If you are feeling the need to do more and become more then I am indeed to blame. I should reassure you that you are where you need to be--beyond it even. No one can hope to know everything there is to know and in giving you specialized training, such as in Occlumency, I hoped to enable you to overcome the way your scar linked you to Voldemort and I hoped to help you feel confident. I see we still need to work on the second, though. Legilimency will come with practice and time but I'd say you've quite mastered Occlumency by now, yes?"
Not always.
"Hmm?"
Harry realized he must have said that out loud and sighed. "I said, not always. I..." Great, now he got to admit about failing to close off his mind last night. He ran a hand through his hair and admitted, "I had a dream last night. I...I went to talk to Ron while he was in the hospital wing last night and when I came back, I was so tired I just fell asleep without any shields up. It...I was him. Voldemort."
Dumbledore nodded once and said, "Go on."
Harry told Dumbledore about the dream and how he'd felt like he was performing Legilimency and extracting memories of the Burrow and the Weasleys. He told him that he thought it was Wormtail because the perspective of the images flying at him were from about floor level and likely from Wormtail spying in his Animagus form. He told him how he felt like he was examining every memory with Ron and how, when he concentrated on this, he felt a surge of power rush through him.
"And, er, that's where I woke up," Harry finished awkwardly. He felt he should probably hide the fact that Hermione had been in his dorm room and sleeping in his bed beside him. That wasn't entirely allowed at school and he didn't think it was very relevant either.
"I see," said Dumbledore as he seated himself once again behind his desk. "Your shields shouldn't disappear though just because you forget for one night. The ordering of one's mind is a cumulative thing and one night's worth--although, I admit, it was a very full night from what I know--should not cause your mind to be so cluttered that it is weakened. Therefore, I'd say this seems like you just failed to secure yourself in your own mind and this allowed the connection to draw you towards it when, from what it sounds like, Voldemort was feeling especially powerful--and hateful."
Harry sat in the wing chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.
"I'm just going to assume Professor Snape did not tell you all about his findings last night," Dumbledore then said with a twinkle. "He said Voldemort was pleased to find a weakness in one of your close friends. But he also said Voldemort was most displeased to find he'd not known about such an...exploitable discord--meaning Mister Weasley, who's never had the attention you all too often get, and his occasion to feel jealous of this attention. And since you went to speak to Ronald last night, then I will assume he's told you about his condition, which unfortunately, seems to be exacerbating these emotions. Professor Snape seemed to feel Voldemort was extremely displeased he'd not yet known about this and, with your dream last night, I think we can conclude that Peter, in his rat form, has indeed likely been using his familiarity with the Burrow to spy upon those there for Voldemort."
"We need to tell the Weasleys then, don't you think?" Harry said at once.
"Mm, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding as he pulled out a long eagle feather quill and unrolled a parchment. "And I daresay Alastor will be more than willing to coordinate some additional protection over there, not the least of which should be a good pair of kneazels."
Dumbledore then scratched out two quick notes and woke up a sleeping Fawkes to take them away.
"Now then," Dumbledore said turning back to Harry after Fawkes disappeared in a burst of flame. "Back to you, Harry."
He held up a finger and bent over his desk to scrawl out another note. "I am giving you here, an open pass to the library's restricted section--it will help so you don't need to sneak in there. I should also just include Miss Granger on this, I think, as she would only bother you ceaselessly with getting books on her behalf."
Dumbledore waved the parchment then to dry the ink and handed it over to Harry, saying, "There are hundreds of magical arts that can be learned and mastered. I'm not an expert by any means in all of them but I ask that you find one--or even a few--that you wish to study and learn. Whatever you choose, I will help you master. Find something that draws you to it and--"
"Bloody alchemy," Harry said at once, making Dumbledore silver eyebrows rise sharply. "If people think I've been your apprentice all along, they will expect me to know what you're known for. I should know that."
Dumbledore frowned. "You should choose something because you want to learn it, not because you feel the need to fulfil the expectations of others."
"I do want to learn this," Harry protested. Why was Dumbledore reluctant to teach him this? "Sna--Professor Snape told me how Voldemort uses the blood from a witch or wizard to make them into a servant and that Voldemort can then gain more power through this. I think I should know this since Voldemort's obviously very well versed in it. Plus, Voldemort's alive now and walking around because he took my blood to give himself a body. I think I should know just all that could mean."
Dumbledore had his head tilted to the side as he peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "Let me tell you this—Lord Voldemort is first and foremost a dark sorcerer who seeks power at any and all costs. That is why he so foolishly pushes forth into the realm of blood alchemy when it has been clear to me that he is not a master of the discipline in the least."
"And so I should know this then!" Harry said. "Why are you trying to talk me out of this? He has my blood!"
"Harry--"
"What else would you have me learn? Did you think I'd come back from the restricted section and ask to be an Animagus or something? Like a cat or something is going to do in Voldemort..."
"It had crossed my mind," Dumbledore said meekly. "After all, your father--"
"I'm not my father!" Harry yelled louder than he'd meant to and snapped his mouth closed. "I--I don't see how that would help. Didn't you understand what I meant when I said I don't know what I don't know? Professor, I...you say Voldemort practices in an area of magic where he doesn't know all there is to know; an area where you know things he doesn't. Doesn't this say that this is a weakness of Voldemort's? Perhaps an exploitable weakness! If you can teach me what Voldemort doesn't know, then that is something in which I can feel I have an advantage; then I will feel I might know something he doesn't. Power he knows not!" Harry said with a flourish of his hand. "You can't be sure it's not just knowledge, can you?"
Dumbledore had no choice but to acquiesce. Before Harry had even left the office after convincing Dumbledore to train him in blood alchemy, Dumbledore had stipulated that before he would begin teaching anything, Harry would write an essay describing a catastrophic event entailing the use of blood alchemy from each century since the founding of Hogwarts.
Hermione, predictably, was ecstatic to see the parchment granting her and Harry unlimited access to the restricted section.
Gasping, Hermione lunged for the parchment and held it reverently before her. "Oh...oh my god—Harry!" she squealed and then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips.
"Er, I take it you're excited then?" Harry said as he saw several Hufflepuffs gawk as they passed their table in the library.
Hermione looked at him like he was the greatest thing since self-stirring cauldrons. "Er, yeah!" she said so loudly Madame Pince began to head over with a scowl on her face.
Hermione, beaming, thrust the parchment towards the disgruntled looking librarian and, after nearly a full minute of close inspection and some grumbling about indulgent headmasters, Madame Pince took the permission slip for filing.
"This is brilliant!" Hermione said excitedly, this time in a whisper as she led Harry down an aisle in her new favorite section.
"Oh, I've been wanting to look up anything they might have the history of elves and, in particular, the events that led to their enslavement. I was talking to Susan Bones at lunch about if she'd like to work with me on sponsoring a movement to free the elves—with her aunt as Minister, I thought she may be interested in getting more politically involved. Didn't want to commit to anything just yet, said she'd think it over a bit. Don't you think—"
"Hermione," Harry began tiredly.
"Yes? Oh—I'm sorry, of course you'll help, too."
There was no getting around this, he realized, he was going to have to be the one to tell her how...unrealistic her goals were. "Hermione—listen to me."
She looked up at him expectantly.
"Um, I'm not sure how to tell you this...you know I think you're brilliant—I mean you are brilliant. The most clever person I've ever met." She grinned at him and he smiled back weakly. "But, er, don't you think...I mean I understand why you want the elves to be free—everyone deserves to be free. But...I'm just not sure you're going about it the best way."
Hermione was frowning. "Well, can you think of a better way? I'm willing to listen to suggestions."
Harry nodded. "Well, yeah. I mean, not an idea to free them but...an idea. I..." She wasn't going to like this. "I think you might have to just take your time with this. I really don't think the house-elves want to be freed, is the thing."
Hermione looked at him disbelievingly. "But you freed Dobby—you said he was ecstatic to be free!"
"Hermione—Dobby worked for the Malfoys! Of course he was ecstatic to get away from there! They treated him like vermin—he even said so. Listen—you, er...you really only know two elves—Dobby and Winky. And Dobby is a rather strange elf, I think, so maybe you shouldn't judge the rest on him. I just don't think we should assume the house elves want to be free. I don't think they even understand what that means and I doubt they'd even know what to do with freedom."
Hermione was biting her lower lip and looking down, away from Harry. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms. "You might be right," she said, surprising Harry. She looked up at him now with renewed determination. "You just might be right, Harry. I mean, why didn't I see how odd it was that none of the elves want to be free? There might be a curse on them or something! I should still start with looking up any historical events leading to their enslavement though—and possibly try to befriend some of the other elves. Maybe get to know them and help them understand what freedom has to offer them?"
Harry didn't think she quite understood what he was getting at. He was beginning to think he might have just condemned the Hogwarts elves to a terrible fate—a very determined Hermione.
"Oh, you're right, Harry! My case will be much stronger if I have actual elves that are willing to testify to their treatment and plea for their own freedom! It may take longer, but it will be more difficult to dismiss our movement. Ooh—and if I can get enough elves on board, we can even orchestrate a strike until our demands are met!"
She beamed at him and he could only muster a weak and mournful sound from the back of his throat. Yup, he was positive now; the elves would surely all hate him in no time.
A few hours later, after she'd stopped rambling about her new and revised plan for house-elf rights, she'd finally managed to ask Harry just why he'd been given the unlimited pass to the restricted section.
"Professor Dumbledore has you learning about blood alchemy now? Oh, Harry, I'm incredibly jealous! I want to learn everything you do. Maybe you can help me finish that Blood Ward project Professor Snape assigned me. It's due in about two months. I've got fourteen feet of parchment so far but I doubt that's nearly enough and besides, I've yet to find anything really conclusive—I've always suspected anything good on the subject was locked away in here."
Harry was looking along at the spines of the books on the shelves as they walked. "You'd best try to find anything on the topic now then, before Snape hears you've got access to here and he checks out all the books that would be helpful."
"Are you suggesting, Potter," said a sinister voice from behind them. "That I would sabotage a student's project which I'd assigned myself?"
Harry, silently cursing himself, turned slowly to face the smugly smiling form of Snape. "Professor," he said with a grimace. "Just, er, checking to see if you were listening?"
Snape just sneered. "Undoubtedly. Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for maligning my ethics as a professor." After a moment of thought, he added, "Two points, though, for assuming correctly," and then brushed past them with a book tucked under his arm.
"Why, that—" Hermione looked outraged. "Ooh! I'll show him! Just because he took one book that—"
"Look out!" Harry yelled as a book flew out from one of the top-most shelves and headed straight at them. He reached forth and grabbed Hermione's arm to yank her backwards out of the way of the falling book just in time before the battered brown book landed with a thud right where she'd been standing.
"What the—" Hermione said as she bent over to pick it up. Her mouth dropped open when she turned the book over and read the cover.
"What is it?" Harry asked, looking over her shoulder.
He looked down at the book in her hands and saw the title: Ancestral Alchemy.
"Handy, that," Harry said, nodding.
At dinner, Hermione found a letter appearing on her plate when the tables filled with food. To her and Harry's great astonishment (and much to Harry's relief) it was a letter from Ron. It was rambling and even incoherent at times but the point was nonetheless clear; he was apologizing for all the things he'd said to her and never really meant to say. Hermione had tears in her eyes as she handed it over to Harry to read and when Ron walked in about ten minutes later, she moved down and tugged Harry along so Ron could sit on Harry's other side.
With his ears turning a bright red, Ron mumbled, "You got it then? I wasn't sure. I had to go down to the kitchens to get extra pumpkin juice to wash down that cack I'm taking and I ended up writing the letter down there while this one elf, Tooby, kept feeding me ice cream and more pumpkin juice. He said he'd get you the letter straight away and took it before I could stop him. Then he made me another sundae to eat so...ooh, are those chicken and ham pies? Bung me one, Harry."
After dinner, Harry walked between Ron and Hermione on the way back to the Common Room. He'd heard several whispers about he and Ron sitting together at lunch after their very public falling out the previous night and so, all three of them sitting together through dinner and then walking back together, felt like a silent statement of solidarity.
The feeling had been steadily growing in Harry that he would fight like hell to keep Ron from being used against him. If Voldemort thought he could get between Harry and his friends, he had another thing coming. Voldemort had no idea how strong a friendship could be and Harry wanted nothing more than to prove that.
"Come on," he said to Ron as they walked in through the portrait hole. "I've got to talk to you. You should know what's going on. Can you talk with both of us...you know?" he waved at him and Hermione. "She's the cleverest one of all of us, and I think we need all the brain power we can get."
Ron nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sure. I mean I have to get used to it, right? I...yeah." He was still nodding and seemed to be psyching himself up for the task.
As they reached their old spots by the Common Room fireplace, Ron rummaged around in his bag, pulled out two leather hipflasks and took a swig, first from one and then from the other.
"What in the world?" Hermione asked, completely bewildered.
"Immotus Mixture," Ron said, wheezing from the taste and fanning his mouth. Harry could smell the foul stuff from a few feet off and he felt a whole new level of appreciation for how much Ron must want to get over his problem if he was willing to drink anything that smelled that bad.
"All right?" Harry asked finally.
Ron nodded.
Harry pulled out his wand and cast a privacy bubble around them before sitting down and announcing, "Voldemort wants to use you against me," to Ron.
Ron promptly dropped both hipflasks and stuttered, "Wh-what? You...You-Know-Who?"
Harry nodded. "Voldemort."
Ron shuddered and sank down into the armchair beside Harry, despair etched clearly across his face. Harry then proceeded to tell Ron all about Wormtail having been at the Burrow, spying in the past, how Dumbledore had already arranged for Moody to take care of the Burrow's 'rat' problem, and about how Snape was told Ron's recent outburst seemed like a weakness that Voldemort would be trying to exploit in the near future to get to Harry.
By the time Harry was done explaining, Ron was white as a ghost.
"You're not alone, Ron," Hermione said. "Voldemort won't have expected you and Harry to have made up so quickly—or even at all."
"But..." Ron looked desperately at Harry. "Harry...what if...what if he uses the Imperius Curse on me or something? I can't fight that! Remember in Moody's class? I was skipping on every third step for a day after he cursed me!" Ron began to shake his head. "I don't know...I mean if I'm a danger to you, then maybe we should," he swallowed loudly, "just...you know...maybe you should keep your distance from me or something."
"What?" Harry said, appalled. "Are you mad?"
Ron just shrugged and looked very small indeed.
"Ron—have I not been like the most dangerous friend either of you two could have ever had? Have I not led you straight into—let's see," Harry said as he crossed one arm and tapped his chin with a finger. "There was a giant three-headed dog..."
"You didn't know any better," Ron protested.
"A thousand year old chamber with a sixty foot Basilisk in it."
Ron shrugged, "You were saving my sister and I didn't have to see the great bloody thing."
"A forest full of Acromantulae?" Harry pressed.
Ron shivered at this. "Okay, that one wasn't such a great adventure."
Harry nodded, adding, "Yeah, and then last year, I went and led anyone who'd listen right into a trap and I'm the reason you're suffering like you are now!"
"Yeah? Well, just imagine how much worse things would be if I were the one being manipulated by You-Know-Who and leading you around to nearly get yourself killed!"
"Would you two stop?" Hermione interjected exasperatedly before Harry could think of something else. "I mean, come one—you're arguing over which of you—" she just shook her head and looked between them. "You two..."
"Ron," Harry said seriously. "You never once questioned the wisdom of being my friend when it was clearly the more dangerous option." He didn't mention the fact that questioning the wisdom of anything just wasn't Ron's thing. "I'm not going anywhere," Harry said with finality.
The next morning, after Transfiguration and after Hermione waved him on ahead so she could discuss an assignment with Professor McGonagall, Susan Bones came up beside Harry and asked, "Hey, Harry, can I talk to you?"
"Sure," Harry said as he they left the classroom. "Er, is this about Hermione asking you about the house-elf stuff? 'Cause I think I managed to get her to back off a bit. Well, not totally, she's a bit mad on it really."
Susan laughed. "No...but that is good to hear. I mean, who's ever heard of house-elf rights? No—I was wondering when you planned on getting the DA together this term? If you have time, that is...I know you must be busy with all...all...er, I mean..." she trailed off looking very sorry for even bringing anything up at all.
"It's okay," Harry said, amused by her discomfort. "We'll still do the DA."
"Good," she said, nodding. "And I'm sorry about...oh—just how do you handle everyone watching you?! It's been one day since it was announced my aunt is Minister and I'm ready to go mad!"
Harry had to laugh at her outburst. "Well, it's actually even worse if everyone is talking about you being mad and then watching you so closely for signs of madness that it actually drives you mad. But yeah, it's mad."
Susan looked disappointed. "Oh, you're used to it—I don't know how you ever learned to put up with it, though."
Harry leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Hermione's been chanting in my ear, 'just ignore it' since about first year. It's second nature by now."
Thankfully, it was second nature by now, because since the most recent article on him, everyone wanted to keep their eye on Harry Potter. He wasn't sure what they thought they'd miss if they looked away, maybe they thought he was going to suddenly grow a foot taller, don armour and call forth an army of dragons to head out after Voldemort. Either that, or they were waiting for him to crack under the pressure, which, given the new fervour with which Colin was snapping away pictures of him, might just be sooner than most would expect.
The awed attention he was getting at least meant that when Harry stepped into class to teach the third years Defense, they all fell silent without a word of prompting. It was, in all truth, a little unnerving.
"The next two weeks, as I promised we'd do after Christmas holidays, we'll be studying Dementors. It's an extended subject because next week will be all practical where you face down a simulated Dementor."
Harry saw Dennis Creevey begin to sneak a camera out of his bag on the floor and, silently, Harry summoned it straight up to the front of the class. Snatching it in mid-air, he opened the drawer of the desk and dropped it in.
"As I was saying then," he said, continuing without missing a beat. He spent the class period describing Dementors to the class and giving them chilling details of how it felt to be near one.
Harry noticed that even the few Slytherin boys, who usually made a of point of acting very disinterested in his lectures, were attentive and even respectful in their own unique ways. When the bell to end class rang and he'd still not given the assignment, no one left until he'd finished saying, "By the end of the week, your assignment is an essay on possible ways to destroy a Dementor. There is no known way and I want you to theorise how it might be done. Er, so it'll be marked on originality and sound reasoning."
Harry packed up his things as the third years were filing out. He had taken a few liberties with various assignments before but none like this. He freely admitted (to himself anyway) that he was hoping to get some ideas from even just one student's essay. Somewhere in this world, he believed, there had to exist a way to destroy anything that was ever created—including the Dementors.
REMINDER: You can find chapter files, a discussion forum, and other dedicated and outrageously Potter-obsessed readers at my Yahoo group for this fic. There is a link on my bio page to the group. The Yahoo group name is: HPAoF. Cheers!
Oh, oh!! And I finally got the song file from Chapter 18 to load. It's in the group's File section.