Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!
Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?
Growing Pains, by Shedoc
"Alright, Harry?" the twins cheerful greeting broke his concentration and Harry look up with a grin. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon.
"My heroes!" he declaimed dramatically, getting smirks and laughs in reply as they dropped down on either side of him. It was cool in the shade, though the sun was hot enough to make Harry glad he was wearing shorts and a tee, even if they were the twins' hand-me-downs that Mrs Weasley had fished out for him. He'd never had new clothes in his life, with the exception of his school robes for Hogwarts. He preferred the hand-me-downs because at least they were comfortable and a little shabby. It didn't matter if he got grubby in them, and because they weren't new any little damage he caused didn't matter.
"You're looking a lot better than you did when we rescued you…"
"Yes, you do us credit now."
"Anything for you two," Harry batted his eyes at them and grinned when they jostled him, taking away his books and quill. He was leaning against a tree, with an old cushion at his back to protect him from the bark. The twins looked like they were going to take the cushion too, and hit him with it, but he wasn't too worried. They'd never treated him like he was fragile or precious, and he appreciated that. When things had been at their worst with the student body at Hogwarts, the twins had teased him as mercilessly as they treated the rest of the family.
"So what do you want?" Harry raised his eyebrows and George gasped and clutched his chest in pretended pain while Fred buried his face in his hands and gave out a mock sob.
"How cruel…"
"We grace you with our company…"
"Take time out of our busy schedules…"
"Just to come and see you…"
"Spend time with an old friend…"
"Who we rescued at his worst hour…"
"And you wound us grievously…"
"With your cold hearted suspicions."
"Mmmm," Harry folded his arms and bit down on a grin when they squirmed. They were always up to something; it was just a matter of figuring out who their target was. He was pretty sure it wasn't him, because their mother would hex them into next week if they did something to trigger his cough. It was a lot better, and he had more energy now, but at night and if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to be, the cough plagued him. Ron slept through it on the nights that he slept with Harry, and Harry was relieved. Bad enough that he got little sleep without Ron being disturbed too. Besides, he didn't have the strength to send Ron away when the redhead crawled into his bed. The rare comfort and love was precious and not to be wasted.
"Ok, ok, we give in!" Fred sighed, "You're as bad as dad!"
"Who do you think taught me?" Harry laughed, and then coughed. Mrs Weasley could nag anyone into submission, but Mr Weasley had this patient air and look that wore down even the twins. Harry wiped his mouth and leaned back to catch his breath, smiling at his worried friends and shrugging off their concern.
"Dumbledore and Professor Lupin are in the kitchen. They're talking to Mum and Dad about you," George said finally, and Harry frowned.
"Apparently there's a few family legacies waiting for you as you come of age, and the first one is about to pounce," Fred sighed, "From what we can gather there will be others as you get older, and Lupin wants you told about it all now. Dumbledore doesn't think you need the aggro and he's asking what Mum and Dad think."
"What do they think?" Harry asked. The twins would know if anyone did.
"Mum thinks you should know but doesn't want you to have to deal with it now, and Dad is all for telling you some of it now on the condition that he and Lupin help you out with it all," George replied with a shrug, "And before you ask, we don't know what it is."
"I'd better go and find out then, right?" Harry sighed and got up. He collected his books from Fred and George picked up the cushion and old rug he'd been sitting on. Ron had been with him, but had gone inside to help his father fix a window that had been broken in the front room.
He put his books on the dresser by the door and walked into the hug that Remus offered him. The werewolf had been very affectionate with Harry over the last few weeks, offering hugs and other friendly touches. Harry was glad for them because they reassured him that Lupin didn't blame him for Sirius' death. Harry dropped into a seat beside Lupin and glanced around the table.
"So what's happening?" he asked bluntly, aware that the adults were at odds from their expressions and that Ron and Ginny were just confused. Dumbledore shifted in his seat and Harry fixed the other man with a calm gaze.
"Sir?" he asked pointedly and Molly sighed.
"Harry, dear, once you turned sixteen, part of your inheritance became… well, available to you," she reached across Ron and patted Harry's hand. He smiled at her reassuringly, and Arthur took up the tale. It was no wonder the twins double spoke, after growing up with parents who could finish each other's conversations and thoughts, though the Weasley's rarely did so in public.
"Apparently, Harry, there is quite a bit coming to you over the next five years, but the first part of it is to assume some of your business duties. You won't be alone though, if you agree to it, then Professor Lupin and I will help you out."
"I can't think of anyone better," Harry smiled, "Are you sure it won't be too much of a bother? You're already housing and feeding me."
"Nonsense," Molly snapped, "You're a Weasley in everything but name."
"Really?" Harry breathed and grinned at them. The people around the table were stunned at the sheer joy that radiated off the green-eyed teen in response to that simple cross statement. Family was something Harry had always wanted, and Ron's was the best family he'd ever met. That they considered him a part of them was a gift Harry had never dared hope for.
"Prat," Ron slung an arm around Harry, "Of course you are."
Harry leaned into the teen and grinned at everyone. The twins pretended to get all misty eyed and threw themselves at him with mock sobs and rough hugs. Harry fended them off and Ron joined in, roughing up his hair and tickling. It looked like developing into a full-blown wrestling match if the family matriarch hadn't intervened.
"Boys!" Mrs Weasley snapped.
"Sorry mum," they all chorused. Harry blushed and straightened his clothes, and Mrs Weasley smoothed his hair in approval.
"So, what do I have to do?" Harry asked and Remus smiled at him gently.
"Your great-great grandfather, Henry Potter, started a company that manufactures brooms, Harry. As the sole heir of the family, you're to take over the full directorship upon reaching age in our world. The trust is set up so that you have a year before you take over, like an apprenticeship so you can learn the ropes. The company needs to meet you and discuss the upcoming year," the werewolf laughed at the gape on Harry's face and Ron perked up in interest.
"You own a broom company? Which one?" he asked, jealousy tingeing his voice. Harry looked at him in concern, Ron had always been jealous of Harry's wealth and status, though Harry never flaunted them and would rather not have them.
"Cleansweeps," Dumbledore said and the twins howled in jealousy.
The board had not been impressed. Harry had taken one look at the sour faces and grumpy frowns and sat quietly through the meeting, letting them talk, reading through the parchments that they'd given him and scribbling notes in the margins as was his habit. He'd been silent for the most part, fully aware that these seven witches and wizards knew more about the business of making brooms than he did. It wasn't until they started debating how they were going to combat the niche that Nimbus and Firebolt had carved out for themselves in the sporting brooms market that Harry spoke up. He was actually surprised that no one had tried this before.
"There are four positions on a Quidditch team and each one has different requirements from their brooms. The Firebolts and Nimbus are hybrids, designed to be usable in each of the four positions. If you wanted to try to break into that market, then you should consider making brooms specialised to the four positions on a Quidditch team," he'd said without looking up from his notes. Harry had a lot of fun describing the argument that followed to Ron, who laughed himself breathless, as well as the final decision that the prototypes would be tested at Hogwarts, provided they could get school and parental approval of the trials.
"That would be wicked!" Ron had breathed, and Harry chuckled, "Even if we didn't all get a new broom each, the opportunities…"
"They'll want to test the new brooms against the competition and their own product, so it's unlikely that Slytherin or Gryffindor will get the new brooms. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are the most likely candidates, but either way, I'll make sure you at least get a trial somewhere," Harry promised and was relieved that Ron didn't seem upset. Arthur and Lupin had been forbidden by the board members to attend the meeting, probably in an effort to make Harry feel uncomfortable and therefore keep quiet. After his suggestion, though, the board members had warmed to him. Apparently several of them had toyed with similar ideas and a few half finished designs were floating around. It wouldn't take long for them to have prototypes available.
"Fred and George are going to be absolutely sick," Ron grinned happily and snuggled into Harry's side, "Budge up a bit Harry."
Harry budged obligingly, giving Ron more space on Percy's bed. They would be heading to school tomorrow and this would be his last night cuddling with Ron. Ron threw his arm and leg over Harry and fell into a deep sleep. Harry spent a few minutes savouring the touch of his friend and then followed him into slumber reluctantly.
They woke together in the morning and Ron grunted, giving Harry an absentminded pat as he got up and shuffled for the loo before anyone else could bag it. Harry sighed and headed for a quick shower. They'd packed the night before in order to avoid the last minute rush, though it wouldn't be a Weasley departure if at least two people didn't forget something.
The train was about to leave as they burst through the barrier, and Harry shoved his things into the first carriage he came to, while Ginny and Ron ran full tilt for the Prefects car. There was a seat empty in Neville's compartment and Harry said hello to his dorm mate and Luna Lovegood who was sitting with him. She was actually almost sitting on top of him, and Harry swallowed a smile. Hedwig started fussing and fretting in her cage and Harry let her out with a sigh. She immediately perched on his shoulder and rubbed her head against his cheek. He stroked her breast lightly and sat carefully.
"You won't be able to do this at school," he warned her and she hooted sadly. Since he'd gone to the Burrow, Hedwig had barely let him out of her sight, and he counted himself lucky to go to the bathroom alone.
"You've been ill," Luna stared at him, and Harry nodded to her, "You look awful."
"I feel much better, though," Harry grinned, "And I'm not taking potions any more, which is a relief. Why can't Healers make medicine taste better?"
"Then it wouldn't be medicine," Neville sighed. He'd also lost some weight these holidays, but he looked good. He'd had a growth spurt and his hair was a little longer than normal. Harry remembered that Neville was now sixteen as well, and had replaced his wand these holidays.
"What sort of wand did you get, Nev?" Harry changed the subject from his health easily, "Was your Gran really mad?"
"Not after Mr Ollivander got through with her," Neville sighed, "He ranted on about how I should never have been given my fathers wand and it was a miracle I'd learnt to perform any magic at all. He kept going on about how the wand chooses the Wizard. I've never seen Gran so quiet."
"What did you end up getting?" Harry asked and Neville pulled the new wand out.
"It's oak and dragon claw," Neville swished the wand and a shower of blue sparks cascaded from the tip, "Mr Ollivander said that he thought it was a mistake after he'd made it, because it's been on the shelf for so long."
"Obviously it suits you," Luna pointed out, examining the ten-inch long, slender wand. Neville nodded and grinned.
"After I turned sixteen I practice every spell we'd learnt from first year on up, and it was much easier this time. Gran walked in on me practicing transfigurations and they all worked pretty well," he boasted. Neville had never been a very strong spell caster, and Harry wondered how much it was because his wand didn't suit him, and how much was because he was all too aware that his father had been a very strong Wizard. With the confidence of a pristine wand, Neville wasn't standing in his parent's shadows any more.
The trolley Witch came around and Harry treated them. He pulled his Arithmancy books out after their snack to get in a last bit of study. He had an important test to take tomorrow. If he failed he might never be able to figure out how to rid the world of Voldemort without sinking to the use of an Unforgivable curse.
"Alright Harry?" Ron's call floated across the common room and Harry nodded wearily. He trudged over to the couches where the sixth years had congregated and slumped to sit on the floor at Ron's feet.
"We were comparing OWL scores," Dean spoke up before either Ron or Hermione could ask if Harry had passed his test, "We've heard all about Hermione's perfect score, and Ron's rotten ones…"
"Oi!" Ron protested, though Dean was only teasing. The red head had gained the right scores to pursue his ambition of becoming an Auror, though it meant that he'd be stuck with Snape for another two years. Harry grinned and admitted that his scores had been similar to Ron's.
"If you don't count getting a double OWL for Defence Against the Dark Arts and an Honours in Charms," Ron poked Harry's head, and he poked his friends' leg in retaliation.
"And spending the summer teaching himself the third year Arithmancy course," Hermione spoke up. Harry regarded her uneasily. She'd been a little distant, though she was happy to see them all again. He was still worried that Hermione blamed him for the circumstances that had led to Sirius' death, hence her distance from him now.
"How did that go?" Ron asked and Harry grinned. That was the one bit of good news he'd had today.
"I'm in; passed the exam with eighty nine percent," he ducked as Ron's hand ruffled his already untidy hair and accepted the ragging of his peers with good grace. Even Seamus was talking to him this year, a bonus as far as Harry was concerned. He settled in place, leaning partially on Ron's leg and listened as the people around him swapped holiday stories. When eventually the chat broke up he gathered Hermione with a look and tapped Ron's foot.
"Come on, I need to talk to you," he muttered and led the way out into the school and along the corridors to the room of requirement. It was furnished with three really big armchairs - or three small couches, depending on your point of view - and one wall was a large window that looked out over the lake.
"So what happened after the test?" Ron proved that once again he was not as simple as he liked to make everyone think. It was easier to get through life if people underestimated you a little; it gave you an edge to use that was especially useful if you were the second youngest in a large family. Harry had known all along that Ron would do well in his OWL's, even if he did have some difficulty learning new skills initially.
"Professor Dumbledore asked to see me in his office once I found out if I'd been accepted to fourth year Arithmancy," Harry sighed, "Snape was waiting there for me, and the minute I stepped through the door he hit me with Legilimency."
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, and Ron squirmed out of the overstuffed chair he was in and went to sit with Harry. They had to squeeze together rather closely, and Harry slung an arm around his friend to keep him from tipping out. Ron reciprocated and for a moment Harry pretended that Ron was cuddling him. Hermione was giving them an odd look and Harry wondered what the problem was.
"It wasn't like before, though," Harry frowned, "Before I just saw my very worst memories, but this time it was like… someone was pushing their hand on my forehead."
"So what happened?" Ron's arm tightened around Harry and the black haired teen sighed. Their Potions Master had not been a happy man when Harry was done with him, and Harry had to confess the feeling was mutual. He hated having Snape mess about in his mind.
"I yelled 'no', and Snape went flying. I caught his wand and the… pressure just disappeared. I gave the Headmaster the wand and he helped Snape up."
"Was he hurt?" Ron gloated and Harry shook his head, sharing a reluctant grin with his friend. They didn't wish any real or lasting harm on the Head of Slytherin, even though the man was a pain in the arse on a good day.
"Bruised and shaken. He told the Headmaster that he'd never felt a reaction like that before, so Dumbledore pulled his wand and had a go too. Fawkes caught him before he hit the wall," Harry mumbled and Ron gasped, stunned. Hermione bit her lip, and Harry examined his knees. The last time he'd been in Dumbledore's office he'd tried to trash it. The next time he'd almost hurt the man. He was embarrassed and confused.
"Harry, where did you learn to shield yourself like that?" Hermione got straight to the point and Harry sighed.
"I'm not sure… when we got back to Privet Drive, I went up and sat on my bed to think things over. That was when I decided I needed to learn Arithmancy. I got up and sent a letter, and when I went downstairs to find something to eat my Aunt said I'd been sitting there for three straight days. The Headmaster thinks it was an instinctive protective reaction. He says that I was so upset about failing to learn the Occlumency the first time around that I withdrew and created my own set of mental shields. That also explains why I haven't had any dreams from Voldemort this summer - they just stopped suddenly at the start of the hols. The two of them then took turns for the next hour to try and break through my defences. They only stopped when Snape sprained his wrist, landing on the rug," Harry shook his head, "They sent me back to Gryffindor after."
Ron was angry, Harry could tell from the stiff set of his lips and the tension running through the frame pressed against him. Hermione looked shocked too, but rallied to defend the teachers, as always.
"They had to be sure that the shields would hold, Harry."
"I know," Harry nodded, his voice neutral, "But from my end of the bargain, it's not much fun to fend off two very powerful Wizards who are intent on getting inside your head for an hour."
There was an uneasy silence, which Ron eventually broke. Harry knew he could count on Ron to chance from one controversial subject to the next.
"During the hols you said there was something you needed to tell the both of us," the redhead glanced at Harry uncertainly, and Harry smiled to show he wasn't upset. He'd made a promise and intended to keep it.
"It's about the prophecy. It was destroyed at the Ministry, but Dumbledore was there when it was first delivered. He told me about it after he got back to his office that night," Harry took a deep breath and launched straight into the hated words, speaking them tonelessly. Hermione looked sick at the end, and Ron had gone from angry tension to quivering shock.
"That's… awful," Hermione breathed, "Harry, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know," Harry confessed, "That's why I need the Arithmancy. At the Ministry I tried to hold the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. It makes me sick to even think about it now… there's no way I'm going to use the Unforgivable Curses against him. I…"
"He's so far in the dark, that the best way is to destroy him with light," Ron finished when Harry faltered and he looked at his friend with gratitude and love. Ron yanked him into a hug and held him tight.
"I'm no Arithmancer, Harry, but I can fetch books as well as the next man. You can count on me to help you look. We'll help you find a way to get rid of V-V Voldy…"
"Voldy? I like it," Harry chuckled, "Voldy and the Death Eaters. Sounds like a band."
Ron sniggered and Harry laughed a little, leaning into the offered comfort.
"Stop it! This is serious!" Hermione snapped, but there was a smile lurking at the corners of her mouth.
On the first day of classes Professor Dumbledore stood to announce that the Educational Decrees passed by Professor Umbridge had mostly been overturned, and Professor McGonagal had pulled Harry aside very gravely to explain that his Quidditch ban was still in force.
"The Minister feels that the punishment was severe, but your behaviour last year didn't indicate remorse. He says that if you can demonstrate good behaviour this year he'll lift the ban in time for your seventh," McGonagal's lips were very straight and angry and Harry sighed in resignation. There was no point in shouting or complaining to her, he was sure his Head of House had done everything she could to get the ban lifted.
"Who's captain of the team?" Harry asked in a low voice. McGonagal patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"Ron Weasley will take that post," she told him, a touch of pity in her voice, "I'm sorry Potter."
"Can I have my broom back? If I can't fly it, then maybe Ginny Weasley could," he looked hopefully at his teacher, "Does the ban prevent me from flying?"
"No," McGonagal said slowly, "Though it would be best if you didn't. The Minister might take that as proof …"
"But there's no reason not to give me the Firebolt," Harry pressed, "Ginny could fly it in whatever position she takes on the team."
"Very well," his teacher nodded, "Come collect it after classes today. Bring Mr Weasley and I'll tell him the good news."
Harry nodded and hurried to catch up with his friends. They had Herbology together first, then Charms. Both of those lessons were doubles, though Charms was broken up by lunch. Double Transfiguration followed, and then Harry had a single Arithmancy, Ron had Divination and Hermione had Ancient Runes. He made plans to meet Ron to collect the Firebolt in the afternoon, and hoped that the upcoming discussion wouldn't end their friendship.
An owl arrived at lunchtime for Harry with an update on the prototype brooms. Harry had been given a folder to keep his company papers in, with his name on the front. He'd doodled a snitch and a broom under his name as well, and the folder resided in his school bag. Harry shoved the documents into the folder unread, making a mental note to go over them in bed tonight. With the curtains drawn it was the most privacy he'd get, though Ron was sure to want to know what was in store for them. Harry would let him read it over too, he trusted his friend not to blab, and Ron often picked up things that Harry missed.
His friends were giving him some odd looks during class, and Harry realised that he was still too quiet for normal. The news about the Quidditch ban had been a real blow, because he loved flying so much and was excited about flying against the prototype brooms. He was also not looking forward to telling Ron that he wasn't flying this year and planned to give Ginny the Firebolt for practices and matches.
Ron burst into the boys dorm that night, wildly excited and it didn't take a crystal ball to see that McGonagal had told him about his new position of team captain. Sean and Dean both congratulated the excited red head, while Harry listened from behind his closed curtains. Things quietened down after a while and Harry went back to his Arithmancy homework, rather relieved that he'd laid so much of the groundwork in the summer while recovering.
"How do you knock on curtains?" Ron's voice asked after a while and Harry jumped. He capped his inkbottle and waved the curtains open, not registering that his wand was lying under the pillows he was leaning against. Ron was looking a bit apprehensive, and Harry waved him inside, reaching over to close the curtains again and give them some privacy.
"McGonagal told me about the ban," Ron was not one to beat around the bush, for which Harry was relieved. In fact it was one of the things Harry loved about the other man. Ron had also changed into his faded pyjamas and was wearing a Weasley jumper over them. With his hair ruffled and slightly sleepy face he'd never looked sexier to Harry.
"Yeah," Harry sighed, "I've got to be a good boy."
"Not likely," Ron snorted, "If you're not out looking for trouble it comes to find you."
"Thanks," Harry grinned a little and shifted on the pillows so he was sitting Indian style like Ron, "Er, Ron, there's something I need to talk to you about."
"What?" Ron raised his eyebrows curiously, and Harry straightened his shoulders. He'd look Ron in the eye and just tell the truth, how hard could it be?
"IthinkthatGinnyshouldridetheFireboltbecauseshecangiveitthebestworkoutbecauseasakeeperyoudon'tneedafastbroom, ok?"
Ron stared at him blankly and then burst into laughter, flopping back on the bed and clutching his ribs while Harry flushed and scowled. Every few minutes Ron would lift his head to peer at the green-eyed teen and go off into another round of hilarity. It took him almost ten minutes to calm down, by which time Harry was annoyed, but mostly at himself.
"Try again," Ron sniggered and wiped his face, "That didn't make any sense at all."
"I think that Ginny should ride the Firebolt because she can give it the best work out because as a keeper you don't need a fast broom," Harry repeated at a slightly slower pace. Ron sat up properly, thinking it over. Harry picked at the knee of his pyjamas nervously, waiting for the anger or hurt that he was sure Ron would feel.
"Makes sense," Ron nodded, "I don't need a racing broom, and as a Chaser or Seeker, Ginny does. That way the prototypes will still be tested against the competition too."
"You're not mad?" Harry asked in relief and Ron's face changed, gentling a little. He shifted so that he was sitting beside Harry, their shoulders and thighs touching. The warmth was welcome to Harry, and he did his best not to lean into it.
"Harry, I know how much that broom and the team mean to you. I'm not mad," Ron promised quietly. Harry sighed in relief and nodded, unable to meet his friends gaze. He didn't deserve Ron, especially after last year, moments like this just served to reinforce that idea.
"Hey, what did the company send you?" Ron changed the subject and Harry seized upon it gratefully, passing the Cleansweep folder to Ron. The redhead opened it eagerly and pulled out the latest letter, settling in comfortably beside Harry to go over the details.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione didn't even look up from her homework as Harry cautiously shifted a stack of books and then placed them back precisely where they'd been. Ron looked up from his potions essay and rolled his eyes at his friend before getting back to work.
"Looking for my folder. You know, the one with the brooms and snitches on the front?" Harry replied, glancing at her to see if she knew where it was. He hadn't told her about his ownership of the company, preferring not to risk spreading the news about. Both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had accepted the position of tester for the new series of brooms and Harry's mail was getting more and more complicated.
"Have you even finished your homework?" Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry nodded, resuming his search on the cluttered table top quietly. They were in the library and he really didn't want to be kicked out before he found his folder.
"Yep, all done," he confirmed, sifting carefully through Ron's worn out bag. On the nights that Ron chose to sleep in his own bed, Harry stayed up and completed his homework, allowing him to concentrate on breaking the Arithmancy of Avada Kedavra. The fourth year Arithmancy course showed students how to make simple spells of their own, and as Harry hadn't relaxed his efforts at self-tutoring in the subject, he was well ahead of his class, to the delight of his Professor. Ron was only sleeping with Harry three nights a week, so he had a lot of study time up his sleeve, catching a quick nap around dawn to appear fresh and rested.
"What about…" Hermione put her quill down, frowning at him curiously.
"I'm waiting for a book," Harry interrupted her, not wanting the private study to be mentioned out loud. A sixth section had appeared in his leather bound book, and Harry was slowly, painstakingly working his way through the hated curse.
"Well can't you find something else to do?" she asked in exasperation, and Harry sighed, pausing in his search to look at her steadily.
"I would if I could find my folder," he replied patiently, then started to slide off the seat to look under the desk, "Maybe it's on the floor."
It wasn't, and because he was in a restless mood, Harry tickled Hermione's ankles while he was down there and pulled Ron's socks down too. He emerged from under the table a few seats away from his friends, out of reach of their retaliation, rumpled and concerned. He didn't want to have to write to the Board and request copies of the papers they'd sent him, which would be an admission that he was too immature to handle the job.
"Maybe you left it upstairs, mate," Ron scowled, his expression at odds with his concerned tone as he pulled his socks back up one at a time. Harry shook his head stubbornly, remembering clearly that he'd put the latest letter in there when it arrived this morning. He ruffled a hand through his hair and looked around for inspiration. What he saw made his mouth go dry.
Draco Malfoy and his two goons were standing in the stacks not so far away attempting to prise the folder open. They weren't having any luck, and Draco said something impatient under his breath, pulling his wand.
"Malfoy! Give that back!" Harry snapped, not caring if he called attention to himself. The three Slytherins probably thought they'd found Griffindor's Quidditch strategies or something. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Madam Pince bustle towards them, a dark shadow following in her wake. He didn't have time to bemoan the fate that led Snape into his path right then, he was more concerned with getting his folder back in one piece.
Malfoy sneered at him and pointed his wand at the folder. Harry clearly heard him pronounce an unlocking charm, but he wasn't ready for what happened next. There was a loud whistle that had everyone nearby cringing with their hands over their ears, and bright blue dye exploded out of the folder, drenching everything in a one-metre radius.
"My books!" Madam Pince shrilled, and Harry moaned in despair. The three Slytherins were covered and dripping with the stuff, as was the bookcase behind them.
"In trouble again, Potter? What did you do this time?" Snape snapped, drawing his wand and prodding at the dripping Goyle with it.
"It's all his fault, Professor!" Malfoy piped up on cue, having to whine loudly to be heard over the scores of laughing students. Ron was red faced and leaning heavily on the table, and even Hermione was giggling wildly. Madam Pince pulled her wand to vanish the mess and was dismayed when it stayed put.
"The folder clearly has my name on it Professor, and it was locked! They had no right to try and break into my things!" Harry protested hotly, and pulled his own wand, "Evanesco!"
There was a loud hum, and the very air seemed to vibrate as Harry pointed his wand at the mess. The blue stuff disappeared immediately, though Malfoy's once blonde hair had a powder blue tinge to it. Madam Pince checked the nearest books and snatched Harry's folder from Crabbe's nerveless hands.
"Twenty points for a potentially harmful prank, Potter…" Snape drew himself up, clearly working himself up to some truly vile punishment.
"And ten points from each of the boys who attempted to open a folder clearly marked with someone else's name and locked to boot," Madame Pince interrupted sharply, fixing Snape with a glare that had Harry cringing in sympathy, "They had no right to open the folder without Mr Potter's permission, and I very much doubt the boy left it out for them to find."
"Very well," Snape muttered through stiff lips, and stalked away, leaving the Slytherins to face Madam Pince's wrath. She kicked them out of the library, and then handed Harry the folder.
"I'm sorry about the books," Harry bit his lip, "I didn't know the folder would react like that."
"Just see to it that it doesn't happen again," Madam Pince swept off, and Harry returned to Ron's table. Hermione was staring at him, and Harry raised his eyebrows at her curiously. Ron patted his knee under the table in a comforting if absent-minded fashion, which cheered Harry up enough to open his folder. Hermione leaned over however, and tapped his wrist to get his attention.
"Harry, that spell was really strong," she muttered and he sighed, putting his wand on the table unhappily.
"I know," he admitted, "I… all year I've been having problems with casting. Sometimes I have to work really hard just to get a simple spell to work, and other times… it's like a huge surge of magic."
"That's not good," Ron looked worried and Harry sighed, running his fingers over the snitches he'd doodled on the front of his folder.
"I took my wand to Professor Flitwick and he can't find anything wrong with it," Harry rubbed a smudge off the handle of his wand and stuck it back in his robes, "I'm scared that I'll lose control of it and hurt someone."
"You'll just have to be really careful, Harry," was the only advice that Hermione could offer and Harry bit back a retort. He already knew that.
Malfoy was really pissed off the next day when Ron opened Harry's folder without second thought to fish out the potions essays that had got swept into it last night in their rush to pack up. Harry thought that the blue tinge in the other teens hair suited him, though he wasn't stupid enough to say so where Malfoy could hear him.