Chapter Two
When the train at last stopped at Hogsmeade station, Ginny hung back as the others exited the compartment, and grabbed Harry's arm. When they were alone, she said, "I'm sorry about what I said this morning. It was stupid."
"It doesn't matter," he said. He didn't look at her.
Ginny waited for him to say more, but he didn't seem to be thinking of the subject anymore. He was looking around the compartment, and running his hand through his hair.
Finally, he said, "Can I tell you something, Ginny?"
"Sure you can."
His cheeks were flushed and his mouth tight. "Something I've never told anyone before, not even Ron and Hermione?"
She moved closer. "What is it, Harry?"
He looked around again, still fidgeting. He took a deep breath and said, "Do you remember the prophecy Voldemort was trying to get at last year?"
"Of course."
"Dumbledore told m-"
At that moment, Ron appeared. "Do you two plan to go to school at all this year? Or are you just going to ride back to London again? The carriages are leaving." But as he surveyed the scene, Harry flushed and breathless, Ginny closer than normal and probably a bit pale with concern, Ron's face broke into a wide grin. "Of course," he added. "You might like the time alone. Although the beds at Hogwarts are a lot more comfortable-"
He didn't finish, as Ginny had decked him across the face.
"Ow! Right where Harry got me last night. Nice going, Ginny."
"Serves you right!" she said. "And you're supposed to be protecting me! You just wait'll I tell mum!"
"And I'll tell her you hit me!"
They bickered down the corridor, Harry following a little ways behind. Ginny knew he was brooding, but didn't want to be so blatant as to tell Ron what had happened in Harry's range of hearing. Harry probably assumed that she would tell Ron and Hermione, considering he hadn't asked her not to, but she did have some sense of decency.
The carriages stood waiting, swaying a bit in the warm breeze, and looking to her as always as if drawn by invisible horses. She glanced at Harry, and wondered for the thousandth time what he saw there. His face was impassive.
She heard Hagrid from a little ways off, calling the first years to him. She looked around and found his lantern bobbing up and down in the night. Ron had seen it, too. "Oy," he bellowed, "Alright, Hagrid?"
Upon hearing his friend's name, Harry seemed to come back to the present. He waved as Hagrid came striding over to greet them. But the carriages were ready to go, and all the first years had been rounded up. Harry, Ron, and Ginny climbed into the nearest carriage with nothing more than a greeting from Hagrid. There would be time to talk later.
Ginny leaned her head back against her seat, sweating from the unusual warmth and wondering what Harry had learned about the Prophecy.
It was at the welcome feast that Harry realized that for the first time ever he wasn't at all relieved to be back at Hogwarts.
It wasn't that he would rather be at Privett Drive or even Diagon Alley or the Burrow. He just didn't particularly want to be here, just as he didn't particularly want to be anywhere. It was an odd feeling, and it made Harry even more depressed to realize how low he'd sunk.
It didn't help to hear what Zacharias Smith had to say to him in the entrance hall.
"Hey, Harry," he said, looking grim. "Did you hear?"
"I guess not," said Harry.
"Susan Bones died over the summer," said Smith quietly, without a hint of his usual arrogance.
Harry was silent. He had expected something this, but he hadn't read anything in the papers.
"They got her whole family," Zacharias went on. "But she put up a good fight. Together they took out six Death Eaters. I thought you should know, since you wouldn't see it in the Prophet."
"Then how do you know?" asked Ginny quietly. Harry almost jumped. He hadn't realized, or had forgotten, rather, that she was right behind him.
"They're family friends," said Smith. My cousin was there, and survived just long enough to tell the tale."
"God, I'm sorry," said Harry.
Zacharias sniffed and shrugged. "It's a war. You've got to expect casualties." And with that, he disappeared into the crowd of students surging towards the Great Hall.
Harry couldn't move. After a moment, he felt a gentle push from behind. "C'mon, Harry," Ginny said. "We've just got to keep going."
There was no denying the truth in that, so Harry went on numbly to the feast and sat next to Ron and Hermione, who had saved space for them.
The sorting ceremony seemed to pass quickly, and Dumbledore made a speech. Harry knew it would be important this year and that he should probably be paying attention, but he hardly heard the headmaster as he dwelt on the fate of Susan Bones. Susan, who had been in the DA, Susan, who had always been so mature and so like her aunt... Zacharias had said they'd killed her whole family. That must include Madame Bones. Harry hadn't exactly known Susan well, and had only spoken to her aunt during his trial the year before, but he still felt something personal at their deaths. Was it because Susan had been among those he had tried to help? Or would every death in this war fall on him, his fault for not killing Voldemort sooner? And the things he'd taught them in the DA... Smith had said she'd put up a good fight, but that wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. Nothing would have been.
Suddenly, it seemed to Harry, Dumbledore's speech was over, and the food appeared. Knowing that Hermione was watching him, Harry dutifully helped himself to a decent amount of food. He had begun to force some of it down his throat, while Ginny told Ron and Hermione in a low voice about Susan Bones, when Lucia came and took a seat beside him.
"I got sorted into Gryffindor," she said.
"That's got to be a first," said Harry, "a Malfoy in Gryffindor."
"I know," she said. "My parents will be thrilled."
Harry laughed. "Just like my aunt and uncle were thrilled when I got into Hogwarts."
"Muggles, aren't they?"
"Yeah. And just about the worst kind."
"They can't beat my parents, I guarantee it."
"Lucia," said Ginny, who had just noticed she was there. "Are- are you in Gryffindor?"
"That's right. Malfoy in Gryffindor, how 'bout that?"
"That's really great," said Ginny earnestly. "Congratulations."
Ron and Hermione agreed and expressed their approval.
"Are you happy with it?" asked Harry.
"I dunno. I thought Ravenclaw might be nice, but I really don't know enough about it to say which is the best."
"What are you talking about?" said Ron, "Gryffindor's obviously the best."
Lucia smiled. "Actually," she said in a confidential whisper, "I thought it might be considering it's the house my father hates the most. Although, to be honest, I'd rather be in Slytherin even, than Hufflepuff."
"What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" asked Harry defensively, thinking of Cedric.
"Nothing, unless you're me. I hate all that 'good people' crap. It's bullshit, is what it is. Authority equates obedience with morality. I refuse to be obedient!"
"Is everything political with you?" said Harry.
"What are you talking about? Everything's political with everyone."
"There he is!" said Ron suddenly.
Everyone jumped. "Who?" demanded Hermione.
Ron was standing up. "Dean! That bugger!"
In unison, Hermione and Ginny each grabbed hold of one of his arms and promptly pulled him back down onto the bench.
"You can't go beating on all my ex-boyfriends, Ron," said Ginny harshly.
"But you said-"
"Violence is not the answer to everything," said Hermione. "Now stop behaving like a ten year old. You're a prefect for goodness sake."
"Wait," said Ginny, "You mean now I'm going to have to stop duffing people up just because I'm a Prefect?"
"I could just put some itching powder in his sheets," said Ron thoughtfully, "but that's so much less dramatic. Wish I could turn him into a ferret."
"I know he was a maniac," said Ginny, "but we did have some good times with fake Moody, didn't we?"
Harry looked at her. She was goading him, surely. On the one hand, it was a fairly innocent statement, and true enough. On the other hand, after her comment on the train that morning, it seemed like she wanted any excuse to set Harry off. Perhaps she was hoping that he would confide in her if she got him angry again. Then again, perhaps she just liked to laugh at him.
"The ferret incident was fairly enjoyable," he said.
Ron, who seemed to have been waiting to see how Harry would react, took the cue and said, "Fairly enjoyable! It was the best moment of my life."
Hermione sniffed disapprovingly. "I told you a teacher shouldn't do that. No adult who wasn't a psychopath would have turned a fourteen year old boy into a ferret, no matter what the circumstances."
"Who got turned into a ferret?" asked Lucia, who had hitherto restrained herself from asking questions, having resigned herself to being lost in the majority of the conversation.
"Oh," said Harry, "That would be your brother."
"Well, that's not so bad then," she said.
"See?" said Ron, "Even his sister thinks he deserved it."
"That's not quite what I meant, although I'm sure he did deserve it. I meant that we had much worse at home, so it couldn't have been to traumatic for him."
Ron's triumphant expression faded, and Hermione gave him a dirty look. Ginny cleared her throat uncomfortably. Harry considered Lucia as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, having apparently decided to forgo the meal. Her hair was blacker than his and she swept it out of the way as she drank deeply. Her hands were small and thin.
That night, Harry lay in bed, Ron and Dean's shouting match still ringing in his ears. He had a terrible headache. They had finally shut up only when he had yelled at them. Harry sighed. Another year of fights in the dormitory. He was still selfishly glad that Seamus had come round last year.
As Harry heard the others slip into sleep, their breathing becoming slower and more regular, he wondered what they were dreaming about. Most likely not graveyards or archways or green light. Harry hadn't taken the potion tonight, either. He didn't want a repeat of this morning.
This morning. He didn't want to think about it. But of course, now he had to. Now that it was dark and quiet and there was nothing to distract him, he would have to dwell on all the unpleasant things he tried (with limited success) to keep hidden in the daytime.
But this morning. Ron had brought him back... Harry's stomach turned.
Why? Why should Harry feel this burning sensation at the memory?
Ron had whispered in his ear, "Come back." Harry could still feel his breathing...
Harry sat up in bed. That was it. He was in love with Ron.
No, that couldn't be it. But even as he denied it, he knew it was true. He felt sick.
But I'm not... he thought in the dark. I'm not gay. Feebly, he clung to memories of Cho Chang, tried to recall what he had felt and held those moments up like paper shields against the hailstorm that threatened to engulf him. But it was no use. He couldn't even remember anymore if he had ever fancied her. He had been fascinated with her, surely, but it was nothing. So quickly forgotten...
So, then. It was Ron. Harry tried to steady his breathing. He tried to calm himself, conjuring Hermione's voice out of the night.
"Calm down, Harry. What are you so panicked for? So you're gay. Big surprise, we already knew."
That wasn't quite what Hermione would say, but it did the trick. Harry lay still for a few minutes, concentrating on the first obstacle: he was gay. A sickening thought, though not altogether shocking. He thought he could deal with it, as he had always had to deal with being different.
Next, then, was the more frightening idea that the object of his affections was no other than his very best friend. This was harder to accept, though, again, Harry knew it was true. He felt it. He must have always known it, really, and just not wanted to admit it to himself.
Suddenly Harry couldn't sit still any longer. He got up.
It was hot in the dormitory, and all the boys had the curtains open around their beds. Seamus had even forgone the formality of pajamas. Mercifully, Ron had learned from growing up in a house full of older brothers that there were certain vulnerabilities which accompanied such a move. So Ron was sleeping in his regular, long-sleeved flannel pajamas, splayed out across the sheets on his stomach, his back rising and falling slowly with each breath.
Harry didn't know how long he stood there, watching Ron sleep, or what wild thoughts occupied his brain. He just knew there was something terribly painful about it, and at the same time he didn't want to leave. He was reminded of gazing into the mirror of Erised back in his first year, and seeing his family, all long dead, gathered around him. Here again was something utterly unreachable.
He was lost to his strange and unfamiliar thoughts until he heard a voice behind him that made him jump. It was Neville, on the bed opposite, calling Harry's name.
Harry whirled around, guilt and shame pouring down on him.
"I thought it was you," said Neville. "Can't you sleep either?"
"No," said Harry. Hadn't he heard Neville snoring along with the rest?
"I haven't really slept all summer," said Neville. "I keep remembering what happened."
"Me, too," said Harry.
"Want to come sit with me?" asked Neville.
Harry hesitated, but he appreciated Neville's odd kindness. He sat down on Neville's bed. It reminded him of he and Ron in their first year.
"Do you want some chocolate?" said Neville, and Harry heard the wrapper of a chocolate frog. As he smelled the familiar aroma, he found that, miraculously, he did.
"Sure," he said, and Neville handed him one. It was too dark to see the card properly.
"Do you have nightmares, too?" Neville asked him.
"All the time," said Harry.
"Me, too. I hate them."
"Me, too." Suddenly Harry was struck by an idea. He had to tell someone, why not the person most affected besides himself?
"Neville," said Harry, "Did you know that you were almost me?"
"What?" Neville's tone was mildly puzzled.
"I lied to you when I said you'd told me when your birthday was. I know that doesn't make sense, but let me explain."
Harry paused, and Neville was silent. "What I'm going to tell you," Harry said, "I haven't told anyone. And I don't want anyone to know, not yet. Not even Ron and Hermione."
"I won't tell anyone, Harry," said Neville quietly, and Harry knew he had offended him.
"I didn't mean that you would," he explained. "I just needed to make sure. That's how important it is."
He paused again before going on. "Last year, after- after the battle, Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said. It said that there would be 'one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord.'"
"That's you," said Neville, with startling certainty.
"But it wasn't always," said Harry, "that's what I'm trying to tell you. The prophecy said that this one would be born on the last day of the seventh month, to parents who had defied Voldemort three times. That's me, but it's also you."
Neville was silent. In the dark Harry could make out little except that the other boy's features seemed to be immobile.
"Voldemort heard that part of the prophecy and for some reason thought of me. Or maybe he just did me first and planned to kill you later that night or something. I don't know. Anyways, he didn't know the rest, which was why he wanted the prophecy last year. The part he didn't hear was that the person was someone he would 'mark as his equal.' Which, I guess, is what he accidentally did to me. And now I've got to kill him, or he'll kill me. 'Neither can live while the other survives.'"
Neville didn't say anything for a long while. Just when Harry was beginning to think that the other boy had fallen asleep, Neville said, "You're sure?"
"Dumbledore told me," said Harry.
"No wonder you can't sleep."
"Yeah."
"So it's okay that I didn't send you a birthday card."
Harry laughed.
"Does this mean we're friends now?" said Neville.
Harry frowned. "We were always friends."
"Not really. You never told me anything before unless you had to."
"Well, it's different now. You were there. You were with me when Sirius died. You saw it."
"And you've seen my parents."
They sat together until the sky turned grey with dawn.
Harry went down to breakfast very early so that he wouldn't have to be alone with Ron, leaving Neville still eating chocolate frogs on his bed. He found Hermione already at table, flipping through old issues of The Daily Prophet.
"It's not in hear anywhere," she said to him. "Not even a hint!"
"Susan Bones?" Harry inquired dully.
"Her entire family..." said Hermione. "Of course, her parents had already been killed during the first war."
"I didn't know that," said Harry miserably. She was in the same boat as him. Had been, he corrected himself.
After a short while Hermione put the papers down and looked at Harry critically.
"Did you sleep last night?"
Harry didn't see the point of lying. "No."
"Did you take the potion?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I don't like sleeping. I'd rather stay up all night than have nightmares, alright?"
"Fair enough. But we need to do something about your nightmares, if they're really that bad."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. I'll do some research."
"Good. I'm glad you'll be able to amuse yourself."
"Oh, Harry. Why do you insist on being so difficult?"
"Honestly? Because it's fun," said Harry.
"Hello, Lucia," said Hermione. Harry turned around, and indeed Lucia was there, looking well rested but not exactly happy. She sat down beside Harry and helped herself to some orange juice.
"Did you sleep well, Hermione?" asked Lucia.
"I slept okay. You?"
"Fine. What was that noise, though?"
"Oh, that was my alarm clock. It's meant to wake us up. Parvati and Lavender find it helpful as well, but I can turn it off if you like."
"No, that's okay." Lucia paused to sip her juice, and said, "I take it you're mudblood, then?"
Hermione stiffened. Harry whipped out his wand. "I knew it," he said.
"Harry, put it away!" Hermione hissed.
"You take that back," Harry said to Lucia.
Lucia looked stunned. "Er..." she said. "I thought she was, I'm sorry. What did I say wrong?"
"You said 'mudblood,'" Harry snarled.
"Was that not the word?" She was genuinely confused. "What do you call someone with muggle parents?"
"Muggle-born," said Hermione. "Harry, put it away, you know you're just looking for an excuse to be angry."
"Muggle-born," repeated Lucia thoughtfully. "So was it offensive, what I said?"
"Very," said Hermione.
"I'm sorry. I really didn't know. I just came back from Germany, you know. And before that, I was an Ampist, so you can imagine..."
"What's an Ampist?" Harry interrupted, his anger gone as quickly as it had come.
Lucia's eyes widened at his ignorance, but Hermione stepped in. The term had simply never come up before. "It's from A.M.P." she explained. "Which officially stands for 'Alliance of Magical Purity,' though most people say it means 'Anti-Muggle Party.' Voldemort is an Ampist, and so are the people who support him."
"But not every Ampist is for Voldemort," added Lucia.
"True," said Hermione, "though most are. In Britain, at least."
Harry nodded. It was simply a word for the people he already knew existed.
Hermione was fidgety and impatient. She kept glancing towards the entrance, and Harry knew she was waiting for Ron.
"Did you like Durmstrang?" Hermione asked Lucia.
"It was alright, I guess. We learned a lot. I liked being there because it wasn't home. Plus I had Danica."
"Who's that?" Hermione asked politely.
"My girlfriend," said Lucia.
"The one who died?" said Harry.
"Yeah. She killed herself."
"I'm so sorry," said Hermione. "That... that's terrible."
"And I got blamed for it," said Lucia.
"Even worse," muttered Harry.
But he and Hermione both promptly forgot the subject as Hermione finally spotted Ron making his way toward them through the growing crowd. Harry tried not to look at Ron any more or less than usual, which he found very difficult.
"Ron, finally!" said Hermione, "I thought you were going to be late for class your first day."
"Hermione," said Ron, "It's eight thirty. Classes don't start for half an hour."
"Eight thirty? Is it really?" she said, "I wonder where the mail is."
Right on cue, a horde of owls suddenly descended on the Great Hall. A moment later, Hermione had in front of her a copy of the Daily Prophet as well as a fat muggle newspaper.
"That yours?" asked Ron, through a mouthful of eggs.
"Yes," said Hermione, "I find you get a lot more putting the two together. You've got to read between the lines, you know."
"Especially with that Prophet," said Lucia darkly, "They're in the minister's pocket, they are. Even more so with the war, I should expect."
"Of course," said Hermione, "they've already proven that." And she fell to scanning the pages, hardly even looking up when the schedules came around.
"Harry," said Ron, "are you mad? You signed up for Snape's NEWT class?"
"You have to take Potions," said Harry, "to be an auror."
"Guess that's out of the question for me, then," said Ron. "Anyway, why do they even need you to take anything, you already are an auror."
"Shut up," said Harry.
Ron sighed and compared their schedules. "Looks like we've got Transfiguration and Charms together... heh, wonder if anyone signed up for NEWT history of magic. Besides Hermione, I mean. Wait... you haven't even got Defense Against the Dark Arts. How are you going to be an auror without that?"
"What?" Harry snatched the schedule from him. He glanced down the page, and found that Ron was quite right- there was no Defense Against the Dark Arts listed. There were, however, several blocks of free time which seemed to be absent from Ron's week. "I wonder if they've got me down for some sort of independent thing. I'll have to ask McGonagall. Who did they say is the new teacher, anyways?"
"Weren't you listening?" Ron asked.
"No."
"Me neither."
"Someone named Professor Moon," said Lucia. "A young woman. Looked about sixteen, actually. I thought she was a student. There she is." She pointed to the High Table. There indeed sat a small, pretty, woman with shoulder-length, brown hair in emerald green robes. She really did look about sixteen.
"Wow," said Ron immediately, in a tone that was obscene enough to rouse Hermione from her study of the news.
"What?" she snapped.
Ron smirked at her reaction and pressed his advantage. "The new DADA teacher is hot," he said.
Suddenly, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He was sick of their games, trying to make each other as jealous as possible. It was a pretty twisted way of showing affection, if you asked him. But they were completely absorbed in themselves. They didn't even notice as Harry stood and walked away without explanation.
A/N: More to come, obviously. May turn HP/DM later. Definitely NOT HP/NL, in case that's what you were thinking. And don't worry, it'll pick up. I can't possibly keep it at a day at a time, considering I plan to span the whole year....
To MagickBeing: Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for reveiwing! I was beginning to wonder how one gets any readers at all in a category as large as HP. Anyways, your reveiw meant a lot to me, especially having read your work and seen your talent. No, I'm not just kissing ass, I'm serious. So, thanks for taking the time, and I hope you can take some more later to read the rest! (well, I guess you would have already if you're reading this)