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Harry's Soul - 1
Harry let the ladder down the trapdoor and looked at the square opening with trepidation. While he'd been in the hospital wing, Professor Dumbledore had taught both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Divination, but with Harry back on his feet, it had been his duty to take up his classes and Professor Trelawney's as well. Firenze had taken over the teaching of the third and fourth years, teaching them the ways of the stars, and he taught the fifth years on a rotating basis with Trelawney. She taught the sixth and seventh years exclusively, and now so did Harry.
He'd already had the fifth years, and things went really well. The whole year had heard all about the way Trelawney predicted his death each year - even this year despite the fact that he was no longer in her classes. Seamus had told Harry all about her prediction that 'one of their absent numbers' would meet a slow and messy death. Harry had been very annoyed with the whole thing but had been unable to vent his opinion because it was unprofessional on the one hand and Ron hadn't been talking to him at that point on the other - he could vent to Ron in safety, knowing that his friend wouldn't spread it around.
Lavender was the first person through the trapdoor, and she surveyed the brightly sunlit room with a scowl. Trelawney preferred to keep the room dim and overheated with heavily scented fires and the shutters closed. Harry did not. He was not given to swishing about mysteriously in the shadows, and he'd never worn a shawl in his life - or at least if he had he'd been a baby then and too young to protest.
Harry waited for them all to enter, flicking the trap door shut with his wand and taking the roll in a quiet voice, though he knew who was there and who was supposed to be there. Formalities dispensed with, Harry pulled out Trelawney's copy of their textbook and held it up so they could see.
"Open to page 472. Scrying," he waited until they had opened their books and glanced at his notes.
"Scrying is the art of divining the present or the immediate future. The scryer uses something that is reflective or emits it's own light to focus upon the person or even they are trying to see. With that information, you should be able to tell me what is traditionally used for scrying. Anyone?"
"Mirrors," Ron called without raising his hand, and Harry nodded once. Ron had known how nervous Harry was about teaching his peers and had evidently been reading quickly while Harry talked in order to have an answer at the ready.
"Water and candles," Lavender added, sounding miffed that he'd beaten her to the punch in her own speciality. Ron rolled his eyes and Harry wanted to laugh.
"Correct," Harry nodded, mastering his expression, "The scryer clears their mind of all outside thoughts and focuses on the person or event they are trying to see. Sometimes, they hold an item that belongs to the person they are scrying for, but truly powerful scryers don't even need that. Today we shall make an attempt at scrying, using bowls of water. As it is the reflections on the water that we will be using, I will remind you to sit back from the bowl, not hunched over it, ruining your postures. Yes Miss Brown?"
"Shall I fetch out the bowls for you? I know where they are," Lavender's voice was just condescending enough to set Harry's teeth on edge and he raised a very Snapish eyebrow at her. He flicked his wand in a lazy lateral figure eight, starting and finishing in the centre of the figure. Crystal bowls filled with water appeared in front of each student with a quiet pop, house elf magic assisting Harry's wizard magic.
"I can manage Miss Brown, thank you," Harry replied in a quiet voice, noting that a few people jumped in surprise. Lavender flushed a bright red and subsided on her pouf. Ron shot him a sneaky grin though, and the class settled after a moment, most of them propping a head on one hand and staring dreamily into the shimmering bowl.
In order not to disturb those that were really giving this a try, or those that were using the time for a bit of wool gathering, Harry perched on the arm of the chair that Professor Trelawney favoured and let the silence stretch out, blanketing them all. He looked around the room, grateful that his peers were happy to sit quietly. Harry was no divination expert, and they all knew what he thought of the subject after putting up with regular forecasts of his death.
Despite the fact that she'd been missing for a week, Trelawney's presence was still very much in this room, with her brocade chairs and poufs, and the various fortune telling accruements stacked around the room. Though he hadn't liked her as a teacher, Harry had never wanted her to fall into the hands of Death Eaters. He was very nervous that Voldemort had somehow found out that she was the Seer that had made the Prophecy, and had taken her in an effort to find out the full details of her prediction. Harry knew from past experience that she never remembered her foretelling, and he also knew that Voldemort would not allow that to deter him from breaking as deeply into Trelawney's mind as he could to seek out the answers he wanted.
For the past few days since he woke from casting the Patronus to protect his fellow students, Harry's evening nap had been shallow and fleeting. He was taking self brewed Pepper Up potion to remain awake for as long as possible, and was hoping that he could talk Madam Pomfrey out of some Dreamless Sleep potion later in the week. At the moment he was tired, but the condition was manageable. He knew that as the week leading to exams progressed he would be even more exhausted, and by the weekend he'd be nearly useless. He couldn't risk a deep sleep however, knowing what waited for him in the visions that came nightly.
A bell sounded to announce that dinner was ready in the Great Hall and Harry gestured with one hand for the class to leave, unwilling to disturb the tranquil spell of the room with words. His peers packed their books away silently, and the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins all traipsed silently out while the Gryffindors lingered over their packing. The bowls shimmer took on a golden hue as the sun began to set, and Harry admired the affect lazily. Something in the shimmer caught his attention and he focussed on it curiously without considering his actions.
A torch, mounted in a wall bracket, was flaring in response to a trickle of dust that had fallen into its flame. The wall behind it was dingy and Harry glanced away with a sick feeling in his stomach, knowing just where the shimmer had taken him. His scar flared and Voldemort paced into view, lifting his wand away from the convulsing figure on the floor. Captivity had been desperately cruel to Harry's teacher, leaving her gaunt and broken, covered in filth, her robes a rank mass clinging to her wasted limbs. He couldn't hear what the foul torturer was hissing, but Harry could tell it was a threat from the way Trelawney reacted. She shook her head and pleaded brokenly, enraging the Dark Lord to the point that he levelled his wand at her once more, this time sending forward a deadly green light that had Harry shouting in horror and denial.
Harry didn't see the vision he'd been projecting into the bowls of water in the room vanish, nor did he see each crystal bowl vibrate and then shatter under the force of his anger. Lavender Brown's hysterical cries went unheard, as did Seamus's shout that he was going to fetch the Headmaster. He felt Ron's touch and slid into welcome blackness, safe in the knowledge that Ron would catch him when he fell.
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Harry sat at dinner and picked listlessly at his food. Sybil Trelawney's body had been dumped on the steps of the Leaky Cauldron, and the Daily Prophet had stirred up a lot of fear and suspicion over the circumstances of her death. Coupled with the fact that the end of year exams were only two days away, the mood of the school was awful - the students tense and afraid, and Ron and Hermione's attitude wasn't helping.
Ever since the vision that Harry had unwittingly shared with his housemates, Ron and Hermione had spent the days bracketing him protectively. He wouldn't have minded so much - in fact their protection was stopping a lot of awkward questions being asked - if they hadn't been so particular about not touching him. If his hand brushed against them they pulled back with an awkward apology and anxious look. They only bickered with each other when they forgot themselves, and if one remembered, or Harry was stupid enough to remind them of his presence, then they stopped abruptly and apologised stiffly to him. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he really wished he knew, so he could either stop scaring the living snot out of them, or correct whatever misconception they were labouring under. He wanted his friends back, not these anxiously hovering bodyguards.
The only time he could be himself was when he was sitting with Mark in the library or Great Hall. Mark didn't care what was going on around him at the moment as long as Harry could spend time with him, talking or playing a game of some sort. Mark touched him without a second thought, and Harry was relieved that someone didn't find him too horrible to be near. Ginny also sat with him on occasion - whenever she could spare time from her anxious revision and his two 'best friends' weren't ensuring no one came near him. Neville was also his usual sweet self, though he'd given Ron several funny looks over the last few weeks.
Ron bumped him with an elbow and Harry glanced up in time to see the red head pale. He threw his fork down impatiently and got up, hurrying out of the Great Hall before the inevitable apology could be mumbled. He steamed through the castle halls, walking blindly; too angry and hurt to pay real attention to where he was going. Eventually he found himself in his dorm and climbed into his bed sealing the curtains with privacy wards and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. He hauled a pillow into his lap and tried some of the deep breathing exercises that had once been recommended rather sarcastically to him by Snape.
He consciously tried to relax his muscles, and clear his mind, aware that this was not always a good thing to do. To ground himself he extended his sense of magic and sight so that he could remain within the castle, anchoring himself in place by concentrating on the almost subliminal hum of the wards. He allowed time to pass unnoticed, until two very familiar voices caught his attention. Ron and Hermione were in the room of requirement. Ron was shouting, red faced and waving his arms around, while Hermione seemed close to tears. Harry tried to withdraw his awareness from that part of the castle, but it wouldn't let him, insisting quite fiercely that he pay attention to what was being said.
"…Got to be done!" Ron was insisting, and Hermione shook her head resolutely.
"He's already angry with us for trying to protect him from the rest of the school, Ron. If we warn Mark off as well he'll never forgive us," she replied, "It's almost holiday time, and you'll be able to take him away for a good rest."
"A good rest!" Ron sounded nearly hysterical, "He'll want to go places Hermione - how can he cope with crowds of strangers?"
"I don't know!" Hermione snapped, getting up to pace too, "All I know is that he's getting thinner and paler and looks more exhausted by the day! He might not have realised how active his empathy is, or he would have told us to stop touching him."
Empathy? Harry shook his head, wondering if the space they were carving around Harry had something to do with a simple misconception about his abilities. The castle sent a wave of approval along their connection and let Harry go back to himself. It was a rather dizzying experience, but now he knew what the problem was he was determined to fix it. Harry got up and hurried out, heading for his friends and the room of requirement.
His friends jumped in surprise when Harry burst through the door and he skidded to an ungainly halt beside the couch where Hermione had been sitting.
"Ok, this had got to stop," Harry snapped, "How many times do I have to tell you that having people touch me doesn't hurt? Especially you two!?"
"What?" Hermione gaped, "How did you know…"
"I was meditating," Harry waved the question aside impatiently, "The castle thought I needed to hear what you were saying."
"The castle?" Ron sounded bewildered, "Harry…"
"Not now, Ron," Harry snapped, aware he was being rude and overbearing, but unable to stop himself, "I heard some of what you said, and Hermione's right. If you try to tell Mark that he mustn't touch me I will never forgive you."
Both his friends paled and sat down abruptly. Luckily there was a couch behind them to stop them from landing on the floor. Harry took advantage of their shock to gather his thoughts. Shouting wouldn't help him convince them that he was all right, and neither would adopting the persona of the school's apprentice.
"I promised you, back at the start of term, that I'd tell you if you were hurting me. I swore on my wand! What in Merlin's name makes you think I'd break that promise?" Harry ran a hand through his hair.
"Every time you touched Hermione, or she touched you, you'd break contact quickly," Ron folded his arms and glared at Harry, obviously daring him to deny it, "You never did that before. You won't even touch me at all! And when we argue in front of you, you always look upset."
"Well yeah," Harry snapped, "It's no fun watching you two perform your version of foreplay in front of me, and I let go of Hermione quickly because of the look you get every time I touch her Ron. I'm not about to steal my best mates girlfriend, and nor am I looking to make him think I am."
"Girlfriend?" Hermione spluttered and Harry rolled his eyes. If they didn't want it to be common knowledge around the school that was fair enough but they must think he was pretty thick if he didn't notice the way they were together. They were both blushing and avoiding each other's eyes, as well as his, which only confirmed what he thought.
"That's stupid!" Ron shifted uncomfortably, "Hermione's not my girlfriend and we don't do foreplay!"
"You fight like an old married couple," Harry pointed out smugly, getting a perverse kick out of this, despite what it meant for his own hopes, "And you always look uncomfortable if I hug her, or she hugs me. What else am I supposed to think? If you don't want the whole school to know that's fine, but give me some credit for brains."
He folded his arms across his chest and dared them to tell him he was wrong with a look. Even Neville had noticed for pity's sake.
"Number one, Harry, Ron and I fight because… well that's what we do. We've argued ever since we met each other, and I object to the phrase foreplay," Hermione folded her own arms and glared right on back, "And number two, Ron doesn't fancy me in the slightest. He fancies you."
"Hermione!" Ron howled, looking mortified, "How could you! That was supposed to stay between you and me!"
"Why?" the question slipped out without conscious thought, and Ron looked at Harry, blushing and shifting uncomfortably.
"Well, because you're you, really, and pretty, and we've been best mates for years. It's not a problem, Harry…."
"No, I mean why would you tell Hermione, but not me?" Harry blushed, and Ron sighed.
"Because you're not interested in me like that," Ron mumbled, looking at his shoes.
"Who says?" Harry frowned, "I hate it when people make decisions for me! I've been warm for your form for the last year, Ron. Merlin knows how you missed it, what with me diving out of the room or behind a curtain every time you get changed so I don't embarrass myself on the spot. Not to mention certain dreams I've been having."
"You dream about me?" Ron sounded eager and embarrassed at the same time and Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. Harry shook his head at the surreal aspect of the situation. Here they were, confessing their feelings for each other, with an audience to boot! And to top it all off their audience was laughing herself sick at the both of them instead of being upset that they weren't interested in her.
"So you kept pulling back because you thought you were making us jealous?" Ron got up, and Harry nodded, "And you thought that we were dating or something, which is why you got uncomfortable about the bickering."
"Yes," Harry nodded again, unfolding his arms as Ron crossed the space between the couch and Harry. He was hoping for a hug, but from the glint in Ron's eyes it was best to be ready for anything.
"And you really fancy me back?" Ron put his arms around the green-eyed teen, who returned the gesture, leaning into the lanky form and holding tight. Relief was a powerful force, and almost an aphrodisiac.
"Immensely," Harry whispered into Ron's ear. They'd have the summer together, a whole summer filled with chances to explore this thing between them - just the two of them and their bus.
"Wicked," Ron sounded smug and turned to kiss him. A warning cough from Hermione reminded them that she was still there and they stepped back, blushing and clearing their throats. Hermione got up and hugged them both, and Harry revelled in the contact with his two best friends.
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Neither his red eyes or pale complexion impressed Ron or Hermione, but at least they knew his exhaustion was due to the whole Voldemort and Apprentice situation, rather than some freaky ability that Harry wasn't cursing only because it had helped a very good friend of his find his parents once more. Marking tests while taking them was arduous to say the least, not to mention the fact that Mark was becoming clingier as the end of term loomed.
Dumbledore had already informed Harry that he was to return to the Dursley's for the first two weeks of the holidays, and Harry planned to use that time to get his schoolwork out of the way. The bus would arrive at the Burrow the same day he did and they would spend another three weeks learning to drive it - once Harry had reconfigured its interior. Ron had agreed - after a long and detailed discussion - to let Harry do the majority of the casting, on the understanding that Ron would be present and acting as his safety net. Harry was concerned that he'd be overwhelmed by the magnitude of the spells he'd be attempting and wanted Ron on hand to pull him out of it if things went badly.
The atmosphere at the school was positively miserable, and Mark was reacting partly to that, and partly due to the upcoming separation that the summer holidays represented. It was planned that he and Zabini would spend the holidays with Professor Flitwick's family. Apparently the Professor had a summer house in Cornwall and returned there each holiday to relax and recuperate. Zabini seemed unconcerned by it all, especially as Snape had promised to take the two for the odd trip to London, but Mark was winding himself up tighter and tighter until he snapped in the Great Hall, thoroughly upsetting the dinner dishes in front of him and having to be ushered out by the Headmaster himself.
"Harry, if they ask, Mark can come with us," Ron muttered in his ear as he tossed his napkin down onto the table and made as if to stand. Harry's knees gave out and he gaped at his friend.
"Are you sure?" he asked, "What about…"
"We'll have to be a bit sneaky," Ron smirked at him, "Did your knees go because you were surprised or…"
"Both," Harry replied, and Hermione snorted, then leaned over and blew in his ear. He shuddered and blushed, leaning into her heavily and playing up his reaction. His ears were a bit of a hot spot, but it all depended on who was blowing in them. Ron eyed him with disfavour as he 'recovered' and hurried after Mark and the Headmaster.
He found the orphan sobbing on Dumbledore's knee in the front courtyard, the old Wizard shushing and rocking gently. Harry sat on the bench beside them and added his arms to the hug, wondering what had brought this on.
"I want to go with Harry," Mark sobbed, "I know he's travelling, but I'd be good, I swear."
Harry nodded permission to the Headmaster, though he wasn't sure how he'd manage Mark and the Dursley's for the first two weeks. Dumbledore's eyes softened and he shifted the boy into Harry's lap, looking up as Professor Flitwick joined them, an anxious look on his face. Mark had his arms around Harry's neck and his face hiding in Harry's hair. He was calming down though, and the sobs had given way to uneven hitches in his breath.
"Filius, I fear that young Mr Mathers would feel more comfortable with Mr Potter these holidays," Dumbledore told the Head of Ravenclaw, who nodded his understanding and patted Mark's head gently.
"Quite all right, Headmaster," Flitwick smiled at Harry, "Although if I may make a suggestion, Mr Mathers might be better travelling to the Burrow with Mr and Miss Weasley. He'd be quite safe there until Mr Potter can join him."
"That's a good idea," Harry nodded immediately, ignoring Mark's protesting squirm, "There's not enough room at the Dursley's and he's already met Mrs Weasley. Could I Floo the Burrow and ask if they'd mind, sir?"
"I'm sure they won't," Dumbledore beamed, "Molly Weasley loves children. However I will call at once and check. Go back in to your dinner boys."
Harry stood and deposited Mark on his feet, though he held the boys hand as they walked back into the castle. He took Mark to wash his face and then had him sit at the Gryffindor table between himself and Hermione. The Great Hall buzzed with speculation, but Harry ignored it in favour of getting a bite to eat. School would be finished tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait for the freedom of the holidays to begin.
The Headmaster sent a note that Mark was to go home with Ron and Ginny tomorrow while Harry went to the Dursley's. It had been made clear to Harry that the charm on the Dursley household would only be rejuvenated this summer if the time he spent there was completely uninterrupted. That meant that once he set foot inside the house he was not allowed to leave it for the entire two weeks. Harry was relying on his planning to take up a lot of his time, and if he managed to finish that then he'd start on the holiday homework; which they planned to take on their trip in case they got stuck somewhere in bad weather. The Arithmancy Professor had also pulled him aside and recommended several books, which Harry had sent Hedwig to Flourish and Blotts for. He'd made a special book harness for her - one that charmed its contents to be feather light so she wouldn't be strained by the delivery. She continued to seek him out for company, and Harry continued to talk to her. Ron was looking at some spells for the owls cages that would protect them from the worst of the buses motion and also prevent the birds food and water from flying about.
Ron snuck into his bed that night for a cuddle, a gesture that Harry appreciated greatly. With Mark downstairs they'd have to limit their mutual explorations quite a bit, though Harry wasn't sorry that all they could do at the moment was cuddle up. The thought of further intimacy was at once appealing and terrifying. His previous girlfriend had spent a lot of time kissing him and then bursting into tears, which had not been the best introduction to intimacy, and all he'd seen at the Dursley's had shown him that what he wanted from Ron was to be real - not superficial, selfish or sickeningly fake.
Hermione had met them in the common room before breakfast and they'd promised to come and visit as soon as they could. Ron would be getting his Apparate licence these holidays as well as coming of age, and Harry could already just pop from place to place without the Ministry detecting him. He was also making a plan to get Hermione an owl of her own, so she wasn't isolated during the unusually long summer holiday. As much as Crookshanks had helped them over the years, the cat just didn't deliver letters. He'd given Mark that job, along with extra money for the purchase. Ron and Mark were going to Diagon Alley straight off the school train to buy linens, outfit the kitchen and fill out a list of Muggle appliances that Harry wanted on the bus. All this would fascinate Ron's Dad and Harry was hoping that the man wouldn't take it all apart before they got it installed. No one needed a flying toaster, or a washing machine that talked back.
As they approached the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry could sense that things were not going well in there. Even Hermione and Ron broke off their amiable bickering as they approached the doors. It was oddly quiet in there; normally there was a sort of hum made up of the students' voices. That hum was gone, replaced by a tense silence broken only by one or two rather strident voices. Harry stayed in the shadow of the doorway while Ron and Hermione slipped inside, heading to the Gryffindor table to gauge what was happening. Harry recognised Malfoy's voice immediately, and thought that the Head Boy from Hufflepuff was the other.
"…Not true!"
"It is true! You might as well face the facts! The Dark Lord is getting stronger by the day and even the Ministry can't stop him!"
"You've got no proof of that!"
"Proof! They killed Trelawney! What more proof do you need!"
"That was just an accident!"
"Wake up! The time has come to choose sides - and the winning side is the Dark Lords! The so called Light side has lost - there's no hope left now!"
"You're wrong Malfoy," Harry stepped forward, "There's always hope. Voldemort hasn't won yet, and as long as there's breath in my body he won't."
Later, after he'd kissed Harry breathless the first moment they had alone together, Ron would explain how commanding Harry had looked, and the way he seemed to fill the entire Hall, just standing there in the doorway looking at them all. Ron would tell him that the way his eyes had sparked with determination and his robes had swirled around his ankles had given the impression that at any moment Harry would explode into action. Harry had seemed to be surrounded by Light, and that light had reached out to the students sitting at breakfast, easing their own fears.
All Harry could tell you was that the atmosphere in the Great Hall seemed to clear up after a moment and that Snape had positively leapt down the aisle, secured Malfoy's ear in a punishing grip and hauled the blonde out of there. Harry had followed them, unwilling to make a further spectacle of himself. He reached with his house elf magic to the dorm and sent his trunks to Privet Drive before popping into the owlrey to tell Hedwig he was leaving. He sent a similar note to that effect to the Headmasters office and Ron's pillow, then left the school, hoping he didn't give anyone a heart attack when he arrived at his Aunt and Uncles.
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