0o0o0o0
Harry's Soul - 2
Aunt Petunia had not been best pleased to find Harry in her kitchen making breakfast for them, even though it meant Uncle Vernon wouldn't have to drive to London to fetch him. Part of this was because she wasn't too happy to have Harry back after he'd disappeared and that 'barmy codger of a Headmaster' had arrived to tell the Dursley's that Harry had already left for the summer and would see them later, and the other part became obvious when Dudley threw a tantrum bigger than he - and considering the size of the boy that was saying something - because he'd been promised a shopping spree in London to get some better clothes and a couple of computer games that he 'really needed'.
Harry's explanation that he was not allowed to set foot outside the house hadn't helped, and he hadn't objected when the Dursley's decided to lock him in his room while they went to London anyway. It wasn't a problem because Harry could simply unlock the door again once they were gone if he wanted access to the house.
He buried himself in his schoolwork, much to Dudley's stupefaction. His cousin couldn't comprehend anyone wanting to do school work during the holidays and apparently paid a younger student to do his. Harry ignored this, and in fact ignored the Dursley's altogether, making his own meals before or after theirs and generally staying out of the way. His Aunt and Uncle were still attending parties regularly, which meant that Harry was locked up each night as it was apparently the latest thing to go out to other peoples parties rather than holding their own. Either way, Harry had plenty of time to get his lesson plans finished and sent off for approval and his homework well under way. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon flew back and forth daily, and Harry also sent his owl to Diagon Alley, to Eyelops Emporium to buy Mark an owl of his own for his birthday, which was three days after school broke up.
There was a bit of a fuss when Dudley was brought home early one morning by the local copper, drunk out of his tiny mind and in a rather belligerent mood. Aunt Petunia wailed about her precious boy being led astray, and Uncle Vernon had loudly asserted that 'boys will be boys' and 'childish pranks were harmless', while Dudley shouted that he'd do what he liked and anyway he was hung over. The upshot of this was that Dudley had a curfew - which was ignored - and that the next time he was caught he'd be off to the lock up. Harry pondered leaving a monitoring spell behind so he could find out if Dudley managed to stay out of the clink or not, but in the end decided not to.
Fifteen days after he'd arrived at Privet Drive, Harry headed for the Burrow. No one needed to come and get him this year, a fact that he really appreciated, and he and his baggage arrived neatly in the front yard. Hedwig had been sent on the day before and he could see her looking out of Ron's open window. He waved to her and she flapped her wings once in reply, not bothering to fly down and see him when he levitated his trunks behind him and snuck inside quietly. He knew that Mrs Weasley was expecting him for breakfast, but didn't want to wake the house. Ron was still snoring when Harry snuck in and he grinned at the redhead fondly, putting his trunks at the foot of the camping bed that he used when he stayed at the Burrow and going to pet Hedwig good morning, tickling beneath her wings lightly and letting her nip at his fingers. Ron snorted and Harry turned, going to sit on the end of Ron's bed and nudging the bare foot sticking out from the blankets affectionately.
"Get off Harry," Ron mumbled and Harry chuckled, sending a privacy spell at the door in case Ron started yelling when he woke up properly. This proved to be a wise move as Ron had him pinned down and breathless in moments, telling Harry in a breathy whisper what the redhead had felt when Harry had sunk Malfoy's final ploy. Harry would have been happy to stay where he was all day if it hadn't been for the fact that Mrs Weasley was expecting to see him shortly and was more than capable of breaking the simple privacy spell Harry had used.
0o0o0o0
Harry glanced up at the rather imperative miaou, and grinned. Professor McGonagall stood daintily balanced on the sea wall, glaring down at him. He got up obediently and waved to Ron, who was still swimming in the sea with Mark. He pointed in the direction of the bus and Ron nodded waving back. Knowing the redhead he was probably expecting that Harry was going to cook dinner.
Of the three of them, Harry was the best cook, not a chore that he minded. It allowed him to practice casting multiple charms on the utensils and let him stretch his magic a little. They'd found the perfect place to park the bus and had decided to stay in this Italian coastal town for a week or so, baking in the sun and enjoying the fresh local ingredients. Harry had started collecting recipe books, and Mark had discovered the fascinations of Muggle fiction. Ron was more interested in the music Muggles listened to, and already the stress of the last school year was fading beneath the weight of companionable evenings filled with music and books.
Harry gathered up his towel and threw on his shirt before climbing up the steps to the promenade and scooping up his teacher. She made a rather startled noise, which Harry ignored, and then purred when he rubbed behind one ear. Harry bit down an a snort of laughter and strolled along to the bus, going straight to the cupboard under the stairs and opening the door to the bathroom so his teacher could freshen up. He washed his hands and face at the kitchen sink and strung the towel on the line that they'd contrived outside the bus. At Mr Weasley's suggestion a retractable awning had been fitted on each side of the bus to give them some relief from the sun and protection from bad weather. Ron and Mark had found a Muggle clothesline made of a special sort of elastic and had hung it beneath one of the awnings. They hung their towels out to be aired there, and their clothes and linen when Ron did the washing.
"Can I make you a cup of tea, Professor, or would you like a glass of juice? We even have butter beer," Harry smiled at his Head of House as she emerged. Once more her hair was down and swept off her face, and she was wearing cotton robes - though still tartan - in deference to the heat.
"A butter beer would be lovely," she came to sit at the table, and Harry provided her with a bottle - which he opened - and one of the thick green tinged glasses that Ginny had bought for them. There were tiny air bubbles in the glass, making Harry think that they were fairly old. Ginny had been a little embarrassed about her offering, explaining that they were second hand. Harry hadn't minded and Ron could care less, though they both made the effort to thank her properly. The glasses came with two jugs, one of which was currently in use and holding ginger ale. Mark had become addicted to the drink, and Ron was inclined to indulge him.
"It's nice to see you Professor," Harry sat opposite her at the table with his own butter beer, "Are you here on holiday?"
"Yes, my cousin is here," McGonagall nodded, "I thought I'd let you know I was in the area."
Which meant that she didn't want to deal with surprised meetings or any awkwardness that might arise from them. Harry also heard the question in her voice and smiled.
"We're leaving at the end of the week, heading along the coast towards Africa," he cast a look at the clock that Ron's grandfather had given him for his seventeenth birthday. Ron and therefore Mark had moved to 'travelling'.
"Mark has never been to Egypt, so we thought we'd visit Bill, and then I want to see some lions," Harry grinned. Professor McGonagall grinned back.
"I envy you this opportunity," she waved her hand at the bus, "Travel is not the same when you can't take your home with you."
"It's been brilliant," Harry admitted, "Sunshine, lazy days and a great friend. We're hoping that Hermione will get permission to meet us when we get back to France, and we'll spend a week travelling close to home. Mrs Weasley said Ginny could come if Hermione does."
"And is Mark behaving? Have you had any troubles?" McGonagall asked delicately. Harry knew what she meant. The orphan was a Pureblood like Ron, and had very little to no prior contact with Muggles. That could lead to a few awkward situations. He wasn't a badly behaved child, but his confusion, coupled with his slowly waning grief could lead to trouble.
"He's been great," Harry reassured her, "He listens to what we tell him, and he's enjoying Muggle fiction at the moment, though it's hard to get in English here. We had one or two initial misunderstandings, but nothing I couldn't sort out."
"Excellent," McGonagall smiled, "I don't have to tell you how proud I am of you. You have been a real asset to the school and our House."
"Thanks," Harry blushed, and she chuckled, patting his hand.
0o0o0o0
"This is the life," Harry sighed and plunked himself down on the blanket next to Hermione. They'd picked her and Ginny up at Calais, right off the ferry, and this past week had been spent in the south of France, enjoying the sun and country side. He handed her the open bottle of lemonade and glanced down the hill at Ron, Ginny and Mark, who were investigating the remnants of a Roman aqueduct.
"This is wonderful Harry," Hermione agreed, "I wish I'd been allowed to come with you for the whole trip."
"Me too," Harry laughed, "I would have liked to have some backup on the Muggle side of things. Between Mark wondering why we didn't just use Magic for everything and Ron's fascination with the way it worked, it was a full time job those first weeks to get everything running smoothly."
"But it does, though," Hermione laughed and they clinked their bottles together in a toast, "Does Ron get much use out of my present?"
Hermione had bought Ron a Muggle camera for his birthday, which arrived at the Burrow before they left on their ramblings, and the redhead used it at the slightest excuse. There were rolls of film sitting in a tightly sealed tin in the bottom of what Ron called the cold box and Harry called the fridge. His friend could go broke developing them all, though Harry intended to chip in.
"Every chance he gets," Harry laughed, "From the moment it arrived, no where is safe. I can't wait to see some of the photos. We've also been buying albums to stick all the photos in - it's going to be brilliant."
Hermione smiled and leaned against his arm in companionable silence. Harry hadn't slept well last night at all, his nap shorter than usual, hence his lack of energy at the moment. His friends had found him sitting on the buses front step this morning, talking softly to Hedwig, who had just come back from her evening hunt. She also seemed to be enjoying the holiday - Harry thought she'd never looked more beautiful. Even Pigwidgeon seemed to have grown a little and calmed down a bit too. Marks owl - Rameses - was also in good health, though it was still quite young and inexperienced. Hedwig was quite jealous of it, and always stayed on Harry's shoulder when Rameses was nearby. Mark thought it was funny, but Ron seemed to understand. The redhead had jealous moments himself, mainly involving Muggles that took too much interest in Harry at the crowded amusement centres or sunny beaches they'd visited.
"Are you going to have to go to the school early, Harry?" Hermione recalled his wandering thoughts and he nodded, taking another mouthful of the cool lemonade.
"Yes, I have to make sure the classroom is organised and help the other teachers prepare as well. The Headmaster sent me a letter via Fawkes to say that Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince had both successfully petitioned for my time."
"Sounds like you had a lucky escape," Hermione shuddered and Harry had no doubt that she was talking about Snape and the work he would have kept solely for Harry to complete. Harry shuddered as well, smiling when Hermione laughed at him.
"What's for dinner tonight?" she asked after a quiet moment and Harry grinned. He'd continued to collect recipe books with the local dishes in them, and tonight he had quite a feast planned.
"You'll have to wait and see," he told her, "But I won't say no to a second pair of hands. Come on."
Hermione whined miserably, but got up to follow. Harry grinned to himself. He got her to peel the potatoes and then let her sit and talk to him while he did the rest. Of the five of them, he was still the cook, and it was a task that he'd come to enjoy.
The wards tingled and Harry glanced up, smiling when he realised that Ron and the others had come back. Ginny went to wash up, while Mark disappeared into his room and Ron joined Hermione at the table.
"Smells good," Ron said, settling himself comfortably, "I can't tell you how lucky we are that Harry can cook. We'd be living on cold beans or take away, otherwise."
"I'm sure your mum thinks we were anyway," Harry said over his shoulder as he checked the oven, then waved his wand to set the table. He didn't need to use the wand much anymore, but that wasn't really an ability he liked to advertise in front of Mark, just like he didn't like advertising that he knew how the bus was feeling as they drove or parked. Ron - who had borne the comments about his lack of driving skills when it came to flying cars with good grace - always said that Harry was a great driver. Harry felt that some of his skill was due to the assistance the bus - or rather the wards on the bus - gave him. He wondered if the wards at school would talk to him just as much, and was rather nervous about finding out.
"Well, Ginny and Hermione will be able to stick up for us," Ron smirked, "And you could always cook a meal at home to show her. That four cheese lasagne you make would go down well."
"Yeah, with the cheesecake you made last week for afters," Mark piped up, and Harry grinned, ducking his head. It was nice to be appreciated, even if it was for something as simple as cooking. And unlike the Dursley's the people he cooked for now cleaned up afterwards and complimented him on his skills.
"Get the drinks ready, Mark, and you can help me here, Ron," he ordered, pleasure evident in his voice.
"Yes, dear," Ron grumbled getting up as Hermione and Ginny giggled wildly. This was a long running joke between the two of them, started on their first night on the bus and kept up for Mark's amusement and their own entertainment. Harry liked it - it made him feel warm inside in a way that he couldn't remember feeling at any other time.
"They fight like an old married couple," Mark said gloomily to the girls, "It's weird."
0o0o0o0
"You were brilliant," Ron mumbled and Harry grinned. He stroked the arm that lay like dead weight over his waist and shuffled closer to Ron's warmth. They were taking the opportunity for a cuddle before their dorm mates came up for the night, lying with the curtains open so they could hear the first noise that would alert them to impending company. They hadn't progressed beyond cuddling and kissing during the holidays, curtailed by the knowledge that Mark was downstairs. It didn't look like they'd get any further with each other at school either, though Harry was content to wait. He wanted to do a bit of research before he tried anything with Ron.
Ron had dropped Harry off at the castle two weeks ago and then driven on to the Burrow. Harry had become immersed in the preparations, popping over to the Burrow every second night to say hello to his friends and check on Mark. Professor McGonagall had informed Harry just hours before the Sorting Feast that she was delegating her task of welcoming the new first years to him, and it had been a very nervous apprentice who had stood at the top of the steps of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione had been grinning fit to burst at him though, and Harry had been all too happy to rejoin them at the Gryffindor table when it was all over.
A warning tingled over Harry's skin and he sighed, wriggling out from under Ron's arm and heading to his trunk at the foot of his bed before Ron could even react. Moments later they heard the sound of feet on the stairs and Ron sat up, running a hand through his hair. The slightly grumpy look on his face cleared when Harry crossed his eyes at him, and Ron grinned, a sucker for that expression.
Dean and Seamus entered the dorm, followed by Lavender and Parvati with Neville bringing up the rear. The Divination students of Gryffindor looked a little uncomfortable, and Lavender's eyes still bore the sad look they'd carried since Trelawney's death had been confirmed.
"Harry, we need to talk," Parvati said briskly, and Harry stood up, pyjamas in hand. He tossed them onto his bed and turned to lean against the bedpost, hands in his pockets, trying not to appear as uncomfortable and cornered as he felt.
"What do you want to talk about?" his voice was calm and adult and steady - everything it should be. Lavender shifted her feet and sighed.
"What's Professor Romany like?" she asked softly. Harry smiled. The wild haired, dark skinned, brightly dressed man that had taken the post of Divination teacher for the senior years was funny, intelligent and surprisingly practical. He had an eerie habit of drifting off during conversations, and tended to examine a persons palm, tealeaves and eyes and other such habits while talking to them, but other than that, Harry quite liked him. The fact that he hadn't taken to predicting Harry's death at the drop of a tealeaf helped.
"I haven't seen him teach," Harry chuckled, "But he seems to be quite the gentleman. He knows his stuff, and I'm sure he'll get you through NEWTS quite well."
"Harry," Seamus spoke up, "What really happened that last lesson? Was it us making the bowls show those things?"
"No," Harry sighed, sensing they'd come to the real crux of the conversation, "That was me."
His fellow housemates gasped and gaped at him and Harry ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to explain this without telling them about the house elf, goblin or empathic magic that he seemed to be developing. He was pretty sure that there was something else going on as well, something new, because he'd never quite had the connection he felt to the castle - or the bus - before. Although Professor Dumbledore had spoken to the students involved, it seemed that whatever reasons he had offered had not rung true over the summer break, hence their questions now.
"Ok, here's the thing," Harry straightened and looked at them seriously, "As near as Dumbledore and I can figure it, during the lesson I extended a light magical field to keep an eye on you all. You know that I've had visions sent to me by Voldemort before, and because I was checking on you and wondering at the same time if Professor Trelawney was ok, he managed to send me that vision. I projected it onto the bowls of water by accident, and when she… I shattered them because I wanted it to stop."
His voice was barely a whisper by the end, and he stared at the floor. He wished he had been able to do something to help his Professor, but he hadn't even known how to find her - house elf magic not withstanding. Once he had found her it was over all too quickly for him to intervene. Ron had spoken at great length about the shared vision, drumming into Harry the fact that none of them would have been able to help their teacher, not even the Headmaster. It had helped, but Harry still felt guilty at times.
Arms surrounded him, as Lavender and Parvati hugged him fiercely. The boys cleared their throats and the girls left the dorm, letting everyone get changed and get into bed. Ron sent Harry a longing look, which Harry returned before sealing his curtains and putting up a silencing spell. He set one on Ron's bed as well and popped over there, startling the red head for a moment before falling into the hug that was offered.
0o0o0o0
"Portraits?" Hermione asked, avidly interested, and Harry nodded gloomily. He didn't have time for this, a sentiment that he aired to his friends in a low frustrated voice as they walked along the upper floor corridors. Between teaching, learning and Quidditch his schedule was already tight, and Professor Dumbledore had informed him that he was to take the NEWT exams for the private Arithmancy studies he'd been doing, which would go towards the apprenticeships requirement for an independent study course. Normally that was done in the last two years of the apprenticeship, but as Harry had already begun studying it, the Headmaster could insist that he took the test with the rest of his peers at the end of the year.
"The whole staff is having one done each, which means I have to have one too," he shifted his book bag irritably, "There go my next few spare afternoons. All I can say is the painter better realise I'll be doing homework while she works, and I won't be pulling any stupid poses or faces for her."
Ron struck a ridiculous pose by way of demonstration, and Harry laughed reluctantly. Hermione giggled as well, the sounds of their good humour covering the approach of a very bitter Draco Malfoy and his goons. The Slytherin hadn't gotten used to the strict discipline that was applied by the staff in an attempt to curb his bullying habits. After his blatant support or Voldemort in the Great Hall just as school broke up, he was monitored even more closely in class, and a lot of his personal freedom had been curtailed. With his father a fugitive from the Aurors, Draco had not been able to use the threats of his families influence to get himself out of trouble. Instead of lying low and plotting in the shadows, the blonde teen seemed to have lost his head and was antagonising everyone in sight.
As the trio laughed and mucked about on their way to the stairs the blonde simply put his head down and charged forward, leading with his shoulder. Incensed over the loss of dignity and privilege that his family had suffered, Draco barged right into Harry, driving him backward and off balance. His back slammed painfully into the balustrade and he felt something give. His feet left the ground as Ron and Hermione's shouts echoed in his ears and Harry felt himself tumble backwards, leaving behind the flimsy safety of the balustrade and entering a sickening free fall.
Several people were screaming and Harry wasn't too sure that he wasn't one of them. The stairs that normally arched across the centre of the castle snapped to the sides, so he didn't have to worry about landing on one of them. He did have to worry about the ground, though. He'd hit the floor pretty hard unless there was something to break his fall. He remembered seeing a cartoon on one of Dudley's televisions where a falling character landed on a trampoline, and even as the image flashed through his brain he felt a surge of magic leave him, travelling ahead of him as the stairs in the school sprang to the sides of the walls, some with students still on them.
Something bright blue spread across the interior of the stairwell below him, and Harry twisted desperately, not wanting to hit headfirst. He managed in time and landed poorly, feet first, something in his right leg giving way with a rather sickening pop and tear that had him screaming in pain even as he bounced back up. He managed to land on his back, each successive bounce sending new waves of sickening agony through him until he was still, and able to scramble, shaking and panting for the nearest balcony. A bunch of Hufflepuffs reached for him anxiously, pulling him up and over the railing, catching him when he fainted.
0o0o0o0
"How's the leg?" Ron asked anxiously as Harry hobbled into their dorm room.
"Itchy," Harry grimaced. Apparently after his last little run in with a bludger he'd reached his limit for the broken bones spell and had to wait at least another four months before it could be cast on him. They'd be well into the Quidditch season by then, and Harry's current cumbersome plaster cast would be an unpleasant memory. He was hoping that Gryffindor didn't draw the first two matches of the season to allow him a bit of time to get out of plaster and back in shape, and meanwhile, his upper body strength was getting a huge workout.
Malfoy was gone. No amount of prevarication or money could get him out of trouble this time, and Harry couldn't say he was sad to see the back of the trouble maker, though the Headmaster was. Dumbledore worried that Malfoy would join the ranks of the Death Eaters at once, and an enemy that you could see was easier to deal with than one that was hidden. Harry could appreciate the sentiment, but didn't need the aggro right now. He'd be mature and grown up about Malfoy later, right now his cast was taking up most of his attention, when classes weren't.
"C'mere," Ron got up and helped Harry to get changed out of his student robes and into pyjamas. The house elves insisted that Harry go straight to his dorm when his duties for the day were finished, and they would deliver his meals - and Ron's - to his bed. Breakfast was the same, and lunch came to whatever classroom Harry happened to be in. He'd already asked Hermione to come up with some ideas about a thank you gift for the elves, making it clear that he wouldn't insult them with clothes.
Harry settled into bed with a sigh and Ron climbed up beside him. The only good thing about this whole mess was that Ron was able to spend more time with Harry as his 'caregiver'. Like now, when they had the dorm to themselves and could have a bit of a snog without fear of interruption. The house elves sent the tray up magically, not in person, which meant that they only had to beware of early returns from the Great Hall.
"Best pain killer there is," Harry sighed when they broke for air and snuggled in. Ron made a slightly fretful sound but didn't fuss, simply wrapping Harry in his arms and holding him tight. Both Ron and Hermione had to be given calming potions when they were brought to the hospital wing, believing Harry to be dead and splattered in the main foyer. In fact he'd been behind a set of screens, unconscious while Madam Pomfrey reset his broken shin and fractured knee. He'd also torn some ligaments, and was now taking multiple potions to help repair the damage. Unfortunately, the pain potions couldn't be full strength or there would be unpleasant side effects from their combination with the rest.
The only good thing about this was that Harry was finding a lot of shortcuts and back passages to class. A door would open or a section of wall would slide back as he passed, and Harry knew that whatever was guiding him was simply trying to save him some time and effort. He had a feeling that it was the castle itself, and sort of wished that there were something he could do to express his thanks.
Dinner appeared with a pop and Harry stirred reluctantly, kissing Ron once before sitting up and levitating the tray with a sigh. As usual it was loaded with enough food to feed four - most of which Ron would manage, though he'd nag Harry to eat more. The one time they'd managed to share a bed with very few clothes on Ron had been worried by Harry's very slender physique. The redhead had started monitoring Harry's food intake closely, and to be honest Harry didn't mind too much. The fact that Ron cared enough to make sure he ate properly was a source of comfort and delight.
Harry banished the tray when they were finished and Ron pulled out his homework, fetching books for Harry, though the green-eyed teen could have just summoned them. Hermione appeared ten minutes later and crawled up onto the bed with them, her own homework books in tow. The three of them would work until Hermione and Ron had to go and enforce the curfew with the other seventh year Prefects and Harry would get himself ready for sleep. The potions he took each night to repair the tissue damage caused when his bones had snapped and shifted tended to knock him out pretty quickly, and he'd had to abandon his study of Arithmancy for a little while. Ron and Hermione had volunteered to help him keep up with his marking, and Harry was glad that he was in the habit of keeping his preparation for each lesson he taught several weeks ahead. It allowed him to take it a little easy while he healed, though he'd have to work hard once the cast was off to get ahead again.
Nightly chores finished, Harry got back into bed and got himself comfortable. Neville and Seamus were in the dorm, completing their own nightly routine, and Ron came in with Dean a few minutes after curfew. The redhead got changed quickly and came to sit on Harry's bed. He handed the potions to Harry one at a time and then sat and rubbed Harry's chest in a wholly unmedicinal but never-the-less comforting manner, soothing Harry to sleep with that simple loving touch.
0o0o0o0