Harry
Potter and The Prince of Slytherin
An
original fanfiction by badspeler
-
CHAPTER TWO -
Foul
OWLs
-H-
"When
cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the
ground
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail
goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming
his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits."
Song- The Owl, by Lord Alfred Tennyson
-H-
The first thing Harry saw when he arose from his slumber were two large eyes staring at him. He yelped in fright and jumped out of bed, rudely knocking the creature onto the floor.
"Never…do…that…again…Dobby…"
"Sorry sir, its just that I missed Harry Potter so very very much. Hogwarts isn't the same without its students sir…and Dumbledore let Dobby take leave today to come see you sir. He even gave Dobby the materials to make this card for you Harry Potter!" Dobby reached his thin, long fingers within his scrubby patch-cloth clothes and withdrew a crummy, tacky, glitter-glue-tape-all over the place kind of card that delights parents when they receive it from their five year olds. Only this one was magical, and as soon as Harry touched it, it boomed:
"GET WELL SOON HARRY! GET WELL SOON HARRY! GET WELL SOON HARRY!" It took a Quietus to get the card to finally shut up. Dobby beamed with pride.
"I tried to make it sound like Harry Potter, sir." He looked at Harry expectantly, eyes tearing with joy.
Harry grinned. Dobby would always be Dobby. "Thank you Dobby, but next time, make it quieter ok? I don't shout all the time."
Dobby abashedly looked down. "Well I was hoping sir that the shouting would help you wake up. Winky also thought it was a good idea, she did."
"Winky? Oh yeah, how's Winky doing?"
"She's-" But how Winky was, Dobby never got to say, because the door took this chance to explode with a loud bang, and in stormed a large group, headed by none other than Fred and George.
"Crikey Harry! We heard the racket you were making. What's the big deal, mate? Oh, by the way, nice to see you living and breathing at last. The way Hermione over here was crying over you, we thought you'd have drowned by now." Fred gave Hermione a nudge, and she flushed a beetroot red.
"See Harry Potter? Even Masters Fred and George thinks it sounds like you!" cried Dobby happily.
Harry looked at the group: hair pink, nose long, Nymphadora Tonks, escorted by haggard, beaming Remus Lupin and bemused, pale-old-faced...Severus Snape, looking strangely tired like Lupin as well.
"Hello Harry!" said Tonks gaily, moving forward to give him a friendly pat on the head. Lupin stepped forward and gave Harry an unexpected hug. "You made us so worried Harry. Never snub us again, you hear?" Harry smiled in response.
"Hello…professor Snape…" He stuck his hand out awkwardly. He was not risking a hug with Snape.
"No thanks Potter." Snape's hands stayed folded across his chest. "Contrary to popular belief, I do not care about whether the Boy who lived continues to live or not, but rather, I am here to deliver your OWL results. Dumbledore thought it would be a…pleasant surprise… for the three of you, and a good excuse for me to come see you as well, as though I needed any. Well, so afraid to disappoint you so early in the morning, but here you go, your OWL results. Take it quickly, I must be leaving."
Harry stared in incredulity at the gold-lined envelopes embossed with the Hogwarts crest. He remembered Hermione mentioning something about them yesterday, but his Outstanding Wizarding Levels results so soon?
He took his with anticipation. Hermione anxiously snatched hers out of Snape's hand, while Ron fearfully slipped it out of Snape's grip, careful to use no more than three fingers, as though it were a dangerous thing threatening to explode any second. He cast furtive looks to make sure his Mom wasn't around, and Harry saw him sneak off to his room.
Snape cast one last look at Harry, and Harry raised his head to see (what, fatherly affection?) a weird look in his eyes before turning away. "Goodbye Harry, and I hope you are prepared for your results. I would like to advice you against taking Advanced Potions, as I am taking the class, though I doubt your results qualify and thus no need for us to worry excessively. Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore did not look at your results but he was quite sure it was not presumptuous of him to congratulate you, so I pass his regards. And by the way, I'll let you know that Dumbledore has made me the new Defence against Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, farewell." He cast another knowing look at the pair of them, and then triumphantly sauntered out of the room.
Harry's mouth agape, he fingered his results in his hand. Snape, Defence against Dark Arts teacher? He seriously needed to consider whether he wanted to take it anymore. He just couldn't imagine having his favourite subject ruined by Snape…
"Harry! What you doing with your mouth open? Breakfast was long over. Shut your mouth and open that envelope!" Tonks gave him a playful prod.
"Yes…yes…of course…" said Harry bashfully, his hands fumbling to undo the letter.
"Ooh Harry Potter sir, Dobby shall go and prepare the 'Congratulations on your good results' lunch party."
"But Dobby, we haven't even seen the resu-" But with a snap of his fingers, Dobby had apparated, and Harry, sighing, turned his head back dreadfully to read his fate.
"Dear Mr Potter,
You are receiving this letter because you took the Oustanding Wizarding Levels (O.W.Ls) last year during your school term at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you have received this letter by mistake, please do not sign at the end of this letter, but rather, return it back to the owl from whom you received the letter.
Your O.W.L results are as follows:
Charms
O
TransfigurationO
HerbologyO
Defence Against the Dark Arts O
Care of Magical Creatures O
PotionsE
AstronomyA
DivinationA
History of MagicA
We are pleased to inform you that you have achieved an outstanding nine O.W.Ls. Congratulations, and good luck with your future education.
Magnolia
Poppers
Ministry of Magic"
Harry couldn't keep the beam out of his face as he looked up from his letter. He had done very well overall, Astronomy and History of Magic had been a waste, Potions was acceptable, and Divination, well, he had been expecting it. At least he hadn't failed any subject! He cast an apprehensive glance at Hermione. Her eyes were bright, her thin, pink lips parted slightly, and breath coming out in short bursts as her eyes seemed to re-read and re-read her letter over and over again. Even from where he was, Harry could feel the joy radiating from her. He couldn't resist, when all of a sudden, his magic seemed to flow to his brain, and quite suddenly, he found himself probing in places where he should not have gone. He clenched his fists, as he tried to stop himself. He really didn't want to betray his friend…but the raw emotion flowing out of her was oh, so tempting…
And then she broke his trains of thought when she screamed with joy.
-H-
"Really Hermione, you didn't have to make all that fuss about your O.W.L. results."
"Well Harry, I'll like to see what you'd have done when you learnt you scored an outstanding for everything, and got eleven O.W.Ls!"
Harry clicked his tongue in frustration. "Oh stop repeating yourself Hermione, we ALL know you got eleven O.W.Ls thanks to you."
"Then stop complaining, Harry. You didn't do too bad yourself, nine O.W.Ls. I wonder how Ron did." The pair stopped outside Ron's room, nervously knocked on his door twice, and entered to find him crumpling his letter in anger.
"Oh Ron…" Hermione left Harry's side, and dashed over to Ron to put a comforting hand over his shoulder. "I'm sorry your results weren't very good."
Ron glared at her. "Who said anything about poor results?"
Hermione turned red. "Oh I'm sorry, I just assumed from the way you were crushing your letter that…"
Ron leapt up from his bed, his rage building. "Oh yeah? I guess its because you always assume I'm always weaker than you, stupider than you, clumsier than you, sillier than you, and that you're always better than me, huh? And you," he spun around to rage at Harry, "you, always thinking you're the hero, playing me down, acting big in front of me, don't think I can't tell anything!"
"What did I do?" Harry muttered angrily. Hermione could only gape at Ron.
"Yeah, that's right Potter. Absolutely nothing wrong. You're always right, you're always the victim. You're always hankering after people's sympathies aren't you Harry? Huh? Acting the poor, innocent, abused orphan all the time. Well I'll just tell you now its not working on me! I know who you really are. You're jealous aren't you, jealous of all I have? You want to take it all away from me! You come into my family, make my sister infatuated with you, make me feel bad about becoming a prefect ("When did I ever do that?" demanded Harry angrily, but Ron stormed on), buy my brothers over with your dirty money stolen from Cedric, along the way bringing heaps of glory onto yourself by winning the Triwizard Tournament, and then you win over my mother's heart. You should hear her, always going on and on about you, and how she's worried about you, and how I should be more like you, how good-mannered you are, how brave you are, how heroic you are, how hard working you are, how fit you are, well I'VE HEARD BLOODY ENOUGH!" Ron ended in spit, his eyes flashing red and his face burning with years of pent-up rage.
"Ron…I…" But Ron cut Harry off. "And last year, when you came back from the Triwizard Tournament, I thought I could at least try to be nice to you and all your hypocrisy. But no, you lunged at us the first chance you got, and started shouting and ranting and ignoring us and everything and…and…and…what am I to you? A punching bag? A lousy sidekick? Well not anymore, Potter! NOT ANY BLOODY MORE!"
Hermione was in tears. "Stop it Ron…," she paused for a sob, "you're sounding like Malfoy..."
Ron looked at her, and his eyes softened. He let the remnants of his O.W.L results letter float to the ground, and marched out of the room, purposely knocking past Harry as he exited. Harry was stunned. He never knew Ron hated him, he had always assumed he was happy-go-lucky, and had never once considered...so much for the "emotional range of a teaspoon" theory.
He felt as though he needed to say something to redeem himself. "Hermione, I never knew."
Hermione's sobbing had ceased, and she was blowing her nose now and tidying herself up. "Oh Harry, none of us knew. It was silly of him to bottle up like that, I wished he had discussed it with us."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Then I would have corrected all thoes preposterous ideas and given him a piece of my mind. As if I wanted to be an orphan, as if I wanted to join the Triwizard, as if I-"
Hermione looked unapprovingly at him, reminding Harry, surprisingly, of Mrs Weasley. "Well Harry, I'm not saying I agree with everything he's said…but you were quite the jerk last year, and ever since Sirius died you've been ignoring and snubbing us. We're trying to be nice, you know, Harry. I guess the O.W.L results just brought out all his frustrations. Don't get mad Harry, he knows he doesn't mean half the things he's said, and I'm sure you two will patch up in no time. Right?"
Harry could feel a nasty retort at the tip of his tongue. What right had Ron got to say all those nasty things about him and Hermione? Well, mostly him. But he didn't want another argument, not when he had just forgotten about Sirius dying…
And suddenly, he found himself in the Department of Mysteries once again, and he watched in horror as he saw…
Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: he was laughing at her. 'Come on, you can do better than that!' he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest. The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock. Harry was jumping down the steps again, pulling out his wand.
It seemed to take ages for Sirius to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging over the arch.
And the last Harry saw of Sirius Black was a look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway, and disappeared beyond the veil. And he vaguely heard Lupin's voice telling him the last thing he wanted to hear: "There's nothing you can do, Harry…There's nothing you can do, Harry…nothing…he's gone."
"Harry? Harry? You and Ron will patch up, right?" Hermione was shaking him by the shoulders gently.
It was all his fault Sirius had died, it was all his fault. If he, Harry, had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort's trick, to not let his youthful ambitions get over the inhibitions the Order had been trying to create for him, not to want to "play the hero", to believe that he could actually make a difference in the fight against Voldemort, that only he could save Sirius…if only he had opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort might have been banking on Harry's love of playing the hero…
It was unbearable, but Harry knew it was true. It was all his fault. He had been silly to think that coming back to the Burrow would help him forget, to allow him to forgive himself. It was a terrible hollow, a dreadful curse, a painful burden, worse than the knowledge that he had been there when Cedric died, worse than the mission to kill Voldemort of die, worse than knowing what his best friend really thought about him, worse than it all was the knowledge, the pain of that knowledge, that it had been he who caused Sirius to die, and nearly everyone else he brought along too. He had caused Sirius to die, he nearly caused Hermione to die, he nearly caused all of them to die. And now, Ron was angry with him, Hermione agreed, and everyone thought he was trying to play the hero. 'Which he was, which only made matters worse,' Harry thought to himself, resignedly.
"Harry!" Hermione was shaking him violently now.
"Huh? What?" Harry said blankly.
"Harry, what's wrong? We were talking about Ron a few minutes ago then suddenly you blanked out. What's wrong?"
"Everything Hermione, everything." And with that, he shuffled out of his ex-best friend's room, down the now sinister gay atmosphere around the Burrow which was suffocating him, and out into the garden. What a horrible, weary day!
The dazzling sunshine and beautiful weather only served to disgust Harry, and he trudged into a dark corner of the garden where he could sit alone and meditate. The soft breeze wrapped around his calves, the grass danced in the wind, the clouds were parting once again, and down flew a handsome, tawny owl with a letter for Harry.
-H-
Harry Potter and all related characters and events belong to J.K.Rowling alone. And if you were silly enough to believe I created them then I can only thank you for the enormous amount of talent you must have decided to put on me. Thank you Lord Alfred Tennyson for that lovely poem on Owls. It is incomplete.
