Harry
Potter and The Prince of Slytherin
An original fanfiction by
badspeler
-
CHAPTER THREE -
The
Congratulations Lunch
-H-
"I was angry with
my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with
my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it
in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it
with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew
both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe
beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my
garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole.
In the
morning, glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree."
The Poison Tree, by William Blake
-H-
"Dobby please chop the carrots faster!"
"Pass the salt! Pass the salt!"
"Whats for lunch, Mum?"
"Mmm…smells good…"
"No worries about chopping your fingers off, eh Dobby? Used to the punishment by now? OWW! Crikey mum, no need to hit so hard…"
"Where do I sit?"
"Pass the salt! Pass the salt!"
"Over here!"
"Over there!"
"Oh silly me!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley as she stopped searching for the salt, picked up her wand, and muttered 'Accio salt!'. Unfortunately, the wand she picked up was a new product from Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, and it was configured to mess up your spells. On purpose.
The carrots flew out of Dobby's hand and aimed straight at Mrs Weasley. Everyone winced as the vegetables torpedoed towards her. "Yeow!" she yelped, as they hit her unawares. She stared at her wand dumbly. The wand disappeared in a loud pop, and a scroll appeared in her hands instead, the words "Ha ha! Gotcha!" appearing in garish, flashy colours over the parchment.
"Freeeeeeeeed! Geeeeeeeeorge! Come down here this instance!" screamed Mrs Weasley.
The twins looked at each other. "Oh dear! Got to run!"
"Use the other bottle, that one's disappearing ink!" they cried out, as they ran past Ginny who was in charge of painting the banner. Turning a sharp corner around the living room, narrowly avoiding a spell their mother cast, they collided into Harry as they tried to leave through the door.
"Oww…that's the second time I've been hit in the head today."
Harry looked dazed. "Huh?"
"Hey, mate, are you ok?"
"Yeah, you look kinda sick…"
"No no, its all right. I'll just…go back to my room to take a breather."
"Well, don't stay too long. Lunch won't be too long."
"Not if I can help it," added Fred mischievously.
Harry trudged past the twins who looked incredibly pleased about something, and plodded up the stairs into the room he had been assigned. All of a sudden, he realized that it was Percy's room, or at least, where Percy would have been living. He was very curious as to what had happened with Percy, and what was happening at the Ministry, but he decided that he would save those questions for lunch, when the Order came over to party.
At that point, Harry decided that he didn't want the first time he saw Ron, after their argument, to be at the 'Congratulations-on-your-good-results' party. If there was anything between them, he would learn to be like Cho had, mustering up the courage to bring it out into the open and talk about it. Yes, he would confront Ron. After all, he had given Ron enough time to cool down, and enough time for him to go exploring…no…he musn't think about that now…not now…
Harry swung the door open, and determinedly walked up to Ron's door, which he noticed was ajar. He didn't stop to think but instead, went straight up to open it, and saw-
Hermione and Ron were standing by the bed. But that wasn't all they were doing. Hermione's hands were tugging at Ron's curls, pulling his face down to hers, and his hands were around her neck. If only Harry's eyes had remained at the hands. But no, he looked further, and found their lips pressing against the other's, tongues gingerly touching one another's, eyes closed in the sensuality of the moment. Hermione was even moaning slightly.
They didn't even know he was there.
Harry felt angry, all of a sudden- very angry. He kicked the door open, and rushed out of Ron's room. Tears again. He was crying again. He clenched his fists. Why he was angry, he didn't even know. Why he felt so lost, so betrayed, so abandoned, he didn't know either. All he knew was that he didn't care about the two of them anymore, he didn't care about the celebratory party anymore. He didn't care about anything or anyone anymore. He just wanted out. To find the peace he was searching for, to reignite that ecstasy that overtook him whenever he entered someone's mind. All he wanted was to forget everything.
"Harry, Mum wants me to tell you that the food's ready so if you-" But Harry didn't stop to listen to Ginny. He didn't even see the beautiful banner she had painted for them. He just dashed past her, not seeing a thing. His voice was coming out in sobs, and his tears were stinging.
But as he pushed past her, his probing mind accidentally burst through his mental inhibitions, and he found himself inside Ginny.
"I wonder what's wrong with Harry. He looks so sad. Oh if only he knew how much I love him. Those beautiful green eyes, that loving heart…And he looks so vulnerable now. If only I could just hug him from where I am right now, and kiss him with all the passion I have, if only"… Harry found himself looking at Ginny's imagination, viewing her visualizations, reading her fantasies.
Before he knew what he was doing, Harry bent down and pulled Ginny to him, making her gasp in surprise. He didn't even look where he was aiming at when he kissed her. He just found her lips, and pushed against them so hard, so passionately. He forgot everything in that one act.
He was still inside Ginny's brain, and it was screaming with pride, pleasure, lust, desire, and causing Harry's to scream the same. All he wanted…all he wanted…
Lips parted, tongue's exploring every crevice of the other's mouth, he deliciously breathed in her breath, and her, his. Oh, all that emotion she was feeling, coursing through him, burning him, exciting him, making him feel like he would explode from all that pleasure and ecstasy.
His hands had worked their way around her waist and he was pulling her against him, so hard, till it almost hurt. All he wanted…all he wanted…
But just as abruptly as the kiss started, so it ended. Ginny jerked away from him, gave him a terrified look, and dashed up the stairs, and Harry could see that she was crying. He had gone out of her mind, but the feelings it erupted still lingered. He stared after her hungrily.
He suddenly realized what he had just done and reeled in shock. He collapsed onto the floor of the empty Burrow, retching in disgust. Oh god, what have I just done?
-H-
The lunch party had been an utter success, according to Mrs Weasley, except for one thing.
Ginny's beautiful banner had hung proudly over the tables, making the party seem so much happier. They had had excellent Butterbeer, procured by the resourceful Remus Lupin. Tonks had Apparated home (wherever she lived) to bring magical poppers, exploding fireworks, and the like, for the party, delighting Fred and George who quickly dissected the toys for ideas. The food (mixed with Fred and George's secret trick treats) had been scrumptious (and dangerous at the same time, thanks to the twins).
The weather had never been more perfect. Though it had threatened to rain in the early afternoon, the sun had been quick to recover, and seemed determined to make up for lost shine. It had been a dazzling day.
The atmosphere had to be at fault then. But what was different, she didn't know. Ron seemed dazed when he had come down for lunch, and had left as soon as he came to get his share, declining to declare his marks. No worries, he would tell her soon enough. Hermione had been pink in the face throughout lunch, breathless, befuddled and extremely embarrassed about something. Mrs Weasley had not been overly concerned- after all, she was probably delighted with her results, and suffering from shock.
Yes, it had definitely been the atmosphere, she could see it now. It had been Harry and Ginny she was worried about. Ginny had locked herself in her room, and she seemed to have been crying. Mrs Weasley had no idea what to do with the girl, six boys she could handle, but one girl could drive her crazy. She didn't know what was going on with Ginny lately, and she couldn't help but be worried. She had always assumed the three of them, Harry, Ron and Hermione, would take care of Ginny, but the girl seemed to have distanced herself away from them, and it made a mother fret so. She would have to talk to Ginny soon. Harry too. He had been pale in the face, and looked extremely weak. Lupin had been afraid of a relapse of his condition, which Harry neither denied or affirmed, so he had been sent back to bed to recover. Hermione had requested to go up with him, but he had firmly put his foot down, so she let him go alone. After a while, she too went up, claiming to feel tired also. A congratulations-on-your-good-marks lunch just didn't feel the same if you did not have the people who scored the O.W.Ls in the first place, especially since her son wasn't even in it.
But Mrs Weasley had other things to fret about. Scolding Arthur, for instance, when the family clock (which magically changed to indicate the current actions of the family member) had displayed Arthur Weasley at lunch, though he had not been at the party. She had been more concerned about reprimanding him for forgetting. Bill and Charlie had sent letters, asking about the results, but as Ron hadn't told her, she couldn't tell them either.
Overall, the party had been an utter success, if you didn't include the most important people, of course. Mrs Weasley was satisfied.
-H-
Harry Potter lay on Percy's bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He missed Hogwarts. Hogwarts had been a promise of fun, of comfort, of security, of friendship, of love, or adventure, of excitement, of reliability. He missed its moving staircases, talking portraits, magical ceiling, tall towers, but most importantly, its people. The Burrow seemed to have lost all its allure over the years, reminding him, sadly, of Grimmauld Place. That place, full of horrible memories and twisted past. If Sirius had left the house to him, he would have it burned down. No one should have to live in that place.
The Burrow, which Harry had expected to be better, was quickly turning into Grimmauld place. Cold hard walls, and empty rooms. Vacant spaces, and silent people. The party? What was it to him? Mere acting, and he didn't want to act anymore. Nothing had gone right, nothing at all, ever since he left Privet Drive. From the moment he had discovered magic, it had been what it was, magical and brilliant. But from the first year, the ugly truth behind his parent's death was thrust upon him, and he had to face an unspeakable evil, that being which would ruin his entire life- Voldemort.
Within Harry's heart flared hate and anger, disgust and rage like he had never known before. Damn Voldemort, damn him and his bloody death eaters. They had killed his parents and ruined his life. Because of them, he couldn't live life like an ordinary teenager. Because of them, no one could anymore. People lived in fear, people died at their hands and because of them, people turned against one another out of spite. It was all Dumbledore's fault, he fumed, all Dumbledore's fault. If he would just get out and openly defeat Voldemort, if he would just forget the ministry and damn everything else, he could defeat Voldemort.
But then, the little voice reminded, you're the one who has to defeat Voldemort.
Harry bit his lip in frustration. Yes, it would have to be him. He would have to defeat Voldemort. The prophecy floated from the depths of his mind, and he replayed it in his head.
"I still don't understand."
"Voldemort, tried to kill you when you were a child," Dumbledore slowly spoke each word, his eyes staring at Harry as he spoke, "because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing to be fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly, since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety, which he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."
Dumbledore got to his feet and walked past Harry to his Pensieve. Placing his wand upon his temple, he withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands off thought clinging to the wand and deposited them in. With a sigh, he prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
A figure rose out of it, draped in shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size behind her glasses, and when Sybil Trelawney spoke, for that was who she was, she did not use her usual ethereal, mystic voice, but rather in harsh hoarse tones Harry had only heard her use once before:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"
The slowly revolving Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.
Harry tugged the pillow to his body closer. He was so tired, sick and tired of this all. Why did the person to kill Voldemort have to be him? Why did Sirius have to die for the sake of this prophecy? Why did Harry have to be connected with the Dark Lord? Why did Ron have to be jealous of Harry? And why did Hermione have to kiss Ron, and Harry kiss Ginny?
Head spinning, he shut his eyes to the screwed-up universe around him, and fell into that deep bliss we call slumber. When he awoke, dinner was ready, and he got up, tidied himself, and went down, knowing that an impending confrontation was coming soon.
-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 regarding me so highly. The poem, by W.B. Yeats, is quoted as an extract, and was retrieved from A Choice of Poets, New Ed edited by Dr David Edwards.
