A/N I'm not dead yet. Sorry for the wait.
Another Year, Another Pain
Harry kept the badge in his hand all the way up to Gryffindor Tower and through the portrait hole. He took a seat on the couch and watched the fire, letting his hand memorize the shape and feel of the badge in his fingers. A great amount of pride swept through him.
It was twenty minutes later when the portrait hole opened and a storm of Gryffindors surged into the Common Room. Hermione and Ron were in front.
"What happened?" Ron asked, "Why didn't you show up at the feast?"
"Dumbledore wanted to talk to me," Harry replied. "I'm taking a couple of classes this year that no one else will be."
"What are they?" Hermione asked, taking a seat next to Harry.
"Advanced Defense and Occlumency with Dumbledore," Harry replied, smirking a bit. The Quidditch badge had given him an air of confidence that was obvious with every syllable that passed through his lips. He was happier than he had been for months.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked to Ron.
"What?" Harry asked, knowing that they were thinking something similar to each other.
"Nothing," Ron said quickly.
Harry scowled. He hated it when his friends kept things from him. Instead of prodding them for an explanation, he stood up and walked towards the stairs. Hermione's voice stopped him.
"Harry, what's that in your hand?" she asked.
Harry stopped, and turned back to his friends and let them see his first smile in several months. He held his hand up next to his face, displaying the badge. "My new Quidditch Captain badge," he said.
He tossed the badge up in the air and snatched it up, turning around and going up the stairs, leaving his friends in shocked silence.
o.o.o.o.
Harry was the first to wake up the next morning. He changed silently then slipped down to the Common Room, which was empty. He stood for a moment, staring absently into the fire, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his new badge. He pinned it to the front of his robes, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer. He hesitated for a moment, not sure where he should go. After a brief, silent debate with himself, he raced back up to the dormitory and grabbed his book bag, slinging it over his shoulder and returning to the common room, slipping out through the portrait hole, and heading down to the Great Hall.
He wasn't surprised to see that the Great Hall was empty, save for Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron, both of whom were floating lazily about the hall.
"Harry Potter!" Nick called, catching sight of the newest arrival. He glided swiftly towards Harry. "How are you, my dear boy? How was your summer?"
Harry shrugged. "It was fine," he lied.
Nick smiled at him, but Harry could sense the pity in those transparent eyes. There was a rustling at the door and Harry turned quickly to see a man he had never seen before entering the hall. He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. He did not seem to take notice of Harry or either of the ghosts as he made his way to the Head Table.
"Who's that?" Harry whispered, leaning towards Nick a bit.
"Apollo McClaggan," Nick responded, the corners of his lips twisting up. "He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He's rather well known in the Ministry. He used to be a top Auror, but now he's an Unspeakable. Rumor has it that he's as good as Dumbledore -" Nick tugged up his collar "- though everyone knows that no one's as good as Dumbledore."
Harry watched the man's progress to the Head Table. "You say he's from the Ministry? He's not like Umbridge at all, right?"
"Oh goodness, no!" Nick said, looking appalled. "This man has a passion for magic. Just wait, you'll see." Nick glided off and left Harry standing next to the Gryffindor table, very intrigued by this McClaggan guy.
When the man looked up and fixed Harry with his yellow eyes, Harry felt something tighten in his chest, and he immediately looked away, remembering that Occlumency required eye-contact. He settled down at the far end of the table and put a breakfast roll on his plate. Taking a chance, he looked back up at the Head Table. He wondered why they'd send an Unspeakable to Hogwarts.
But still, he decided, he's an Auror. The best of the best.
Harry nibbled on the roll and watched as a trickle of students entered the Great Hall. Hufflepuff appeared to be the majority of the early-risers, followed by Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and finally Slytherin. When Hermione and Ron came in, they took a seat on either side of Harry, dishing themselves full plates of food and chattering about the following day of school. Harry saw Ron's eyes drift to the Quidditch badge on more than one occasion.
McGonagall came around and passed out their schedules. Harry saw that his first classes were Charms and Transfiguration and remembered in past years when his first class had been Potions. That was never a good way to start out the year.
Harry deserted his half-eaten roll and walked with Hermione and Ron to Charms once the bell had rung. They entered to see that pretty much everyone was there who had been there last year. It appeared that no one had been hindered by the O.W.L.s.
They took their usual seats and pulled out their wands. Harry glanced around casually to see where Professor Flitwick was. The final bell rang, and Professor Flitwick tottered in through the doorway, looking harassed and tired without sparing a glance for the students around him. The class watched him disappear behind his desk and then climb the stack of books to get up to the top. He moved aside a few papers and then pulled out a roll of parchment. He peered at them over the top for a second, as though just realizing they were there, and then called role.
"You will come to see that N.E.W.T. Charms is much more complicated than what I've been teaching you thus far. The spells are so complex and require so much concentration that many of you will be unable to finish the course. You may drop the class, or any of your N.E.W.T. classes, for that matter, without penalty within the first three weeks. However, for many of you, this class is crucial for whichever career you are pursuing."
Flitwick peered at them over his glasses then said, "Alright, wands at the ready. First, let's review the basics. Remember the nice wrist movement that goes with many of the spells you have learned. . . . A nice swish and flick. . . ."
o.o.o.o.
Transfiguration was their next class. Unlike Charms, there seemed to be considerably less students at their desks when the bell finally rang. Students from all four houses were in the class, reaching a total of approximately 20 students all together. Draco Malfoy sat next to Theodore Nott near the front of the class. Harry saw, with a swell of glee, Malfoy's eyes flicker down to his Quidditch badge. He relished the anger that creased those eyes.
McGonagall spent most of the period telling them how hard the new spells will be for them to learn, which only served to dampen their spirits. Hermione never set her quill down, scribbling down everything McGonagall said with a frenzied desperation to prove herself, though everyone knew, Harry included, that Hermione would have no problem with this year's classes. Hermione failing was about as likely as Ron eating his own shoe.
When finally the bell rang, Harry, Hermione, and Ron escaped into the hallway and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. They had no more classes that day, and were planning on spending it outside near the lake doing the little homework they had.
Harry managed to gulp down some pumpkin juice and half of a croissant sandwich at lunch. His spirits were slightly higher after his classes. He had a feeling that school was just the thing to drag his mind away from the Department of Mysteries.
"This is so excellent," Ron said as they walked down the front steps and strode towards the lake. "Hardly any homework. So little, in fact, that it's almost pointless to do it!" He laughed and kicked a rock and sent it flying across the ground.
"You really shouldn't put it off, though," Hermione scolded him. "Our other classes are bound to give us more work. It'll pile up by the end of the week and then you'll be begging me for help."
"Loosen up, Hermione," Ron advised, "you worry too much."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione glance at him. He turned his head slightly away, shrinking from her gaze.
They sat down at the edge of the water underneath a giant oak tree. Hermione sat cradled in the roots, a book open on her lap. Ron sat closer to the water, tossing small stones into the water and watching the ripples. Harry sat up near the tree with Hermione, gazing wistfully across the water.
All around them students basked in the sun, either enjoying their few moments of freedom or completing the work they had just received. Harry was lost in thought, absently dragging his forefinger through the dirt at the base of the tree. Above him a bird sang it's sweet song, punctuated by the rustling of leaves and the howl of the wind as it wove it's way among the branches.
Harry felt an unexplainable calmness settle down on him, and for the moment he was content to just be sitting there, alive, surrounded by his friends next to the beautiful lake and serenaded by nature's sounds.
And while the anger and grief that had haunted him for months still resided in his chest, it was masked by his contentment. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, soaking up the peacefulness.
He was just drifting into a light sleep when a hand on his shoulder jerked him awake. Opening his eyes blearily, he turned quickly to Hermione, who was the one who had woken him.
"Hagrid's done with his lessons," she told him. "Do you want to go visit him?"
"Sure," Harry replied, getting to his feet and stretching. Ron joined them, and they walked to Hagrid's cabin in silence.
The cabin was the same as ever. A meek wooden structure situated between an over-sized pumpkin patch and a thick, dark forest. The curtains were drawn shut around the windows, but Harry could see a dark silhouette cause the light to flicker once or twice.
Hermione was the one who rapped on the door when they reached it, and a moment later the door swung open, revealing a very big, very happy Hagrid.
"I've been wonderin' when you three'd come ter see me," he greeted them, welcoming them into his house.
"Our classes are over by lunch," Hermione told him. "We've been out by the lake until now."
"Fine day out," Hagrid commented, beaming at them. His eyes drifted to Harry who was seemingly trying to take up as little room as possible. Hagrid's smile faltered slightly.
"So how was yer firs' day back?" he asked them, bringing out some sweet fruit cookies.
"Easy," Ron said brightly, taking a cookie from the platter. "We hardly have any homework."
"Sixth year is suppose' ter be the easies' year," Hagrid said, pouring them all some juice. "Kind of the break between O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. O' course the classes are hard themselves, but not a lot o' homework."
Ron grinned and shot an I-told-you-so look towards Hermione. She said nothing and appeared to be thoroughly consumed by the juice she was drinking.
"How was your first day of classes, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.
Hagrid sat down heavily in his oversized chair and smiled. "The third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors were today. There's one Gryffindor who looks like he might be a distant relative of yours, Ron. Gerard Carson, I think his name was."
"I think I know who he is," Hermione said, snatching another cookie. "Small skinny kid with the red hair. Ginny told me he was causing trouble among the first years last night."
"Defin'tly a Fred 'n George personality," Hagrid agreed.
They slipped into a conversation about the Fred and George antics of the previous year. Even Harry chuckled when they remembered the infamous fireworks.
The sun was beginning to set when they got up to leave. A dull, orange glow filtered in through the curtains and bathed the small hut in its warmth. The trio went to the door, thanking Hagrid for the drinks and cookies. Ron and Hermione slipped out into the grounds, but Harry lingered back a second.
"Where's Grawp, Hagrid?" he asked.
"He's safe, and tha's all yeh need ter know," Hagrid said, patting Harry on the shoulder.
Harry nodded, looking down and stepping out onto the springy grass that crunched beneath his sneakers.
"Harry, I 'eard about yer extra classes," Hagrid said, causing Harry to turn back to him. "Yer goin' ter have fun."
Harry smiled half-heartedly. "I hope so."
"You will," Hagrid confirmed.
Harry turned away and began walking. He had barely taken ten steps when Hagrid called out to him again.
"We're all proud o' yeh, Harry. Sirius is too."
Harry closed his eyes. "Thanks," he called back, and went to meet Ron and Hermione at the stone steps where they were waiting for him.
o.o.o.o.
Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts were the next day. Snape spent the entire class period letting them know how much he expects half of the class to fail, letting his glare snap to Harry on several occasions.
Ron hadn't gotten his O.W.L. in Potions, so he was attending an elective class called "Strategy and Subtleness against Dark Arts." Apparently, the job career of his choice was Auror, but he had not gotten the amount of O.W.L.s he needed, so instead he would be trained to be a desk job, probably one who planned out the operations that field Aurors would be sent on. It was a perfect job for him, considering his skill in Wizard's Chess, Harry decided.
Snape wasted no time in setting them the hardest potion he could think of in order to daunt their spirits. A N.E.W.T. level Vanishing Potion was to be bubbling in their cauldrons at the end of class, ready to be tested on the lizards in the cages lining the walls. Harry worked hard, hunched over his cauldron, and reading each line of directions three times over, desperate to not mess up. To his amazement, his potion looked exactly the same as Hermione's by the end of the period, and Snape was forced to hold his tongue when Harry's lizard disappeared instantly on his desk.
They met up with Ron on the Grand Staircase then made their way up to Defense Against the Dark Arts in silence. All three had heard whispers about McClaggan, but it was impossible to discern reality from fables. Some claimed that he was the strictest, meanest teacher they had met, and could make Snape look like a sweet puppy dog in comparison. Others told wild stories about the cool magic they had learned and how this guy was the most powerful wizard ever. Unsure of what to believe, the three kept their thoughts to themselves as they finally entered the classroom and took three seats in the front. McClaggan sat behind the big mahogany desk with his thick dragon hide boots resting on top of some papers and his hands behind his head. He watched them all with a cool, relaxed attitude. When the final bell had rung, and all the students were sitting stiff in their seats with their quills poised over their parchments, he continued to survey them.
Harry and Ron shared a quizzical look as minutes passed, and still McClaggan said nothing. Hermione was becoming anxious, her knee bouncing quickly under her desk, and her eyes drifting to Ron's watch many times. Harry just sat patiently, keeping his eyes on the professor. When Ron prodded him to whisper something, Harry waved him off and continued to watch McClaggan.
Minutes later, much of the class had lost focus and had claimed this class as a free period. Exploding Snap cards emerged from bags and circles of girls discussed their summer adventures. However, Harry and Hermione stayed focused, expecting McClaggan to finally do something. Ron grew exasperated with trying to get their attention and finally moved away to show his skill in Exploding Snap.
Five minutes to the end of class, something finally happened. It was so fast that everyone in the class except Harry and Hermione missed it. McClaggan leapt to his feet, his chair flying out from under him in the opposite direction from the way he was going. His wand somehow appeared in his hand, and he fired two stunning spells in rapid succession into the general crowd. Harry, as though expecting this, abandoned his quill and whipped out his wand. As Hermione cast a shield charm over the class, Harry disarmed McClaggan. Silence fell over the entire class as Harry caught McClaggan's wand from midair and trained both it and his own on the teacher. Hermione's shield charm had worked in protecting the class from the stunning spells.
McClaggan stepped out from behind the desk, clapping his hands loudly and smiling at Harry and Hermione.
"Excellent," he said. "Class dismissed."
Bewildered, they packed up their things. Harry, confused, strode up to the front and handed McClaggan back his wand.
"You're the Potter boy?" he asked, his voice smooth and nice to hear.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied.
"I'll be seeing you Thursdays for your Advanced Defense class. Remus Lupin told me I won't be disappointed."
Harry smiled. He liked this guy.
"Would you like to have lunch with me? I'm very interested in hearing your stories."
"I'm sure any story you'd tell would be a lot more interesting," Harry laughed.
"You'd be surprised," McClaggan returned, a twinkle in his eye very much resembling Dumbledore's. "Your friends are welcome too. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, I presume?"
Ron and Hermione, who had been listening to the conversation from some distance away both leaped forward at the sound of their names.
"Lunch would be lovely," Hermione said.
"Yeah," Ron agreed, looking somewhat nervous to be talking to this mystery.
"Harry?" McClaggan prompted.
Harry smiled. "Lunch sounds great."
o.o.o.o.
McClaggan leaned back in his comfy leather armchair in his office. He had a pipe between his lips and was puffing it periodically. He had removed his glasses and was now sitting with such an air of comfort that Harry was now surer than ever that he wanted to do what this man did: Train to be an Auror, work on making the world a safer place, impart his knowledge to others, and be so sure of himself that he could take a moment just to enjoy life.
They had just finished lunch, which had consisted of flaky croissant sandwiches, slices of carmelized apples, warm butterbeer, and ending with the bowl of Honeydukes candy being passed around among the teenagers. They had discussed various things throughout their meal, from their summers, to their classes, to Quidditch. For now, they watched him patiently and chewed silently on their candy.
Finally, McClaggan leaned forward and replaced his glasses. "Smoke?" he asked, offering his pipe to them.
Ron made to accept the pipe, but Hermione slapped his hand down. "No, we don't smoke," she said sternly.
Ron shrank away disappointed and threw Hermione an angry look.
"Very well," McClaggan said. He put his pipe aside and peered out at them with a renewed interest. "Your first year Defense teacher was Quirinus Quirrell?"
They all nodded.
"I knew him," McClaggan said, resting his right boot on his left knee. "He was quite a man. Of course, I knew him years before he picked up Voldemort."
Ron jumped at the name. Harry and Hermione both felt somehow safer. Only Order members spoke the name.
"Who was your second year teacher, again?"
"Gilderoy Lockhart," Harry said sullenly. "Horrible year."
"Yes, yes, I've heard of that bloke. In St. Mungo's now, isn't he?"
"I did that," Ron said proudly. "My wand, actually. It was broken, and he tried to use it on us, and ended up erasing his own memory."
McClaggan laughed a deep, hearty laugh. "The way I see it, he had it coming. That was the year you found the Chamber of Secrets, wasn't it?" he asked Harry.
"Yes," Harry responded. Prompted by McClaggan, he launched into a full recount of the Chamber, revealing how he had discovered he was a Parselmouth, the diary, Aragog, and ending finally with the slaying of the Basilisk.
"Impressive," McClaggan said, thoroughly excited by the story. "Very impressive. Dumbledore said you trio were something, I never really believed it until now."
All three of them swelled with pride.
"Tell me about your third year. I remember Remus telling me he'd be teaching James' son."
"You knew my father?" Harry asked.
"Harry," McClaggan smiled, leaning forward and talking in a low, even voice, "everyone knew your father." He leaned back again and entwined his fingers beneath his chin. "Tell me about Sirius Black."
Harry felt all the happiness drain out of him. He visibly slumped in his seat. Hermione and Ron both looked quickly at him.
"W-What do you want to know?" Harry asked, visibly shaken.
"What was your first impression of him? What emotions did you feel?"
Harry rested his hands on his knees and looked at the ground as he took himself back to that painful night. "I was. . . angry," he said after a moment of thought.
"What did you say to him?" McClaggan prompted.
"I yelled," Harry admitted. "I taunted him about Azkaban, about murdering Pettigrew."
"Then what happened?"
Harry looked up at McClaggan. "I fought him. I almost killed him." He spoke very slowly, very carefully, as though he was trying with great difficulty to keep his voice from breaking.
"Why?"
"Because I thought he killed my parents!" Harry said angrily, his voice rising against his will.
"Did he?"
"No!"
"Did you ever tell him that?" McClaggan demanded, leaning forward again and meeting Harry's gaze. "Did you ever tell him that you don't blame him for their deaths?"
Harry's head fell. He remembered Sirius saying something that night. Harry had just yelled, "You killed my parents!" and Sirius responded, "I don't deny it." Harry felt himself melting inside. "No, I never told him that."
McClaggan relented and leaned back. "Could that be why you're having so much difficulty coping with his death?"
Harry said nothing and focused very hard on his knees.
"I think that you weren't done forgiving him, thanking him, and that's why you refuse to let go."
Again, Harry said nothing. His hands were shaking slightly, and he appeased them by entwining them between his knees.
"Your grief is understandable. Your silence is not," McClaggan leaned forward so his face was very close to Harry's. "The demons you keep feed off of your silence, and they will consume you until it's too late. I know it's hard, and I know it doesn't feel right, but don't be afraid of talking. It's the best kind of therapy, even though it might feel strange."
Harry's whole body was shaking now. Anger was engulfing him.
"Harry, are you listening to me?" McClaggan prompted.
Harry lost it. He stood up so quickly that his chair went flying backwards. Ron and Hermione both visibly flinched. "HOW DARE YOU?" he screamed. "YOU AND DUMBLEDORE BOTH! I CAME TO LUNCH BECAUSE I WAS HOPING TO GET TO KNOW YOU, NOT GET A LECTURE ABOUT WHAT I SHOULD DO! I HAVE ENOUGH OF THAT IN MY LIFE, DON'T YOU THINK?" He was breathing very hard, and he had unconsciously balled his hands into fists.
McClaggan, on the other hand, was smiling. "Good, good," he said softly.
Harry nearly exploded in rage. This was exactly what Dumbledore had done in June. Kept calm when all Harry wanted to do was yell and scream. They both talked in such an arrogant way. Harry didn't want them to tell him about himself, he didn't want them to tell him why he was sad or angry. . . or what Sirius really meant to him.
"AND ANOTHER THING!" Harry continued. "WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT SIRIUS?"
"If I do remember correctly, Harry," McClaggan said, "you gave me permission to ask about Sirius."
"Harry, calm down," Hermione urged, grabbing his sleeve.
Overwhelmed with anger and grief, Harry yanked his arm away from Hermione's grasp and swept from the room without another word.
McClaggan rested his chin on his folded hands. "Yes, yes," he muttered to no one in particular. "We'll need to figure all that out first."
Hermione and Ron sat awkwardly for a few moments longer, then excused themselves and went after Harry, unsure about whether they should find Harry or give him a moment to calm down. They made their way slowly up to Gryffindor Tower, trying to formulate what they would say if they encountered Harry.
When they made it past the Fat Lady and saw Harry was not there, they sat down and decided to wait for him. Half an hour later, Ron went up to the dormitory to drop off his books.
What he saw drained his blood.
Harry was sprawled out on his bed, blood crawling down the side of his face and pooling on the satin sheets. In horror, Ron dropped his bags and tumbled down the stairs, barely aware of his legs functioning.
"Hermione!" he screamed. "Hermione!"
"What? What is it?" Hermione answered, appearing at the foot of the stairs.
"It's Harry! Come quick!"
Hermione vaulted up the stairs. Upon entering the dormitory, she clasped her hands over her mouth and let out a faint scream of terror.
"I'll go get Madam Pomfrey!" Ron yelled, and he vanished down the stairs.
Hermione crept closer to Harry's prone figure, too afraid to check for a pulse. He was chalk-white and very still. Kneeling at his bedside, she lowered her hands in relief when she saw his chest rising and falling with short spurts of breath. She could not see anything around that could have caused the bleeding, no sharp object of any sort, and his wand was not anywhere to be seen.
She pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and lightly dabbed at Harry's forehead, mopping up the crimson blood, caught somewhere between nausea and hysteria. She looked for the wound before she realized, with a skip of her heart, that there was none.
It was his scar that was bleeding.
Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnn...
Okay, I know, I've used the scar bleeding thing SO many times in my other stories, but I'm really in love with the concept... don't know why. Just go with me on this.
Again, I'm really sorry for making you guys wait. I'm not going to bore you with excuses, so instead just know that I'll try my best to keep writing this story (and 'Solus') right up to when HBP comes out. Testing season is next month, and goodness knows I'll need a distraction from AP World History. Trust me, this is much more interesting than memorizing the terms of the Treaty of Versailles or who exactly the Bolsheviks were.
I've kind of slipped off the face of the internet world, but you can read some of my original writing at under the penname felonymelanie007, if you have a free moment. I'm going to start posting some of my poetry there, and I'd really love any input.
So until my next posting, may your swords stay sharp. (I know, I'm an ultra-nerd, but anyone who can place that reference gets a cookie. A chocolate chip cookie!).
peace
felony melanie
