Chapter 21: I'm Sorry?

Harry woke up early the next morning, still feeling a pleasant buzz from the party 1st Gardner Hall had held to celebrate its theatrical triumph – four people who lived there all getting into the show was worth celebrating, Lizzie said, and proceeded to make three batches of her famous killer cupcakes.

These were chocolate cupcakes, with chocolate chips and chocolate fudge laced in, topped with a honey mocha frosting, and they were enormous. Harry had eaten two and a half of them before being unable to finish – Ginny had taken care of the spare half for him. Ron, to everyone's astonishment, had eaten five. "It'll be fun sleeping in the same room with you, tonight," Harry had said.

"I'll swap you roommates," Hermione had said absently, frowning at Ginny, who was finishing her second Mountain Dew, a drink Lanie had introduced her to, which contained large quantities of caffeine.

The reaction to that statement came back to Harry and made him smile.

Since I'm up, might as well update my account.

He fumbled in his trunk until he came up with the Map, settled in on his bed, and placed his wand in the center. "I solemnly say that I am up to no good."

The Map activated.

Messrs. and Madames Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, Vulpes, Reynard, Ashcoat, Redwing, Aldima, and Flamepaws present

The Marauders' Map

Personal Edition

Welcome, Mr. Ashcoat.

Would you like to:

A) Read over old content

B) Input new content

C) Meet yourself

"Meet myself?"

Padfoot's writing appeared below the options. -Your personality's gone active, Ashcoat. Or, rather, Harry – he's probably going to want to call himself Ashcoat. You may want to talk to him – he's got some interesting things to say.-

"All right," Harry said dubiously. I've been talking to memories of my father and godfather for two weeks. How bad can talking to myself be?

;You sound so enthusiastic,; the Map wrote. In Harry's own handwriting. ;Hello, I'm Mr. Ashcoat.;

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing aloud. Wonderful. My personality is sarcastic. "Nice to meet you. I'm Harry. I'm just, er, nervous, I guess. Classes start today, you know."

;Yes, I know. I also know you forgot to do something over the summer. Remus told you to write a letter apologizing to Snape – ;

(Professor Snape,) Moony's writing broke in.

;Yes, him. You never did.;

Harry sighed. "I know. It's just, well… how am I supposed to apologize for something I'm not sorry for? I mean, I know it was wrong, and I wish – I really wish – I'd never done it, but how do I say I'm sorry when I'm not?"

:I don't think you ever actually have to say you're sorry. Why don't you write down what you just said? About knowing it was wrong, and wishing you'd never done it?:

(And then tell him why. Harry, since Remus has been updating lately, I have quite a long perspective on Severus Snape, and one thing no one has ever accused him of is being stupid. Bigoted, yes. Occasionally blinded by his own grudges, yes. But stupid, no. If you tell him the truth, he may not want to hear it, but he will.)

"But there's no guarantee he'll like it," Harry said, speaking from experience. "And he might try to get back at me somehow. Like he did at Remus, third year, telling the Slytherins he was a werewolf."

-Do you have any secrets like that he could use against you?-

Harry drummed his fingers on the Map, thinking. "I don't think so."

;Well, that depends on how much he knows.;

Harry stared at the statement. "Do you know something I don't?"

;Possibly. Harry, we think alike – obviously, since I am you, more or less – but I have more time to think, and less on my mind. I think I've figured out a couple of things that you may not know yet.;

:This is what the Map is excellent for,: Prongs wrote. :If you have a problem that's bothering you, record it – get it off your mind – and let your other mind chew it over for a while. We'll leave you two alone.:

"Thanks," Harry said as the writing of the three original Marauders faded from the Map's surface. "So, what are my big secrets?"

;And you think I'm sarcastic. This is nothing you wouldn't eventually have figured out on your own, Harry, but there's something odd about these dreams you've been having, and if you resume Occlumency with Snape, he is going to find out about them. So you need to have them figured out before that happens.;

"So what's odd about them?"

;Well, I think I see some kind of pattern in them, but I'm not sure yet.;

"Pattern?"

;As I said, I'm not sure. Ask me again in a week or two.;

"All right. Anything else?"

;Actually, yes.; The writing shrank somewhat, as if Ashcoat were whispering. ;You are alone, right?;

Harry parted his bedcurtains and looked around the room. No one else appeared to have stirred. "Yeah, I'm alone."

;All right. Just remember, don't kill the messenger.; Ashcoat paused, probably for dramatic effect. ;Harry, you like Ginny Weasley.;

Harry looked at the words stupidly for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

;You fancy Ginny Weasley. You want her to be your girlfriend. You want to kiss her. You want to pull her into a broom closet and – ;

"All right, I get it!"

"Hmmm?" Ron said sleepily from the next bed over.

;I thought you said you were alone.;

"I am alone. Everyone else is asleep. Or they were." Harry sighed and lowered his voice. "All right. So I like Ginny Weasley. Is that a crime?"

;No, but it is something that someone could use against you. If they knew about it. And it would be even easier to use against you if you didn't know. So, now you know.;

"Yes, now I know." Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think. To his annoyance, pictures of Ginny kept intruding. Ginny asleep, her hair fanned out behind her… Ginny in dark blue dress robes, smiling at him with no trace of pity… Ginny cheering him on from the sidelines on his birthday… Ginny on her broomstick, an artist in the air… he found himself wishing he'd been there at the Quidditch Cup final the year before, to see her get the Snitch from under Cho's nose…

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. "All right, you win. You're right. I guess I do like her."

:Of course he's right,: Prongs wrote. :He's my son.:

"So what do I do now?"

(I'd say, don't push it yet. Keep being her friend.)

-You were always too old for your age, Moony. Harry, get her alone and snog her senseless. What I'm not allowed to tell you about what she's been writing would fill at least one book. Possibly two.-

"Thanks, Padfoot," Harry said, smiling a little. And that's probably exactly what Sirius would have told me… he never did really grow up.

He never had a chance.

Harry winced at the thought. "I'm going to go have some breakfast," he said. "See you later."

;Don't put it off too long.;

"Now you sound like Hermione."

;Ouch.;

Harry smiled. "Get over it. Mischief managed."

"Harry?" Ron said. "Who're you talking to?"

Harry opened his bedcurtains and held up the Map.

"Oh." Ron yawned. "Can I have a go?"

"Sure, I'm done. See you at breakfast?"

"All right." Ron accepted the Map from Harry and pulled his own bedcurtains shut again. Faintly, Harry heard him say, "I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing good."

-----

It was still quite early, so the Hall was something less than crowded when Harry walked through the door. Blaise was sitting by himself at the end of the Slytherin table, staring at his eggs. On a whim, Harry sat down across from him. "Good morning," he said.

Blaise jumped. "Morning."

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, frowning. Blaise looked… tired, he supposed. Or was it something more than tiredness?

"I'm fine." Blaise leaned forward on his elbows, trying to look casual, but his eyes flickered down the table, to where Draco Malfoy sat, holding his usual court. "Malfoy's a bastard, but I'm fine."

"What happened?"

Blaise sighed. "Nothing I can't handle. Don't worry."

"All right," Harry said unwillingly. "But if you ever need anything…"

"Seventh floor, I know." Blaise smiled slightly. "See you in class."

Harry got up and headed for the Gryffindor table. To his surprise, Fred Weasley was sitting there, with a book in his right hand and a fork in his left.

"Thought you were sitting with the teachers now," Harry said as he sat down.

"Only on special occasions," Fred said through a mouthful of sausage, putting down his book. "Makes me nervous, being up there."

"So how exactly are you and George going to manage being professors and running the shop at the same time?" Harry asked, serving himself porridge.

"Why do you think we got married?" Fred grinned. "Angelina and Alicia are at the shop with Lee. Once Katie leaves school and marries Lee, we'll never need to hire another employee."

"That's handy," Harry said. "Not to mention cheap."

"Cheap, my young student, is just another word for 'more profits'," Fred said in a lordly tone. "Oh, here."

He reached into the bag sitting on the floor beside him and pulled out a handful of schedules. "This one's yours, but I could just as well give you Ron's. You're in every class together. And Hermione's only got one that you don't. Do you ever do anything apart?"

"Why bother?" Harry asked, perusing his schedule. "It's more fun together." He had an hour of Charms that morning, followed by an hour's break, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts. After that – "Oh, not again," Harry moaned. He had two hours of Potions right after lunch, and the Muggle defense course an hour after that.

"Cheer up," Fred said, looking over his shoulder. "You can forget about whatever goes wrong in Potions while you're beating people up in Muggle Defense."

Wednesdays looked similar to Mondays, except that Charms was doubled and Potions single, and on Fridays, the double class was Defense. Four hours a week of everything, except – "That's odd."

"What?"

"The Muggle Defense course. It's two hours, three days a week. That's more than anything else."

"It's making up for our course," Fred said with a grin. "We insisted on keeping it to two hours a week instead of four. We said since there were two of us, we could teach twice as fast."

Harry laughed as Hermione came breezing into the Hall, spotted them, and came over. "Morning, Fred. Hello, Harry, how did you sleep?"

"Fine." Harry went back to reading his schedule as Fred gave Hermione hers. Tuesdays and Thursdays were exactly the same, beginning with an hour of Practical Magic – starting the day with Fred and George. That should be fun – moving on to Care of Magical Creatures, then lunch, and then Herbology and Transfiguration, with an hour's break in between.

"There's almost no short classes on here," Harry said, scanning the schedule in its entirety.

"They figure by this time, you're old enough to handle two hours of something at a time," Fred said. "Don't worry too much, though. Most teachers give a break around the one-hour mark, because they know if they don't, no one pays attention any longer."

"It doesn't say who we have the classes with," Hermione said, looking at her schedule with puzzlement.

"That's because you don't take classes by House any more," Fred pointed out. "You chose all your new ones based on your O.W.L. results, remember? So everyone's got a different schedule."

Harry sighed. "Damn – that means Malfoy could be in any of these, and there's no way to tell until we actually get there."

"He's in Practical Magic," Fred said with a grin. "He signed up for an easy pass – before he knew who was teaching, obviously. We plan to give him a very good grade for class participation. Voluntary or otherwise."

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

-----

After Charms, which was much the same as it had always been – Flitwick was both a good and a popular teacher, so quite a lot of people had passed that O.W.L. and wanted to continue in the class – Harry went back to the Gryffindor dormitory, found parchment, ink, and quill, and started composing his letter to Snape.

He got hung up on the first word.

No way am I starting this "Dear Professor."

He finally found an alternative.

Professor Snape:

I'm writing because I want to apologize for intruding on your Pensieve last year. It was very wrong of me, and I wish I'd never done it.

Harry chewed on the end of his quill thoughtfully.

So much for the easy part.

He dipped his quill again and doodled on a scrap of parchment while he thought about what he wanted to say next.

I understand that you probably don't want to teach me any more, but I need to learn Occlumency, and you are the best person for me to learn from.

Harry gritted his teeth and went on.

Please take me back as a student. I am…

He lifted his quill so as not to leave a blot of ink, took a deep breath, and finished the sentence.

…sorry I invaded your privacy, and I promise never to do so again.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

He shook his head to get rid of the lingering feeling that he'd just done something dishonest, folded the letter, and activated the Marauders' Map the usual way, looking for Remus.

The Map showed him in a small office on the second floor. Harry stuck it in his bag and hurried out the portrait hole, aware that he only had twenty minutes left before Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the worst thing he could do on his first day with a new teacher was to be late.

He arrived at the office five minutes later and knocked. "Come in," Remus' voice called, and Harry pushed the door open. "Ah, Harry. I was meaning to see you at some point today."

"Can you look at something for me?" Harry asked, holding out the letter.

"Certainly." Remus accepted it, opened it, and looked curiously at the superscription. "I see." He read through the letter and handed it back. "Yes, I think that will do. As long as you mean what you say." He looked Harry in the eye. "Do you?"

Harry squirmed. "I'm not sure. I mean, I wish I'd never seen that – my dad being a total ass that way – but… well, it's better for me to know than not to. Not knowing things is what led to the Department of Mysteries."

Remus nodded soberly. "I understand. That is, I may understand," he corrected himself. "I remember some of what it was like to be sixteen – at that age, I was firmly convinced that no adult could possibly understand me."

Harry smiled ruefully, recognizing a feeling he'd often had himself. "You do understand," he assured Remus. "At least, that part of it."

"My only recommendation about the letter is that you may wish to add a postscript to the effect that you have told no one about what you saw, and that you will tell no one – assuming that's true."

Harry nodded and used Remus' quill to add a line to the bottom of the letter.

P.S. I have not told anyone what I saw, and I will not tell anyone.

"One more thing before you go," Remus said. "Despite my dislike of the title, it would be better if you called me Professor, outside this office. It will stave off accusations of favoritism."

"All right – Professor," Harry said, opening the door. "I'd better go, or I'll be late for Defense…"

"Oh, yes, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Don't cross Professor Fleming if you can help it," Remus said. "She does not suffer fools gladly."

"You would know," Harry said, and ducked out the door as Remus pretended to throw a quill at him.

-----

(A/N: So, it's a short chapter. There will be another one soon – and I do mean soon, as in within the next few days. I just figured everyone had waited long enough.

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See you before the end of the week – promise!)