Chapter 29: THE FIRST TEST
Ron was steering him inside the castle, Hermione with the box, key and Harry's cloak (which the girl had dropped) in her hands. He didn't want to look at them, to see the looks on their faces; he just wanted to disappear atop Gryffindor Tower. At the very least, their walk to the hospital wing and a very distressed-looking Madam Pomfrey was devoid of anyone except the three of them.
Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything as she put her wand to both his broken leg and bleeding shoulder, mending the cut and healing the bones. When she finished, she simply said, "You may go."
Still in a state of shock, everything seemed to be swimming before Harry's eyes as Ron now steered him someplace new. He was still dizzy from the loss of blood, the wrenching pain in his leg and the aftershocks of the sting in his arm. Add in the knowledge that someone he knew for sixteen years, someone he wasn't very fond of but in a time of crisis, felt something, just died...
They were now leaving the hospital wing and going to where what seemed to be the staff room. Harry didn't want to go there, he didn't want to know what anyone had to say to him and was partially glad neither Ron nor Hermione were saying anything. If they believed he didn't mean to do it on purpose or not... He was still in a state of numb disbelief, hoping that if he pinched his slightly stinging leg, he would wake up but somehow couldn't move his arm to do it.
When Ron and Hermione arrived at the staff room, Ron still clinging to Harry's upper arm, Harry saw that Professors McGongall, Figg, Dumbledore, Fudge, Bagman and Percy were all sitting around a table. They looked up at Harry when he entered and he immediately found his legs turning the other way to walk out of the room, his face going white and expressionless when he caught sight of them all.
"Harry," called Dumbledore, but it seemed far away and distant, echoing around in his cavernous, empty head as Ron's grip on his arm tightened and he steered Harry back in.
Hermione walked ahead of him and pulled a chair out. Harry then found his legs walking over to the chair and realized that he was taking a seat in it. The conversation that ensued didn't fully stick to him but he got the gist of it.
The Dursleys were to get a letter explaining that Dudley had been struck by a bolt of lightning and had been instantly killed. It would mention that attempts were made to revive him, though they told Harry no such thing had ever happened as they knew very well it would do nothing. Somewhere under his persistant state of shock and numbness, he could tell this was so the Dursleys wouldn't try to come to Hogwarts with a gun in each hand and demand to know where Harry was and, though he couldn't express himself at all, he was thankful for it.
Dudley was to be buried within the week and Harry found himself shaking his head (as he couldn't speak yet) when someone asked if he wanted to attend the funeral. Fudge was the first one to admit they didn't know what to do with Harry at all but he seemed to agree with Dumbledore that there would be some kind of punishment. One word swam around in Harry's mind during this part of the conversation: Azkaban. Fudge mentioned it once but the idea was quickly shot down when they all turned to see who had made that sharp intake of breath. Immediately, Dumbledore, Percy, Professor McGonagall and Professor Figg began thinking of alternate solutions. Harry didn't want to go near another dementor for as long as he lived and just wanted them to decide on something so he could go up to Gryffindor Tower and disappear on his four-post bed.
Harry's fragmented thoughts then wandered onto a letter he received in his fifth year when he thought he had been expelled for good. The letter said that the course of action was either a week long term in Azkaban or a term long study in wizards and witches falling to the Dark arts with several privledges revoked. He mulled over this for a moment before Professor Figg said "How about the term-long study in Dark arts?"
Harry, who's eyes had been wandering aimlessly around the room, looked up at her, who, startled looked back.
"What do you think?" she said to Harry.
Harry looked to Fudge, then to Percy, then to Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and then back to Professor Figg.
For a moment, he couldn't speak just yet but then he said quickly, "As long as I don't have to go to Azkaban, I don't care."
Dumbledore, smiling darkly, turned to Fudge and Professor Figg, nodding to each of them.
"But perhaps a little modification to the study?" suggested Professor Figg, turning to Dumbledore. "Given the current circumstances, perhaps it would be a good idea to focus on Harry's more... outstanding abilities?"
"What do you suggest, Arabella?" asked Dumbledore calmly.
"Maybe he'd be slightly interested in a bit about his family's past?" said Professor Figg and under all of Harry's bad feelings so far, his heart managed to take a slight leap.
Seeing some emotion come back to Harry's face, Fudge said, "Really, Arabella, is it wise to make it fun? It's supposed to be a punishment, after all --"
"Yes, Cornelius, but I need not mention the circumstances at hand," said Dumbledore and Harry knew immediately that Dumbledore was referring to everything, everything that had ever happened and that a sharp punishment wouldn't smooth over too well. It was only two years ago that Harry nearly lost his mind and, as Ginny once put it, this year wasn't exactly starting out like roses...
"What are you saying, Albus?" said Fudge, clearly not catching it as quickly as Harry and, apparently, everyone else. Percy showed that he knew because he grinned shortly at Fudge who looked curiously back at him.
"If you don't mind me saying, Cornelius, I think it is not wise to make matters any worse than they already are."
Harry then remembered about the Order of Merlin plaque dangling from his neck. He grabbed it in one hand, feeling that usual small wave of calmness wash over him. And then something miraculous happened: he was able to speak.
But, plaque in hand, he did nothing more than look up hopefully at Fudge.
Fudge sized him up, from the blood on his shoulder, the Phoenix Bracelet on his wrist that Harry now realized he had completely forgotten about using to heal his injuries and the plaque in his hand. Harry quickly let go of it, causing some of the numb shock to flood back to him and his face going expressionless again. He just hoped that Fudge hadn't been told why he sometimes held the plaque... From behind the faces of everyone else, Dumbledore saw this and nodded, letting Harry know that he had done the right thing by letting it go.
Harry then found he couldn't say that he just wanted to go. He looked around for Ron and Hermione and saw that they were gone.
Sensing Harry's returning distress, Dumbledore turned to him and said, "Very well. Your Hogsmeade privledges will be revoked; you will, however, be allowed on the trip to New York but you will not be allowed outside the castle except for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Figg shall assign your study within the next week or so. From the day you get assigned the study, this will remain for the following six months. I think that settles it?"
Fudge, annoyed, nodded but then Bagman burst out in alarm, "The key and the box!"
"How could I forget," said Dumbledore, sounding slightly annoyed himself.
"As far as your score goes," said Bagman, pulling out a piece of parchment from inside his robes, his tone now a little more nervous and shaky, "while we all agreed it was a most excellent fashion of getting the key and box from both dragons and was the shortest time of all, all of us believe -- your combined score is a thirty-four out of fifty. And now the other champions, Albus?" asked Bagman sounding less nervous and, three minutes later, Adrianne and Sebastian walked in following Dumbledore. They took one slightly alarmed look at Harry before Bagman caught their attention.
"Right. Well. The second task is to take place at ten in the morning on February the twenty-eighth. It will take place inside the Forbidden Forest but we are taking extra precautions to see that none of you are hurt. A magical camera will be placed around you so that, for one, we can see your progress and two, that you won't be harmed. Harry, we ask that you keep Raides on call for the entire second task so that we may aid anyone in trouble. You are allowed to keep her with you but using the staff instead of your wand is out of the question.
"When you open the box with the key, you will see that it has a strange item indeed inside of it, different for each of you. It is your job to figure out what it does, how it works, how it will help you and what to do with it. They are all as equally confusing as the next, I assure you, and all will help you perform the task as excellently as the next. I do admit, one of yours is slightly harder to figure out than the rest" -- Harry had a feeling that it would be his -- "but you will figure it out, regardless. The first thing to do when the task starts is to first find out what you must do. That is all I have to say," Bagman finished, smiling briefly.
"Off you go then," said Dumbledore to the champions.
Harry felt like saying thank you to him but his throat felt too blocked up to make any sound in it and so the next second he found that his legs were carrying him out of the staff room. Adrianne and Sebastian asked him to bring them to the castle doors and left abruptly, leaving Harry to trek back to Gryffindor Tower on his own.
Upon entering the common room, there was a hushed silence as he stepped through the portrait hole. Sirius, with Harry's wand, was sitting on a chair next to Ron and Hermione, all of whom turned around to see Harry enter. Without saying a word, Sirius, Ron and Hermione all stood up, crossed the room, Sirius grabbing Harry's shoulder and they steered him out of the common room through the portrait hole.
"Library," said Sirius shortly, handing Harry his wand.
Arriving at the library, Sirius motioned for the three of them to sit. He then walked over to Madam Pince, the librarian, took a book from her and joined them.
Harry took a look at the title as Sirius handed it to him: "The Dark Arts and Their Powers."
"This might not be the best time," Sirius began, "but I have to be leaving soon so if I'm going to tell you how I knew you could you-know-what before you did, it has to be now. Turn to page nine hundred sixty-two and take a look at the third paragraph."
Harry read to himself while Ron and Hermione looked over his shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR
POSSESSION
Of the many known Dark arts, Possession ranks among the most foul and ill-taken of them all. It was first discovered by a witch doing her laundry in a lake, who found herself wrapping her cloak around her head and pitching herself head first to her death. Through the nineteenth century, many Dark wizards have abused this ability to it's greatest extent, some incidents of which have nearly risked exposure of the wizarding world to the greater Muggle world. One of the foulest wizards of the age, Lord Voldemort, herein referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, uses this ability in very secret ways so as to aid him, not hurt him. Possession involves locking onto a target body, temporarily moving your own soul to another body and forcing theirs out. But enough of an introduction, on to how to identify this beast.
Many wizards and witches who do not yet know they have the ability of Possession often find themselves with strange dreams that often seem to be telling events that are occuring in real time.
Harry immediately stopped reading and looked up at Sirius, his mouth agape.
"Gotten to the part about your dreams, have you?" said Sirius grimly, not smiling. "Keep reading."
This only happens to potent wizards and witches, whose mind can cast out to someone else, lock on and do the switch, often hundreds or thousands of miles away from where they are. The untrained mind goes haywire sometimes during sleep and when the person is stimulated, uncontrolled possession can occur. More often than not, the target ends up being someone nagging at the person's mind.
"Voldemort," Harry said soundlessly under his breath.
So that was how he had that dream, three years ago, about that Muggle, Frank Bryce, entering that house and that was also how he had been able to see about how one of Pettigrew's mistakes had been fixed that same year. He had possessed both Frank Bryce... and an owl. All he needed now was to accidently possess Fudge or Bagman and his life was over.
"Well that's nice," said Harry, closing the book and putting it down.
He looked behind both his shoulders where Ron and Hermione were standing and they looked back, lost for words. Harry knew they both felt the same as he did: like their stomachs had been ripped out. He had to ask himself, was there anything else he'd been using without knowing it? And was it just as bad -- or worse -- than this?
"It'd be a good idea to -- er -- practice it," said Ron to Harry with a half glance at Hermione, "wouldn't it?"
"Yes it would," said Sirius and then he leaned closer to Harry, noting the anxiety on his face, adding, "Calm yourself, it's not so bad."
"Yes it is," said Harry so fast it was rude. "I read an essay Hermione wrote on it. I had to also but, you know, I have personal experience in the matter."
Hermione went flush. "D'you really think people will react badly to it?" she asked, looking between Sirius and Ron. "I mean, it's you," she said, finishing while looking at Harry.
Sirius looked at her.
"No one reacted very warmly when they found out Harry could speak Parseltongue, did they now?" he said to Hermione and then he turned to Harry. "And I don't think he wants to repeat the experience."
Harry agreed by smiling darkly.
"But that was different!" Hermione retorted.
"Keep your voice down --"
"There were attacks on students," she went on more quietly, ignoring Sirius, turning to Harry again. "And besides," she said simply, "you killed a basilisk, a balrog, rescued Sirius, got Raides and nearly killed Voldemort twice. I hardly think," she said harshly, "anyone is going to think you're using it for something bad."
"I still think Harry should practice it," Ron said again.
"Ron's right," said Harry. "I don't wanna be accidently using it and have it land on Fudge or someone. That'll cause an almighty uproar, that will."
"The only question now is," said Hermione, "how?"
Sirius thought for a moment, then said to Harry, "Well, I -- I supposed you could just try it on these two," pointing at Ron and Hermione. "You know, just to get a feel for it, so you don't end up doing it to someone accidentally."
This didn't exactly sound appealing to any of them.
"But, what do I do if I -- er -- get stuck?" Harry asked, thinking about what would happen if he had to walk to Dumbledore's office and tell him Hermione or Ron was really Harry and that he was stuck in a possession and couldn't get out of it. "You know, do it, and then I can't get out?"
For a moment there, Sirius looked perplexed then, trying to hide it, told Harry, "You'll be able to figure it out, I'm sure. So, how about getting Raides back?" said Sirius, changing the subject hastily.
"I don't want her back," said Harry shortly. "Did you hear what she was doing? She laughed. I can't believe it, it's like she didn't even care that Dudley..."
"Well you better get her back, Harry, because I don't think Voldemort's going to play nice if he turns up here and you're without her. And worse yet, what if he gets a hold of her?"
Harry hadn't thought of that, so he held up his wand and said "Accio staff!" and they were all greeted a second later by a seven foot long staff flying to Harry in the library. He held her in his hand and she sprang to life. He was still angry at her so he dropped her and she transformed into the great lion before hitting the ground.
"Sorry about earlier," she said immediately, having read the title of the book sitting on the table.
Harry then dropped his anger at once, feeling it useless to argue the point. She did have about ten thousand years of life on him and her views were bound to be different after she was used by one of the Darkest wizards to exist since Voldemort...
"Nah it's -- all right," Harry said gloomily, feeling his shoulders finally relax since he saw Dudley's body and putting his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. And then, to his surprise, a short, airy and nervous laugh escaped his mouth as he said, "I'd just like to know where I'm gonna stay this summer."
He slowly turned his head up, his fingers going the length of his face, before resting his jaw on his palms. After all was said and done, there was absolutely nothing to be done about Dudley. Raides was right and if he let it get to him, it was likely to tear him to pieces. While it was nothing to laugh at, there was no point, he told himself, in losing his mind over it.
Sirius, Ron and Hermione gave their own version of a nervous laugh.
"Look at the bright side, Harry," said Ron. "You don't have to stay with the Dursleys anymore!"
"Yeah, you're right," said Harry, a dreamy look on his face. "Except I'll probably have to live on the streets of Hogsmeade instead," he then said loudly, feeling a change of mood, angrily slamming a fist on the table and standing up very suddenly. He snatched the key, box and his cloak from Hermione. "C'mon Raides, I'm going to work out that stupid clue for the second task. Maybe if someone else dies on the way, you can laugh at them, too."
It was an understatement to say that Sirius was alarmed at this. Ron and Hermione, having seen similar behavior, told Sirius to just sit down.
"What's wrong with him?" said Sirius, half standing up and half sitting down, goggling at Harry as he left the library.
"I don't know what's wrong with him," said Hermione, shaking her head gravely, "I really don't."
"But whatever it is," said Ron, "it's obviously not good."
"Has he done that before?" said Sirius, still staring at the empty library doors, and slowly receeding into his seat. "I mean, he was perfectly fine a second ago then he... blew up!"
Hermione let out a mix between a tut and a sigh, saying, "He's been acting like that since, well... since the beginning of the year. Neither of us honestly know what it is," she told Sirius.
"You might say it's because he misses Cho but somehow I don't think that alone is it," Ron suggested while Hermione gave him a curious look.
"Really," she said loftily. "D'you -- really -- think he's exploding left and right on people just because he misses Cho?" she asked Ron flatly.
Ron shrugged, looked at Sirius and said dismissively, "I don't know," his voice trailing away. "He blew up on Snape a couple of times last year," Ron explained, "and that was fun to watch. He was miserable to be around all Christmas vacation, though. Your supposed death really unhinged him."
"Can't blame him, can we?" Sirius asked Hermione, finally turning away from the door and now looking at The Dark Arts and Their Powers. "I'd like to make it up to him, but I don't know how. The least I thought to do was to come and watch the tournament with him but now that he's gotten himself -- IN it," said Sirius, clearly having a hard time staying calm.
"You really care about him, don't you?" said Hermione, sizing up Sirius for herself.
"Yes, of course I do," Sirius replied, eyeing Hermione sharply. "I owe it to Harry after what happened with Pettigrew and Voldemort. And besides," said Sirius loftily, looking slightly uncomfortable, "he's like a son to me now. I haven't told anyone except Dumbledore but -- I You know, put a little stability in his life? Something I'm sure he's going to need after this year's up, let me tell you what with Dudley and everything. That and there's no way I'm letting him stay at the Dursleys longer than he has to. It'll be weird at first, yeah, but... I don't know," Sirius went on, his thoughts still wandering. "He never did anything like that three years ago, since, you know, the Mark of Ancients?"
"That's what we thought for a minute," Ron told Sirius. "But how? Hermione and I were there when Dumbledore and everyone removed it from him."
"You don't like calling it Nota Vetustum either, do you," said Hermione.
Sirius grinned at her.
Up in Gryffindor Tower, Harry was further upset by the contents of his box.
"The Explicatrix. This is absolutely wonderful," he said irritably. "Dumbledore doesn't even know what it does. How the bloody hell am I supposed to figure it out?"
He didn't have much time to mull over it, though, as Ron and Hermione came up the stairs.
"What is that?" said Ron immediately, staring at the blue orb in Harry's box.
"That's what was in the box!" said Harry brightly and sarcastically. "Dumbledore was playing with it when I went to go see him after I went and drank some unicorn blood. It's also called Cybele's Orb. I have no idea what this thing does and I don't think I ever will. Just look at it. It looks like a crystal ball but there's silvery smoke inside of it that reminds me of how the Mark of Ancients glittered. He was staring at it for who knows how long. I never asked him about it, that's probably why he gave it to me."
"Maybe it's like Raides," said Ron, trying to sound helpful. "Won't work for anyone but ancients?"
"I see nothing inside this but a golden mist," said Harry flatly, "and you know how great we did in that lesson in Divination. Did I ever tell you about the final exam that year? Except the fact that she told me Voldemort's coming back? I made something up like you did. Told her that I saw Buckbeak and then she asked me if he still had his head. I panicked and said yes."
Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to say to this, so they didn't say anything for a good few minutes.
Ron and Hermione were just leaving when Hermione burst out, "Cheer up, Harry. The Yule Ball is coming earlier this time than last because of the trip to Manhattan."
"Cheer up," said Harry darkly. "I'll give you something to cheer up about."
Not caring whether it would break or not, Harry put the lid on the box, locked it and threw it as hard as he could at Hermione. She managed to see what he was going to do before he had thrown it and caught it before it hit her. Harry then pointed a finger at it and it flew back into his hands.
"Go away," he said loudly, not looking at them, but at his bedside cabinet and thinking about his photo album which lay inside it.
He was standing next to his bed, gazing down, pondering about getting it out but somehow didn't think the sight of his parent's faces would do much, nor would the plaque dangling from his neck. Harry then looked at Ron and Hermione who hadn't moved an inch. They seemed to have been waiting for Harry to say something else.
Collapsing on his bed, not caring about the blood on his shoulder that hadn't dried yet leaving a stain, he said, "Don't go," covering his face with his hands.
"I'm seriously going to crack someone over the head before this is all over," said Ron irritably, grabbing Hermione by the sleeve and walking towards Harry.
"That's if someone doesn't crack him over the head," Hermione said gravely back.
"I don't know what I'm doing," cried Harry, wiping his eyes. "I'm blowing up on everyone and I don't know why."
"This is so messed up," said Hermione.
"And don't tell me it's the Mark of Ancients because that's GONE," said Harry, sitting up but still hiding his face with his hands.
"You don't think that -- maybe -- that it's the unicorn blood?" Ron suggested timidly.
"Oh, yes, that's just a lot of comfort to add to our large bowl of the stuff!" said Hermione hotly.
"Well I don't know!" Ron shouted at her. "He blew up on Malfoy but, well, anyone would have, wouldn't they?"
Ron looked at Hermione, who was looking at Harry sitting up, who was looking at Ron. And then they all caught each other's gaze and threw their arms up in disgust in unison, Ron and Hermione spinning nervously on the spot, as well.
"So you think it's the unicorn blood affecting me?" Harry asked. "Where's Raides. Do you have anything to say about this?"
"I'm just as confused as you three," she told him.
"Great," said Harry softly and irritably, "just great."
He let himself fall heavily onto his four-poster again, exhaling a breath of distress. And there was a great deal of it.
The very next morning Harry woke up knowing exactly why he felt so miserable from the night before and why it took him almost two hours staring up at the canopy above him to fall asleep. He tried to avoid holding the plaque but gave in to temptation and woke up with it still clutched in his hand. There was a strong urge in him to take Raides, go to Hogmseade, Disapparate to number four Privet Drive, order the Dursleys at staff point to go live with Hagrid and tell the police they had been killed so he would go up for adoption. But it only lasted for a minute because he had had enough experience with death. Cedric Diggory's death had been bad enough, but now Dudley...
During breakfast, a screech owl soared in overhead from the open window, a red envelope clutched in it's beak. Harry never got such letters, known by the wizarding world as Howlers. Such letters were a lot like normal letters, discounting the fact that normal letters didn't speak -- rather, yell -- their contents to you a hundred times louder than a regular voice.
The owl, however, dropped the Howler right in front of Harry and Harry, watching it smoke at the corners, cast his mind around for anyone who could possibly have sent him one.
Absolutely no one came to mind, no one at all.
"You better open it, Harry," Ron warned him. "They get very nasty if you don't."
Ron was watching it smoke at the corners. Several people were pointing at it.
"Go on!" Neville urged Harry.
"Fine," Harry snapped, "but I have no idea -- and you lot know I don't -- who could possibly have sent it."
The Howler now hot to the touch, Harry picked it up, tore the corner off and stuck a finger in each of his ears...
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! I NEVER, IN MY ENTIRE BLOODY LIFE, EVER THOUGHT SOMETHING LIKE THIS WOULD HAPPEN! DUDLEY, OUR SON, OUR ONLY SON, DEAD AT THE HANDS OF YOUR -- YOUR LIGHTNING BOLT? WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS MY ANGER, BOY --"
Uncle Vernon's death scream, amplified so loud Harry could still feel his ear drums throbbing painfully even with his finger firmly planted in it, rattled the dust on even the staff table.
"-- YOU EVEN THINK, DREAM, WISH OF COMING BACK TO THIS HOUSE WHEN THIS YEAR IS OVER! DON'T YOU EVEN SET FOOT IN THIS TOWN OR THERE WILL BE SHOTGUN SHELLS ALL OVER YOUR BODY WHEN WE FIND YOU! YOU BE GLAD THAT RUDDY SCHOOL SENDS INFORMATION ON THEM TO THE GUARDIANS! IF WE COULDN'T SEND THIS, I SIMPLY DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'D DO AND I STILL DON'T --"
Harry was waiting for the moment when -- or if -- the Dursleys would say how they found out how to send a Howler. It didn't make him feel any better -- several people were staring at him, disgusted looks on their faces.
"-- AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO GO IN THE FIRST PLACE! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! WHY DID WE SEND HIM THERE? YOU AND YOUR STUPID GIRLFRIEND CONVINCED HIM! DUDLEY, DEAD, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! WIZARDS, THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU, NUTS! DON'T YOU WRITE TO US, DON'T YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY TO US, DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK TO US AGAIN! EVER!"
Under normal circumstances, Harry probably would have been horrified and truth be told there was a noticeable uptake in the amount of air he'd been breathing since his uncle began to yell. The Howler then bursted into flames.
"Those are my relatives," said Harry loudly, breaking the ringing silence, "the people I've been living with for the past sixteen years. Vernon and Petunia Dursley. They consider it a day wasted if they hadn't found a way to blame me for something that went wrong."
He couldn't well decipher if the faces people were giving him were ones of sorrow, disgust or simply annoyance at having had their peaceful breafast interrupted. The plus was that the Dursleys had shown their true colors and no one was bound to like them much after they outright insulted everyone who could hear them. Maybe people would take his side? Maybe they would see things his way?
He didn't entirely count on it, he was just more interested in hearing the date for the Yule Ball so he could let all of it sit idly in the back of his head, so he could put it out of his mind, while he spent the night with Cho.
"And there's more good news, Harry," said Ron. "D'you want to know how it happened?"
Harry waved him on.
"The girl that Dudley liked since he got here," Ron told him, "that was the girl that ran out to get your cloak. Your first bolt hit the middle of the Quidditch field. Dudley ran out we think to grab her and bring her back and he got hit as he was going back with her. It nearly struck her, too."
"At least now we know the Sorting Hat didn't put Dudley in the wrong house," said Hermione, smiling weakly. "He was just trying to save her, risking his own life in the process."
"What'd you drop the cloak for anyway?" Ron asked. "So someone could grab it?"
Harry stared coldly at him. "I felt like I had taken a shower with my clothes on," he said nastily, "that's how wet I was. The cloak whipping in the wind wasn't helping me go any faster so I had to drop it." Then he went all sulky. "If I hadn't dropped that, Dudley wouldn't have --"
"Don't you even think of blaming yourself, Harry," said Hermione sharply at once, giving Harry another look that was so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that Harry dropped his guilt at once. "You were horrible enough blaming yourself for Sirius and I'll be damned if we're reliving those days."
She was staring him down like a wrathful eagle and when he finally smiled weakly, she smiled back pleasantly and went back to eating.
Ron was steering him inside the castle, Hermione with the box, key and Harry's cloak (which the girl had dropped) in her hands. He didn't want to look at them, to see the looks on their faces; he just wanted to disappear atop Gryffindor Tower. At the very least, their walk to the hospital wing and a very distressed-looking Madam Pomfrey was devoid of anyone except the three of them.
Madam Pomfrey didn't say anything as she put her wand to both his broken leg and bleeding shoulder, mending the cut and healing the bones. When she finished, she simply said, "You may go."
Still in a state of shock, everything seemed to be swimming before Harry's eyes as Ron now steered him someplace new. He was still dizzy from the loss of blood, the wrenching pain in his leg and the aftershocks of the sting in his arm. Add in the knowledge that someone he knew for sixteen years, someone he wasn't very fond of but in a time of crisis, felt something, just died...
They were now leaving the hospital wing and going to where what seemed to be the staff room. Harry didn't want to go there, he didn't want to know what anyone had to say to him and was partially glad neither Ron nor Hermione were saying anything. If they believed he didn't mean to do it on purpose or not... He was still in a state of numb disbelief, hoping that if he pinched his slightly stinging leg, he would wake up but somehow couldn't move his arm to do it.
When Ron and Hermione arrived at the staff room, Ron still clinging to Harry's upper arm, Harry saw that Professors McGongall, Figg, Dumbledore, Fudge, Bagman and Percy were all sitting around a table. They looked up at Harry when he entered and he immediately found his legs turning the other way to walk out of the room, his face going white and expressionless when he caught sight of them all.
"Harry," called Dumbledore, but it seemed far away and distant, echoing around in his cavernous, empty head as Ron's grip on his arm tightened and he steered Harry back in.
Hermione walked ahead of him and pulled a chair out. Harry then found his legs walking over to the chair and realized that he was taking a seat in it. The conversation that ensued didn't fully stick to him but he got the gist of it.
The Dursleys were to get a letter explaining that Dudley had been struck by a bolt of lightning and had been instantly killed. It would mention that attempts were made to revive him, though they told Harry no such thing had ever happened as they knew very well it would do nothing. Somewhere under his persistant state of shock and numbness, he could tell this was so the Dursleys wouldn't try to come to Hogwarts with a gun in each hand and demand to know where Harry was and, though he couldn't express himself at all, he was thankful for it.
Dudley was to be buried within the week and Harry found himself shaking his head (as he couldn't speak yet) when someone asked if he wanted to attend the funeral. Fudge was the first one to admit they didn't know what to do with Harry at all but he seemed to agree with Dumbledore that there would be some kind of punishment. One word swam around in Harry's mind during this part of the conversation: Azkaban. Fudge mentioned it once but the idea was quickly shot down when they all turned to see who had made that sharp intake of breath. Immediately, Dumbledore, Percy, Professor McGonagall and Professor Figg began thinking of alternate solutions. Harry didn't want to go near another dementor for as long as he lived and just wanted them to decide on something so he could go up to Gryffindor Tower and disappear on his four-post bed.
Harry's fragmented thoughts then wandered onto a letter he received in his fifth year when he thought he had been expelled for good. The letter said that the course of action was either a week long term in Azkaban or a term long study in wizards and witches falling to the Dark arts with several privledges revoked. He mulled over this for a moment before Professor Figg said "How about the term-long study in Dark arts?"
Harry, who's eyes had been wandering aimlessly around the room, looked up at her, who, startled looked back.
"What do you think?" she said to Harry.
Harry looked to Fudge, then to Percy, then to Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and then back to Professor Figg.
For a moment, he couldn't speak just yet but then he said quickly, "As long as I don't have to go to Azkaban, I don't care."
Dumbledore, smiling darkly, turned to Fudge and Professor Figg, nodding to each of them.
"But perhaps a little modification to the study?" suggested Professor Figg, turning to Dumbledore. "Given the current circumstances, perhaps it would be a good idea to focus on Harry's more... outstanding abilities?"
"What do you suggest, Arabella?" asked Dumbledore calmly.
"Maybe he'd be slightly interested in a bit about his family's past?" said Professor Figg and under all of Harry's bad feelings so far, his heart managed to take a slight leap.
Seeing some emotion come back to Harry's face, Fudge said, "Really, Arabella, is it wise to make it fun? It's supposed to be a punishment, after all --"
"Yes, Cornelius, but I need not mention the circumstances at hand," said Dumbledore and Harry knew immediately that Dumbledore was referring to everything, everything that had ever happened and that a sharp punishment wouldn't smooth over too well. It was only two years ago that Harry nearly lost his mind and, as Ginny once put it, this year wasn't exactly starting out like roses...
"What are you saying, Albus?" said Fudge, clearly not catching it as quickly as Harry and, apparently, everyone else. Percy showed that he knew because he grinned shortly at Fudge who looked curiously back at him.
"If you don't mind me saying, Cornelius, I think it is not wise to make matters any worse than they already are."
Harry then remembered about the Order of Merlin plaque dangling from his neck. He grabbed it in one hand, feeling that usual small wave of calmness wash over him. And then something miraculous happened: he was able to speak.
But, plaque in hand, he did nothing more than look up hopefully at Fudge.
Fudge sized him up, from the blood on his shoulder, the Phoenix Bracelet on his wrist that Harry now realized he had completely forgotten about using to heal his injuries and the plaque in his hand. Harry quickly let go of it, causing some of the numb shock to flood back to him and his face going expressionless again. He just hoped that Fudge hadn't been told why he sometimes held the plaque... From behind the faces of everyone else, Dumbledore saw this and nodded, letting Harry know that he had done the right thing by letting it go.
Harry then found he couldn't say that he just wanted to go. He looked around for Ron and Hermione and saw that they were gone.
Sensing Harry's returning distress, Dumbledore turned to him and said, "Very well. Your Hogsmeade privledges will be revoked; you will, however, be allowed on the trip to New York but you will not be allowed outside the castle except for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Figg shall assign your study within the next week or so. From the day you get assigned the study, this will remain for the following six months. I think that settles it?"
Fudge, annoyed, nodded but then Bagman burst out in alarm, "The key and the box!"
"How could I forget," said Dumbledore, sounding slightly annoyed himself.
"As far as your score goes," said Bagman, pulling out a piece of parchment from inside his robes, his tone now a little more nervous and shaky, "while we all agreed it was a most excellent fashion of getting the key and box from both dragons and was the shortest time of all, all of us believe -- your combined score is a thirty-four out of fifty. And now the other champions, Albus?" asked Bagman sounding less nervous and, three minutes later, Adrianne and Sebastian walked in following Dumbledore. They took one slightly alarmed look at Harry before Bagman caught their attention.
"Right. Well. The second task is to take place at ten in the morning on February the twenty-eighth. It will take place inside the Forbidden Forest but we are taking extra precautions to see that none of you are hurt. A magical camera will be placed around you so that, for one, we can see your progress and two, that you won't be harmed. Harry, we ask that you keep Raides on call for the entire second task so that we may aid anyone in trouble. You are allowed to keep her with you but using the staff instead of your wand is out of the question.
"When you open the box with the key, you will see that it has a strange item indeed inside of it, different for each of you. It is your job to figure out what it does, how it works, how it will help you and what to do with it. They are all as equally confusing as the next, I assure you, and all will help you perform the task as excellently as the next. I do admit, one of yours is slightly harder to figure out than the rest" -- Harry had a feeling that it would be his -- "but you will figure it out, regardless. The first thing to do when the task starts is to first find out what you must do. That is all I have to say," Bagman finished, smiling briefly.
"Off you go then," said Dumbledore to the champions.
Harry felt like saying thank you to him but his throat felt too blocked up to make any sound in it and so the next second he found that his legs were carrying him out of the staff room. Adrianne and Sebastian asked him to bring them to the castle doors and left abruptly, leaving Harry to trek back to Gryffindor Tower on his own.
Upon entering the common room, there was a hushed silence as he stepped through the portrait hole. Sirius, with Harry's wand, was sitting on a chair next to Ron and Hermione, all of whom turned around to see Harry enter. Without saying a word, Sirius, Ron and Hermione all stood up, crossed the room, Sirius grabbing Harry's shoulder and they steered him out of the common room through the portrait hole.
"Library," said Sirius shortly, handing Harry his wand.
Arriving at the library, Sirius motioned for the three of them to sit. He then walked over to Madam Pince, the librarian, took a book from her and joined them.
Harry took a look at the title as Sirius handed it to him: "The Dark Arts and Their Powers."
"This might not be the best time," Sirius began, "but I have to be leaving soon so if I'm going to tell you how I knew you could you-know-what before you did, it has to be now. Turn to page nine hundred sixty-two and take a look at the third paragraph."
Harry read to himself while Ron and Hermione looked over his shoulder.
CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR
POSSESSION
Of the many known Dark arts, Possession ranks among the most foul and ill-taken of them all. It was first discovered by a witch doing her laundry in a lake, who found herself wrapping her cloak around her head and pitching herself head first to her death. Through the nineteenth century, many Dark wizards have abused this ability to it's greatest extent, some incidents of which have nearly risked exposure of the wizarding world to the greater Muggle world. One of the foulest wizards of the age, Lord Voldemort, herein referred to as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, uses this ability in very secret ways so as to aid him, not hurt him. Possession involves locking onto a target body, temporarily moving your own soul to another body and forcing theirs out. But enough of an introduction, on to how to identify this beast.
Many wizards and witches who do not yet know they have the ability of Possession often find themselves with strange dreams that often seem to be telling events that are occuring in real time.
Harry immediately stopped reading and looked up at Sirius, his mouth agape.
"Gotten to the part about your dreams, have you?" said Sirius grimly, not smiling. "Keep reading."
This only happens to potent wizards and witches, whose mind can cast out to someone else, lock on and do the switch, often hundreds or thousands of miles away from where they are. The untrained mind goes haywire sometimes during sleep and when the person is stimulated, uncontrolled possession can occur. More often than not, the target ends up being someone nagging at the person's mind.
"Voldemort," Harry said soundlessly under his breath.
So that was how he had that dream, three years ago, about that Muggle, Frank Bryce, entering that house and that was also how he had been able to see about how one of Pettigrew's mistakes had been fixed that same year. He had possessed both Frank Bryce... and an owl. All he needed now was to accidently possess Fudge or Bagman and his life was over.
"Well that's nice," said Harry, closing the book and putting it down.
He looked behind both his shoulders where Ron and Hermione were standing and they looked back, lost for words. Harry knew they both felt the same as he did: like their stomachs had been ripped out. He had to ask himself, was there anything else he'd been using without knowing it? And was it just as bad -- or worse -- than this?
"It'd be a good idea to -- er -- practice it," said Ron to Harry with a half glance at Hermione, "wouldn't it?"
"Yes it would," said Sirius and then he leaned closer to Harry, noting the anxiety on his face, adding, "Calm yourself, it's not so bad."
"Yes it is," said Harry so fast it was rude. "I read an essay Hermione wrote on it. I had to also but, you know, I have personal experience in the matter."
Hermione went flush. "D'you really think people will react badly to it?" she asked, looking between Sirius and Ron. "I mean, it's you," she said, finishing while looking at Harry.
Sirius looked at her.
"No one reacted very warmly when they found out Harry could speak Parseltongue, did they now?" he said to Hermione and then he turned to Harry. "And I don't think he wants to repeat the experience."
Harry agreed by smiling darkly.
"But that was different!" Hermione retorted.
"Keep your voice down --"
"There were attacks on students," she went on more quietly, ignoring Sirius, turning to Harry again. "And besides," she said simply, "you killed a basilisk, a balrog, rescued Sirius, got Raides and nearly killed Voldemort twice. I hardly think," she said harshly, "anyone is going to think you're using it for something bad."
"I still think Harry should practice it," Ron said again.
"Ron's right," said Harry. "I don't wanna be accidently using it and have it land on Fudge or someone. That'll cause an almighty uproar, that will."
"The only question now is," said Hermione, "how?"
Sirius thought for a moment, then said to Harry, "Well, I -- I supposed you could just try it on these two," pointing at Ron and Hermione. "You know, just to get a feel for it, so you don't end up doing it to someone accidentally."
This didn't exactly sound appealing to any of them.
"But, what do I do if I -- er -- get stuck?" Harry asked, thinking about what would happen if he had to walk to Dumbledore's office and tell him Hermione or Ron was really Harry and that he was stuck in a possession and couldn't get out of it. "You know, do it, and then I can't get out?"
For a moment there, Sirius looked perplexed then, trying to hide it, told Harry, "You'll be able to figure it out, I'm sure. So, how about getting Raides back?" said Sirius, changing the subject hastily.
"I don't want her back," said Harry shortly. "Did you hear what she was doing? She laughed. I can't believe it, it's like she didn't even care that Dudley..."
"Well you better get her back, Harry, because I don't think Voldemort's going to play nice if he turns up here and you're without her. And worse yet, what if he gets a hold of her?"
Harry hadn't thought of that, so he held up his wand and said "Accio staff!" and they were all greeted a second later by a seven foot long staff flying to Harry in the library. He held her in his hand and she sprang to life. He was still angry at her so he dropped her and she transformed into the great lion before hitting the ground.
"Sorry about earlier," she said immediately, having read the title of the book sitting on the table.
Harry then dropped his anger at once, feeling it useless to argue the point. She did have about ten thousand years of life on him and her views were bound to be different after she was used by one of the Darkest wizards to exist since Voldemort...
"Nah it's -- all right," Harry said gloomily, feeling his shoulders finally relax since he saw Dudley's body and putting his face in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. And then, to his surprise, a short, airy and nervous laugh escaped his mouth as he said, "I'd just like to know where I'm gonna stay this summer."
He slowly turned his head up, his fingers going the length of his face, before resting his jaw on his palms. After all was said and done, there was absolutely nothing to be done about Dudley. Raides was right and if he let it get to him, it was likely to tear him to pieces. While it was nothing to laugh at, there was no point, he told himself, in losing his mind over it.
Sirius, Ron and Hermione gave their own version of a nervous laugh.
"Look at the bright side, Harry," said Ron. "You don't have to stay with the Dursleys anymore!"
"Yeah, you're right," said Harry, a dreamy look on his face. "Except I'll probably have to live on the streets of Hogsmeade instead," he then said loudly, feeling a change of mood, angrily slamming a fist on the table and standing up very suddenly. He snatched the key, box and his cloak from Hermione. "C'mon Raides, I'm going to work out that stupid clue for the second task. Maybe if someone else dies on the way, you can laugh at them, too."
It was an understatement to say that Sirius was alarmed at this. Ron and Hermione, having seen similar behavior, told Sirius to just sit down.
"What's wrong with him?" said Sirius, half standing up and half sitting down, goggling at Harry as he left the library.
"I don't know what's wrong with him," said Hermione, shaking her head gravely, "I really don't."
"But whatever it is," said Ron, "it's obviously not good."
"Has he done that before?" said Sirius, still staring at the empty library doors, and slowly receeding into his seat. "I mean, he was perfectly fine a second ago then he... blew up!"
Hermione let out a mix between a tut and a sigh, saying, "He's been acting like that since, well... since the beginning of the year. Neither of us honestly know what it is," she told Sirius.
"You might say it's because he misses Cho but somehow I don't think that alone is it," Ron suggested while Hermione gave him a curious look.
"Really," she said loftily. "D'you -- really -- think he's exploding left and right on people just because he misses Cho?" she asked Ron flatly.
Ron shrugged, looked at Sirius and said dismissively, "I don't know," his voice trailing away. "He blew up on Snape a couple of times last year," Ron explained, "and that was fun to watch. He was miserable to be around all Christmas vacation, though. Your supposed death really unhinged him."
"Can't blame him, can we?" Sirius asked Hermione, finally turning away from the door and now looking at The Dark Arts and Their Powers. "I'd like to make it up to him, but I don't know how. The least I thought to do was to come and watch the tournament with him but now that he's gotten himself -- IN it," said Sirius, clearly having a hard time staying calm.
"You really care about him, don't you?" said Hermione, sizing up Sirius for herself.
"Yes, of course I do," Sirius replied, eyeing Hermione sharply. "I owe it to Harry after what happened with Pettigrew and Voldemort. And besides," said Sirius loftily, looking slightly uncomfortable, "he's like a son to me now. I haven't told anyone except Dumbledore but -- I You know, put a little stability in his life? Something I'm sure he's going to need after this year's up, let me tell you what with Dudley and everything. That and there's no way I'm letting him stay at the Dursleys longer than he has to. It'll be weird at first, yeah, but... I don't know," Sirius went on, his thoughts still wandering. "He never did anything like that three years ago, since, you know, the Mark of Ancients?"
"That's what we thought for a minute," Ron told Sirius. "But how? Hermione and I were there when Dumbledore and everyone removed it from him."
"You don't like calling it Nota Vetustum either, do you," said Hermione.
Sirius grinned at her.
Up in Gryffindor Tower, Harry was further upset by the contents of his box.
"The Explicatrix. This is absolutely wonderful," he said irritably. "Dumbledore doesn't even know what it does. How the bloody hell am I supposed to figure it out?"
He didn't have much time to mull over it, though, as Ron and Hermione came up the stairs.
"What is that?" said Ron immediately, staring at the blue orb in Harry's box.
"That's what was in the box!" said Harry brightly and sarcastically. "Dumbledore was playing with it when I went to go see him after I went and drank some unicorn blood. It's also called Cybele's Orb. I have no idea what this thing does and I don't think I ever will. Just look at it. It looks like a crystal ball but there's silvery smoke inside of it that reminds me of how the Mark of Ancients glittered. He was staring at it for who knows how long. I never asked him about it, that's probably why he gave it to me."
"Maybe it's like Raides," said Ron, trying to sound helpful. "Won't work for anyone but ancients?"
"I see nothing inside this but a golden mist," said Harry flatly, "and you know how great we did in that lesson in Divination. Did I ever tell you about the final exam that year? Except the fact that she told me Voldemort's coming back? I made something up like you did. Told her that I saw Buckbeak and then she asked me if he still had his head. I panicked and said yes."
Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to say to this, so they didn't say anything for a good few minutes.
Ron and Hermione were just leaving when Hermione burst out, "Cheer up, Harry. The Yule Ball is coming earlier this time than last because of the trip to Manhattan."
"Cheer up," said Harry darkly. "I'll give you something to cheer up about."
Not caring whether it would break or not, Harry put the lid on the box, locked it and threw it as hard as he could at Hermione. She managed to see what he was going to do before he had thrown it and caught it before it hit her. Harry then pointed a finger at it and it flew back into his hands.
"Go away," he said loudly, not looking at them, but at his bedside cabinet and thinking about his photo album which lay inside it.
He was standing next to his bed, gazing down, pondering about getting it out but somehow didn't think the sight of his parent's faces would do much, nor would the plaque dangling from his neck. Harry then looked at Ron and Hermione who hadn't moved an inch. They seemed to have been waiting for Harry to say something else.
Collapsing on his bed, not caring about the blood on his shoulder that hadn't dried yet leaving a stain, he said, "Don't go," covering his face with his hands.
"I'm seriously going to crack someone over the head before this is all over," said Ron irritably, grabbing Hermione by the sleeve and walking towards Harry.
"That's if someone doesn't crack him over the head," Hermione said gravely back.
"I don't know what I'm doing," cried Harry, wiping his eyes. "I'm blowing up on everyone and I don't know why."
"This is so messed up," said Hermione.
"And don't tell me it's the Mark of Ancients because that's GONE," said Harry, sitting up but still hiding his face with his hands.
"You don't think that -- maybe -- that it's the unicorn blood?" Ron suggested timidly.
"Oh, yes, that's just a lot of comfort to add to our large bowl of the stuff!" said Hermione hotly.
"Well I don't know!" Ron shouted at her. "He blew up on Malfoy but, well, anyone would have, wouldn't they?"
Ron looked at Hermione, who was looking at Harry sitting up, who was looking at Ron. And then they all caught each other's gaze and threw their arms up in disgust in unison, Ron and Hermione spinning nervously on the spot, as well.
"So you think it's the unicorn blood affecting me?" Harry asked. "Where's Raides. Do you have anything to say about this?"
"I'm just as confused as you three," she told him.
"Great," said Harry softly and irritably, "just great."
He let himself fall heavily onto his four-poster again, exhaling a breath of distress. And there was a great deal of it.
The very next morning Harry woke up knowing exactly why he felt so miserable from the night before and why it took him almost two hours staring up at the canopy above him to fall asleep. He tried to avoid holding the plaque but gave in to temptation and woke up with it still clutched in his hand. There was a strong urge in him to take Raides, go to Hogmseade, Disapparate to number four Privet Drive, order the Dursleys at staff point to go live with Hagrid and tell the police they had been killed so he would go up for adoption. But it only lasted for a minute because he had had enough experience with death. Cedric Diggory's death had been bad enough, but now Dudley...
During breakfast, a screech owl soared in overhead from the open window, a red envelope clutched in it's beak. Harry never got such letters, known by the wizarding world as Howlers. Such letters were a lot like normal letters, discounting the fact that normal letters didn't speak -- rather, yell -- their contents to you a hundred times louder than a regular voice.
The owl, however, dropped the Howler right in front of Harry and Harry, watching it smoke at the corners, cast his mind around for anyone who could possibly have sent him one.
Absolutely no one came to mind, no one at all.
"You better open it, Harry," Ron warned him. "They get very nasty if you don't."
Ron was watching it smoke at the corners. Several people were pointing at it.
"Go on!" Neville urged Harry.
"Fine," Harry snapped, "but I have no idea -- and you lot know I don't -- who could possibly have sent it."
The Howler now hot to the touch, Harry picked it up, tore the corner off and stuck a finger in each of his ears...
"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME! I NEVER, IN MY ENTIRE BLOODY LIFE, EVER THOUGHT SOMETHING LIKE THIS WOULD HAPPEN! DUDLEY, OUR SON, OUR ONLY SON, DEAD AT THE HANDS OF YOUR -- YOUR LIGHTNING BOLT? WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS MY ANGER, BOY --"
Uncle Vernon's death scream, amplified so loud Harry could still feel his ear drums throbbing painfully even with his finger firmly planted in it, rattled the dust on even the staff table.
"-- YOU EVEN THINK, DREAM, WISH OF COMING BACK TO THIS HOUSE WHEN THIS YEAR IS OVER! DON'T YOU EVEN SET FOOT IN THIS TOWN OR THERE WILL BE SHOTGUN SHELLS ALL OVER YOUR BODY WHEN WE FIND YOU! YOU BE GLAD THAT RUDDY SCHOOL SENDS INFORMATION ON THEM TO THE GUARDIANS! IF WE COULDN'T SEND THIS, I SIMPLY DON'T KNOW WHAT WE'D DO AND I STILL DON'T --"
Harry was waiting for the moment when -- or if -- the Dursleys would say how they found out how to send a Howler. It didn't make him feel any better -- several people were staring at him, disgusted looks on their faces.
"-- AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO GO IN THE FIRST PLACE! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! WHY DID WE SEND HIM THERE? YOU AND YOUR STUPID GIRLFRIEND CONVINCED HIM! DUDLEY, DEAD, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! WIZARDS, THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU, NUTS! DON'T YOU WRITE TO US, DON'T YOU SAY YOU'RE SORRY TO US, DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK TO US AGAIN! EVER!"
Under normal circumstances, Harry probably would have been horrified and truth be told there was a noticeable uptake in the amount of air he'd been breathing since his uncle began to yell. The Howler then bursted into flames.
"Those are my relatives," said Harry loudly, breaking the ringing silence, "the people I've been living with for the past sixteen years. Vernon and Petunia Dursley. They consider it a day wasted if they hadn't found a way to blame me for something that went wrong."
He couldn't well decipher if the faces people were giving him were ones of sorrow, disgust or simply annoyance at having had their peaceful breafast interrupted. The plus was that the Dursleys had shown their true colors and no one was bound to like them much after they outright insulted everyone who could hear them. Maybe people would take his side? Maybe they would see things his way?
He didn't entirely count on it, he was just more interested in hearing the date for the Yule Ball so he could let all of it sit idly in the back of his head, so he could put it out of his mind, while he spent the night with Cho.
"And there's more good news, Harry," said Ron. "D'you want to know how it happened?"
Harry waved him on.
"The girl that Dudley liked since he got here," Ron told him, "that was the girl that ran out to get your cloak. Your first bolt hit the middle of the Quidditch field. Dudley ran out we think to grab her and bring her back and he got hit as he was going back with her. It nearly struck her, too."
"At least now we know the Sorting Hat didn't put Dudley in the wrong house," said Hermione, smiling weakly. "He was just trying to save her, risking his own life in the process."
"What'd you drop the cloak for anyway?" Ron asked. "So someone could grab it?"
Harry stared coldly at him. "I felt like I had taken a shower with my clothes on," he said nastily, "that's how wet I was. The cloak whipping in the wind wasn't helping me go any faster so I had to drop it." Then he went all sulky. "If I hadn't dropped that, Dudley wouldn't have --"
"Don't you even think of blaming yourself, Harry," said Hermione sharply at once, giving Harry another look that was so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that Harry dropped his guilt at once. "You were horrible enough blaming yourself for Sirius and I'll be damned if we're reliving those days."
She was staring him down like a wrathful eagle and when he finally smiled weakly, she smiled back pleasantly and went back to eating.