Chapter Seven :
Weasley vs. Weaslely
Harry gave a strangled cry as he slammed his fist into the punching bag. He spun out and threw a kick. As soon as he made contact, Harry slid to the ground and sat, slightly short of breath, his frustration spent. He glared at the walls of the Room of Requirement. Despite the extremely handy training facility the room fulfilled, Harry knew he needed a different spot. Somewhere that he could train with the knowledge no one would randomly pop in. He could just imagine Ginny and Dean sneaking off here to snog. Which he immediately stopped thinking about.
As he thought it, the door opened and he quickly scrambled up, glancing around and trying to will the room to change. It didn't work, but when he realized it was Ron and Hermione, he relaxed and fell unceremoniously back to the floor. "What's up?" he mumbled.
"You look disgusting," Ron informed him.
"You smell too," Hermione said with distaste.
"I've been training ever since classes ended," Harry said.
"I can't believe Professor Erwin did that!" Hermione cried. She had been outraged when the Defense professor had informed them that their little crisis was, in fact, a test that they'd passed with flying colors. After giving them their assignment (shield spell essay), Erwin had dismissed the class early. They'd spent the next twenty minutes listening to Hermione rant about how dangerous Erwin's idea was. Apparently, Hermione didn't appreciate Erwin's teaching style.
"Moody put us under imperius," Ron said flatly.
"That was different," Hermione snarled.
"How'd you two know I was here," Harry cut in. Sheepishly, Ron pulled the Marauder's Map from his robes and handed it to Harry. They must have checked it just as he entered the room.
"Harry, we need to talk about everything you told us," Hermione said seriously. He rubbed his forehead as he nodded. "You realize what that prophecy could mean, don't you?"
"I kill Voldemort or he kills me," Harry summed up.
"Well, that's one interpretation." Harry jerked his head up. "You see, that's the plane meaning. But I looked up a few things in the library-"
"We've only been here two days."
"This is important," Hermione said. "Now listen, there are a few different things the prophecy could mean. First, there's the most likely answer; you must kill him or he must kill you. But there's more it could mean." At this point, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment. She quickly chanted a nursery rhyme about King Cole, ignoring Ron's incredulous look. She then poured ink over the parchment and the prophecy appeared in large letters. Under each line was Hermione's small script of what appeared to be notes. A list of books were along the left side and bottom.
"The first line is quite clear. When Trelawney made this prophecy, the person capable of killing Voldemort was on his way. We're going to call this person Vir. Vanquish is also defined as 'to defeat in a conflict.' But we're going to make the very small assumption that the only way to defeat him is to kill him. The second line tells of who Vir will be born to, parents who have each 'defied' Voldemort three times. It also says Vir will be born at the end of July. Then Voldemort will 'mark' Vir as his equal. Your scar. And Vir has powers Voldemort knows not. You, Harry, have an innate sense of right and wrong. And love. You have that as well. We all know Voldemort doesn't understand that.
"But the next bit is what we all think is important. And either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. Either has two definitions. 'Being the one or the other of two' and 'being the one and the other of two.'"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron.
Harry looked at Hermione as he answered Ron's question. "Voldemort and I might both have to die."
A moment later, "Well, that's rubbish," Ron said dismissively. "You'll just blow him up. Why would you have to die?" Harry smiled at Ron. It was these moments that made Ron his best friend.
"That's not all," Hermione interrupted. "The Other could be someone completely different."
"Yeah, I thought about that," Harry murmured. "About the Other being neither of us."
"Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore's right," Hermione said into the silence. "It will come down to you and Voldemort. I've always thought it would, ever since the stone. We knew it back then, Ron and I. It was you that had to go on. Ron said it himself. Not him, not me. You."
"But there's always a chance," Harry said softly.
"Yes, there is." Hermione's voice became sharp. "I don't put a lot of stock into divination. This prophecy could be a load of crap. But it could be true. Either way, you will fight Voldemort because he believes it. Because he believes it, it will become true, it is true."
"The definitions of a bunch of words won't change anything, in the end you know," Ron said. "You'll defeat him Harry. No matter what. There's a third of a chance that it's what the prophecy says. And there's no doubt you'll win. You're Harry sodding Potter, for Merlin's sake. It's just what you do."
They sat in the comfortable silence of old friends until they departed for supper.
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"Harry, I've figured it out," Hermione announced the next morning. Loud breakfast conversations were carrying on around them; something Harry had learned long ago was better cover than an empty room. "The Shrieking Shack."
Harry grinned at her brilliance. On their way to supper the night before, he'd asked them where they thought he ought to train. Hermione had promised to think it over.
"Brilliant, as always," Ron said brightly.
"Ron." The three turned to look at Ginny. The two hadn't spoken since their fight the other night. Ron and Hermione's argument had been mercifully forgotten in the aftermath of Erwin's test. "Quidditch try-outs are going to be Saturday. I expect you to be there if you're staying on the team. See you later, Harry, Hermione."
Harry glanced at Ron, who was glaring after her. "Was that a threat?" he demanded, turning to his friends. "She can't kick me off the team."
"Yes, she can," Hermione said frostily. "She's your captain."
"Harry!" Their impending argument was avoided at the arrival of Susan Bones and Terry Boot. Harry was quite surprised to see Susan. She'd missed the first few days of classes, on account of her mother's funeral. Her face was haggard and her eyes had sleepless black circles but she was freshly showered and she was just finishing an apple. There was no smile on her lips, but there were no tear stains on her face.
"We were wondering when our first meeting was going to be," Terry murmured quietly.
"What meeting?" Harry asked, confused.
"The D.A.," Terry said hurriedly. "We've all still got our coins."
"But we did that because of Umbridge," Harry said. "This year we haven't got a teacher who's total rubbish." Terry and Susan looked severely disappointed.
"Isn't there anything you could teach us? I mean, with You-Know-Who back and everything, we should get as much practice as possible," said Susan. "I don't want to end up like- like my- my mum." Her hands were shaking and her face was white as parchment.
"I'll think about it," Harry amended. Harry decided that his statement was well wroth it as Susan's face lit up and she gave him a large smile before she hurried off to tell her friends. Harry watched her go, the sunlight from the illusioned ceiling making her hair shimmer in this really interesting way.
Harry's daydream was cut short by the mail arriving. A very official looking bird landed in front of Ron, primly stretching out its leg. He hastily undid the letter and shoved it in his pocket. Before Harry could ask Fred and George's owl landed in front of Ron.
"Wonder what they want," Ron muttered, ripping open the letter. His jaw dropped, numbly he handed the parchment to Harry and Hermione.
Check, Rosie, Beaver, and Purveyor,
We figured that since no one else is going to tell you and they didn't say we couldn't, you might want to know what everyone was so tense about the last few days. See, when we took out the wall the hag was on, we disrupted the structure of the house, so the charms the hag put on it all sort of went to hell. But Bumblebee got everything fixed up, and hopefully before L. Moldy found out. So we're all safe as pickles again. And we even accio-d all rats of the area, and nothing slimy came flying at us, so we're all good.
Wheeze and Mischief
"What is this supposed to be?" Harry asked.
"From Fred and George," Ron explained. "It's they're handwriting. And who else would name themselves Wheeze and Mischief?"
"I'm guessing Check is Ron," Hermione put in. "A reference to chess. Unfortunately, I'm willing to bet I'm Beaver."
"And I'm Purveyor," Harry amended, Ron and Hermione giving him a knowing look. "Which leaves Ginny to be Rosie."
"They used to cal her that, on account of the first time Bill took her on a broom and she was so excited she toppled off into the rose bushes and got all cut up. She wouldn't go near it for two years, convinced it was attacking her." Ron smiled.
"Bumblebee is Dumbledore and I'm guessing L. Moldy is Voldemort. I'll give it to Ginny," Hermione offered, grabbing it back from Harry and heading off. "See you in Defense!"
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The first week of school went by quickly and soon, Harry found himself heading out to the quidditch pitch early Saturday morning. He found a large congregation of Gryffindors on the field already. Luna Lovegood and Susan Bones stood outside the entrance, fending off the other houses, apparently on Ginny's orders. Hermione bid Ron and Harry good-bye and went to spell-record the try-outs for later. Harry quickly changed into his quidditch robes, ignoring Ron's stormy face as he did so. It was going to be a long season.
Katie and Ginny were off to the side talking as everyone else flew about for a warm-up. Ron and Harry headed over. Ginny refused to address Ron and barely looked at him, referring to him only as Keeper. "Okay, well, I'm a Chaser now, since Harry's our seeker and he's back on the team. So that means we only need one new Chaser. Kirke and Sloper are in a detention with Snape at the moment, but they'll be down here in an hour. I've also decided to train up a reserve Chaser, so we don't need try-outs next year to replace Katie. And I swear to Merlin, Ronald, I will kick you off this team if you don't listen to me." The last part was added in a quick breath and Ginny screwed her eyes up as she said it.
Ron didn't say anything to her, simply gave her a chastised glare. "Can we get going?" Ginny glared back at him, ignoring his question.
"Now, Dean's trying out and he's my boyfriend, and I don't want anyone claiming I'm biased if he gets on. This means that when it comes to Dean, Katie gets the final decision of whether or not he's on the team. We already went over everything else, so mount up." Ron and Katie immediately took to the sky ground all the hopefuls. Harry lingered back as Ginny let out a long breath.
"How'd I do?" she asked shakily.
"Perfect," Harry murmured. "I told you, you can do this. You're already as good as Wood." Ginny grinned thankfully at him and followed the other two into the air, Harry just behind her.
The team rounded up all the potentials and had them form a line facing Ginny. She quickly explained the try-outs to them before setting them into a circle and having them toss the quaffle back and forth as a warm up. This soon disintegrated as two fourth years began throwing the ball in wild directions so they're opponents couldn't catch them. It came to a head as the quaffle nearly took the head off of Hermione, who was reading a book in the stands. Ginny immediately ordered the two off the field and gave a seething lecture to the remaining ten.
Two hours later, a drizzle began to fall over the field as the potentials all huddled under the stands while the team debated the try-outs in the locker room. Hermione was sitting on the floor with a candle in front of her, adding a spectator's input. Harry sat on a bend across from Ginny who was seated on the other. Ron sat with a leg hanging off Harry's bench, Kirke and Sloper resting against the benches, and Katie next to Ginny.
"Willy's a nice guy and he's good," Katie said, "But he's a seventh year. He'd have to leave next year."
"But he's better than any of the others," Ron insisted.
"Dean's just as good as him," Harry argued. Ron shot him a look of betrayal. "Ron, just because he's-"
"Dating Ginny," Ron finished mockingly. "Doesn't mean I should be mean to him."
"I agree with Ron," Sloper said, cowering at Ginny's sharp look. "I meant about Abignail, not about you dating Thomas!"
"Katie's right," Kirke insisted. "Abignail's going to leave next year."
"But he's better than Dean!" argued Ron.
"Ron's right," Ginny said. "Abignail is the better chaser, but we do need to consider that he's seventh year."
"You could train two reserves," Hermione suggested. She blew out her candle. Harry thought that this had been the obvious solution all along.
"I concur," Harry said immediately.
"So we'd put Abignail on as a chaser, with Dean as our first reserve. And then who else?" Ginny asked.
"What about Bethany Gray?" Katie put in. "She's a great shot. You'll just have to work hard on her receiving for next year."
"And we need to improve Dean's broom handling," Ginny added absently. "Abignail needs to get hit by the bludgers a few more times before he'll remember to watch out for them. Us chasers need to work on our patterns, Ron needs to focus on confidence, Harry needs anger management-"
"What!" cried Harry.
"We can't have you get kicked off again for losing it," Ginny said irritably. "We're working on our faults, you're going to be concentrating on anger management. And improving your skills, but to be quite honest, you're the best member of this team. As long as you're on it." Harry huffed indignantly but as he couldn't exactly find anything to disagree with, he sank back and crossed his arms.
The team trooped out of the room and over to the group that had tried out. After announcing that they'd be posting the results after dinner, all the Gryffindors headed back to the castle, leaving behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Susan.
"How have you been Susan?" Harry asked, Ron and Hermione hovering about him.
"As well as I can be," she replied with a watery smile. "Dumbledore came to Mum's funeral, said something quite nice. I'm better off than Aunt Mia. She blames herself."
"It's Voldemort's fault," Harry said sharply. Susan flinched ever so slightly. Hermione cast a glance at Harry, rather reminiscent of a mother trying to teach her child a lesson about life. He shot her a glare in return, hoping she understood he got her point.
"I can't wait until he's dead," Susan said viciously. She may as well have been speaking in parseltongue. They stood solemnly for a moment, each reflecting on whatever they thought of the war. Harry's thoughts drifted to Sirius and from there to Occlumency. He wondered just how awfully it would hurt his pride to ask for Snape's tutelage. Imagining the scene, Harry winced, deciding maybe that wasn't such a brilliant idea.
"We'd better go back up to the school," Hermione said after their melancholy moment.
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Harry impatiently shifted from one foot to the other as the team stood around the common room, waiting for everyone to quiet down. The pale faces of all those who tried out were seen in various spots around the room. Willy Abignail looked as though he were going to pass out. That didn't promise well for how he'd be before their first match in November.
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Harry heard Ginny mutter to herself. "OY! SHUT THE HELL UP!" The common room instantly fell silent as Ginny simmered down immediately and a pleased grin spread across her face. "Thank you. Everyone who came out for the team did a really good job, but we're only picking one chaser and two reserves." A few of the hopefuls brightened at the pleasant change in numbers. "Right so, our new starting chaser is going to be Willy Abignail. And our reserves are Dean Thomas and Bethany Gray. I want the three of you to meet me on the pitch tomorrow for our own special training session."
Ginny hopped down off the table looking quite proud of herself. Dean was grinning ear to ear and gave her a very happy kiss. Harry couldn't help but feel like gagging. He glanced around, wondering where Ron was to not be punching the snot out of Dean. Over in the corner, Ron was sprawled in a fluffy armchair reading a long roll of parchment. Hermione, Harry found on the floor next to the fire, was reading a large book on researchers. Settling down next to her, he took out a leather-bound volume on Occlumency, knowing that without its title emblazoned on the front, no one would guess what it was.
"What's that?" asked Hermione, without taking her eyes off the pages before her.
"Remedial Potions," Harry said casually. The book fell into the girl's lap from shock.
"You've got Remedial Potions again this year?" she asked.
"Nope," Harry said. "But thought I'd keep working at it on my own."
"Who wrote it?" Hermione leaned over to have a look.
"Our favorite teacher," Harry muttered. He turned to the first page where, in true Snape fashion, the professor's name was in elegant script beneath the title. It was just like the potions master to keep the cover a plain black. All in all, Harry was proud of himself for managing to buy the book. The thing was written by a man he despised and here he was acting all grown–up by reading it. Hermione's face showed how clearly impressed she was. As she began to tell him just that, the voice of Ginny Weasley cut through the buzzing room like a knife through butter.
"I can't believe you!" The two quickly looked over to Ginny, who stood glowering at Ron, the parchment he'd been reading crumpled in her fist. "Percy, Ron. PERCY!"
Ron, for his part, looked a mild bit sheepish but a great deal more angry. "Give it back, Ginevra."
"I don't think I will, Ronald Bilius," Ginny snapped. "After everything that pompous ass has done to us, to Harry, to MUM! How can you be writing to him!"
"I'm not," Ron defended, making a snatch for the parchment. Ginny stormed over to the fire and threw it in. "GINNY!" The entire common room was silent, watching the brother and sister fight.
"What do you think Fred and George are going to say? I hope Mum and Dad disown you for this!"
"It's not like they've disowned Percy," Ron muttered. Ginny balled her fists, glare intensifying. "And would you calm down. I'm not writing to Percy!"
"Then how, exactly, did you acquire a ten-foot parchment from him?" snarled Ginny nastily. "I fail to see how this could have occurred."
"Maybe, if you'd stop jumping to conclusions-"
Ginny's full, sarcastic laugh boomed across the room. "That's rich, coming from you. I don't know how you look at yourself in the mirror every morning. You're despicable." Ginny pulled her fist back to punch her brother and at this point, Harry decided he'd better intervene.
The two were conveniently placed in front of him and he swung up easily to calmly wrap his hand around her fist and pull it down as she made to swing. Hermione shrieked, springing up and pointing her wand between them.Pushing off of Harry, Ginny stormed from the room with a flurry of rage, not bothering to spare a glance back at them. Dean sat looking after her for a good few minutes before Neville poked him into bolting out of the portrait in pursuit of his girlfriend.
Hermione summoned what remained of the parchment from the fire. Only a small bit lingered, most having gone up immediately. She study the writing, her eyes darting to Ron with betrayal shining in them. "You really were writing to Percy," she accused.
Ron snatched the small stack of palm-sized pieces. He stuffed them into his pocket. "You wouldn't get it," Ron said, his voice holding no anger, no regret. It was as simple as if he were telling them that it had rained the other night.
"Then maybe you'll dine to explain it," Hermione said, arms crossed stubbornly. Harry couldn't take his eyes off Ron. Guilt wracked his eyes but he held himself in firm determination.
"Leave him be, Hermione," Harry said, taking in the eyes off the rest of their housemates. A group of third and forth year girl stood clustered on their dormitory stairs, the seventh year boys mirroring them on the other side. "Ron can tell us what he wants when he wants to." Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn't keep the hurt from his voice. He'd just told Ron and Hermione his deepest secrets and here Ron was telling them he didn't trust them.
Ron looked as though he'd break, but shook his head and followed the suit of his sister and fled the common room. Harry sat back down and opened his book, trying to duplicate a complicated breathing pattern Snape described in the book.
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The rest of the month was spent with Weasley staring matches at every meal, tense quidditch practices under sudden damp, cold conditions, and an uncomfortable feeling of guilt between the three best friends. Ron still had not explained his spontaneous renewal of contact with his estranged brother and was now known to vanish one night a week with no explanation while Hermione went to tutor in the library and Harry attended his Light Arts course.
Having applied to the cooking course in order to help with potions, Harry had been assigned to the dance class, much Ron's amusement. Hogwarts offered an assortment of courses in things such as orchestra, band, and writing, that were given the name of Light Arts. A teacher headed each course and they were offered at night. Courses were selected around quidditch practices and other clubs. Due to the fact that they were, indeed, much more like clubs than anything, their numbers were kept to capacity unique to every group. Cooking class contained a great number of seventh years, so many sixth years had been assigned to different Light Arts. Being the only one of the three to sign up for any Light Arts, Harry was subjected to much torture on the part of Ron and Hermione.
The fact that Susan Bones was in the class with him made it an even trade though.
After a week of denial, Harry admitted to himself that he was attracted to the brilliant teenager. They had most of their classes together, being that they were both heading for the same career out of Hogwarts. Susan had been looking better and better since her return, eyes less red from lack of sleep, smiles more often, thought still far and few between.
Harry's dance class had turned out to be a vigorous work-out. They began each lesson with strengthening one part of their bodies. The first time Harry had returned to the dorms with a rather sore stomach from repeated curl-ups. Where he had expected to find frilly ballet dancing (Hannah Abbott had glared ferociously at him when he'd commented, then gone on a tangent about the strength of dancers) he was pleasantly surprised with a young woman from Hogsmeade that was teaching them "hip-hop." Hannah just called it Modern Dance.
Two weeks before October began, the murder of a muggle was headline for The Daily Prophet. The unfortunate curator was murdered at the London Mueseum. And on the final day of September, a wizard was found dead in his library in the Scottish countryside, stabbed to death though the Dark Mark had loomed over his house when his girlfriend had returned from Paris.
It was for this reason that Harry stood outside the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office. He was running through possible passwords and nearly felt like giving up when the statue moved aside. Professor Snape, tall, dark, and menacing as ever, glared with hatred at him as he passed. Not missing his opportunity, Harry dashed up the revolving steps to the office.
"Come in, Harry," Dumbledore's tired voice called. The Headmaster sat stroking Fawkes, whose feathers were just beginning to dim as he prepared for burning day. "How may I be of assistance?"
"The murder of that wizard, Sheldon Dragonbane, it's not Voldemort's style," Harry said, getting straight to the point. He began pacing. "What else do you know about it?"
"They found no weapon," Dumbledore informed him. "The Aurors were kind enough, however, to bring to my attention that only one wizard apparated into that building, though several were present due to the signs of Dragonbane's struggles. There was also someone else's blood spilt that night." Harry turned, considering. He knew who it had to be, though he desperately wished there were some other explanation.
"I have been meaning to talk to you about extra lessons." Harry raised his brow. "Every Sunday, Harry, you and I will meet here for extra training on your part. Is seven all right with you for this week?"
Harry had half a mind to protest, but with a glare and a nod, he agreed. "Most excellent. If you'll excuse me then, my boy, the Wizengambot has been asked to inform our dear minister that he's to be replaced. Daresay you've read the rumors in the Prophet. A great deal must be done. We must contact the muggle Minister immediately. Till Sunday then."
Harry paused at the door. "It hasn't changed," Harry said, making it plain that things were not set right between them.
"Will you never forgive me Harry?" Dumbledore pleaded softly. Harry turned back, willing his mentor to understand. "I do truly care for you."
"It has never been about whether or not I will forgive you. You have never asked." Leaving the man to ponder for once, Harry made his exit, thinking darkly of the Dimukai elves and the portal pendant weighing heavily on his neck.
A/N I was analyzing the prophecy, and I was thinking. That whole marking thing could mean Death Eater's mark. And approaching could have meant Voldemort's eaves dropper, listening in on the conversation. And we all know who that was. Anyway, I still think that it means Harry, but that thought occurred to me and I thought I'd share it.
I never said Snape was evil in canon. I am withholding judgment at the moment. However, many people will believe he is and many will believe he isn't. I don't want anyone flaming me because I've made him good in this story and they say he's got to be evil. I like Snape's character. He's not evil in this, and as it's fanfiction, however he is in canon doesn't really pertain to this. I could make Tonks evil and you'd all just have to get over it. She's not though. She's good in the story.
! SPOILER ! For LoT (this story)
The final pairing for Harry in this story will be H/G. He will have other girlfriends though.