The Summer's Secret

by Japhu

For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. [AU post OotP, will be HPSS]

33. Chapter 32 : Anger's Benefit

Title: Harry Potter and the Summer's Secret

Author: Japhu

Beta Reader: Nagi

Pairing: HPSS

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and his world and don't make any money with it.

Summary: For one week in summer Harry disappears without trace. When he comes back he claims to have no memory. But something happened and it changed him. It remains to be seen if for the better or the worse. (will be HPSS)

Category: action/adventure/angst

Feedback: highly appreciated

A/N: Thank you all for reviewing.

I'm truly sad that you all think my favourite lemon drop munching headmaster a nasty old bastard. Only because he doesn't like lemon drops as much as he makes everyone believe? Really, is that a good enough reason to condemn a person? ;)

To Tffne: Well, when you ask me directly I've to say that as far as the plot is gone already I didn't plan for Harry to have a pet of any sort. But hey, … the story's not yet written, so I'll try to think of something fitting. I'm not making any promises, though. Anyway, Harry can be frank with Sev for the time being (I don't think he'd mind, do you?). And the bonding part? Don't forget Hogwarts. He'll find help, I promise. The only question is what he's going to make of it.

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Chapter 32 – Anger's Benefit

Harry was not completely sure, but if it was possible that the dead could walk on Earth, they must certainly feel like he did at that moment right after waking up in the silent and fortunately still empty dormitory. Of course, nothing was eaten as hot as it was cooked and after a few minutes of intent staring into the air, Harry began to feel a bit better despite the remaining throb within his head. He turned finally around to watch the blurry dark grey outside of the window. It was still dark, though at least the storm seemed to have retreated. He knew that because the wind had stopped howling around the towers like a burning banshee; it took his glasses that lay right next to him – he should feel lucky he had not broken them while sleeping – for Harry to realize that the darkness was the first sign of the already approaching night.

Grumbling, Harry turned to the other side. The magical clock that woke the boys up in the morning showed it was already near evening, shortly before dinner. Yawning, Harry stretched his cramped muscles and while he was still sitting up everything that had happened this day came back with vengeance. With a heavy sigh he fell back onto his pillows, his hands folded behind his head, and tried to think of what he would have to do next.

Honestly, Harry did not really want to get up. Listening to the silence, Harry stayed were he was. He had had enough of gambling. When he heard the sounds of feet coming up the stairs there was nothing else to do. Sighing, Harry sat up, rubbed his eyes a last time and waited with a curious smile on his face to see who would come to get him out of his isolation.

"Hi, Neville." Harry grinned when the shy boy poked his head through the door as if he did not have his own bed in this room. "Why so cautious? Did something happen?"

"Oh!" Neville blinked. "You're awake." He looked around and stood fidgeting like a lost puppy amidst the normal all-day chaos in a room of five boys. "I wanted to warn you." He shrugged.

"Why?" Harry still smiled curiously while he tried to smooth out a few of the wrinkles in his robe.

"Some first year got his first points awarded."

"That's good. Why warn me?" Harry knew it. Stupid Snape.

"Well, no points that any Gryffindor got today showed up."

"It's not my fault that Snape's a bastard. I guess they need to get some more before Gryffindor is out of the negative. Sorry."

"Oh, I saw Snape." Neville shook his head emphatically. "Everyone knows he's unjust. I only said that because Ron found out. I don't think he's angry at you, Harry." Neville bit his lip.

"Great." Harry took his time to clear his glasses before he put them back on. Maybe he could use his still best friend's temper to his own merit. "Let's go down, Nev." Harry grinned at the boy, who stared uncertainly. "No use to wait it out. It's better we get this out of the way before we're going to dinner. Food will calm him down fast enough, I'm sure." Harry was already opening the door when he turned around with a questioning frown. Neville giggled.

"Did I miss something?" His lips twitched unwillingly.

"Oh, I'm … sorry, Harry." Neville's head vanished between his shoulders. "I'm just…"

"Nah." Harry shook his head. He really did not want to know. "Come on." He could Ron hear already. Harry would bet that someday this temper would get Ron into serious trouble.

The first thing he noticed when Neville and he stepped into the common room was Ron's face a few inches away from his own.

"You know, Harry," the red-faced boy growled with suppressed anger, "I really hate that bastard."

"Oh." Harry changed a look with Neville. "You're really not angry with me, aren't you?" Harry looked around. The common room was full. It seemed that not much people liked the stormy weather for a walk outside, but not many paid attention to Harry. The noise level was just too high to listen to anything less than screaming.

"'Course not," Ron grumbled before he stormed towards the hearth were Hermione was silently waiting; her clearly disapproving gaze locked onto Ron for a moment when the boy continued to rant. "I swear, Harry, Snape's finally totally cracked his ugly head on one of his stupid cauldrons, or he's inhaled too much potions fumes. Or he-"

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione admonished him. "What did you do anyway that he's not even waiting until we've some points to take away?" she asked Harry.

"Nothing, really." Harry watched when Neville took his clue to get out of the dangerous zone and towards the other end of the room where Dean and Seamus were leaning their heads together. "I just wanted to show Neville the kitchen before going to Dumbledore right away. Neville didn't know what to do, Hermione. I couldn't let him twiddle his thumbs till lunch." Harry sighed and walked over, watching the flames. After his nap he still felt a bit stiff and moody. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione shaking her head.

"You must. He's never made us go into the negative before, Harry."

"You know the git, Hermione." With a dark look at the girl, Harry sat back in a cosy armchair. When he remembered Snape it was easy to get angry. "Snape came, insulted our nonexistent intelligence, scared Neville away and took some points off for breathing wrong."

"But … so many points? The first year got fifty alone." She frowned. "He did a third year spell, more luck than knowledge I'd say, but anyway." She got back to the topic at hand. "It couldn't be that alone, Harry."

"Yes," Harry bit out sarcastically. "So many points, Hermione." Harry shrugged slightly and cast a suffering gaze at Ron, who rolled his eyes sympathetically. Then he turned indignantly back to Hermione. "Snape's an asshole. He took points because I didn't answer his question correctly, then he took them, because I did and –"

"What question?" the girl piped up.

"Oh, Herbology I think." Harry glared at her, but winked noncommittally after a moment. "I honestly don't know what he wanted." He sighed. She had successfully taken the wind out of his sails.

"And then?" Ron grinned, waiting for the finale.

"Nothing," Harry droned on as if reciting one of Aunt Petunia's shopping lists. "Snape insulted me a bit more, took some other points, and then he left in a hurry. He didn't have reasons to take points in the first place, but when he's pushing me I'll push him back." Harry crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, leaning back angrily.

"So you did do something!"

"No!" He met Hermione's gaze defiantly. "That's a promise for the future. When he thinks he's so much cleverer than little stupid me, then I'll make him eat his cauldron before the year's over."

"Ha." Ron grinned over his entire freckled face. "I'm in, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry grinned back. "Planning revenge is a lot more fun than having an useless talk with Dumbledore while Snape's breathing down my neck."

"He let the git stay?" Ron grumbled wide-eyed at the same time as Hermione wanted to know if he had been told what happened during the summer. Harry frowned darkly and his happy mood deflated. Trust Hermione to ask the necessary questions.

"Now, I would know!" Harry spat out in biting sarcasm. "All he said was that if I can't remember then he can't tell me. It's as simple as that. Then he babbled on and on about getting stronger and fighting harder, but I didn't find much use for me in all of that. There was something of interest, though." Harry looked around to make certain that no one was near enough to listen into what he said. The first students packed their things already and left for dinner. "This stupid … tattoo of Him is apparently playing crazy without summoning anyone." Harry explained very briefly and only in whispering tones how the Dark Mark looked now. It would be suspicious if he did not tell his friends of something like that when he was supposed to tell them everything.

Ron found it great. "Cool!" the redhead announced with a grin as bright as a Christmas tree. "Isn't the lightning bolt practically your sign, Harry? I mean, come on, it totally screams 'keep out! Harry Potter was here first.'"

"I know." What an irony. Harry could not really share Ron's enthusiasm. However, Hermione had a look as if this was another question for the library. She did not say anything in response to Harry's information. Harry would have to keep track of her to see what she found out. It would not do if they researched the same topic. The time was short enough as it was already.

"You still don't know what happened, though." She got to the crux of everything, sitting even more stiff than before. "It could be important!" Curiously, even she was now against a professor's decision to keep her friend blind of the danger. "He has to tell you what happened!"

"No." Harry snorted, humourless, and blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Nobody has to, and he certainly doesn't tell me anything. If I'm so lucky to get to know something of worth, then I'm the last one – even when it's my goddamn life."

Harry stood, too angry to sit still, his face like stone and his arms crossed over his chest. "If you want to know what's going on, I suggest you don't ask me. Go and ask Snape or Dumbledore." In an afterthought he added: "And if it's not too much to ask, I'd appreciate if you'd tell me what you found out."

Silently raging at everyone, Harry took the poker and stirred up the fire. He shook his head when his friends stayed silent. "I really don't understand how that man's working. At first people are going all panicky on me, trying to convince me that I've been hostage or something of Voldemort himself." Ron flinched. "And when I'm asking all I get are curious glances and pity, and a pat on my head from Dumbledore, who nurtures the opinion that it's just for my own safety to keep his suggestions to himself and to wait until I find out about whatever happened on my own." Harry scoffed, his rage reaching new heights. "As if. Didn't last year teach them anything? I don't think he'll tell me anything before I'm practically tripping over it." He voiced his thoughts with more emphasis than necessary and for good performance Harry made the fire's sparks fly extra high within the room. A few first years who saw the gleaming pieces of burnt wood fly into their direction moved back and some others looked him up and down carefully, not sure if it was better to keep away from him or try to console him. Lucky for them he had two friends who could do that. More people left to go to dinner.

"Snape being there laughing didn't really help that much." Harry paused a moment to continue more quietly. "I wonder when Dumbledore will think I'm old enough to decide what's right for me. I won't wait until I'm wearing a beard like he himself, singing crazy songs and stuffing my head with lemon drops." Harry was pulled out of his train of thoughts when Ron snorted in obvious amusement and bit his lips to keep from outright laughing when an image of a white haired Harry with moons and stars on his robes popped into his head. Ron swallowed when Hermione sent him a glare worthy of Snape. Smiling unnoticeably, Harry sat back in the armchair, his own look at least as dark as hers.

"Don't, Hermione!" Harry shook his head. "Just don't." He drew a deep breath, trembling with anger. "I don't want to hear it." Harry stormed out of the common room to the stairs, his face contorted to an angry mask, before anyone could say something.

"Happy now?" He could hear Ron's voice, and then Hermione: "Give him a moment to cool down, Ron." Then he had reached the dormitory, his angry short-tempered expression still in place.

However, as soon as Harry closed the door to the dormitory with a locking charm, his face changed to a rueful smile, his eyes no longer clouded in fury. Now they only radiated sadness. It was good that he would not have to keep up this charade for the whole year. In a few weeks, he could honestly tell anyone who listened that he had cooled down after he just … grieved for Sirius.

Harry lay on his bed and waited for exactly eight and a half minutes before he made his way down to the common room. Hermione and Ron were the only ones still there and they looked up both at once when they heard him coming down the stairs.

"I'm sorry, guys." Harry pulled a face. "I didn't want to flip out on you." With an impish smile on his lips, he tried to explain the unexplainable. "It's just so frustrating sometimes…"

"We know, Harry." Hermione smiled and met Ron's gaze. Had she not said that Harry would calm down? "No harm done. Let's go to dinner now, before Ron starves."

"Hey! I … I resent that!" Ron put his hands to his hips and Harry grinned. It seemed as if Ron had glimpsed that word over Hermione's shoulders when she had been reading one of her intellectual books. The three friends gazed at each other and after only a moment of silent hesitation, they left the Gryffindor common room.

For Ron this whole episode seemed to be finished; all that interested him was what he would have to eat. Hermione was still watching him like a hawk, waiting for a moment to get more information than Harry was forthcoming with. He knew her. It was in her nature to have an opinion to everything. She let Ron talk about nonsense during the whole way down to the great hall, but she would not keep back forever. Probably, rather sooner than later, Harry would talk to her before she talked to someone else. For now, though, they avoided dark lords and kidnappings; and finally, Harry could grill the others to get some information himself.

"Enough of food, Ron. How was your first day? How have classes been?" Now when Harry had officially cooled down from his trip into the headmaster's sphere of influence he really wanted to know what his classmates thought of this strange guy who was supposed to teach them in Defence.

"Care of Magical Creatures was okay. I thought it'd be easier though. Hagrid gives us a lot more to read," Ron said a bit grumpily, so he brightened just as soon. "But those Copperduck thingies we are doing now are really weird. They don't look anything like ducks, and they eat copper." Rather disappointed, Ron shook his head. "They didn't look a bit dangerous."

"That's hard luck, Ron." Harry tried to show some sympathy, but who wanted to now about animals? "Did Dean tell you about Brado?"

"Not much," Ron shrugged, "but when we had that guy after lunch we didn't do much more than listen to him blathering on and on about what he's supposed to teach us. Urgh." He shook his head. "I swear, Harry, he's in love with his own voice."

"So he's really just another Lockhart?" It did not really seem fitting. Harry still believed the man to be … dangerous. Admittedly, in the end Lockhart had been dangerous too, but somehow it seemed more concrete. Harry could not shake the bad feeling he had about Brado. Questioning, he gazed past Ron at the one friend who would not be that prejudiced against teachers in general.

"No." Hermione frowned at Ron. She did that quite often these days. "He just told us some of the topics he expects we know from previous years and some of what we'll go through with him. You should've made notes, Ron, instead of playing games with Seamus."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Sure. It's not as if he'll repeat everything as he did during class – was it twice or thrice?"

"All right, he did talk a bit much." Again she frowned at the redhead. "But what the Professor said was actually very informative. Defence could really be interesting this year." She smiled. It was obvious that she looked forward to the next DADA lesson. "There are some things we'll have to read on our own because we didn't get to them last year, and at least now we know the right books we ought to get from the library to prepare for the lessons."

"Yeah." Grudgingly, Ron scratched his head. "Dean did have a double lesson. Maybe they got actually down to opening their books and doing some spells." He seemed rather sarcastic.

"So you think he knows what he's doing?" Harry asked Hermione. Maybe he should not have skipped the last part of the lesson.

"I think so." Hermione did not seem so certain. "He talks as if he really knows what he's teaching, though how that goes together with his choice of clothes is anybody's guess. Maybe he's eccentric. Geniuses often are."

"He could simply be mad." Ron mumbled. "Thought about that?" Harry sighed. He would have no choice but to wait for the next lesson to see for himself.

"Anyway." Ron's eyes brightened when they stepped into the hall and he spotted the richly set tables. "I'm famished."

Harry was the last one to sit next to his heavily busy friend. How could a person eat so much and still live to tell about it? Harry shook his head and steeled himself for the plate that would pop out in front of him the moment he sat down.

Since Dumbledore's office he had this headache. It was not getting painful, though it did not lessen either. Harry forgot that it was there when he did not think about it or move his head too fast. It was just a dull throb that had not changed since Tom had gotten into frenzy when he had caught on Snape's attempt to legilimize him.

Harry thought the pain would intensify now when he was amidst much more active magic, but it did not. The plate popped up together with a glass of pumpkin juice and more food and Harry realized that he did not feel anything save a barely noticeable tingle deep in his stomach. He was not as vulnerable as he had been before when someone near him did magic. Once more, Harry was having mixed feelings about the castle's interference. He was glad that it had taken away a fair bit of his powers – and not. It was hard not to think about it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry glanced towards the head table. Hopefully, his less than great power was also displayed in his aura. Not that Harry had been able to see his own aura even once – not even a mirror worked in that case – but he was nearly sure that it had diminished together with everything else. It was logical, if anything could still be in this crazy world. Or did it mean that Harry simply did not have an aura, like the Thestrals and (perhaps) Dumbledore himself? Was that the reason he could not see his own aura? He would have liked to ask Dumbledore.

The aura showed his magical strength after all and, when he did not have that anymore, there was no possibility for anyone to see the real foundations of his abilities – not even for Dumbledore if his fate was reasonable – as he did not really have those abilities anymore.

There were a few possibilities how this aura riddle could work out for or against his favor. First, Dumbledore could see magical auras in general but had no way to watch past the castle's interference, so that he thought Harry's aura to be its normal appearance. Second, Dumbledore had seen Harry's aura before the castle's mingling but could not do so anymore and was thus growing really suspicious because he could actually see everyone else's aura and knew or at least suspected that Harry had somehow manipulated his own. Or, third, Dumbledore was as clueless as a pumpkin, knew nothing about anything and that he himself did not have an aura at all was all but a coincidence, which had nothing to do with what happened to Harry.

Harry picked at his food thoughtfully. During the talk with the headmaster he had not realized anything odd going on, at least, nothing that indicated that the old man had any knowledge of magical auras. Still, no one with some sensitivity to magic could have totally overlooked that something happened at the welcoming feast; and if Dumbledore could actually see magic…? Harry would go crazy thinking about that. It was just hard to decide if he was glad or worried about Hogwarts' interference. It all depended on how Dumbledore was going to react on the long run, if and what he knew or suspected.

However, more pressing than even that was the fact that now as it was out in the open (for Harry) that Hogwarts had a personality of its own, maybe even a soul; Harry could in no way predict what it would do next. People could be unpredictable. What would a magical being like Hogwarts do that lived for thousands of years and had nothing to fear of simple humans? Harry had no means to ask what the castle tried to accomplish with binding his magic from him. Was there more to it? Did it try to tell him something, to do something?

He could not research Hogwarts' personality either as there would be no books to read on this matter. As a student of Hogwarts, he certainly would have heard of it already. Horror stories about the castle eating students after curfew or something equally stupid would be whispered from generation to generation of students. There would have been talking in the corridors if even the possibility of a building developing its own conscience existed somewhere in the Wizarding world; and certainly Hermione would have mentioned something like that.

Nevertheless, there was this feeling in the back of his head – it was not Tom – that an undefined something was happening. Harry was certain of it, such as when a shudder ran down your back and you simply knew without having enough words to explain.

The headache that seemed wanting to nest a long time in his head was really not helping him concentrate. Frowning, Harry pushed his food around, trying fruitlessly to follow that feeling to its end. He did not want to have to do anything with the castle. Not above everything else. If anyone listened in it was easy to concentrate on this thought, but the feeling did not change. It was still there. Someone was watching, always and with inhuman composure as if nothing could shake it up. There was no point to set on a knife. It had to be the castle. His expression slipped, though he changed that with visible effort into a friendly smile.