"Welcome back, Harry. I'm sure your friends have saved you seats at
the table. Dinner's just starting," Dumbledore's face was it's usual calm,
bright-eyed cheeriness.
"Thank you," Harry said hoarsely.
"Oh, they saved the seats for you, not I."
"No. Thank you for letting me speak to them."
"Did it help at all?"
"Some," Harry answered truthfully.
"That was all that could be expected. No amount of talking can clear these problems entirely."
"I know, sir." Harry said this with a heavy heart. "May I be excused?"
"By all means, go see your friends. If you're up to telling them, I'm sure they'd be interested to know how your day went after my class."
Harry nodded and left. He wasn't sure how much he was going to tell them, but he knew they'd ask. True to Dumbledore's word, there was an empty space between Renata and Hermione.
"I'm glad you're back," Renata whispered to him as he sat down.
"Where did you go, Harry?" asked Ron, shoving a plate of food to him from across the table.
"I saw Lupin and Sirius."
"How were they?"
"Pretty good. I think Sirius was there at Lupin's house because the full moon is tomorrow."
"Speaking of tomorrow, you still want to go, don't you?" asked Renata.
"I guess," Harry suddenly found himself to be quite sleepy. He'd encountered a lot of information today.
His friends seemed to sense this. Hermione said, "Harry, whatever you want to tell us about what you discussed, we'll listen; anything you want to keep to yourself, we understand," Hermione told him gently.
"Thanks. My parents left me journals of theirs. To read."
"Wow. What do they say?"
"If I open them before I'm 18 they'll burst into flames and be lost forever. If I live long enough, I'll read them."
There wasn't really any sort of reassuring response they could honestly make to this, so his friends stayed silent.
Harry went on, "Sirius reckons somebody'll try and kill Fletcher."
"Why would somebody want to kill the minister?"
"To throw the rest of us into a bit of chaos."
"What about Pettigrew?"
"If Sirius finds him, there'll be no mercy." He sighed. "And there's no doubt about what'll happen between me and Voldemort. It's going to happen. That prophecy."
"You don't believe in divination," Hermione said briskly.
"No. It's not always wrong. That's why Trelawny was murdered. She knew too much."
"But. . ."
"She knew too much, Hermione. And it was because of a prediction she made. It was about me."
"So, now what?" asked Renata.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you going to put your whole life on pause just because some old coot says you're going to die at the hands of Voldemort?"
"You read the Prophecy yourself, Renata. Remember? Took it right out of my hands. I might die, but more importantly one of my friends is going to die and I'd rather die myself than let anything happen to the three of you."
"It's not a certain thing. Just a prediction."
"Well, it won't happen if I can help it," Harry said, staunchly.
"Harry, you're forgetting something. The prophecy said 5 friends to help you. And that you weren't going to want our help. It said you're going to fight us the whole way about helping you, but we're going to help you anyway. Besides, quit being so morbid. I know you, you like living, therefore you won't die unless you act like you're going to and that's the impression I'm getting right now. You're putting your whole life on hold over some maybes. You don't want to do that. Remember, 'Live life like there's no tomorrow, but plan for every tomorrow.' Or something like that. For now: live." Renata smiled warmly at Harry and he began to feel better.
"Besides," said Ron, "without you, we'll never win the Quiditch cup."
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"Thank you," Harry said hoarsely.
"Oh, they saved the seats for you, not I."
"No. Thank you for letting me speak to them."
"Did it help at all?"
"Some," Harry answered truthfully.
"That was all that could be expected. No amount of talking can clear these problems entirely."
"I know, sir." Harry said this with a heavy heart. "May I be excused?"
"By all means, go see your friends. If you're up to telling them, I'm sure they'd be interested to know how your day went after my class."
Harry nodded and left. He wasn't sure how much he was going to tell them, but he knew they'd ask. True to Dumbledore's word, there was an empty space between Renata and Hermione.
"I'm glad you're back," Renata whispered to him as he sat down.
"Where did you go, Harry?" asked Ron, shoving a plate of food to him from across the table.
"I saw Lupin and Sirius."
"How were they?"
"Pretty good. I think Sirius was there at Lupin's house because the full moon is tomorrow."
"Speaking of tomorrow, you still want to go, don't you?" asked Renata.
"I guess," Harry suddenly found himself to be quite sleepy. He'd encountered a lot of information today.
His friends seemed to sense this. Hermione said, "Harry, whatever you want to tell us about what you discussed, we'll listen; anything you want to keep to yourself, we understand," Hermione told him gently.
"Thanks. My parents left me journals of theirs. To read."
"Wow. What do they say?"
"If I open them before I'm 18 they'll burst into flames and be lost forever. If I live long enough, I'll read them."
There wasn't really any sort of reassuring response they could honestly make to this, so his friends stayed silent.
Harry went on, "Sirius reckons somebody'll try and kill Fletcher."
"Why would somebody want to kill the minister?"
"To throw the rest of us into a bit of chaos."
"What about Pettigrew?"
"If Sirius finds him, there'll be no mercy." He sighed. "And there's no doubt about what'll happen between me and Voldemort. It's going to happen. That prophecy."
"You don't believe in divination," Hermione said briskly.
"No. It's not always wrong. That's why Trelawny was murdered. She knew too much."
"But. . ."
"She knew too much, Hermione. And it was because of a prediction she made. It was about me."
"So, now what?" asked Renata.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you going to put your whole life on pause just because some old coot says you're going to die at the hands of Voldemort?"
"You read the Prophecy yourself, Renata. Remember? Took it right out of my hands. I might die, but more importantly one of my friends is going to die and I'd rather die myself than let anything happen to the three of you."
"It's not a certain thing. Just a prediction."
"Well, it won't happen if I can help it," Harry said, staunchly.
"Harry, you're forgetting something. The prophecy said 5 friends to help you. And that you weren't going to want our help. It said you're going to fight us the whole way about helping you, but we're going to help you anyway. Besides, quit being so morbid. I know you, you like living, therefore you won't die unless you act like you're going to and that's the impression I'm getting right now. You're putting your whole life on hold over some maybes. You don't want to do that. Remember, 'Live life like there's no tomorrow, but plan for every tomorrow.' Or something like that. For now: live." Renata smiled warmly at Harry and he began to feel better.
"Besides," said Ron, "without you, we'll never win the Quiditch cup."
Read and Review please!
