Ballad For Dead Friends
Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright of JK Rowling and Warner Bros ™
The title of this fiction, as well as the lyrics it contains, are the property of Dashboard Prophets. (Words: Dye/Music: Dashboard Prophets – Meyer, Bocci, Evanski, Dye). Published by Bent Halo Music/Weird Water Music/Garg Music/Here Comes Treble Music (ASCAP). Property of 1996 Dashboard Prophets.
In short, I claim nothing as my own except the plot… and even that is doubtful.
2. Slughorn's Office
Dark circles around his eyes stood out on Harry's gaunt, white face as he marched through the corridors toward the dungeons. In the year and a half he had been absent from the school, he had longed everyday to awaken and find himself in his dormitory; to have to rush from class to class in the busy halls; to sit in the great hall and enjoy the delicious meals prepared by the house-elves. Just to stand within the walls of the castle, and enjoy the calming feeling of safety he had not felt since leaving. Instead, however, his stomach was churning, and deep lines of worry had etched themselves between his brows and creased around his mouth. His face had aged considerably in the last few months and he looked tired and drawn.
In spite of this haggard appearance, however, he did not seem to lack physical energy as he marched purposefully toward the potion masters' office. A bell rang from somewhere, signalling the end of a lesson and Harry closed his eyes briefly to savour the familiarity of the sound.
Students began to pour out from various classrooms around him, chattering amongst themselves as they made their way to the next class. A couple of the older ones, whom Harry recognised, lifted their hands in greeting as he passed. Harry nodded back, not once breaking his stride as the crowd parted before him. Some conversations died as he passed and whispers broke out behind him as he left stunned students in his wake.
Of course, thought Harry, the Daily Prophet would be reporting his every move now he was hunting Death Eaters, and especially since Ron… Harry began lengthening his stride, his black cloak billowing out behind him in what must have been a look reminiscent of Snape. At the thought of Snape, Harry bit back an oath, his face darkening.
I really wish I could have saved youThen who would have saved me from myself?
Dennis Creevy who had seen Harry and was running up to him, with an appearance of eager excitement, stopped in his tracks at the vicious look on Harry's face, turned on his heel and fled. The giggling from various groups of girls suddenly hushed as he turned to glance at them and they too made a speedy exit. Finding himself alone in the corridor Harry was forcibly reminded of the many other times when he had been in similar situations – the whispers, the giggles, the corridors suddenly emptying when he had appeared. He had been, on those many occasions throughout the years, believed to be the heir of Slytherin, insane and a murderer. Well, at least he had fulfilled one of Rita Skeeters descriptions of him. He felt no remorse for the death of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Right now, well I could use a stiff drink
To kill the pain that's deep inside my bones
Harry' feet slowed automatically as he reached his destination.
'Slughorn!' His voice rang out dangerously, echoing around the dungeons.
'Wha-? Who's that?' The walrus moustache was even larger than Harry remembered, slightly overshadowing the corpulent body and the bald head gleaming iridescently in the light of the torches.
'You've been avoiding me, Slughorn.'
'Harry, m'boy, my dear boy, is that you? Slughorn blinked owlishly at the stern form towering over his own squat figure.
'Who else would it be, Slughorn?' Harry's patience was wavering. 'Why have you been avoiding me?'
"Avoiding, dear boy? There is no question of avoi – it's – that is, I've just been so busy recently, all these students you know. And I'm not as young as once was.'
'Of course, that must account for five unanswered owls sent to you while a former student of yours, Ronald Weasley, lies dying in a bed in St Mungo's. Perhaps you are indeed growing old and your mind is becoming infirm. If this is the case, you might be better off retiring. I seem to remember that you were none to enthusiastic to take up this position in the first place, and it was only Dumbledore's presence which convinced you, and he has long been absent from the walls.'
Slughorn began spluttering incoherently.
'As you know, I carry a lot of weight with the headmistress and the school board at the moment, so if you would like me to put in a request on your behalf I would be only too happy to do so. Why don't I go see them now? That is, unless you have something here for me.'
'Idle threats, Harry? Your mother would not have resorted to that in her day.'
'Idle threats?' Harry echoed, 'Oh no, those were promises, Slughorn. And promises should always be kept, don't you agree?'
Slughorn gaped at Harry, his mouth moving noiselessly.
'Enough of this, Slughorn. Where is the book?'
'Book, my boy?' The potions professor seemed to have regained his equilibrium. 'What book would that be?'
'I'm losing patience.' Harry raised his wand ever so slightly and the room began to shake. Bottles rattled on their shelves and cupboard doors swung open.
'Harry,' Slughorn protested. 'You must understand, that book contains the most ingenious approaches to potions to which I have ever been privy. It holds, within it's covers, the workings of the most complex and brilliant mind – I cannot simply give it… augh!'
He broke off with a sharp gasp as the cupboard directly behind him exploded, showering the room with splinters, and bottles began falling from the shelves, their contents spilling onto the floor. Strangely coloured fumes began rising where the ingredients had run into each other in the cracks of the stone floor.
'It is,' Harry said quietly, 'the works of a murdering traitor, and may hold Ron's cure.' You will give it to me, even if I have to destroy this entire office before you do so.'
Flicking his wand, Harry began levitating cauldrons around the room, deliberately slopping their contents over the floor. Slughorn watched aghast as hundreds of galleons worth of rare and experimental potions began to form puddles on the stones.
'Alright! Alright!' In a panicked voice Slughorn almost screamed his agreement as a batch of Felix Felicis began to tilt precariously to one side.
Muttering under his breath, Slughorn moved across the wreckage of his office and unlocked the door to his private storeroom. Harry followed him in, in no mood for anymore delays. Looking round furtively, Slughorn tapped the air low to the ground in the back corner and a small wooden cabinet flickered into sight. Harry caught a brief glance at a series of ancient lettering and runes worked into the door before it was hidden from view by Slughorn's bulk as he rummaged through it.
'Ahhh,' Harry heard the regretful sigh as Slughorn laid his hands on a tattered copy of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. Without warning it suddenly soared from Slughorn's grasp, before he even had time to close the cabinet door. By the time he had done so and clambered to his feet he could already hear Harry's footsteps retreating and the office door slamming behind him. Bowing his head in defeat, Slughorn listened, as the footsteps grew fainter and fainter, until all he could hear was the distant chatter of students waiting for him in the potions room.
