Love is an Infection

It wasn't too late when Harry arrived in Gryffindor's common room, and he found it filled with students who were either reading, studying, or chatting.

He quickly spotted Hermione who was knitting on the couch. Ron was nowhere to be seen.

'Can I sit there?' Asked timidly Harry.

Hermione nodded, not taking her eyes off her work.

'Look, I am really sorry for the way I behaved earlier,' started Harry. 'I know you are right.'

'Then why won't you talk to him?' Asked Hermione with impatience.

'Hermione,' sighed Harry, 'I already tried. But I can't get to him. Besides, I don't want to bother him more than necessary.'

'He would want you to bother him with this…' She looked at her friend. When was the last time she had taken a good look at Harry's face? She had never seen him so tired. 'Anyway, I still think it's important. You have my opinion on the subject, and I won't push it. But I disagree!'

'Thank you, Hermione,' said Harry with a shy smile.

'Ah, there you are!'

Harry turned around to see Ron emerge from the Fat Lady portrait.

'I've been looking for you all over the castle,' he said while approaching the couch. 'Have you calmed down already?'

Harry could have smacked Ron, but he deserved the blow.

'I am sorry Ron,' said Harry. 'I shouldn't have left like that.'

Ron considered him a few seconds and nodded towards Hermione.

'Are you cool with her?'

'He apologized,' said Hermione with a small smile.

Ron nodded and sat between Harry and Hermione.

'What shall we do tomorrow?' Finally asked Ron. 'Harry, would you like to go to the pitch and fly? I could really use a tip or two.'

Harry smiled warmly. The fight was over.

Since Slytherin had booked the pitch the whole afternoon and that Ravenclaw had it for two hours before lunch, they woke up early and headed towards the Quidditch field directly after breakfast. It was the middle of September, and the air was starting to be cold in the morning. However, the weather was sunny and clear, and they were able to train efficiently. They returned to their common room to take a shower and dedicated the rest of the day to their homework.

When the evening came, Harry pretended he had to return a book to the library to slip away without attracting the attention of his friends. He rushed to the seventh floor and entered the Room of Requirements after making sure no one would see him.

Helga was waiting for him with her usual smile.

'I heard you made good progress yesterday,' she said as soon as she saw him. 'It has been a long time since I've heard Rowena praise a student.'

'Thank you,' replied Harry.

He stepped into the room and sat on the desk. The mention of last night had reminded him of his frightening discovery. Voldemort and him were linked by much more than a simple scar. They were linked by emotions. Harry wondered if Voldemort could be impacted too by his own ones.

'What troubles you, young man?' Asked Helga with a soft voice.

'Is it that obvious?' Smiled Harry.

Helga nodded while considering the boy. There was no joy in his smile.

'You told us that you didn't have an easy life,' continued the Founder. 'Apparently you are even called a liar and a murderer?'

'Well,' sighed Harry. 'It's a long story.'

'I like stories!' Said Helga with a cheerful tone. 'They often contain the solution to our problems.'

Harry hesitated. After all, why not? Who would she tell anyway? It's not like there was anyone else willing to listen to him.

'You know that Lord Voldemort was reborn a few months ago,' started Harry. 'I witnessed it because I fell into a trap that led to the place of his rebirth. I saw it with my own eyes. But when I managed to escape and told the Ministry, they didn't believe me.'

He interrupted himself pondering if he should explain what the Ministry was, but Helga did not seem troubled by it. They had probably predicted the political evolution of the Wizarding World too.

'From this day on, they declared that my story was a lie and many people believed them. At my return at Hogwarts after the holidays I was an outcast.'

'But why do they call you a murderer?'

'I… I wasn't the only one who fell into the trap,' he said. His throat tightened. 'A classmate was here with me, but since Voldemort was only interested by me, he asked his follower to murder him. I managed to bring his corpse back with me. Not everyone think I am a murderer though,' he clarified. 'The majority of the Wizarding World think it was an accident. But the fact that even a few of them could believe me capable of such a thing…' He paused as another word would have bring tears to his eyes.

'Who are those people?' Asked Helga with sympathy.

'They are from your House,' answered Harry after a moment of silent. 'Hufflepuff.'

'How is that possible?' Exclaimed the witch with a horrified look.

Harry sighed and proceeded to explain that Cedric Diggory had been chosen as Hogwarts Champion in a prestigious tournament between three wizarding schools. But Harry was chosen too, stealing the glory that was rightfully due to a House that had been left in the shade for too long. What everyone had failed to realise, is that it all been part of a plan to make him fall into the trap. Cedric and him had found the Cup at the same time and had decided to catch it together for a Hogwarts victory. For many Hufflepuff, Harry had stolen their moment and the life of their champion.

When Harry finished his story, he couldn't look at Helga in the eye and glanced quickly at her. She looked devastated. Harry didn't know what to say and remained silent.

'When we built the school,' she said in a low voice, 'we decided to divide the students into four groups to encourage a healthy rivalry. We thought that the feeling of belonging to something bigger than themselves would push students to excel. As Rowena, Godric and Salazar were careful in the selection of their students, I saw those who didn't fit. Those who were left apart because they weren't clever enough, brave enough or lacked ambition. I took them with me and taught them everything I knew. I have often wondered if should have inspired more pride in my students. I just wanted them to feel accepted and grow as good wizards and witches. I never thought that being overshadowed by the other Houses could have make some of them envious.'

'They are not like that!' Protested Harry. 'I mean, I don't really have friends among the Hufflepuff. Actually, I just had one, Cedric. And even though I stole his glory as Hogwarts Champion and competed against him, I can tell you that he has always been fair and honest with me.'

'He sounds like a nice fellow,' smiled Helga.

'He was,' replied Harry. 'He really was.'

Helga considered him a few seconds. When this boy had told them he didn't have an easy life, it had been a huge understatement. And yet, she was surprised by his ability to see goodness where there was only resentment.

'You are much wiser than you think, young man,' she finally said. 'And a generous person.'

'Thank you but I'm not,' replied Harry.

Helga raised her eyebrow with an interrogative look.

'I liked Cedric and I miss him greatly. This doesn't mean I can forgive the way his classmates are treating me.'

'And yet you are willing to save their beloved school.'

'It's more selfish than you might think,' said Harry with a small smile. 'As I told you, Hogwarts is the only place where I have been welcome. It is the only place I can call Home. I can't abandon her.'

'Interesting,' whispered Helga. 'Tell me, how far would you go to save Hogwarts?'

Harry was taken aback by the question. What did Hufflepuff mean? Was she asking him if he would be ready to die?

'Far enough,' he replied cautiously.

Helga smiled genuinely and her face brightened up.

'As I told you, the solution to our problems often resides in their stories. Do you remember when I told you about the power that would defeat him?'

'What about it?' Asked Harry while straightening up.

'There is a particularity about this power I didn't tell you. Tom Riddle doesn't know you have it but, more importantly, he doesn't have it. And I think I have an idea of what it might be.' She had rarely seen someone looking at her with such hope in their eye. 'It is going to sound silly, but I think it is Love.'

'Love?' Blurted Harry. 'What do you mean by Love? How is that a power?'

Helga sighed and raised her hand to appease the boy.

'Tom Riddle could have had many futures' Said calmly Helga. 'What his decisions have in common is that he chose to not care. Unlike you. I think that this difference is crucial. It led him to become the Dark Lord he is today. And I think it is going to help you defeat him.'

'Yeah… Well, I really don't see how,' replied Harry disappointed.

'You shouldn't underestimate it though,' replied Helga with a light touch of reproach in her tone.

Harry made a dismissive noise and stood up. He had cared about this school for five years. And the result was nothing but contempt and rejection. Yeah… so much for love.

'What's on your mind?' Asked Helga a bit worried by his expression.

'Nothing,' quickly replied Harry. 'I think I should go back to my dormitory. I came here under false pretenses and some people will start to find my absence suspicious if I stay too long.'

He put his hand on the doorknob and turned around to face the Founder.

'I disagree though,' he said with an acid tone. 'Love isn't a power, it's a weakness. The more you love, the more you care. The more you care, the more you have to lose. It makes us vulnerable, and I am done being vulnerable!'

Helga watched him leave with worried eyes. How could someone save Hogwarts if they weren't even willing to save themselves?