Warning: Short chapter, but little seeds for big flowers.
Chapter 5 - A New Life
Harry was successfully holding his tongue.
His history with DA professors, Lupin included, was just too bad, he wanted to go on unnoticed and maybe he could just draw through the whole day or do homework for other classes or something.
From the book and Umbridge's little speech, he already knew that he knew more than this class had to teach him.
Especially as he had spent the summer with Sirius and Remus, both of whom had agreed that him learning all he could about defensive magic was vital.
Sirius and Remus were also helping him through transfiguration theory and Charm work. He had certainly corresponded a lot more Hermione over the summer. She had made him give her full notes, which had the added benefit of building and cementing his own theoretical knowledge.
He was really disappointed that they weren't getting a real Defence class. At least Crouch Jr. had actually taught them some things.
The new Care of Magical Creatures professor, however, should be good, seeing as he had literally written the book. Hagrid was taking the year off to negotiate with giants and do some other work for the Order.
Apparently, Professor Scamander would be an official graduate as he had been expelled as a kid. Which Harry thought to be a bit unfair, seeing as Hagrid hadn't been allowed to do the same. But then, the man was older and had fought in the war against Grindelwald.
According to the history he had learned over the summer from Remus while Sirius gave graphic and imagined details, Grindelwald had been a smarter and less inhuman (as in not obsessed with personal immortality) version of Voldemort.
He wondered for the first time as if he would learn more being homeschooled by them instead of here at Hogwarts.
He knew he would have learned more Defense than from this hag.
Hermione was lecturing the professor about the necessity of practical magic to pass their OWLs, something Dean supported.
'Well, it's like Hermione said, isn't it?' said Dean. 'If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free.'
'I repeat,' said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, 'do you expect to be attacked during my classes?'
Harry couldn't help it, he burst out laughing, he couldn't help it.
Umbridge turned her beady eyes on him, and asked in a threateningly sweet voice, "And what do you think is funny about that, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head, "Oh, I don't know, maybe because our last DA professor used the Imperius Curse on us and he later turned out to be an actual Death Eater and escaped convict from Azkaban. Also, our first DA professor had Voldemort stuck on the back of his head like a freakish parasite. So yeah, at this point, if I might be so bold, this class is where I expect we are most likely to be in danger."
Umbridge stared at him and he thought her eyes might pop out of her head from rage, "But there will be no magic used in this classroom and He Who Must Not Be Named is dead."
"Not so much," Harry said, "Because as cute as it is that everyone thinks its the baby who done it, I am here to tell you that my mother's spell work wasn't enough."
"Wait," Draco called, "You remember? What happened that night?"
He had the entire class's attention now, "I remember enough. My mother must have warded me somehow, because the Killing Curse didn't take and it rebounded at Voldemort. It didn't take well to him either, I guess. He was just hurt enough to disappear for a while."
"So now he's healed," Bulstrode said, as if a long unexplained question was finally answered.
"Enough!" Umbridge yelled, "He is not back, and you are liar, Mr. Potter!"
Once upon a time, Harry would have exploded, but he could see everyone else's faces and mattered more to him that they believed him rather than the DA Professor who worked for the ministry.
Even the Slytherins seemed convinced.
So Harry just raised a brow and flipped open his book.
Some muffled laughter went up around the room.
Sirius had been right, sometimes the greatest victories weren't having the last word but in not being disproved in front of his peers.
Sirius had been kind of insulted that Harry hadn't been one of the cool kids like he and his father had been.
And as he tapped his wand under the desk to replace the DA book with his transfiguration book about animagi, he let himself be pleased.
Harry didn't need to be popular but it was nice to feel confident when he spoke up rather than angry.
Self-confidence and bravery, he was learning, weren't unrelated but nor were they the same thing.
oOo
On their way done to Potions class, Harry spotted the blonde girl who had been using wandless magic unnoticed at the Ravenclaw table. He caught her gaze through the milling students, and Merlin, she had beautiful eyes, and he waved to her.
Pulled away in the crowd, she hopped waving to wave back to him.
Harry was smiling as he turned back to Hermione, Ron was on her other side, still not talking to him because of the incident on the train.
Hermione frowned at him, "Why are you waving at her?"
Harry shrugged, "Do you know who she is?"
"That's Loony Lovegood."
Harry frowned at her, "That's rude."
Hermione shook her head, her cheeks a bit flushed but she said, "Luna Lovegood, but everyone calls her Loony because she's one of the strangest people in the school."
"That doesn't make it right."
"I didn't say it to her face," she defended.
"Well," he said, thinking that anyone who could do wandless magic had to have some talents, "I think she's cool."
She snorted, "Right, and you're Mr. Popular."
"Said Ms. Popular, must be Gospel," Blaise Zabini said as he and Theo Nott passed them.
Harry bit back a laugh and Hermione glared at him.
By the time they found their seats, Hermione wasn't talking to him any more than Ron was.
He was beginning to worry that maybe the reason they had all been such close friends was because he always played peacemaker.
Sirius's words came back to him, Being a peacemaker is overrated, you don't want to wind up like Remus here, do you? Real friends want to know what you think and don't want you to be afraid to challenge them.
Remus had sighed, I want to say he's wrong, because sometimes you need a peacemaker, but had I been more honest with Sirius and James, there would never have been any mistrust or misunderstandings between us. It didn't make them any less my friends, or I theirs, but I would have been happier if I had spoken up more.
Sirius had snorted then, Yeah, and maybe James and I wouldn't have been such bullies. I am not blaming you, Moony, I'm just saying we cared enough about what you thought to maybe have made better choices.
Harry sighed as he took his seat, watching as Snape walked in like a bat with legs, "Granger, Longbottom, you are partners for the year. I'll fail you both if anything explodes this year."
Hermione's expression was worried and annoyed while Neville looked desperately relieved.
"Potter, pick a partner who isn't Weasley."
Harry looked around the room as Ron claimed the spot next to Seamus.
Meaning he was the odd man out on the Gryffindor side.
Typically, it was Parvati who partnered with Daphne, but Greengrass was sitting with Blaise.
Theo rolled his eyes at Harry and moved his bag off the seat beside him.
It was an awkward walk as Harry crossed the invisible divide between their Houses, and of course, Theo was seated near the back wall, so Harry wouldn't even be able to listen to the whispered discussions on the Gryffindor side.
This was different than on the train, this truly felt like he was in foreign territory, in Snape's class of all places.
But as they set into the day's potion, there was something relaxing about not having Snape exuding intimidation and snide comments. Against the wall, Snape didn't even bother to walk behind them, just glanced over at them every now and then.
"I could get used to this," Harry said as Snape overlooked them again.
Theo smirked, "Perhaps you would have done better in Slytherin."
Snape shot them a glare as if he had heard that, Blaise from the table near them, said, "Or maybe not."
She was warm, surrounded by warmth. Her body was heavy but she felt…
She pulled the thick blanket in tighter around herself as she pressed into the softest thing she could ever remember.
She had fantasies about beds like this, but nothing compared to its reality.
The ever-present cold in her veins had abated and she…
Bella moaned into this pillow, this was paradise.
She curled in on herself and waited for the dream to break.
She couldn't remember the last good dream she had but she knew it couldn't last.
Nothing good ever did.
But as time passed, the warmth stayed, as did the blankets and the bed and the scent of sheets laundered with lavender based soup.
It was peaceful.
She didn't trust it.
But she realized that even if her sanity had slipped in its entirety, that even if she was no longer fit to serve her Lord, she wanted this feeling.
She wanted this to be real more than she had ever wished for anything.
Bella stretched her legs, and then her arms under the pillows, the coolness there feeling beautiful against her warmed skin.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes.
She blinked at the light.
But her eyes adjusted and she stared at what she saw, the wide window with white curtains, the room was painted in the palest blue with a white dream.
Cold and clean, and unlike any place she had ever lived in.
There was something comforting in that, no hint of nightmares, no dark shadows.
The exact opposite of her cell.
But the window.
She remembered that window, it brought back memories of the one gift her father and uncle had ever given her.
Her little slice of the world that belonged to her and Cissa and no one else.
Slowly shifted to the edge of the bed, expecting the window to dissolve.
But it didn't, it stayed real and tangible.
However, when she got to the edge of the bed, she froze as she saw someone sitting in a chair.
He was reading a book, a tray of tea on the side table.
She didn't think he was real until he turned the page of the volume he rested on a propped leg.
Bella stared at him for a long time but he never looked up at her.
It took her a long, long time to pull up the name of this man.
"James…" she managed, brokenly, "Pot.. ter?"
He looked up at her, his sapphire blue eyes were…
She couldn't describe that look.
"Harris Black," he said, "Head of House Black."
Bella knew there were implications in that. That she didn't remember this person, that she should know, that she knew all of her family yet not him.
But she was more concerned with this dream not breaking. So she said nothing more as she hesitantly got to her feet, finding she was dressed in pyjamas.
Pants and a simple button-down top, her favourite because it was the most comfortable thing she owned, but not what a man would have dressed her in.
Another proof that she was dreaming.
He didn't move.
She hesitated, but when Harris Black went back to reading his book, she went to the bathroom.
Her bathroom.
When the door shut behind her, she felt as she first did when she moved to this apartment.
Freedom.
Independence.
Even with a man out in the bedroom, he wasn't her husband, or her aunt or mother.
This was her place.
She was beginning to believe she was dead.
And as she went to the shower, she thought she might be okay with that if this was indeed the other side.
She took her time.
Her hair was longer than she remembered, but the magical brush that dried her hair as she brushed ran through it cleanly.
Redressed in her pyjamas, but when she reentered the bedroom, Harris, his book, and his tea were gone.
She followed her nose to the main space.
The table set another wide window that overlooked Diagon Alley. She looked down at the street before the food.
Sometimes there were days she thought she would die in prison and never see her world again, but there they were, her people, alive and real and…
A glass was set down near her hand and she jumped.
It was brown and foamy, and only then did she see the plate of white, steaming rice.
She looked at Harris, who had sat back down across for her. He picked up his own drink, equally brown and foamy.
She picked hers up in both hands, bringing it to her lips and-
She was definitely dead because this was heaven.
A chocolate smoothie made with such a light yogurt that it didn't make her stomach upset, as it was accustomed only to tasteless meals.
She drank it all, and then she ate until she couldn't eat anymore.
Bella said nothing.
Harris said nothing.
And that's how her days passed in the beautiful death.
The world was quiet, her mind was quiet, and she feared only that this life would end.
Sometimes she watched Harris.
As he cooked, as he cleaned, as he read books.
He slept on the couch.
He was a quiet man and he was sad.
She was afraid to speak to him, afraid that the sadness was born from the price of being here.
Bella let the days and nights go. She sat by the window, sat in the silence, the peace, and let the world pass her by.
The only thing that changed was the food.
It got better, more complex, and after every meal, there was always chocolate.
As an afterlife went, this wasn't so bad.
Kingsley was just coming out of meeting with Amelia, they switched topics from the upcoming case to the Wizengamot.
"Still, for someone who was so involved over the summer, it's strange that he hasn't made a single appearance. Not even a note as to why," he was saying.
She nodded, "I almost worry that something happened to him."
"But it was certified by Bones and Fudge, there was nothing we could do," one auror said.
"But why!?" one of the other aurors exclaimed, causing Amelia and Kingsley come to an abrupt stop as Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks stood her hands shaking. "She can't be out in the public! She's- She's- a monster!"
Kingsley crossed his arms, "Who is a monster?"
Tonks spun round and she glared at him, not stepping down at all as she turned that fury toward Amelia, "How could you!? How dare you? What right did you hav-"
Amelia held up a hand, "What are you accusing me of?"
Tonks' hair went to the deepest scarlet, her eyes near black, as she ground out, "You cleared Bellatrix Lestrange and let her walk free."
Kingsley felt the blood drain from his face.
Amelia's face went completely blank, "Lestrange is in Azkaban."
"Not anymore!" Tonks yelled.
"Under whose authority?" Amelia demanded.
"Yours!"
Amelia turned on the aurors, "Who was on duty? Who came to take her?"
Two men stepped forward, not their brightest, but Kingsley never would have thought- "The papers cleared it. I even double-checked with our copies on file. You and Fudge sealed it."
The group went to double check, and sure enough, there it was, in fine print, the last clause, in bold easy to read lettering.
There was no possible way to have magicked it in court unless someone had invented a new spell, but even then, no magical tempering was found.
Amelia had both hands on the table as she leaned over the paperwork.
"Where is Harris Black now?"
No one had an answer.
No one had seen or heard of him since the day after the trial to free Sirius Black.
No one had seen Bellatrix Lestrange either.
Bollocks.
AN: Thoughts, bunnies, or feedback, pretty please?