Harry Potter is owned by J K Rowling. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note
I hope you are all keeping safe and well in these interesting times in which we find ourselves. Thank you very much for all your lovely reviews. Have another chapter you wonderful people.
Chapter 2
"I'm never doing that again," Hermione complained as they made their slow progress towards Hogwarts.
"I'd heard stories," Ron agreed with her fervently, "but that..that was mental, and not in a good way."
The Knight Bus had dumped them off in the middle of Hogsmede, after a bone-shaking and extremely unpleasant journey. Harry was glad he'd decided to miss breakfast, because he was pretty certain if he hadn't whatever he'd eaten would have made a rapid reappearance
On the path ahead the Twins had levitated their trunks and were idly battling with them as they walked, crashing them into one another in a bid to knock them out of the air.
Seems that they'd forgotten the whole incident with Ginny and the stairs; Ginny clearly hadn't though, considering the narrow-eyed evil glare she was directing at their backs. Whatever she was plotting he was certain he didn't want to get in the way of, hide and watch though…he grinned to himself. Could be entertaining.
It was strange, arriving at the Castle before the train. Only a few students had stayed over the holidays thanks to the presence of Umbridge, mostly Ravenclaws studying for their OWLs and NEWTs not wanting to be parted from the library. It gave the Castle a lonely feel.
Lunch was…a quiet and forlorn affair with Umbridge watching them from the teacher's table, her beady eyes cold and calculating, her smile sweet and insipid.
He'd also forgotten the whispers, snide comments and sneering stares of the other students, as they sniggered behind his back and shared spiteful comments.
"Just ignore them Harry," Ron said, clearly trying to be supportive.
"They'll soon change their tune," Hermione gave a nasty glare to a couple of girls sitting at the Hufflepuff table.
And that was the problem right there, Harry thought as he ate his lunch (warming beef stew with lots of vegetables and freshly baked bread rolls). The other students, frankly the Magical world in general blew hot and cold so easily, seemingly on a whim. How could he ever trust them when they were so…what's the word? Flakey?
He'd sloped out of the Hall well before the end of lunch, the whole situation just plain giving him the creeps. His excuse of "wanting to check something in the library" hadn't gone down too well either, with Ron and Hermione exchanging worried looks. They hadn't stopped him though.
The whole sensation of the Castle was almost overwhelming, all the multilayered scents, the changes in air current hinting at secret passages he hadn't even discovered yet, the marking points of the many cats and kneazles who called the Castle home during term. It was almost tempting to change and explore, lose himself…
If he thought he was going to get some sort of relief in the Library from the sensory assault he was highly mistaken, the scent of paper, parchment, old leather and glue hitting him like a bludgeon as he slipped round the door.
Stifling his sneezes he slunk in among the shelves looking for anything on obscure creatures he could find. Surely, given the size of Hogwarts library there had to be a book in which his other form appeared.
The Creatures section was larger than he'd ever realised. Feeling overwhelmed he grabbed a selection of likely candidates and retreated to the Gryffindor Common Room and the dorms.
"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself as he stared at the half-dozen tomes now stacked on his bed. Maybe they'd be less intimidating with some company. For a moment he even considered seeking out Ron and Hermione, but then he'd have to explain why exactly he was so desperate to find a reference to a creature he didn't have a name for, only a description…
Yeah, no. Not happening, he glowered to himself, not after this summer. There was always…he pulled out the mirror, hoping it worked as Sirius had described.
"Sirius Black," he muttered as he held it up. For a moment the mirror reflected only his own anxious face, and then Sirius was blinking up at him.
"Hey, nice view of your nostrils kid," he said. "What's the matter? Everything all right?"
"Yeah…I promised I'd talk to you every day." Harry smiled. "So…want to help me figure out my creature? I raided the library." He turned the mirror so Sirius could admire his stack of books.
"A Journey Up the Amazon, and the Animals that Nearly Ate Me? Sure, why not," Sirius laughed, "not like I've got anything else to do."
And so they dove in.
The book on South American creatures was fascinating and absolutely no use at all, except for a strange bird with clawed wings…
"…the Haotzin, also known as the Stink-bird, leaves the egg with two claw-like finger appendages on each wing. These claws enable the young chick to climb around the trees and vines of its mangrove swamp home, a necessity when faced with the danger of predatory hawks…"Harry frowned at the illustration. "But it's far too small and the adults just have normal wings…"
"And they've got even worse hairstyles than you," Sirius stifled a laugh.
"Absolutely hilarious," Harry snorted as he reached for the next book, mock-glaring at the mirror that he'd carefully propped up on his pillows.
Interesting Creatures of Northern Europe and Their Habits was also a dead loss, though it did have some beautiful illustrations of dragons flying and hunting.
"So, looks like your form isn't European then. Pushing the boat out aren't you," Sirius grinned.
"Doesn't exactly help narrow things down, does it," Harry sighed.
Flicking open the Bumper Book of Imaginary Creatures he froze instantly convinced that the illustrated creatures cavorting before him were not relevant to his search in any way shape or form.
"All right Harry?" Sirius asked.
Harry held the book up, certain any description he could give would be utterly inadequate.
"Ah!" Sirius flinched back, his face receding into the shadows a moment. "What the hell's that doing in the general books…never could understand some of the shelving choices in that library."
Harry couldn't help but agree with him. He was certain the engraving of a wizard "playing" with a tentacle thing was going to haunt his nightmares for weeks. And honestly, as he flicked through the book it really didn't get any better. He was going to be having disturbing dreams for ages after this.
The bed-curtains were suddenly flung open, and Harry was absolutely certain, he didn't scream.
"There you are," Ron boomed, "we've been looking for you everywhere, you've missed dinner and everything. What's all these books?"
To Harry's muted horror Ron reached for the tentacle-horror-tome, opening it before he could say anything.
The other boy jerked back, his face suddenly as red as his hair, staring at him in frantic horror, then at the floor, mouth working but now sound coming out…
"Ron, you okay?" Harry asked, concerned he was going to have to drag his friend off to the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey's tender mercies.
"I, err…" Ron's hands moved in strange and suggestive gestures, "I err…didn't realise you were err…sorry, I'll leave you alone." He grabbed the curtains, slamming them shut again, leaving a puzzle Harry once more in the shadowy safety of his bed.
"What was that about," he muttered as he fished Sirius's mirror out from where it has slipped behind the coverlet.
Sirius's grin was evil, "he saw that book didn't he."
"Yes," Harry admitted.
Sirius's grin only broadened.
"Am I missing something?" Harry asked, suspicion rising.
"You sweet innocent child," Sirius cooed.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
The trees towered over him, the little sky visible through their thick branches the deep indigo of twilight. A cool wind brought the scent of resin, mulch and strange and intriguing creatures, stirring the trees' upper branches until he could imagine he was standing on the shore of a great ocean.
Curious, he scrambled round the trunk of a great conifer, climbing up to a lower branch, his claws easily gaining purchase on the craggy bark as he pulled himself up.
Above, a small feathered bird-lizard hissed at him, fluffing its feathers up in an attempt to look larger, more threatening, before darting away around the trunk.
Satisfied, he balanced easily along the heavy branch, observing this new view of the forest with interest. Part of him seemed to know that in some way it stretched for what was effectively eternity, one way until it petered out in the foothills of towering mountains, and the other way flowing into dense swamps and then the open ocean.
Below him a large forest creature wandered past. Not-a-threat his instincts told him, unless you annoy it.
Harry watched it curiously from his perch, as it browsed on the ferns of the undergrowth. Considering it looked like a walking tank, with bony growths all over its back with large spines sprouting from its neck, ringing its head, he was more than content to let it be…
He sat bolt upright, heart racing, ears ringing from what sounded like an exploding trunk.
"Seamus!" muffled shouting drifted through his bed-curtains. "Why did you leave that there?"
"Bloody idiots," he growled to himself, messing around with prank stuff, just when he'd been having the best dream of his life too.
Grumbling he fished his wand out from under his pillow, casting a tempus charm. Oh just brilliant, half ruddy six. Too early to wake up, but if he tried to going back to bed he'd probably oversleep.
Just brilliant.
It did not bode well for the day ahead, for truly, Mondays this year were a form of torture. He would gladly bite whoever thought it a good idea to start the week with History of Magic. When he could stay awake that was.
And then they had Potions.
True to form Snape decided to treat them all to a surprise test, just to see how much they'd forgotten over the holidays. Even the Slytherins had been grumbling at the injustice of it under their breaths.
He'd spent the class struggling to concentrate as Snape glared at him suspiciously, swooping past his work-bench as if he were trying to catch him out. The only positive was being able to see the board more easily in the gloom of the dungeon classroom.
Feeling drained he trailed after the others as they made their way upwards towards the Main Entrance, joining the flood of students heading towards the Great Hall and lunch.
Undercover of the slow moving crowd, members of the Defence Association approached him wanting to know…
"When's the next meeting?"
"Don't know yet."
"Are we going to be meeting soon?"
"Don't know. Have you tried asking Hermione?"
"So, when are we…"
"I don't know. Not today 'cause I've got detention with Snape."
"How have you managed that already?"
"I don't know. Why does he do anything?"
By the time he reached the doors to the Great Hall, Harry was feeling quite frazzled which was his excuse for why he walked face first into Cho Chang.
"Sorry, sorry," he jerked back, face heating up in embarrassment.
"Hey Harry," Cho smiled down at him, "I was looking for you."
"Err," Harry stuttered feeling suddenly very warm. "We err, we haven't decided a date yet for the next meeting, but…"
Cho just smiled, which just seemed to make the whole situation way more uncomfortable in Harry's opinion.
"No silly," she grinned, "next Hogsmede weekend is February 14th. Do you have plans?"
"Err…" Harry's brain scrambled to catch up with the change of subject. "I err…no?"
"Great," she moved closer, much to Harry's mingled delight and horror. "Do you want to go with me? Like a date?"
Feeling uncooperative, Harry's brain chose that moment to go off-line.
"You don't have to," Cho seemed disappointed, "if you don't want to"
"Y…yes!" his vice squeaked embarrassingly as he forced the word out, "yes, I'd love to."
Cho's smile was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, warming Harry in ways he didn't quite understand.
"It's a date then. See you later Harry," she gave him a dazzling smile over her shoulder as she joined the lunch-time crowd leaving Harry feeling quite dazed, fuzzy and happy.
That happy warmth carried him all the way through lunch and into Divination.
Instead of the sleepy, relaxed atmosphere he'd been expecting, Trelawney stamped around the classroom, snapping and glaring as they answered her questions on commonly occurring dreams and their potential symbolism, sounding more like McGonagall than her usual vague self, muttering dire portents about pink, kitten-loving toads under her breath.
Maybe she would snap and strangle Umbridge with one of her silk scarves.
He spent most of the rest of the afternoon fantasising about it, until, in the window of his mind Trelawney had transformed into some sort of silk-scarf wielding ninja stalking a terrified Umbridge through the Castle, her bangles and beads deadly weapons.
It had certainly helped through Defence class. And then the pink toad had given them a ruddy essay to go with the one from History, the reading from Potions and the blasted dream diary he was still supposed to be keeping.
By dinner time he was just done with the day, wanting to hide in his bed and talk (complain) to Sirius.
"Don't you have detention this evening?" Hermione asked as they were beginning to settle down in the Common Room for the evening.
Harry looked up from his History essay, and swore as he checked the time. Fifteen minutes to get down to Snape's office, if he was lucky.
"See you later," he called over his shoulder as he barrelled out of the Common Room, nearly sending some third years flying.
He raced down through the Castle, taking as many short-cuts as he knew, leaping down stairs and shoving through secret passage hiding tapestries as he went.
Heart pounding he skidded to a halt in front of Snape's office door with just minutes to spare. Taking a moment to brace himself he knocked on the forbidding door.
"Come," Snape's voice was muffled by the heavy wood.
Reluctantly, Harry slunk round the door to find Snape sitting behind his desk, viciously attacking a pile of essays with quill and copious amounts of red ink.
"Mr Potter," Snape looked up from the savaged homework, a sneer firmly in place, "how good of you to grace me with your presence, and," he paused dramatically, "more or less on time too. Will wonders never cease."
Harry blinked at him, torn between feeling offended and outright laughter.
"Very eloquent Mr Potter," Snape drawled as he drifted round his desk, wand drawn much to Harry's mild alarm, coming to a halt in front of him. "I hope you have come here prepared."
"I err…yes?" Harry palmed his wand, eyeing the tall man warily.
Snape's expression was disbelieving. "Well then, clear your mind, prepare yourself."
Whatever that was, Harry complained to himself as he tried to suppress his thoughts, his brain scrambling around like a pack of squirrels on a sugar high.
And then Snape was gesturing with his wand. "Legillimens," the man muttered.
Before Harry could protest that he wasn't at all ready, he felt a pressure in his mind, memories rushing past in an uncontrolled flood…
…trudging home from Junior School in the rain, Dudley having been picked up by Aunt Petunia in her car, the damp seeping into his battered shoes…
…sharing sweets with Ron on the Hogwarts express the first time they met…
…Aunt Marge and her awful dogs…
…trapped in the darkness of his cupboard, the sounds of Dudley's sixth birthday party drifting in from the living room, seething in jelousy…
And then he was kneeling on the cold stone flags of Snape's office floor, heaving for air as the first headache he'd had in a while began to build nicely just behind his eyes.
"Pathetic," Snape's voice was full of scorn. "Clearly you are quite unable to follow simple instructions."
Harry scowled as he heaved himself to his feet; clear his mind? How was that supposed to work?
"Truly Potter," Snape's voice was cold and uncaring, "do you think the Dark Lord is going to be half so kind in his assault?"
Well clearly not, Harry rolled his eyes while the bloody man couldn't see.
Maybe some actual basic instructions would be nice, he pushed away the urge to hiss and bare his teeth at the awful man, fantasies of ripping a chunk out of his leg dancing across his mind's eye.
"Enough procrastination," Snape glared at him, "prepare yourself, if you are able."
Gritting his teeth, Harry was barely able to brace himself against the on-coming onslaught.
Again he was pulled into his mind by a rush of memories…
…sitting in the Library trying to concentrate as Hermione quietly chattered about her Runes homework…
…wandering through the corridors, trying to avoid the whispers about him being the Heir of Slytherin…
…Aunt Petunia banging on his cupboard, shouting at him to start making breakfast…
…Uncle Vernon looming over him, face purple with rage, ham-sized fists promising pain…
No, he definitely didn't want to see that again, he thrashed and pashed away from that particular memory and the places it lead to…and then suddenly he was in the room of requirements, all set up for a Defence Association meeting, which they had just finished, and Cho was approaching him, her expression oddly intense…
No, no, he absolutely did not want Snape seeing his kiss with Cho, at all. He heaved and shoved with all his might…
The stone flags of the office floor were blessedly cool, and reluctantly he levered himself off them to find Snape massaging his wrist, watching him with a strange expression, surprise maybe, which quickly disappeared behind the man's usual sneering mask.
"Did you mean to produce a stinging hex?" he asked.
"No…" Harry watched him warily, waiting to actually get detention, "I was just trying to push really hard…"
But Snape's normal scowl was back in place. "Again," he demanded.
Harry braced himself as the now familiar stream of memories began to flow past…
…sitting in Charms practising animating a tea-cup, laughing as Seamus and Dean duelled with theirs, crashing them together in an attempt to push one another off the desk…
…Aunt Petunia taking a swing at him with her favourite frying pan, furious that he hadn't managed to get the bacon perfect for her Darling Dinky Diddums…
…Sirius standing in the shabby front parlour, a crazy smile on his face…
Panicking, he heaved and pushed as hard as he could against the stream of memories, for just a moment aware of a dark slick presence that abruptly withdrew, leaving him heaving for breath, hands on knees as he fought against rapidly fading vertigo.
When he finally straightened up he found Snape watching him intently, expression oddly blank.
"We'll leave it there for this evening Potter," Snape said. "I expect you to practise clearing your mind each evening before bed for a minimum of twenty minutes. I'll know if you haven't," his glare was thunderous.
"Yes Sir," Harry nodded, wishing the man would just explain for once what he meant. But Snape's eyebrows seemed to click down into an even more furious glare.
"Next week, same time," Snape's dark stare followed him as he slipped out of the man's office into the cool darkness of the dungeons.
He'd survived, Harry grinned to himself in the gloom, he'd actually survived…and he didn't need to go back to the Common Room straight away either, now did he.
Slipping further into the shadows he shifted and changed, claws quietly tapping on stone flags as he followed an interesting scent trail further into the warren of passages, tunnels and abandoned rooms that lay beneath the Castle.
There were rats and mice down here, the scent markings of the Castle cats, and other stranger things lurking in the dark, in among the damp stone passages, draped with faintly luminous mushrooms pushing through slime moulds that crept across the stones.
In an abandoned storage room, a large spider scuttled out of his way dragging its prey, a fat mouse, with it as it hid behind a row of glass bottles filled with unidentifiable sludge. Cocking his head he took in the shelves that lined the small room, filled with all sorts of containers. It looked suspiciously like the potions store from the classroom, but dirty and unloved; seemed odd that it had apparently been abandoned so thoroughly.
Which of course was when he heard the noise, faint, just on the edge of hearing; so against all common sense he stalked closer to it.
A little way down the passage he came to a heavy old door that had been shattered by some tremendous force. Unable to help his curiosity he peered through the broken mess.
In the middle of the room beyond hung a ghost, (or more like two thirds of a ghost, its legs fading into nothing), unlike any ghost he'd ever seen. Wrapped in phantom fire the boy thrashed, screamed and cried out as it clawed at its own skin.
Below the apparition was a deep crater in the stone flags, blackened and cracked, the clear epicentre of the horrendous damage in the room. Surrounding it was the blackened wreckage of what might once have been a potions classroom, if he squinted and used his imagination.
So, at some point, this had been the potions classroom, maybe, but then a terrible accident had occurred that had resulted in the screaming shade and who knew how many others dead and injured. Seeing the condition of the room, and the screaming ghost-boy, Hogwarts had actually made a sensible decision and just moved the class.
It must have happened quite some time ago too, he considered the style of the boy's robes, but it was hard to tell with them being so damaged and obscured by the phantom flames.
Feeling unsettled Harry withdrew, determined to go back to his rodent hunt. It was quite anti-climatic when he finally caught his mouse, and determined he wasn't going to be robbed of it this time he quickly crunched it up.
It tasted like chicken.
Why Sirius had complained about surviving on rodents last year he had no idea.
Much later, once he'd managed to dodge Ron and Hermione's concerns he holed himself up in his bed, curtains drawn tightly.
"Sirius Black," he told the small mirror. For a moment he was left staring at his own reflection, and then, abruptly, Sirius appeared looking thoroughly rumpled.
"Are you alright?" he demanded. "If that slimy bastard's hurt you I'm going to…"
"Sirius," Harry did his best to stop the man before he really got going with his rant. "I'm absolutely fine. See." He held up his hands for inspection. "All limbs safely attached. Brain not even a little bit scrambled."
Sirius glared at him suspiciously. "If you're sure…" he drifted off into dark muttering.
"Hey, do you know what "clearing your mind" actually means?" Harry asked, because I haven't a clue, and I'm supposed to be doing it every evening before bed."
Sirius blinked up at him from the mirror, his angry train of thought de-railed. "Meditation kiddo, it means meditation."
"Meditation?" Harry scrunched his face in thought, "erm, I've heard of it but…"
"Even the muggles have meditation," Sirius was frowning again.
"Yeah, they do," Harry agreed, "but my relatives don't hold with that sort of thing. They've always called it hippy mumbo-jumbo rubbish. Banned me and Dudley from having anything to do with it."
Sirius stared at him until Harry began to shift uncomfortably. "Your relatives…" Sirius sighed heavily. "I've let you down so much kiddo. I think you should just assume that if your relatives were very against something, you should do and think the exact opposite, you know…like a normal person."
Harry gave him a watery smile as something inside him released, some tension he hadn't realised he'd been carrying all these years dissipating as if it had never been. Not trusting himself to speak quite yet, he could only nod, because crying in front of Sirius? Major embarrassment.
"It's so tempting to sneak out of here," Sirius said, "and go take a large crap on your Aunt and Uncles' doorstep. I know where they live. I could absolutely do it!"
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
…the branches of the gigantic conifer he was climbing were becoming increasingly thin, bending under his weight as he made his way as far up the huge tree as he could manage.
Things were beginning to sway alarmingly under him when he finally was able to poke his head through the branches and catch a glimpse of his surroundings. Around him a cloud of butterflies took off disturbed by his sudden appearance, and he snapped at them lazily.
In the distance vast mountains reared up, scraping the sky, snow-covered peaks gleaming pink in the evening sunlight. The air up here was filled with the scent of sun-warmed pine and a distant river, darting insects, unfamiliar bird-like predators…
Tipping his head back he screamed at the sky for joy…
"I AM HERE! MY PLACE! I AM HERE!"
Around him came the distant replies of others just like him…
Looked like he'd got a brand new recurring dream, Harry considered the matter as he made his way down to breakfast. The dark forest full of odd creatures was busily becoming a regular feature of his nights, completely replacing the eerie corridor, which he hadn't really dreamt, or even thought about since before…Christmas…yeah, since before Christmas.
But the only out of the ordinary thing that had happened over the holidays was…oh! He stopped suddenly in the middle of the stairs much to the annoyance of a group of Ravenclaw girls.
The animagus ritual must have somehow disrupted the weird connection between himself and Voldemort, if he was lucky on a permanent basis. He wasn't sure his luck was that good, but he could hope couldn't he.
When he walked into the Great Hall the atmosphere was tense, the normal chatter subdued, students whispering to one another frantically as they huddled around copies of that mornings Daily Prophet. At the head table the professors looked particularly grim, even Flitwick…and Umbridge was absent.
Strange.
"Oh Harry," Harry looked up from her copy of the Prophet as he approached, "it's awful." She turned the paper so he could see the front page.
BREAKOUT!
…the front page screamed.
Mass Outbreak From Azkaban.
Has mass-murderer Sirius Black struck again?
Below were ten pictures, nine wizards and a witch, all of them clearly showing the effects of long term exposure to Dementors, as well as the awful conditions of the prison itself, their prison uniforms threadbare rags, their skin pale and waxy, hair a matted mess.
"Might as well install a revolving door in the place," Harry suggested, trying to lighten the mood slightly.
Hermione was not amused, "Harry, that was really inappropriate."
Pausing, a piece of toast forgotten in his hand, Ron looked round. "What's a revolving door?" he asked.
Hermione gave Harry a look-what-you've-done glare before launching into a very involved and confusing explanation. Harry wished her luck.
The wizarding convicts snarled and glared at him as he picked up the discarded paper, their eyes malevolent and utterly mad. Were they this crazy before they were captured and put away, or had Azkaban made them worse, he wondered.
"The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban.
Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and hat he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals…"*
…Harry read. So had they escaped, or more likely they'd been rescued by their resurrected master…
"…when the murderer Sirius Black escaped" said Fudge last night. Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggest outside help…"*
No! Really? Or maybe they just wandered out the front door.
He felt for Sirius, being blamed like this, his name dragged through the mud. Clearly people were terrified, and he was a convenient target to blame, but still, it seemed a little over the top
His gaze drifted down the table taking in the various reactions, the anger, the confusion, the fear, while he personally felt rather detached from the whole mess. It was terrible, yes, but if one of these scrawny half-mad criminals came near the obvious reactions was to…to…bite them. Yeah…that sounded…right…he mentally trailed off.
He scratched his head, wondering where that particular train of thought had come from and why it wasn't bothering him any way near as much as it probably should have. What he needed, his weirdly calm subconscious told him, was a really good hunt for a mouse, or a rat would do, or one of those little feathered lizard-bird things that figured so highly in his new dreams. They looked so tasty and crunchy, and just so…so…
"Harry, you coming to class…or are you just going to drool into your porridge?"
He jerked in his seat, knocking his knees painfully on the underside of the Gryffindor table. Swearing under his breath he looked round to find Hermione and Ron looming over him, looks of concern on their faces.
Beyond them he could see the Great Hall was rapidly emptying as everyone left for their first class of the morning.
"Oh…yeah," he grabbed his bag, more falling off the bench than getting up in his haste to join the dwindling number of students leaving, oblivious to the concerned looks his friends shared as they followed him.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
And so the term bega with a vengence, the weeks passing by in a gushing torrent of classes, homework and revision, that quickly became a downward spiral of increasing stress, (mainly caused by Hermione), until the Christmas Holidays were a faint memory behind them.
The Defence Association more and more became an opportunity for them (well, mainly Hermione) to catch up to where they actually should have been with Defence, but weren't thanks to Umbridge and her bizarre attitude towards the school. At least it made Hermione happy.
There was also his continued search, trying to identify his other form. It was frustrating, the library proving to be utterly unhelpful in this regard. He certainly wasn't in all the usual books, on the other hand Hermione was very approving of his increased love of the library and kept harassing Ron about why he wasn't following suit. The resulting arguments were always spectacular and gave him a wonderful opportunity to slip away and continue his exploring and getting used to his new form.
Of course that caused more arguments when they realised he'd disappeared without them. They always demanded to know where he'd gone and what he was doing, which always resulted in Hermione trying to have an argument with him as he tried to step around her prying, nosy questions. But then of course Ron would say something snarky, which would predictably cause a fight.
So he would take the opportunity to escape and do his own thing, thereby starting the cycle all over again. He wouldn't mind so much, but it was so obvious they wanted each other's attention, they were just doing it in the worst way possible.
If it hadn't been for his daily chats with Sirius, and being able to get away and explore in his other form he was quite certain he would have cracked under the strain.
Even the Occlumency classes, despite Snape's best efforts, were turning into a mildly enjoyable diversion from the pending threat of the OWLs that loomed on the horizon. He was so glad that he'd asked Sirius about the "clearing your mind" thing though.
Apparently it meant quietly sitting and counting your breaths. He'd felt silly doing it at first, still wasn't sure if he was doing it right to be honest, but if it kept Snape marginally less testy…
There's always interesting smells down there the friendly ginger tabby from Hufflepuff mewed. Apparently her human thought she was a boy. Looked like someone was going to be in for a surprise at some point.
Predictably it was the statue of the hunchback witch in the third floor corridor letting in gusts of damp, earthy air, and possibly slugs.
Harry ruffled his feathers, a good shake making them settle back into place. There's a tunnel behind it. Runs all the way to the village.
Ginger-tabby's tail twitched in excitement. Open? She looked up at him demandingly.
His laugh came out as a huffing croak. You need human sounds to open it.
The little cat seemed utterly unimpressed.
Though if I ever have cause to build a secret tunnel I will make sure it can be feline activated. He reassured her.
Of course. Ginger-tabby twitched her tail. Look, she perked up. Professor-Cat. She's like you, a shape-shifter, but a cat really.
There to Harry's horror, coming down the corridor towards them was Professor McGonagall in feline form, the markings around her eyes horribly distinctive. But of course she noticed him, pausing in her gentle trot to glare at him with narrowed eyes.
I think I should leave he gave Ginger-tabby a last gentle touch of his snout.
See you, he squawked, but he was already sprinting off around the corner, cringing when a splash of spell-light hit the stone-work just above his head.
Panicking now he bounced up a spiral stairs, talons clacking on the worn stone steps, Professor McGonagall's angry shouts drifting up to him as he ran.
He needed to get away and fast, but how…if he changed back he'd be in just as much trouble, considering how far out after curfew he currently was. It was so bad it wasn't late, it was starting to be early.
He backpedalled sharply as he burst out onto the sixth floor, only to find a red-faced and very angry Professor actually waiting for him, wand drawn.
Sprinting back down the stairs, frustrated shouting following him, he was in a blind panic now, all human thought gone, just the need to hide from the scary, hairless, featherless, stick-wielding two legged creature.
But the sounds of pursuit were getting closer no matter how fast he tried to go. Desperate he shoved himself through a small decorative window which gave a view over the main staircase, scrambling from picture-frame to picture-frame, ignoring the outraged occupants as he finally made the stairs, then a corridor, then an unused classroom where he crammed himself into the knee-well of the teacher's desk.
Unfortunately it proved to be not quite large enough, as he slowly changed back, legs spilling out onto the dusty classroom floor.
That had been a little too…thrilling. Maybe he should just cut his losses and head back to the tower, just grin and bare it if he got caught and ended up with detention or something.
He heaved himself to his feet, dusting himself off as best he could. If only he had his invisibility cloak with him. But he'd got out of the habit, because okay he was no expert, but he had a nasty little feeling that carrying such a powerful magical object and then changing his form probably wouldn't end too well. Maybe he was wrong, but why would he experiment…
A quick glance around the door revealed the coast was surprisingly clear of furious Professors, and so he made his way towards the Main Staircase, choosing speed over secrecy.
Again, clear. Not believing his luck he slowly made his way upwards, yawning widely as he felt the lure of bed and at least a few hours of sleep.
As he neared the top a Ravenclaw student passed him, dressed for the day, bag slung over his shoulder, nose already in a book.
Harry watched him descend, tired mind trying to comprehend the significance of this. Then a couple of the Ravenclaw girls from his year passed, eyes glancing his way a moment as they swept past, already talking about runes revision.
Wait.
They were going to breakfast.
It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been suddenly chucked over him.
He sprinted the rest of the way, cursing his own stupidity in loosing track of time so badly that out-late had become Ravenclaw-early.
"Where did you come from?" the Fat Lady asked as he hurriedly gave her the password.
"Fine, be rude then. Young people these days," he heard her mutter as he dove through the portrait-hole and hurried through the common room towards the dorm stairs.
A few of the early-birds were up and about. Looked like he had enough time for a wash and to grab his things for the day before breakfast; stuff sleep, he was just going to have to tough this one out.
At least it wasn't a Monday, he thought as he grabbed his wash things.
"Where have you been?" Ron hissed, peering out form between his bed curtains, all squinty eyed and sleep-muzzed.
"Err," Harry considered how he could possibly explain what had happened as he retreated towards the showers. "I err, lost track of time, got distracted," he laughed nervously, trying to ignore Ron's suspicious stare.
oOo
"I've no sympathy for you," Hermione gave him a superior look turning back to her, no doubt thrilling, book on Arithmancy, completely ignoring his exhausted attempt at a glare.
Harry turned back to his attempt at breakfast, wishing he could have coffee or something. Heck, at the moment he'd happily down one of those nasty sugary energy drinks that Dudley was obsessed with.
Feeling as if he were made of lead he tramped after the others as they made their way to first class. They paused a moment in the Entrance Hall, the daily ritual of checking to see if there were any more Educational Decrees added to the sprawling mess that was now creeping across the wall near the main entrance.
"Anything?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head, squinting up at the ever spreading rules and restrictions that Umbridge kept putting in place. There were so many now it was hard to keep track of what they were actually allowed to do.
"Rate things are going," he muttered, "we'll all be confined to our beds, unable to move in case we violate some rule."
Ron snorted in amusement, elbowing him none to gently in the ribs.
"Oh, look," Hermione pointed to a decree that was part of the creep towards the stairs. "That one's new. I wonder what happened to cause that."
Around them spread grumbles of discontent as other students also spotted the new directive.
Harry squinted up at the parchment filled with curly writing, "err…something about inappropriate hair ornaments, and err…modest and respectable hair-styles…what?" he stared, puzzled. What had that got to do with anything?
It wasn't like anyone was walking around with full on punk hairdos, the sort of thing that got Uncle Vernon raging mad and inclined to lash out, just because.
Okay, occasionally you'd see someone with multi-coloured hair, or looking like they'd stuffed their fingers in an electric socket or something, but that was because something had gone wrong in Charms, or sometimes Potions, or they'd been experimenting on the quiet. Easily fixed.
"It means," Hermione gave him a disapproving look, "that she's about to annoy at least half the girls in the school, and some of the boys. Come on, we're going to be late to Charms if we're not careful."
Slowly they followed after her, joining the streams of other students making their way to class.
"Inappropriate hair-ornaments…" Harry muttered to Ron as they climbed the stairs. "Is she including herself in this, because those bows she wears…"
"Probably not," Ron said, carefully steering him around a suit of armour that could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago. "Looks like I'm going to be prodding you awake all day," he sniggered.
Which turned out to be true. Still wasn't as bad as Hermione's stinging hexes to the knees though.
oOo
He yawned so widely his jaw cracked. Yelping in pain he rolled on his side, clutching his face in a futile attempt to ease his discomfort.
"Merlin Harry," Sirius's laughter drifted from the mirror where it was currently propped up on his pillows. "That one was so wide I though the top of your head was going to fall off."
Harry glared at him through another yawn.
"I think you need your beauty sleep more than a chat with me," Sirius laughed, though Harry barely had the energy to nod in agreement. "You can tell me more about your incredible escape tomorrow."
"Goodnight kid," Sirius's voice was full of amused affection, but Harry didn't hear, he was already fast asleep.
oOo
"What on Earth got into you yesterday?" Hermione demanded as they drifted out of the Great Hall after breakfast. "Were you ill? Maybe we should have taken you to Madam Pomfrey?"
"Just tired, honestly," Harry shrugged, feeling increasingly defensive, glancing over at Ron. But if he was expecting any sort of support from the red-head he was going to be disappointed.
"Where were you?" Ron demanded, "cause you must have come back to the dorms really late."
"Just lost track of time, that's all," Harry nearly walked into Ron as they paused to check the Educational Decrees. "Nothing exciting at all I promise. Just my own stupidity….oh look, there's a new one."
"…all students need to be in bed and asleep by 8pm. Heads of Houses will be required to check all dormitories to ensure that this is enforced…" Hermione's frown deepened as she read, "that's ridiculous," she growled, "of all the stupid…how are we supposed to get in enough study time, especially leading up to the exams. We won't be able to revise properly…"
"Outrageous," Ron nodded, doing his best to look sympathetic.
"Yeah," Harry put on his most serious face, "absolutely terrible."
Hermione glared at them for a moment, before turning, storming towards the stairs, students darting out of her way like startled deer.
"It's getting ridiculous," Ron ranted as they followed her up the main stairs, his complaints now like a well worn path, "she's sucking all the joy out of this place. We need to do something before she ruins Hogwarts forever."
"But what," Harry sighed, "that is the question."
Unfortunately Ron had no answers for him.
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
January rolled into February, and before he knew it the first Hogsmede trip of the term, and his date with Cho was looming on the horizon.
"What do I wear?" he asked Sirius feeling frantic, "everything I've got is either school stuff or its Dudley's elephant-sized rejects…"
Harry didn't notice Sirius's frown at that.
"…but I suppose if I wear my checked shirt…"
"Kiddo, it's all about confidence," Sirius butted in, "just relax, smile and listen to what she's got to say, and remember, above all else, have fun!"
Which was easy for him to say, Harry grumbled to himself.
oOo
The sunshine was bright and cheerful, almost mocking in the face of Harry's internal turmoil. Cho had met him outside the Great Hall after breakfast and they had made their way down to Hogsmede together.
Cho had insisted on holding his hand.
Harry couldn't remember the last time someone had held his hand, if ever. Dudley had had his hand held, but Aunt Petunia only ever grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him around, generally while screeching at him, and only if she couldn't avoid it. Hardly friendly and loving.
Hence his current state of panic overlaying excitement, because a pretty girl was touching him, and he couldn't help but be very aware of just how sweaty his palm was getting, and was he doing this whole hand-holding thing right…
Cho smiled at him, revealing little dimples, leaving him feeling quite dazzled.
"Remember to relax and enjoy yourself," Sirius's words rang in his ears as he smiled back. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be dancing, showing off how beautiful his tail was to her, and it was beautiful, really soft and fluffy and black, and he bet he could get the feathers to make a really satisfying swishing sound if he…
"Where do you want to go first?" Cho asked, cutting through his increasingly strange and confusing thoughts.
"I err…" he looked round frantically, finding they were actually in Hogsmede, standing by the Three Broomsticks in fact.
"Where would you like to go first?" he asked.
Apparently that was the right answer and he soon found himself in a second-hand bookshop he hadn't been aware of the existence of, full of Ravenclaws of course. He bet Hermione knew about it.
Cho disappeared near a stack of Arithmancy texts so, not knowing what else to do, and spying an opportunity he went and found the books on creatures hoping they'd have something on obscure feathered, not-quite-bird like animals.
He was to be disappointed. The range on offer was very similar to the School's offerings with a few more specialist titles, including Breeding Flobberworms For Fun And Profit. He put it back with a small shudder. Definitely one for Hagrid.
That was when he spotted the copy of A Full Consideration of the Fauna of Eons Past by Mary Shipton. It looked a little battered and unpromising, but when he had a casual flick through it proved to be full of creatures he hadn't seen anywhere else…
"Oooh, did you find something?" Cho asked over his shoulder. Harry jerked in shock, nearly dropping his prize on his feet.
"Er, yeah," he grinned nervously, "yeah," he showed her.
Cho didn't seem quite so impressed, but she shrugged with a smile. "It's got really nice illustrations. Are you going to treat yourself?"
Treat himself? Harry blinked up at her puzzled, looking back down at the book and its battered leather cover. Everything he'd ever bought himself was purely practical, for school, apart from the odd sweets. As for the Dursleys, they had never bought him anything if they could help it, not even food it they thought they could get away with it.
"Yeah," he began to smile, a mixture of excitement and daring blooming in his chest. "I'm going to treat myself."
It was both thrilling and more than a little bit frightening spending money on himself like that. His mind was still reeling as Cho dragged him round a few more shops.
And then she pulled him into the most flamboyant café he'd ever been in (not that his experience of cafes was anything to talk about). Everything was pastel and frilly and cute, from the squab cushions on the dainty chairs to the crockery patterned with floppy pink roses.
Even the food when it arrived was ridiculously fussy.
"Isn't it wonderful," Cho breathed as she took in the small, perfectly triangular sandwiches served on a gold trimmed cake stand. "I always love coming to Madam Puddifoots."
Harry made a small strangled noise he hoped sounded like agreement, but frankly he was panicking. Did he pick the sandwiches up with his fingers to put on his plate, or did he use the tongs the waitress in her lace trimmed apron had provided them.
Trying to remember what little manners Aunt Petunia had bothered to teach him he gestured to Cho to go first. To his relief he'd apparently got something right as Cho gave him one of her heart-stopping sunshine smiles.
Apparently you used the tongs, he watched carefully as Cho picked one of each type.
Right. He could do this, hopefully without dropping or breaking anything. The sandwiches turned out to be pretty nice despite their fussy appearance, he thought as he ignore Cho's knowing smile.
And then they had iced fancies, which to his absolute consternation were supposed to be eaten with a fork.
"I…I really miss Cedric…"
Harry looked up startled. So far they'd kept to safe subjects like the weather, Quidditch, the stress of OWL revision, and debating whether Madam Pince actually went outside or did she just live in the library…
"Yeah," he said, not sure where this was going, getting increasingly alarmed as Cho's previously cheerful mood disappeared as if it had never been.
"He was such a great person and…and…" She was beginning to look tearful.
Harry watched, torn between concern and mounting discomfort the horror of that evening looming in his mind, threatening to engulf him. "Really brave," he tried.
Cho looked startled a moment.
"He was really brave," Harry tried again, bracing himself against the potential incoming wave of emotional turmoil, wondering what he could add that wouldn't have him crawling under the table screaming.
"There you are!"
Harry jerked back, nearly falling off his chair as he suddenly found Hermione looming over him. "You're late! Did you forget?"
Harry stared at her open mouthed. "What? I'm on a date, with Cho, like I said this morning. What do you mean I'm late?"
Hermione huffed, hands on hips. "The interview," she snapped, "you know…where you tell a certain friend of ours about what happened that night," she hissed.
Had he really agreed to that, Harry scratched his head as he wracked his memory. Nothing really came to mind, except…maybe…he vaguely recalled something about during homework in the Common Room with Ron and Hermione, but really he'd been staring into the fire considering which part of the Castle he was going to explore next and would the door they used as a short-cut to the greenhouses be a possible escape into the forest…he wasn't sure…
"Er," he looked up at Hermione, doing his best to ignore her glare. "No? Maybe? I'm not sure."
Hermione looked ready to strangle him, or at least beat him round the head with one of Madam Pudiffoot's fancy chairs.
"Maybe I should leave," Cho said, starting to rise out of her chair.
Harry jerked round, "no, please don't go."
But Cho just gave him a cool unimpressed look.
They were supposed to be having fun. How could a first date go so wrong so quickly. "This is about that night," he said to Cho's receding back. "You're welcome to listen too. I'm…I'm not sure I'd be able to tell it twice, and if anyone deserves to know, you do."
Cho paused, hand on the door handle. "Really?" she asked.
"Yeah," Harry nodded firmly. "You're involved too, you deserve to know, so…buy you a butterbeer after?"
"Okay," Cho smiled at that, faint and watery.
They left, making their way towards the Three Broomsticks, Cho holding his hand again. Once they entered Hermione led them upstairs to a private room.
"Ah, here he is," a horribly familiar voice trilled, "finally."
Harry grimaced as he realised Rita Skeeter was already there, sitting by a table near the window, staring at him like a hawk at a mouse. She looked a lot more down at heel than he remembered, must have kept to whatever agreement Hermione had talked her into. She'd already got her parchment and quill out. Harry scowled at the nasty acid-green thing, already dreading how it would twist his words.
Beside her Luna sat, looking surprisingly business like. Ron was there too, bottle of butterbeer, looking utterly bored and fed-up.
"And who's this?" Skeeter asked, turning her predatory smile on Cho.
"Ah, Cho Chang. She was Cedric's girlfriend." Harry stuttered, "Cho, this is Rita Skeeter, who's going to be interviewing me." And wasn't that going to be a barrel of laughs, he hid a grimace.
"Yes, yes," Skeeter's smile became even more alarming if that were possible. "Shall we get started?"
"With a normal quill if you please," Hermione snapped. "To keep within the terms of our agreement."
There was a silent battle of wills across the table for a moment. And then to Harry's surprise Skeeter actually backed down, grumbling under her breath as she put away the acid-green quill and pulled out a much more normal looking thing.
"So Harry," her creepy smile reappeared, and he tried not to flinch back. "Why don't we start from the evening of the last task."
And so he did. For the first time since that night he talked about walking through the maze, being attacked by that blasted Acromantula within sight of the cup and Cedric coming to his rescue. Then there had been the whole silly argument about who should take the blasted cup, just how incredibly noble and annoyingly Hufflepuff Cedric had been about the whole thing.
The horrible realisation that the cup had was in fact a port-key, not his favourite method of transport, and then the sheer confusion when they landed in that dark, cold graveyard.
Describing Cedric's death nearly finished him. He barely noticed Cho's sob as he explained how he'd been blaming himself, wishing he'd just grabbed the bloody cup alone ever since, so that what happened next could have been avoided, that Cedric had been spared from a fate he didn't deserve.
Someone pushed a bottle of butterbeer in front of him, and somehow he pushed forward. After that, somehow it got easier, like he could see the finish line at the end of the race or something. Talking about the Death Eaters bowing and scraping to their masters and the mess afterwards was a breeze in comparison.
"That's it really," he said as he finished explaining the fate of the fake Moody, looking up at the others for the first time. He blinked in muted surprise as he took in their shaken expressions. Even the normally calm and vague Luna was staring at him intently.
"I err…I hope that was okay," he licked his lips nerves growing. What if he'd missed something? What if it didn't make sense and no one believed him?
"That was excellent," Skeeter breathed as she shuffled through her notes, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Though I have a question…bone of the father? It seems quite unbelievable that You-Know-Who would actually have a father…"
"Er, yeah," Harry nodded, "yeah, his dad was a muggle…the little I got from his rant, apparently he abandoned Voldermort's mum because she was a witch, among other things…"
Everyone stared at him.
"Really?" Skeeter seemed a little sceptical, "so You-Know-Who has Daddy issues…fascinating. Well, I'd love to stay and chat but I really must get to work. I'll be in touch with you shortly Miss Lovegood." She gave Luna's hand a quick shake before disappearing.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, turning to Cho. Cho was staring down at the table top, lost in her thoughts.
"You okay?" he asked, "Do you want to get that butter-beer now?"
"Cho?" he asked gently putting a hand on her arm. She started, blinking rapidly as she fought with her tears.
"Cho?" he was beginning to get really concerned now. Maybe this had all been a terrible idea…
Slowly she looked round. "I…sorry…"
"Butterbeer?" he tried hoping it was the right thing to say. "You okay?"
"Yes…no…I don't know," she whispered. "I think…I think I need to be alone for a while." She slowly pulled herself to her feet, engulfing him in a hug for a moment. "Thanks, I…thanks," she smiled back at him as she slipped through the door, leaving him alone in the private room.
Well, that wasn't quite how he thought his very first date was going to go. He had been hoping for another kiss; he had a hug though, and Cho didn't seem actively angry with him, despite Hermione gate-crashing their lunch. That had to count for something, didn't it?
oOoOoOoOoOoOo
*(p481) Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling.
