XXXVIII
The third Wednesday in Hogwarts was his birthday. Of course, when Kakashi woke that day, that was neither his first nor his second thought. He didn't think about it at all. He was all the more surprised when there was a small number of gifts at his night table in the morning.
Stupidly, as he saw it, his first reaction was to stare at the other boys in his dorm and ask: "What's that?"
"For your birthday," Justin replied at once. He looked a bit troubled. "It is your birthday, right? I swear! If Weasley lied about that—"
"No," Kakashi interrupted quickly, "it is." But that didn't really answer his question. He was about to ask again when he realized how stupid he would look. Snapping his jaw shut, he nodded curtly. Presents? Presents… As if he was a child, again. Or well… Last time, he'd received gifts like that was for his Jonin promotion.
During his last birthday, the war was still ongoing and he'd been on the battlefield. He suspected Rin or Minato had something planned for after his return… Maybe. They'd done that for his thirteenth birthday. Sensei at least made it a point, to have a feast, even if it had been weeks too late. That was for his thirteenth. He had never celebrated his fourteenth birthday. By the time he came back to the village, Rin was dead, Minato-sensei was about to become Hokage, and Kakashi had joined ANBU only a few weeks later.
This was just odd, he thought, as he finally decided to stop looking like a clueless idiot. He grabbed the closest package. There weren't many, and most, he was sure, where sweets or snacks – at least if his nose wasn't lying to him. The first package he took was one that didn't smell of food.
There was a tiny card attached to it, stating that it came from Hermione. He was a bit surprised to receive a present from her at all, but then he noticed, that there was a second much bigger present in Gryffindor red wrapping. He noted Neville's handwriting on the card, but as he flicked the card open, it was from Neville, Ron, and Harry together. This one had the oddest scent, Kakashi thought, with a wrinkled nose. Like mud and worms.
Hermione's package, he decided, was much safer. And indeed, as he opened it, it was a nifty new quill and ink. This quill had an odd somewhat broader tip, but it seemed more high quality than his old one. As he weighed it in his hand, it was much more comfortable, too, and there was even a small box with different replaceable nibs.
How considerate! He was writing so many essays these days, the nib of his old quill was already fraying a little. And he could always use more ink. Granted, it was mostly his clones writing these essays, so it wasn't like he'd get cramps in his wrist for writing with a bad quill, but his clone would still be grateful, Kakashi assumed.
Weirdly enough, it seemed he was the only one in the room who liked Hermione's present. The second he opened it Justin huffed, sounding annoyed. They had a few minutes until breakfast, and all the boys were sitting on Ernie's bed opposite Kakashi, to watch him unwrap his packages. He felt oddly self-conscious at so much attention.
"Typical," Ernie sighed. He had snatched the tiny card from the nightstand, where Kakashi had placed it. "From Hermione."
"Of course, it's from Granger," Zacharias scoffed. "Who else would give away quills? Useless!"
"It's not useless," Kakashi protested. "Do you know how many essays I write these days?"
Ernie laughed out loud. "As long as you like it."
Meanwhile, Nitin had grabbed the small box with the extra nibs. He opened it and scrutinized the little pieces of metal.
Curious, Kakashi watched him. A few of them looked appropriately sharp. He could use that as a weapon if he didn't have a Kunai at hand. Doubly useful!
"It's meant for calligraphy," Nitin said when he put the nibs back. "Not for essays." He shrugged. "Though I guess you can write essays with them."
"What's calligraphy?" Kakashi asked under his breath, thinking the word sounded somewhat familiar.
"The ink too," Nitin added after a moment. "Would be a bit of a shame, to waste that on essays."
What else would he use the ink for though? He didn't need to draw any new explosive tags recently.
"You really like that stuff?" Justin sounded disbelieving, but then he just glanced at the other boys, if they could make sense of it, before shrugging.
Kakashi really didn't get their aversion to quills. It was such a useful gift. If giving people things for birthdays was a norm here, he was already considering just stacking up on quills for that purpose. However, it seemed like his classmates didn't share his ideas of what a good gift was. Deciding, he had no interest to argue about it, he quickly took a new present.
Justin gave him a copy of Hogwarts: A History from Bathilda Bagshot.
He had to snort when Nitin gave him a series of short stories by Franz Kafka.
"Potter actually asked me about that, the other day," he explained with a slight shrug. "So I thought, why not?"
Ernie, Susan, and Hannah had all given him different variates on sweets, that he didn't know what to do with. At least, he got some Chocolate Frogs from Hannah. Despite not particularly liking chocolate, he still regretted that he didn't get them in the Hogwarts Express. He was fascinated by them. And Bertie Botts', he thought, were actually alright. He could easily filter out the overly sweet or disgusting ones with his nose.
He was about to leave for breakfast when Ernie called him back. "What about the last one?" He pointed at the bright Gryffindor red one.
"I know what that is," Kakashi said with a slightly wrinkled nose.
Why ever those three would gift him a jar of worms and insects he couldn't say. If they survived long enough, he could give them to Shibi Aburame, he guessed. Aburame could test if there were any differences between this world's, and their world's vermin. But why Harry, Ron, and Neville would give him that… It had to be a weird joke. He couldn't quite see the cause for this yet. Maybe Harry and Ron had gotten so fed up with his obvious secrets, that they just decided to get their revenge by giving him a jar of vermin…
Why Neville would do that, he couldn't say?
He met all three in the Great Hall. Neville was already ducking his head before Kakashi glared at them. He was clearly feeling bad about their little joke. The same couldn't be said for Harry and Ron who smiled from ear to ear, waiting for him to come over.
Well…
Knowing, that they were expecting him, he walked over. "What's that supposed to be?" he asked with a scowl. He didn't even know if he should feel angry, surprised, amused, or uncaring about the whole thing. Was it a joke? A veiled insult?
"I'm sorry," Neville blurted out at once. "I told them not to do it! I thought we'd send it all together—"
"Shh!" Ron hissed. "Don't just blurt it out!"
"What did they do?" Hermione asked. She sat a bit away from the others, finishing her breakfast. As she met Kakashi's eyes she smiled sheepishly. "And Happy Birthday. Did you get my package?"
"I did. Thanks. It's very useful."
Hermione blushed a little, though Kakashi didn't miss as she glared at Ron as if to say, 'I told you so!'
"And these three send me a jar full of vermin."
Hermione grimaced. "Of course, they did." She didn't look surprised.
"It's food," Ron said, finally starting to explain. It made no sense though.
"I'm not a frog," Kakashi scoffed.
"Funny you should say that." Harry grinned even broader. "What's almost a frog, but not quite?"
Kakashi frowned confused. "I'm not a toad, either."
"Sure," Ron shrugged. "You're not. But he is!" He took a step to the side.
There was a big glass jar behind him. Neville held a hand on top of it. Inside, there was a bunch of wet earth, a bit of deadwood, and leaves. And right on top of the leaves was an average-sized toad. It had dark green spots all over its otherwise light brown and warty skin.
"He's a green toad," Neville explained.
Kakashi blinked stupidly. They wanted to give him a toad?
"He doesn't have a name yet," he continued nervously. "So, you can name it… Whatever you want."
Kakashi still stared at it, dumbfounded.
"Charlie?"
"Huh?" finally looking away from the sleeping toad, Kakashi finally looked at Neville. The boy looked very nervous.
"I thought—We thought, because you said, you liked toads. But if you don't want it…"
"Nonsense!" Ron exclaimed. "You like him, right? He's great, right!" But as he looked from Kakashi to the toad, he didn't seem all that certain himself. He was blushing almost as red as his hair.
"If you don't want it," Harry finally said much calmer, "we can give it to somebody else… The jar of vermin too, of course. That was just a joke, anyway…"
"No," Kakashi said eventually, "I'll keep him." He grinned mischievously. "I'll call him…" But he drew a blank. What should he call the toad? Glancing at the green dotted skin, he had a sudden idea. "Mighty Green!" Guy would love it, he decided.
Snape was up high on the list of people Harry hadn't wanted to meet that day after Quidditch training. And yet, as he made to climb the stairs up to the common room, it was the black bat that called him back.
"Potter, follow me," Snape hissed. He glared at him as if he wanted to speak to Harry as little as Harry wanted to spend his evening with him. And yet, here he was, asking Harry to follow him.
"It's late," Harry retorted. "I should really be going to bed." It was too early to sleep, but he'd rather sleep early than spend just a minute in Snape's company. And the subtle pointing at the approaching curfew might even convince Snape…
Oh, who was he kidding? Of course, Snape didn't care about anything Harry had to say.
"Follow me." Snape's voice took a slightly sharper tone. "The Headmaster wants to talk to you." But it sounded like an excuse. If Dumbledore wanted to talk to him, what was Snape even doing here? Surely Dumbledore would send McGonagall to get him.
"What is it about?" Harry asked skeptically.
Snape had no patience to answer his question. "You'll come at once, or do I need to subtract house points, first?"
So, Harry didn't fight it anymore. Pouting and clearly unhappy, he trudged after Snape. He felt cold and tired from training. At least, Snape actually led him up to Dumbledore's office and not down to his dungeons, as Harry had feared. And indeed, as they arrived at the headmaster's office, Dumbledore didn't sound at all surprised at their arrival. Had it really been him, calling for Harry, not Snape? Then what was Snape doing here? As they entered the office, Harry eyed the Potions teacher unhappily.
Dumbledore's office hadn't changed much since the last time Harry had been here, he thought as he glanced around the room. He smiled when he saw Fawkes perching on the windowsill. The bird was even more beautiful than when Harry had last seen him months ago. The first time Harry had entered the office, he still remembered his shock, when the Phoenix went up in flames. But that was normal for a Phoenix, he'd learned. When it was their time to die, they'd go up in flames to be reborn from the ashes. It was fascinating.
Later that same year, Fawkes had saved him against the basilisk and its venomous bite. And now, he looked even stronger, even prouder.
If Snape hadn't been with them in the room, Harry would've gone over to greet and pat the bird, instead, he just watched him from a distance. Fawkes ruffled his feathers, cooed calmly, and went back to picking on his red and gold feathery gown.
"You wanted to talk to me?" Harry asked the headmaster, sitting down on the chair in front of the desk. Again, he eyed Snape suspiciously, before his gaze settled on Dumbledore. This had to be serious, Harry thought, he'd never been invited into Dumbledore's office, unless it was something important.
"Correct, Harry," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled kindly behind his half-moon glasses. "I... We," he indicated himself and Snape, "have a few questions regarding a mutual friend of ours."
"Mutual friend?" At first, he didn't know whom they were talking about, but with a glance at Snape, he realized, "Charlie?"
"Charlie Major," Dumbledore nodded almost gravely. "Indeed."
Curious, Harry reclined in his chair. He hoped, Dumbledore would tell him more about Charlie, but to his disappointment, Dumbledore didn't say anything of substance.
"What about him?" He asked, playing the clueless fool. If they wanted to learn something from him, they should at least be willing to give him some information, as well. At least, tell him what had caused this questioning. Were they suspicious of Charlie too? Harry was immediately annoyed at the realization. So far, he'd rested assured in his belief that Charlie being in Hogwarts meant, that at least Dumbledore trusted him. But what if Dumbledore knew as little or only slightly more than Harry.
"When you first met him," Dumbledore asked, "did you notice anything unusual?"
Unusual? Aside from the fact, that he had come out of nowhere having walked there from Horley? The entire first meeting had been quite unusual in Harry's book. And Harry's bar for unusual was already pretty high up. He shrugged, because where should he even start. "He was suddenly there. Arrived just seconds before the Knight Bus."
Snape scowled at the information. "Just seconds?" he repeated in a sharp tone.
Harry nodded. He didn't know what had Snape so concerned, but clearly, the Potions master worried about something. "Yes, why?"
"Please continue, Harry," Dumbledore said before Snape could answer. It hadn't looked as if Snape would've said anything to appease Harry's curiosity, so Harry wasn't even disappointed. He'd much prefer taking to Dumbledore without Snape's interruptions.
"What do you want to know?" he asked. There would be a lot to tell if they wanted him to repeat the entire story. They'd be here for hours, and he was too tired for that.
"Focus on the things you thought odd, back then."
Harry's brows furrowed in thought. "He didn't seem to know a lot about the magical world," Harry remembered. In fact, now that Harry thought back, Charlie had probably let him do most of the talking, just because of that. "But then later he said that he didn't go to a wizarding school before, so that explained it. He was very eager to go to Hogwarts… That was already hours later, but when the minister left – I think, he left, because they caught Black," he interrupted himself to explain. "When the minister left, Charlie was pretty upset, that he had just gone like that, without offering him to go to Hogwarts. He came barging into my room in the middle of the night."
"Please refrain, from making baseless assumptions," Snape snarled.
"Assumptions?" Harry asked confused. "I'm not making assumptions. I'm telling you what I saw."
"You're telling us what you think you saw." Snape seemed annoyed. "Yet, you are not as smart as you think you are. What makes you think, your assumptions are correct?"
"What assumptions?" Harry was angry now. If Snape wanted him to answer his stupid questions, at least he should refrain from insulting Harry. "I'm telling you exactly—"
"What Severus means," Dumbledore cut in, before Harry's voice could rise any further, "is that during your explanation, you're telling us what you think caused the boy's actions, instead of just telling us what he really did." His eyes twinkled ominously. "Do you see? He barged into your room in the middle of the night. How do you know it's because he was upset at the minister's sudden departure? He didn't seem to know a lot about the wizarding world. You explain it to yourself by him not going to a school before."
Harry stared open-mouthed. Dumbledore was right, he noticed, thinking back on what he had said.
"Well, Charlie told me," he argued weakly, but already saw the problem. "He told me… You think he lied?"
It was Ron and Hermione all over again, Harry thought, only these two were worse. Ron and Hermione on principle, trusted most of what Charlie told them unless they were given reason to believe the opposite. They hadn't doubted his Afrikaans-story until Hannah told Harry, that whatever language he spoke, hadn't sounded like Afrikaans. They hadn't even imagined that he would dye his hair… And then Ron had suddenly come with that information.
"For the sake of this conversation," Snape huffed in a tone as if he was talking to a toddler, "assume everything he tells you might be false. All we need is for you to tell us exactly what happened. Tell us what you saw, what you heard, and keep whatever insignificant thought might be ghosting around in your head to yourself. It is not needed."
Harry scowled. He was half of a mind not to tell them anything now, but then he looked back at Dumbledore. The headmaster looked disapprovingly at Snape. Harry had to give in then. Snape could go die in a ditch, but if there was something going on with Charlie that caused Dumbledore to worry… That was serious.
Two years and a few weeks into his Hogwarts education, Harry was slowly getting used to fighting his way through the many adventures of Hogwarts. That didn't mean he wanted to do that. If there was something sinister happening... If Dumbledore could deal with it, that would be for the best…
Was it though? What was going on with Charlie? Was he dangerous? Or were the two adults just cautiously worried?
So, Harry started telling the entire story. He told them about how they met in Little Whinging, the ride on the Knight Bus, their first evening talking to Fudge in the Leaky Cauldron. He remembered how Charlie had disarmed Fudge seemingly without a wand. He repeated the story of Charlie barging into his home at night, about the next morning, and Charlie's odd handwriting.
"I'm aware of his handwriting," Snape said with a slight frown. "It is very strange. Even stranger is his spelling."
Harry vehemently disagreed. Surely writing like a typewriter was more unique compared to a few spelling errors. But he didn't argue with Snape. For the most part, he tried to ignore Snape now.
When Dumbledore begged Snape be silent, and for Harry to continue, it got a lot harder. He'd spend quite a few days with Charlie, and he didn't even remember half of their conversations. He remembered their first trip to Diagon Alley, how he told Charlie how to open the barrier, Charlie's trick with the ice cream, and their trip to Ollivanders. But he didn't really remember what they were talking about during all that time.
"Did he talk about his past?" Dumbledore said after Harry had finished with the Weasleys' arrival at the Leaky Cauldron.
"I thought you wanted me to ignore, what he told about himself?" Harry asked a bit cheekily.
"Answer the question," growled Snape.
Harry yawned. "He told me what he told you."
"Assumptions," Snape snarled immediately. "Try and concentrate, Potter, will you?"
Glaring at Snape, Harry shrugged and told them what little he remembered that Charlie had told him.
"He said he's from South Africa," he started, but then suddenly stopped. No, that wasn't right. Had Charlie ever told him anything about South Africa? He clearly remembered Charlie saying he was from Johannesburg, but that was only after… "No, he didn't," he thought out loud. "He made me guess. I asked if he was from there and he…"
"Whole sentences, Potter."
"When I helped him write his letter to the ministry, I started asking where he came from. Because of his accent, and the bad spelling mostly. He told me to guess, and South Africa was the first country I came up with."
Snape looked positively furious now. "And you didn't think to tell us sooner?" he growled shaking his head as if Harry was a lost cause. Harry wanted to snap back, but he was a bit ashamed himself. He had completely forgotten that part until he'd been asked about it. Ron and Hermione would have his head when he'd tell them.
"Well, why did you guess South Africa?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't remember. I think because I didn't know his accent…"
Snape rolled his eyes. "And you thought it was an Afrikaans accent?" he asked incredulously. "However, did you come to that conclusion?"
"No," Harry shook his head, feeling a bit self-conscious. "I didn't know what else – other than English – they speak in South Africa. And I thought whatever his accent, it's a language I don't know."
Snape looked incredulous. "You took a wild guess, he agreed, and our resident genius Potter never bothered to check it?"
Angry now, Harry jumped up from his chair. "Well, did you check it, Professor? It's not my job, is it?"
"Harry, please sit back down." Dumbledore played mediator between them again. "And Snape, if you'd let me ask the questions?"
Snape's lips pinched. Then, as Harry settled back in his chair, he relented with a disdainful huff. "As you wish, Headmaster."
"Thank you," Dumbledore turned to look over his glasses at Harry. Unlike Snape, who seemed tense during the entire interrogation so far, Dumbledore looked calm and almost a bit amused. "Now, Professor Snape has brought it to my attention," he said, "that Mr. Major's first language might not be Afrikaans after all."
Curiously, Harry stared at Dumbledore, silently begging to tell him what it was then.
"Apparently, there has been an incident in Defense Against the Dark Arts last week." Harry nodded at Dumbledore's words. "Both Professor Lupin and Professor Snape have confided in me about the issue." Glimpsing at Snape, Harry wondered what Snape even had to do with the Boggart thing, that he needed to confide in Dumbledore about. "It seems they were both certain, Charlie's first language is not Afrikaans."
"So, what is it?" Harry asked.
For a moment, it looked like Dumbledore wasn't willing to answer. It immediately angered him. He'd spent the last thirty minutes telling them everything he knew, and they would make a big secret out of some language. It wasn't like he was asking for some extremely private bit of information.
However, then Dumbledore sighed. "Has he ever spoken to you about going to or spending time in Japan?"