Author's Note: Okay, so I think I mentioned in the note to my last chapter that I had a day or two where I was having some difficulty writing because of a problem with my eye. Well, that problem reared its ugly head, once again, and for four days I was in a ridiculous amount of pain and barely able to see from my right eye. A situation which resulted in an Emergency Room visit, and a referral to a specialist. End result was a diagnosis of something called Anterior Uveitis. Basically the membrane behind my Iris and Cornea became inflamed causing my eye to become red, (the white of it at least) it was extremely painful, caused blurred vision and excessive tearing, and severe photophobia or light sensitivity. I ended up getting a steroidal eye drop to deal with it that I have to use every two hours for a few days and then every four hours for another week.
So basically it's been one gigantic pain in the ass (or in the eye) and I was completely unable to get any writing done for about five days. So because of that, I apologize that this chapter is later than my usual Tuesday post. Hey, in my defense, I haven't missed a deadline until now, that's not a bad record, really.
Because of this interruption in my writing schedule, I will not be having a new chapter up next Tuesday August 1st, as would be my usual plan. I am going to take the time to really work on the chapters coming up and instead I'll have the next one up on Tuesday, Augst 8th. Apologies for the delay, but again, at least I've got a good reason.
Anyway, in other news, here we have chapter 12 of Soul Scars. Last chapter there was quite a bit of chaos and mayhem broke out and as I had the single greatest number of reviews on a single chapter and people had a LOT to say about it, I wanted to remind you guys that I made a point in the reviews that I was able to respond to that a lot of the chaos would get resolved or dealt with to a degree in this chapter and that's what I have endeavored to do. Hopefully this meets with approval all around.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs not to me. I'm just having some fun playing in their world.
Soul Scars
By,
Rtnwriter
Mister and Missus Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were never involved with anything strange or mysterious for no other reason than they simply didn't hold with such nonsense.
Early on a monday morning in February, Vernon Dursley settled his considerable bulk into his large, and rather beaten, armchair in the sitting room, the telly turned to the morning news, while Petunia went about preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Vernon was in an inordinately good mood for a Monday. He had plans to finalize a large contract with an overseas buyer that morning, and if the reports he'd demanded be completed over the weekend weren't sitting on his desk when he got in, well, he'd be firing someone before lunch.
He so enjoyed firing people.
Since the freak was gone at that freak school of his, he'd had no one to properly vent his frustrations on. He knew the deal that fell through the previous month had to be the freaks fault, somehow, even if he was hundreds of miles away. His good mood darkened and he glowered at the television as not even the thought of firing someone could lift his spirits.
He scowled, even more fiercely, his bushy mustache twitching dangerous when there suddenly came a loud knocking at the front door. Who in the blazes would be knocking at… he glanced at the clock on the wall… seven thirty in the bleed'n morning? Grumbling irritably he leveraged himself to his feet, an accomplishment that would have seemed impossible to some, but he still did it.
The floor boomed hollowly under his feet as he moved his prodigious bulk down the hall, past the kitchen, and into the entry way where he grabbed the doorknob in one beefy hand and yanked it open.
"What!" he bellowed.
When Amelia Bones made her way from the back of the car, accompanied by two Inspectors with Scotland Yard, she had to fight to keep the smile from her face at the sight of the unnaturally pristine house.
"Number Four, Privet Drive," she muttered, carefully checking the address against the pile of documents she held in her hand. "This is the place." They started forward, and over the short walk, she found herself thinking back over the information contained in the documents.
The Uncle was apparently a great brute of a man, overweight and with a tempter to match his size, at least in regards to anything he deemed 'unnatural', usually meaning his nephew. The Aunt didn't seem to be an instigator in any of the abuse, but she certainly hadn't done much, if anything, to prevent it either, according to the report from Healer Gant. The question was, was she a willing participant, or was she acting under the fear of receiving the same treatment that Harry did at the hands of his Uncle?
Amelia hadn't been happy to hear about the breakdown Harry'd had the day after his Friday visit with Gant. She felt a pang of guilt for her part in what the poor kid had been through, but it had been a necessary evil if they wanted to get this case moved along. Without a formal complaint from the child, and without testimony, there was only so much they could legally do. He'd had to specifically identify his attackers, by name, or any case they built could have been thrown out of a muggle court.
She reasoned they could have just hauled his fat ass into wizarding court, but since muggles had no rights whatsoever in the wizarding world, she felt it could easily have been twisted into a proverbial witch hunt, dragging the fat lump in front of a court that was predisposed to rule against him no matter what crimes he'd been charged with. That could have caused it's own kind of trouble with the media and the public in general. Sure, few of the pureblood families would have cared, but did she really want to take the chance?
No.
Better to move things through the muggle courts with every 'i' dotted and ever 't' crossed, as it were.
She stepped up onto the short stoop out front and raised her hand, unable to fight back the grin as she knocked loudly on the front door. From inside she and the two inspectors could hear movement followed by extremely heavy sounding footsteps until the door was, quite suddenly, yanked open as a loud, obnoxious voice bellowed, "What!"
"Mister Dursley?" she asked, keeping her face schooled into a stern, professional, expression.
"Yes, who the devil are you?"
"Mister Vernon Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, Surrey?" she asked and he nodded impatiently.
"Yes, yes, that is the address you're standing at. What the hell do you want?"
"Mister Vernon Dursley, married to Petunia Dursley, father of Dudley Dursley." She paused and looked up from the paperwork she'd glanced down at as she was pretending to read from it and looked the overgrown lump directly into his hateful, beady eyes. "Uncle, by Marriage, to one Harry James Potter?" she asked, a truly vindictive smirk spreading across her lips as she did.
The screaming and cursing, it was later said, could be heard from two blocks away with perfect clarity.
#####
When Harry woke at his usual time of five in the morning and got dressed in the dark on Monday, he felt considerably better than he had all weekend. Since leaving the hospital wing on Saturday, none of the girls had spoken to him. They hadn't sat near him at meals, or joined him and Neville to do their homework. At first, he'd been hurt by their reaction, particularly Hermione when she slapped him. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized they might have overreacted, but they weren't entirely wrong, either.
He had cut off their link entirely. He'd cut them free of his mind. And after so many years with his emotions and mind a constant presence within their own… he could only imagine how jarring and painful that must have been. He'd talked long into the night about the situation with Neville just the night before, long after the girls and the rest of their House had all gone up to their dormitories to bed.
And that was another new plus in his life, the pluses needed to be counted and kept track of, he felt. The more positives he had to think about, the better. Neville had been a friend since their first day on the train, but as time had past he'd become a better and closer friend with every passing day, and this newest incident, just cemented in Harry's mind that Neville truly believed the motto he spouted whenever needed.
Wherever a Potter goes, a Longbottom will stand beside him.
Silently, last night while sitting by the fire and talking with Neville, Harry had sworn to himself that he would honor the commitment that Neville had already shown to him. Whenever Neville had need of him, there would be no questions asked, Harry would drop whatever he was doing, if at all possible, and he would be at the other boys side ready to fight or support his friend.
Finished dressing, he slipped from the dorm and made his way down the stairs, his mind turning over his plans for the day as he stroked that scar behind his jaw, something he'd found himself doing less and less often over the past few months. He needed to make amends to the girls, he decided. He still had a meeting coming up with Professor McGonagall regarding his actions during the Quidditch game. Again, no rules broken, but at the level of school play, he hadn't shown very good sportsmanship. There had been no need for any of his actions, and it hadn't even been about the game, it'd been his own anger that caused his actions against the Hufflepuff team.
So that was the list he set himself:
Make things up to the girls.
See to his meeting with his Head of House, and hopefully he wasn't kicked off the Quidditch team.
Oh, he needed to apologize to his own team first, especially Oliver for swearing at him. The Captain hadn't deserved that from him.
He should probably talk to Professor McGonagall about the detentions he had coming up. Snape hated him. How was it fair to put him in detention for a month with a man that hated his guts for no discernible reason? Could he get it argued to hold his detentions with someone else? Maybe Professor Sprout? Or Professor Flitwick? Flitwick was at least impartial and wouldn't-
"Harry?"
Harry froze mid-step, half way across the common room and heading for the portrait hole to begin his morning spell practice. The voice had been completely unexpected. They'd been avoiding him. They were pissed at him, and he couldn't entirely blame them even if he still felt it wasn't totally his fault and they'd overreacted at least a little bit.
He turned, slowly, until he was facing their spot by the fire. They were all there. All three of them with Hermione in the middle, as usual, and Susan and Daphne on her right and left sides, respectively. They didn't look angry, he felt. They looked… tired? Sad? He couldn't place their facial expressions and he didn't try to search for their feelings with their link. He knew they were still suppressing their emotions, as he'd done before.
"Harry," Daphne said again when he didn't move for several long moments. "Please, come sit with us?"
He didn't say anything, but his feet carried him, almost without his conscious thought, across the Common Room until he found himself sinking gently into his chair, facing the three of them on their sofa. Hermione and Susan looked exhausted, he realized on closer inspection. Their eyes were red and puffy, as if they'd been crying, and there were dark circles under their eyes as well. Clear signs of sleep deprivation, something he was only too familiar with as he still woke at least once per night from the same horrid nightmare.
"I'm so-" he started to say but was cut off again when Daphne lifted a hand, thankfully not to slap him as Hermione had done days previously.
"Not snapping at you, Harry," Daphne said in an exhausted tone of voice. "But please, we have something to say to you and we'd like you to let us get it out first before you say anything."
He frowned but nodded, his stomach twisting itself into knots. Was this when they decided to tell him they were fed up and wanted nothing more to do with him? He'd always suspected it would happen, sooner or later, despite all assurances about their bond or their wanting to be his friend and be there for him.
"We're sorry."
Harry blinked.
That was not remotely what he'd been expecting.
"Huh?"
He almost smiled when Daphne smirked. "Eloquent as ever, Potter," she murmured and Susan giggled quietly for a second as Daphne repeated the words she'd said to him just after he saved Susan's life from a fall off her broom.
"We mean it," Susan spoke up. "We're sorry for how we reacted. You… you were awful the other day, but it wasn't entirely your fault. You couldn't help how you were hurting, and instead of helping you, we got angry with you. We promised we'd be here for you and we screwed up."
"I can't believe I slapped you."
It was barely a whisper and Harry felt a tendril of fear trickle down his spine at the deadened sound of Hermione's voice. He realized her gaze was glassy, emotionless, and she looked even worse than Susan.
"Well, I kind of deserved it," he admitted, hoping to reassure her.
Hermione violently shook her head, her wild mane tossing back and forth so fast that Susan actually leaned slightly away from the other girl to avoid getting slapped by the mass of untamed curls. "No," she insisted. "No, you didn't deserve it. You were hurting, and upset an-"
"And I hurt you," Harry cut her off, gently. "Daphne explained to me how you all felt when I cut the link like I did. I swear, I didn't realize that would hurt you, but that doesn't matter. I swore I would never hurt any of you and I fucked that up royally. So if anyone needs to apologize, I do."
Hermione stared at him, a glimmer in her eyes for a moment before a small smile curved her lips. "Language," she said, quietly, and he broke into a broad grin.
They lapsed into silence, each smiling gently as some of the pain of the last few days bled away. Not all, and there would be work to be done to get back to where they were, but, Harry felt that they were already making decent strides.
"Heading out to practice?" Daphne asked after a time and he nodded.
"Did you want to come with?"
Hermione and Susan shook their heads. "No," Daphne told him. "We're all exhausted. We haven't really been able to get much sleep since Friday, and we were up very early that day, too, so we're going to go back to bed, we just didn't want to put this off any longer. We… we've really missed you."
"I've missed you three, too."
Together, the four of them stood and Hermione took a half a step forward to hug him before she paused, suddenly unsure if she should, if she would be welcome. In the few moments when she hesitated, Harry made the decision for her as he reached out and grasped her hand which she'd already lifted in preparation to wrap her arms around him. Her mouth dropped open as he tugged on her arm, pulling her, stumbling, forward and into his open arms.
For it being the first time that Harry Potter had ever initiated a hug with someone, Hermione had to say, the boy was damn good at it. His arms wrapped firmly, but not too tightly around her body, pressing her against his chest and she let out a quiet sigh as the last of the tension left her body and her own arms came up to wrap around him. He was still tense, she could feel the stiffness in his frame as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, but she could tell that it was considerably less than at any other time that she'd hugged him.
When he released her, she stepped back and he gave her a small smile before he moved past her and pulled Susan into a hug, the Daphne. He didn't say anything else, but he felt their emotions come across the link more strongly than before, and that told him everything. Giving them another small smile he made his way to the portrait hole and out into the rest of the castle.
As the three girls trekked their way up the stairs to their dorm they couldn't help the broad smiles on their lips. It looked like Harry really was getting better, and they were even more determined not to make the same mistakes, and be there with him for every step of the journey.
#####
Breakfast that morning did little to damper Harry's growing good mood. The whispers and stares rolled off of him as he walked to the Great Hall with the girls flanking him and Neville walking on Hermione's right side. The girls had managed to get another two hours of sleep which had done wonders for them all but they did still seem a little tired. Neville was beaming at anyone and everything, simply thrilled that the tense atmosphere that had existed between the four bonded had finally broken. He hadn't been looking forward to it continuing through the week.
For the first time since the Christmas holidays, there seemed to be a lightness to the group. They weren't worrying about the third floor corridor in that moment, or Fluffy, or the Stone. Harry seemed brighter, and more cheerful than Neville could remember him being in the months since they'd met on the train.
"The three most important people in my world are talking to me again and we're not mad at each other any longer," he said, missing how all three girls flushed brightly at his words. "I'm enjoying a good breakfast with the best friends I've ever had in my life," he added with a pointed look at Neville. "Yeah, the next few weeks are going to be filled with moments of total suck, but I just need to deal with it and we'll worry about everything that comes our way as it does."
"Very well said, Mister Potter," McGonagall said from behind him, causing him to spin quickly on the bench to look up at his Head of House.
"Thank, you, Professor," He muttered, flushing slightly. He hadn't really intended for anyone but his friends to hear him say that.
"I wanted to inform you that this evening's plans have changed," she said, moving on in her usual brusque manner. "You will not be attending your first detention with Professor Snape. Instead, immediately after dinner, I would like for you, Miss Granger, Miss Bones, and Miss Greengrass to meet with me in my office."
Harry and the girls all exchanged a series of looks for a moment before turning back to their Head of House and Harry shrugged. "Okay, Professor. We'll see you in class?"
"She nodded, that same soft look around her eyes whenever she looked at him directly. "Indeed, Mister Potter." She nodded to the rest of them and then swept away toward the head table.
"What's that about?" Neville asked, curiously.
Harry shrugged again. "No idea, Mate. We'll find out tonight, I guess."
The rest of the day passed without significant incident. Harry in particular was pleased to avoid having to deal with Snape so soon after the events of Saturday. Any time he and the Potions Master were in the Great Hall at the same time, Harry could feel the older man's heated glared leveled at him and did not relish the idea of what might be in store for him during detentions.
Their classes went well, despite continued staring and whispering from the majority of the student body, with the exception of those from Hufflepuff. They appeared to have taken Harry's apology to heart and as far as they were concerned, it was all water under the bridge. Cedric even stopped Harry and the girls in the hall way at one point and held a brief, but pleasant, conversation with them for a few minutes before the older boy was called away by some of his friends.
By the time dinner was over the four bonded made their way to their Head of House's office with a slight sense of trepidation. After all, the last few times Harry'd been in that office hadn't ended well, or had been painful and unpleasant at best.
When Harry knocked gently on the office door they waited for the call to enter from inside and then the four of them pushed their way into the office to find Professor McGonagall sitting behind her desk with four chairs arranged in a slight half circle in front of the desk. Instead of the usual neat stacks of parchment and her blotter and quills and ink, the desk had been cleared and an elegant tea set sat on the smoothly polished wooden surface.
"Professor?" Harry asked, looking uncertainly at the desk.
"Mister Potter," she said. "Miss Bones, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass," she added with a nod to each person named. "Please, come sit and have some tea."
Exchanging confused looks, but unwilling to possibly insult their aged professor, the four of them sat, accepting a cup of steaming tea each. They sat in silence for several long minutes, the children looking at their Professor with mounting confusion until finally Harry couldn't stand it any longer.
"Professor?" he asked. "Not that this isn't pleasant, but, why are we here?"
She stared at them for a moment longer before she sighed, suddenly looking much older than she had previously appeared.
"Mister Potter, Miss Granger, Miss Bones, and Miss Greengrass," she started before pausing for a second to give them a sidelong look. "That really is quite a mouthful to list off," she muttered, giving them a small smile that barely turned the corners of her lips. "Anyway, I feel I must apologize to you all."
The four of them blinked, surprised by the aged Professors actions. "Um… for what?" Harry asked, cautiously.
"For letting emotions get the better of us. And, for failing you all." She held up a hand to stall them when they all started to speak. "First of all, the troll that got into this school should never have been faced by a first year student, or any student, for that matter. The fact that we didn't know where it was or how it got in is beside the point as we, the staff, are in charge of your safety, as well as all the other students in this school. We should have known more, or done better in that instance.
"Also, in regards to my own actions… The level of detention handed down for your actions on Saturday Mister Potter. Yes you attacked a teacher, but it can be argued that you were not in your right mind at the time, or even aware of your actions. Therefore a month of detentions, I have decided, is excessive. I have spent the entire weekend arguing with Professor Snape and the Headmaster and have managed to get your detentions reduced to two weeks, however I could not get them to agree to you serving those detentions with another teacher. You will still have to attend them with Professor Snape, himself."
Harry was stuck between elated at the reduction and disappointed that it couldn't have been removed entirely, but he took what he could get and decided to be grateful for that much.
Moving on the professor picked up a slip of parchment off of her desk and handed it across to Harry. "Healer Gant asked me to give that to you and expressed a hope that you might have a response for me to send back to him."
Harry nodded absently and opened the note, holding it so the girls could read it at the same time as him.
Mister Potter-
Hey Kid, sorry to do this by note, but I figured you probably weren't much interested in seeing me after the events this weekend. I wanted to apologize for a simple mistake that I made. Simple, but it resulted in nothing short of pain and chaos for you. After our session on Friday, I made an assumption that I should never have made. In my defense I will point out that this situation is a tad outside what any other healer has ever had to deal with, but that doesn't absolve me from my mistakes.
After our session, I expected that you would talk with the girls that share your bond. I expected you to be open with them, to let out the negatives and let them be that rock for you to lean on in that moment of weakness, much as I've heard they've leaned on you in several instances so far this school year. I expected, I assumed.
I regret that I didn't once ask, or inform you that perhaps it might be a good idea for you to let them in and unload a bit.
You carry a heavy burden, Kid. You've got a lot of weight on those skinny shoulders of yours, and you need to learn to let others help you with that burden. No one can order you to, no one can force you too, but I am reasonably certain that if you asked, those girls would be more than happy to sit and let you rant or vent or just talk about anything and everything.
Don't let the isolation you've spent your life with so far define you.
If you are still willing, let Professor McGonagall know and I will be there Friday evening for our next session. If you'd rather be shot of me for my mistake, that's fine too. You will still have to attend a session on Friday but there will be a new healer there instead of me, should you wish it. I will do my very best to find someone that won't make the same mistakes I did.
Sincerely,
Healer Richard Gant
Harry stared at the note, not entirely certain how to feel about it. He wasn't positive about his assertions regarding the girls, but he'd give them the chance to tell him, one way or the other, they'd more than earned that. The rest of the note was pretty straightforward.
He glanced up at their Professor and gave her a weak smile. "Please, if you could tell Healer Gant thank you, for me, and that I'll see him on Friday? I would appreciate that."
"Of course, Mister Potter," she murmured and inclined her head slightly in a nod.
The girls emotions flooded access the link to him, calming and comforting and he folded the note and tucked it away in his robes as he leaned back in his seat.
"Was that all that we needed to discus?" he asked.
"No, there are two more items I wished to mention tonight." She st up and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk with her hands clasped together in front of her. "There is the matter of Quidditch to discuss."
Harry winced, despite knowing the topic needed to come up at some point. "I am very sorry about that, Professor," he muttered, shamefully. "I'll be apologizing to the team as soon as I can find all of them."
She nodded at that. "All well and good, Mister Potter. As much as I would honestly like to punish you for some of your actions, since you admitted yourself that they were taken out of anger, nothing you did during the game was technically against the rules of play. It was just very unsportsmanlike of you to behave in the manner you did. Again, extenuating circumstances must be taken into account, so you'll be allowed to continue to play but not if such behavior becomes common place. It might be legal play in professional matches, but it isn't necessary at the school level.
"That being said I did have a question for you."
Here Harry and the girls all looked up, somewhat confused.
"Yes?"
Professor McGonagall actually looked a touch embarrassed for a moment before she quickly spit out the question that she had, "Mister Potter, do you actually want to play Quidditch?"
Harry blinked, completely taken off guard by the strange question. "I.. Uh… what?" he finally asked after stuttering for a moment.
"It occurred to me, Mister Potter," she said, "that when we first broached the topic of you playing Quidditch I never once asked if you actually wanted to play the game. I admit, that I was overwhelmed, finding such a talented flyer and that I 'ran with it' as some young people have a tendency to say. It never occurred to me, that, with everything else that you have on your plate, perhaps the time and effort that you put into playing might better be directed elsewhere?"
"No, Professor," Harry practically blurted out. "I love playing, really. Well, I love flying, but playing gives me an excuse to fly, and it's fun. I don't mind, really. We're all doing well in our classes and yes, I've got a bit more going on right now… but I can handle it, I promise." He was really trying not to plead with his head of house but it was a near thing. In the end the Professor considered him for a few moments with her usual stern expression back in place before nodding once, sharply.
"Very well, Mister Potter. I will expect to see no decline in your studies and no further action like we saw on Saturday."
"Absolutely not," he said, nodding rapidly. "I promise Professor, I'll never play like that again."
She eyed him speculatively for a moment with a small smirk on her face. "Well… never say never, Mister Potter," she muttered so quietly they almost didn't hear her. "Now, there was one other thing I wished to discuss with you, more accurately, to ask you. Has anyone ever really spoken with you about your parents?" Her tone had changed by the end, speaking with a note of compassion they hadn't yet heard from the stern, matronly professor.
Harry heard the breath hitching in more than one of the girls throats, but wasn't certain who as his attention was firmly fixed on the Professor. He slowly shook his head. "No. No one has said much of anything to me except for a few bits and pieces that Hagrid mentioned when he took me to get my school supplies," he said, slowly.
"Well, I was their professor when they were here," she pointed out. "As were Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. If you'd like, I could, perhaps, share a few stories about them with you?" she offered.
#####
The day after their conversation with Professor McGonagall Harry spent floating on cloud nine. She'd shared several amusing stories about his parents and the chaos and mayhem that they'd gotten up to during their time at Hogwarts, particular his father and his group of pranksters, the Marauders, they'd called themselves.
Harry could easily see the Weasley twins vying for the old pranksters position as the biggest trouble makers in Hogwarts history, and briefly considered discussing it with them, but he was swept away in his usual day's routine and quickly forgot about the troublesome duo. That morning, the girls had joined him again in his spell practice and he set them to learning the disarming charm and the stunning spell, both part of the third year curriculum, but he was positive they would be able to handle it.
Susan had picked up the stunner first, but Hermione had shown a surprising skill with the expeliarmus. Even her aim was considerable better than the other girls and she beamed with pride when Harry congratulated her on her achievement. After practicing for nearly two hours they returned to the tower, showered, and dressed for class before heading down to the Great Hall with their book bags on their shoulders, easy conversation flowing between them as they discussed the merits of different spells and Hermione even produced a list of spells she'd researched that she thought might be worth learning.
Perusing the list, Harry found that he'd already learned a handful of the twenty some odd spells and told them he would start teaching those the next day, if they wanted, while he worked on the other spells to see if he could figure them out. In this way, their day continued. Breakfast, chatting comfortably with Hannah, Tracey, and Neville. Classes after then study before lunch. More classes after lunch and then more study before dinner.
It wasn't until they were leaving the Great Hall that a sense of foreboding finally settled over Harry and he bid the girls goodbye as they turned for the tower while he in turn made his way into the dungeons, trudging his way toward the potions classroom.
"Potter," Snape said in a smooth, silky tone that practically dripped with menace when he pushed open the door after knocking and hearing the Professor call for him to enter. "So, the great Harry Potter finally get's the punishment he's due. Flaunting the rules, throwing your weight around this school, just as arrogant and foolish as that boor of a father of yours," he sneered and Harry scowled but fought back the instinctive desire to snap at the odious man.
Harry knew better, and was starting to think that Professor McGonagall might have had an ulterior motive for telling him the stories about his parents. Knowing that he would be forced to serve his detentions with Snape, did she give him that knowledge of his parents as a buffer against the Potions masters constant attacks?
"What is it you need me to do for my detention… Sir?" he asked with a pregnant pause before the word 'sir'. He tried to keep his tone as even as possible, but wasn't entirely positive that he managed it.
"Those cauldrons, Potter," the man snapped after a moment, his dark eyes leveled on Harry as he pointed to a stack of some thirty cauldrons on a table near the back wall. "You'll be cleaning them out, by hand. No need for protective gloves either, you'll find the cleaning supplies in the cabinet beneath the counter. You are finished for the night when the last one is spotless."
Without a word, Harry set down his bags and set about the task he'd been assigned. It's just like at the Dursley's, he told himself. Just get the work done, and ignore the jack ass in the corner. If you could learn to ignore Vernon, you can ignore this dick weasel.
While he cleaned, Snape sat at his desk grading a stack of essays. Time ticked away, and before long Harry had only a half a dozen of the cauldrons left to clean. That was when Snape reached the end of his essays and decided to begin berating the student in his charge again.
"I would have seen you expelled for what you did, Potter," he said, speaking up so suddenly after the long silence that had before been broken only by the scratching of his quill or the sound of Harry scrubbing out the cauldrons. They looked like they'd been used more than a decade before and had been left to simply sit in a dusty cupboard since. Not only the insides needed to be cleaned of potion residue, but the outsides needed to be scrubbed, and more than one had needed a polish and scouring to remove old stains. Harry was grateful that pewter didn't rust or tarnish like other metals would. It made it a much simpler, if still daunting, task.
"Attacking a teacher," he continued even though Harry had made no indication that he'd heard the man speak. "Anyone else would have been gone from this school, not pampered and coddled like you have. You have let your celebrity status swell your head, boy, and I for one have no intention of letting that go without addressing."
Harry didn't say anything and simply moved onto another cauldron, scrubbing quickly as his arms and hands burned from the exertion and the chemical cleaners he was using. While he worked he let himself get lost in the repetitive motions. Scrubbing, turning the cauldron and scrubbing some more, all the while Snape continued to sling verbal jabs at him that he was oblivious to in his tunnel vision focus on his work.
Before Harry realized it, he'd finished the last cauldron and set it aside before he turned to face the professor who was watching him intently, his dark eyes glittering with something Harry was unable to identify.
"Professor?" he called, quietly. "I'm finished."
Snape stalked his way over, robes billowing about him impressively even in such a short distance and peered carefully into each of the neatly arranged cauldrons until he finally gave a short not along with a grunt of what might have been satisfaction.
"Adequate," he snapped, finally. "Get out, Potter, and don't forget to return tomorrow night, I will have something else ready for you to do at that time."
"Yes, Professor," Harry bit out. He was tired, and as much as he'd tried to ignore all of the insults and verbal punishment dished out by the bitter Potions Master, he hadn't come away entirely unaffected.
Grabbing his bag he wearily slung it over his shoulder and left the room, making his way up to Gryffindor Tower. On the way he stopped in his practice room and drew his wand.
A second later power erupted from him and his eyes blazed with magic and fury as his wand snapped up. "Reducto!" he snarled and watched as the crimson spell erupted from the end of his wand and smashed into the far wall with a thunderous crack. Dust filled the air and a bone deep weariness seeped into him as he turned and walked away.
#####
Harry woke on Tuesday morning with a quiet groan and a deep desire to bury himself back under his blankets and simply go back to sleep. Unfortunately years of training had made sure that he would be awake at five in the morning, and no amount of wishing would let him go back to sleep. He was awake, and awake he would stay until it was time for bed.
Maybe he could get in a nap sometime during the day? The thought perked him up a bit, but he didn't hold out hope. They'd gotten plenty of homework assigned in their classes the day before and he hadn't had a chance to do much of it. When he'd arrived back at the tower the night before, minutes before curfew, he had been so exhausted that he'd done little more than wish the girls a good night before dragging himself up to his dorm where he collapsed into bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He was even still wearing his uniform and robes from the day before.
Climbing out of bed with another groan, he dressed in his workout clothes of a simple pair of sweats and a long sleeved t-shirt before he pulled on his trainers and tied them securely.
The girls were waiting in their customary seats downstairs and he wordlessly waved for them to follow behind him as he made his way to the portrait hole. The trek to the classroom was made in silence and Harry pulled open the door, holding it for the girls who entered before him and came to such and abrupt stop that he walked right into Hermione without realizing it when he tried to follow them into the room.
"What's going on?" he asked as he steadied Hermione with his hands on her shoulders so she wouldn't fall and he stepped around them to take in what the three of them had been staring at in wide eyed shock.
The back wall had collapsed, leaving a gaping hole at least six feet wide and five high that let them see clearly into the next room. The desks in a wide circle of the next space were shattered and scattered as well as several chunks of the wall that had burst through and shattered the teachers desk into so much kindling.
"Woah," Harry muttered, staring at the destruction.
"That's one word to use," Daphne agreed, nodding distractedly as she took in the destruction.
A loud crack sounded in the room and they all jumped and spun to face a house elf wearing a Hogwarts tea cozy as a toga. The little creature had a stern expression on its face, one made almost comical by its large, bulging eyes, but there was no mistaking the anger rolling off of it in nearly palpable waves.
"You!" it squeaked in barely contained outrage. "You is breaking the castle! You is not doing spellses in classrooms like this. No more!"
Harry flinched at the anger and made to apologize but was cut off by the little creature.
"NO! No spellses in the classrooms. Tuly is getting in trouble fors not beings able to clean up your mess. Come. Tuly show you room to practice spellses in so you cans't be breaking things anymore."
Tuly gestured to them to follow it, him? Harry wasn't sure but he thought Tuly might be male. "Come, follow Tuly. No more breaking castle."
Exchanging a look they shrugged and followed the elf out of the room and down the hall. A handful of turns later they came to a stretch of hallway, completely empty save for a tapestry on one side of a wizard and several trolls. The wizard appeared to be attempting to teach the trolls how to dance. Harry stared at the painting for a while, his mouth hanging open before a sharp jab in his side caught his attention and he turned back to the angry little elf.
"Here," he said, pointing at the blank stretch of wall directly across from the painting. "You use Come and Go room to practice yours spellses in. No more breaking things for Tuly to fix!"
"I'm really sorry I got you in trouble, Tuly," Harry said, kneeling down so he was at eye level with the little creature as the girls looked around the hall, he figured attempting to locate the room Tuly was talking about. "I really didn't intend for that, I was just trying to practice. But, what's this room you're talking about? There's nothing but bare wall here."
Tuly gave him a long look before nodding in acceptance of his apology and turned to gesture at the wall. "Come and Go room is ancient room, very powerful magicses created by the Missy Claw," Tuly explained. "It comes and it goes, so we elveses call it Come and Go Room. Tuly thinks it has also been called Room of Requirement. Young Master must walk three times back and forth in front of wall thinking very hards about whats you wants and room will appear."
All four of them blinked in surprise at the explanation, but before anyone could ask a question Tuly vanished with a loud crack, leaving them standing in an empty hallway.
Harry shrugged and stepped over to the stretch of wall directly across from the painting and ran his hand over the rough stones for a moment before he closed his eyes and started walking back and forth in front of the wall, all the while thinking, I need a place where the girls and I can practice dangerous spells, over and over.
Feeling completely foolish and not a bit self conscious Harry started when he heard a sharp gasp behind him and spun, his eyes flying open to see Hermione, Daphne, and Susan staring at the no longer blank wall, Hermione with her arm extended, pointing at the door that had appeared.
Cautiously Harry grasped the handle and turned it, pulling the door open and peered inside.
"Woah!" he exclaimed and rushed the rest of the way into the room, leaving the girls to scramble after him. The room beyond the door was huge with a target range on one side complete with target dummies, a dueling platform in the center and a sitting area on the opposite side with shelves filled with books, enough seating to easily accommodate the four of them and several tables for study.
"This is amazing," Hermione blurted out, spinning slowly in place as she looked around the room.
Daphne and Susan both jumped, cursing loudly as Hermione turned to face the loud bang that suddenly sounded on the far end of the room. Harry stood at the line marking off the target range and they turned just in time to see the remains of one of the target dummies clattering to the ground as a result of whatever spell he'd thrown at it. As they watched the shattered pieces vanished and another dummy suddenly appeared in it's place.
"This place is awesome!" Harry shouted and ran over, gathering each one of them into an exuberant hug leaving them shocked at his sudden display.
"Well you're excited," Daphne said, a small smirk on her lips as they watched Harry scurry away, all traces of the exhaustion he'd shown before vanishing in his excitement.
"Aren't you?" he shot back as he started running a finger down the spines of the books in the sitting area. "Look! Some of these books are in the restricted area!" He snatched one of the books and flipped it open, his eyes skimming the pages rapidly as Hermione scurried over to join him. In moments the two bookworms were lost in conversation as they discussed whatever spell Harry had found in his new book and Daphne and Susan exchanged a look of fond exasperation at their bonded's actions.
"Should we go practice some of those spells we were working on last time?" Daphne asked, gesturing to the target dummies and Susan giggle, casting another glance in Hermione's and Harry's direction.
"Sure. I think we've lost them for a little while."
"Well, if thy haven't come up for air before we're ready to leave for breakfast all we have to do is hit them with a couple of stinging hexes, right?" The grin Daphne wore was a touch evil and sent Susan off laughing uproariously as the two of them made their way to the firing line and drew their wands.
"First one to ten bulls eyes wins?" Daphne offered.
"Wins what?" Susan asked as she dropped into her stance and held her wand up in front of her.
Daphne shrugged. "We'll figure it out later?"
"Sounds good to me. Go!"
#####
"It does what?" Neville asked on Thursday evening as he sat with Harry's girls in front of the fire while the man himself was in his detention with Snape. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd started to think of them that way, but in neville Longbottoms mind the four friends were nearly indistinguishable from each other. Harry belonged to them, they belonged to each other and to Harry. It gave the young scion a headache, to be honest, so he tried not to think too often or too long about the intricate web of connections that existed between them and simply focused on enjoying the company of his friends.
"It'll create anything you need, within reason," Hermione gushed, her eyes bright and her face flushed as she went on about the magnificent room that they'd been shown the morning before. "We asked it to create a replica of the common room and it did it, no problem. It even copied the Great Hall!"
"Hermione," Daphne said in a low, almost warning tone. "Calm down a bit, you're starting to draw attention."
Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth but it did nothing to calm her as her eyes still gleamed brightly and she started bouncing in her seat she was so excited.
With a fond sigh Daphne laid her arm across Hermione's shoulders, both hoping to calm her and to try and hold the bouncing girl down in her seat before she bounced away.
"It really is a fantastic place," Susan said in a much calmer tone. Hermione is just a little excited since it can apparently even provide books that are normally kept in the restricted section of the Library." She shrugged at the shocked look on Neville's face. "You can't take anything out of the room like that, any of the books will vanish as soon as they cross the doorway. But while in the room they're complete and accurate as far as we can tell."
"And you guys used it to create a dueling chamber?"
"Harry did. Tuly was really annoyed at him for destroying the wall in the classroom we'd been using to practice in." Neville turn to face Daphne when she offered her two sickles into the conversation. "It really is amazing. Are you sure that you won't come practice with us Neville?" she asked for probably the fifth time since they'd started training with Harry.
"I would love to," he admitted with a forlorn look on his face. "Right now though, until I get a new wand I don't think I should be trying to learn anything more advanced than I already have. Who knows what could happen if a spell goes wrong with this old wand?"
They took that in stride and continued to chat for a while before starting in on their homework. Hermione fretted over her study schedule and frequently badgered her friends to adopt it.
"Exams are ten weeks away!" she pointed out when Neville expressed his confusion over the rush. "That's barely a blink to someone like Nicholas Flamel. Before you know it it'll be time for them and we're not going to be ready at this rate."
"Hermione, you seriously need to calm down," Daphne snapped irritably. This had been going on for days and the blonds patience had finally run out. "We're all at the top of our year in all our classes. We just switch around who is the top between the five of us at this point. Even Neville, no offense Nev, but with that wand it's a miracle, is in the top of the year in Herbology."
Hermione tried to protest but Daphne wouldn't hear of it. "Seriously, it's a good thing that you're so focused on your studies but you need to-"
For several moments Neville continued reading through his Defense essay until the sudden silence caught his attention and he looked up to find all three girls had turned in their seats on the sofa to stare at the entrance to the common room. He blinked, confused for a second, before he realized what must have happened.
"Is Harry all right?" he hissed, trying not to draw any more attention to them than their strange behavior had already managed.
Susan nodded absently. "Yeah, he doesn't feel like he's hurt or upset, really. More like… confused?"
"He's been holding back anger for the last half an hour," Daphne said, her eyes never moving from the entrance. "But it suddenly shifted. He's not angry anymore. Startled, and yeah, confused, it's hard to say, really."
They all fell silent and Neville stood up and dragged another chair nearby, leaving Harry's usual seat open. Twenty minutes later the three girls spun from their work again, this time with a noticeable tension in their bodies that hadn't been there the previous time. They completely ignored Neville's questions and, eventually, he settled in to wait, their homework forgotten as the girls watched the entrance to the common room and Neville watched them, his eyes flitting from one to another as he wracked his brain over what might have happened.
He consoled himself with the idea that, even though Harry was at detention with Snape, if there was anything wrong the girls would have been acting by now, instead of just sitting there waiting. Something had their attention, but it couldn't be anything truly bad if they hadn't run off in search of Harry.
Minutes later the portrait swung open and Harry hurried through, his eyes skimming rapidly around the room until they landed on Neville and his girls and he strode over at a speed just barely below a run, collapsing into his chair with a gusty sigh.
"What happened?" Hermione demanded, staring intently at Harry. "You were angry, not awful, but still mad. Then you were confused and startled and what was that last? You weren't afraid but… I can't put my finger on it."
"This has been the strangest evening of my life, I swear," Harry muttered and straightened up in the chair as he began his tale.
#####
"I'm done, Professor," Harry said, looking up from where he'd been sorting various prions ingredients by hand. Some of them were so disgusting he really didn't want to remember what exactly they'd been, he'd just moved them into the various containers intended to hold them as he'd been instructed.
Once again, Snape had spent the majority of the time grading essays, then he'd started in with the insults and Harry had continued to ignore the man as best he could.
"Potter," Snape drawled. "Describe for me the procedure required in mixing a shrinking solution."
Harry blinked but thought quickly and started reciting the procedure. It was one of the first potions they'd created in the first term and it really was relatively simple, the biggest difficulty was in tracking the number of times one stirred the mixture as well as which direction it needed to be stirred in.
When he finished that glittering was back in the Professors gaze that Harry had noticed during his previous two detentions. He still didn't know what it meant at it was really starting to freak him out.
"Explain to me why porcupine quills must be added to most potions after being removed from heat."
Harry did.
"Why is a calming draught considered a third year potion and not on the first year curriculum even though it has all the same ingredients, save one, to a confusion unction?"
Harry cocked his head to the side as he considered that one. "Well, the confusion unction is a simple potion, twelve ingredients that need to be prepared and mixed in order at specific temperatures and specific times, as with most potions. The difference is that the final two ingredients in the calming draught are explosive if mixed at the wrong time or allowed to interact with each other without an appropriate neutralizing agent. Considering most first year students are still learning to make efficient use of their time I would imagine that they'd be more likely to realize they're running low on time and just start throwing everything in all at once, just to try to get everything in the cauldron."
Harry considered that for a moment before he paled and shuddered. "I can imagine twenty plus cauldrons exploding all at once would be a bit much for any single professor to try and diffuse."
Snape continued to eye him for a moment before he nodded, grudgingly.
"Perhaps," he said, a look on his face that indicated he might actually be in physical pain, "there is more of your mother in you than I had originally thought."
Harry's mouth dropped open but before he could say anything Professor Snape stood and swept away toward his office. "That will be all for tonight, Potter," he snapped. "You will return here on Saturday evening immediately after dinner."
The door was opened and slammed shut behind him with a booming finality before Harry'd had time to do more than open his mouth to reply.
"Yes, Professor," he said, staring at the closed door before he washed his hands and started back toward Gryffindor Tower. Harry had just reached the entrance hall when he stopped and groaned quietly to himself. His bag was still down in the potions classroom.
He grumbled irritably and made his way back down to the classroom and grabbed his bag from where he'd left it on the desk he usually sat at with Hermione. As he slung it over his shoulder muffled voices reached his ears and he looked around, trying to find the source when his eyes fell on the door to Snapes office. The door that was standing open a few inches when he distinctly remembered it being shut, quite firmly when he'd left minutes previously.
He hesitated, curiosity warring with self preservation… if he was caught…
He grinned and reached into his bag, pulling out the silvery invisibility cloak that had been sent to him at Christmas. Harry had taken to carrying it with him wherever he went since he didn't like the idea of entrusting the safety of the only physical connection he had to his father being the lock on his school trunk.
Throwing the cloak around his shoulders, he pulled up the hood, and Harry Potter vanished. As quietly as possible he crept over to the door and peered through the small gap into the office beyond.
Inside, behind a large desk with a scarred and pitted surface, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn't make out the look on his face as the Defense Professor had his back to the door where Harry stood, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.
". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ."
"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."
Harry leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something but Snape interrupted him.
"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"
"B-b-but Severus, I —"
"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him around the desk.
"I-I don't know what you —"
"You know perfectly well what I mean." Somewhere outside the class a door slammed and Harry jumped, spinning away for a moment before realizing no one was there and he returned his attention to the conversation happening inside the office.
He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say, "— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."
"B-but I d-d-don't —"
"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."
#####
Neville, Daphne, Hermione, and Susan all stared at Harry, mouths hanging open in surprise after the story he'd just described to them.
"Wait…" Neville started, slowly. "So you're saying that Snape, actually complimented you?"
"Neville!" Hermione blurted out.
"What? We all know he's a scary bastard but he actually gave Harry a compliment! I think that's more surprising than him threatening Quirrell!"
"Well…" Hermione trailed off, blinking owlishly for a moment and Harry almost burst out giggling at the mental image that produced but managed to contain himself. "Well, yes, okay I'll admit it is surprising that he was… somewhat civil to Harry. But that aside, it looks like the stone is only safe as long as Quirrell holds out against Snape!"
Susan looked grim and Daphne nodded, her icy cold mask firmly in place again. "If the only thing preventing Snape from taking the stone is Quirrell," she said in a low tone, "then it'll be gone by next Tuesday."
The five of them lapsed into silence, staring at each other for several minutes while none of them could think of anything else to say when they were suddenly distracted by the portray swinging open and a loud clamor as Ron, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan climbed into the room. One of Ron's hands was wrapped in bandages and he was complaining, loudly.
"… Ruddy thing bit me," he snapped and Dean sighed, a long, drawn out affair, as used by one who'd already heard this complaint before. Several times.
"We know, Ron, that's the tenth bloody time you've said it in the last half hour! We know Norbert bit you so just quit complaining and get upstairs. You've got a letter to write to Charlie…"
Their voices faded away as the three of them clambered there way up the stairs to the dorm, Ron still loudly complaining the whole way.
The five friends by the fireplace exchanged a confused look.
"What's a Norbert?" Neville finally asked.
Harry groaned and shrugged as he slumped down in his seat. "Not my circus, not my monkeys," he grumbled.
The purebloods in the group gave Harry a confused look and Hermione piped up, after a quick glance between the three of them. "It's an old Polish proverb," she explained. "It basically means 'it's not my problem'."
Neville snorted a short laugh. "Wouldn't it have been easier just to say that?"
Harry shrugged, the action making him slip further down in his seat and ignored the disapproving glare Daphne was giving him. She'd been working on him for the last month about his posture and the general outward appearance that he projected. As the last member of a Most Ancient and Noble House, as well as the current Head of that house, she'd been trying to help him with learning what would be expected of him by the general population of the wizarding world when it came out that he was officially a titled Lord.
She caught his eye and quirked a brow at him but he was too tired and in no mood so he simply stuck his tongue out at her, causing her expression to twist into something somewhere in between disapproving and amused.
He sighed and sat forward, reaching down for his bag. "I'm exhausted," he said. "I'm gonna head up to bed."
Within minutes they'd all made their way up to their beds, saying their goodnights in the space between the stairs before heading up to their respective dorms. Harry changed quickly and practically fell into his bed. He pulled the drapes around his bed and barely managed to cast a silencing charm to blot out his noisy dorm mantes before consciousness fled and he drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
#####
"How've things been since last week?"
Harry shrugged. He idly played with the handle of his teacup where it sat on the smooth surface of Professor McGonagalls desk. When he'd arrived for his weekly session with Healer Gant the Professor had been nowhere to be seen, deciding that the two knew what they were about and there wouldn't be a repeat of any of the previous mistakes that had been made.
Richard Gant considered the young man sitting in front of him. He didn't sense any of the sullen anger that had been present before. None of the closed off shame or reluctance. He just didn't really seem like he knew what to say or how. He seemed confused, more than anything else.
"Have things been better between you and the girls? I know there was a bit of tension there last Saturday.
Harry nodded.
"Any problems with other students?" Gant asked after several moments of uneasy silence.
Harry shook his head.
Gant leaned back in his chair and heaved out an explosive sigh. "So… should I just see about getting a bed ready for you at St. Mungo's then?" he asked and Harry's head snapped up, eyes locking onto him with a sharp intensity. He shrugged. "Look, I know you don't want to be here and I know this entire situation sucks, but you need to talk to me, Harry. You've got to give me something that I can tell to the board so they can be appeased and stop trying to interfere with you. Lucius Malfoy is practically drooling over the idea of getting you drummed out of this school."
Harry ducked his head and fidgeted slightly.
"I don't really know what to say," he admitted. "I mean, we already went over the Dursley's house. What more am I supposed to be talking about?"
"Anything," Gant prodded. "Everything. Nothing. Ramble about your classes, your friends, your hobbies, likes, dislikes, anything. Just you've got to show me that you're adjusting, that you're getting better."
A thought popped into Harry's head and his head came up again from his hunched posture, his eyes becoming thoughtful. "Well…" he trailed off for a moment. "Well, there is one thing that came to mind recently…"
Richard arched a brow and gestured for Harry to continue.
Harry spun the cup a few more times. "It's just, you know that I've been studying ahead in Defense?" he asked and Gant nodded. "Well, I started teaching the girls some of the spells I've been studying. We were using an empty classroom to practice in and the night after my first detention with Snape I stopped in there on my way back to the tower."
"And?" Gant asked, his eyes studying Harry's face carefully.
Harry winced. "Umm… well I shot off a Reducto at the wall. It just seemed like a good… I don't know, a release maybe?"
Gant nodded with a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, sometimes there's nothing better than blowing something up to let off some steam."
"Yeah, well when we went in the next morning to practice there was a six foot wide hole in the wall." Gant started, jerking sharply in surprise and Harry shrugged. "Yeah. I keep hearing from people that I'm really powerful, and I guess I'm just worried."
"About what? I would think you'd be pleased to be so strong. Most young boy's like to think they're very powerful wizards whether they actually are or not."
"Yeah except they don't have my problems. I get upset and I lose control of my magic and you've already told me I could be dangerous."
"So what are you asking? All you can really do about that is learn some better control. Learn to let go of some of the anger. Learn to find a healthier outlet."
Harry spun his cup a few more times before he dropped his hands to his lap, sighing in frustration. "I don't know," he blurted out. "I don't know what I'm looking for here."
He slumped down in his seat. A part of him still chafed at these meetings, it was only the third one, so he guessed that might last for a while. But aside from his normal reluctance to face his issues, there was still the concern of Snape, Quirrell, the stone, exams coming up… it was all becoming extremely stressful. And he couldn't even discuss the stone and their concerns about that with Gant… could he?
He shook his head, ridding himself of such a thought as quickly as he could. No, that wouldn't be a good idea. In his experience, the adults rarely believed him when he had something important to tell them.
"Would it help if I explained how power works as far as magic is concerned?"
He looked up, surprised at the statement from the healer sitting across from him.
"Huh?"
Gant leaned forward. "Right now, power, magical power, is a nebulous concept to you. It's not defined in concrete terms, but rather in abstracts. So it seems to me that, maybe, if I explained how we measure magical power, and where you fall on that scale, maybe it'll help ease your mind a little bit. You'll have a more clearly defined understanding of what you're dealing with, and I've found that when things are explained to me, they suddenly become a little less terrifying."
Harry considered that for a moment before shrugging again. "I guess. Couldn't hurt, at least."
"Alright, let me think for a moment how best to explain…" Gant trailed off and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on the top of his upturned right fist, staring blankly ahead while he organized his thoughts.
After several minutes he suddenly spoke without shifting his position in the slightest, startling Harry with the suddenness of it. "Have you ever heard of the Fujita-Pearson Scale? Or the Fujita Scale?" Gant asked and Harry frowned, cocking his head to the right a little as he thought.
"I think so… isn't that the scale they use to measure the size of tornadoes?"
Gant nodded. "Exactly. The Fujita scale measures tornadoes and assigns them an intensity rating, based primarily on the damage the tornadoes inflict on human-built structures and vegetation."
Harry frowned again.
"The more they destroy, the more powerful they are."
He nodded.
"Now, for tornadoes, the scale goes from F-0 up to F-5. The creator of the scale did give a description of an F-6, but it hasn't been seen in real world examples so for practical purposes, the scale stops at an F-5. With me so far?"
Harry nodded.
"What might surprise you, is that Testuya Fujita, the primary mind behind the scale, was a wizard and that he applied the same principle of considering multiple factors to create a scale that could, roughly, measure a which or wizards magical power on a scale ranging from zero up to fifteen."
"This measures the magical core I've heard described?" Harry asked, curious now in spite of himself.
Gant winced. "Merlin's beard I hate that description. I've used it myself but it still annoys me to no end."
Now Harry was even more intrigued. "How so?"
Gant grumbled and sat up, leaning back in his seat as he started to gesture with his hands. "It's the whole pureblood crap that's caused no end of trouble in wizarding society. I'm sure you've run into it already. But basically, purebloods can't get around the idea that they don't actually have any magic themselves, so when talking about a persons magical power they insist on describing it as a core, something that the witch or wizard contains within their bodies at all times. Like it's their power."
"Isn't it?"
Gant snorted. "Not even remotely. The very idea that a person could hold inside their physical form the amount of magic needed to do even the simplest spell is ridiculous. Magic is energy, energy doesn't just sit idle. It has to do. It has to change, and shift, and move, and adapt. If you actually held power inside yourself like that it'd be causing all kinds of stupid random effects all the time. Magic can't just exist like that."
"So we're not magical?"
"No. Not in the strict understanding of the word." He paused for a moment, considering Harry before pushing forward. "This is a fine distinction, Harry, but what I feel that it basically amounts to is this. Witches and wizards don't have magic. We can access magic. Pureblood's won't entertain the idea that they don't actually have magic of their own, so you'll never see this definition anywhere else. The pureblood faction in our society even denounces the Fujita Scale since it is based on the concept that wizards and witches don't actually have magic themselves but merely access it from somewhere else. I like to imagine a persons magical ability in a different way. Instead of thinking of it like a ball at the center of our being, I think of it like a well.
"The Universe is magic, and witches and wizards can tap into that energy. How much you can draw, how fast, and how quickly you replenish that amount is different for each individual. Like a well, you pull magic from a reservoir that is separate from you, and like a well, you can pull more than there is to draw on and have to wait for that quantity to replenish itself. The younger a person is, generally the less magic they can channel through their bodies without causing themselves damage, sometimes irreparably. It's only when we reach adulthood and our bodies have matured as well as the magical pathways through which that energy travels through us can we really utilize our full potential."
"Okay, that makes sense, I guess."
"Right. So, here's where we get back to Fujita. He designed a scale that calculated a persons magical ability based on how much magic they can draw at a given time, how fast they can draw that magic, and how quickly they recover their reserves. A muggle would be an F-0 on this scale. Your average first year student would be somewhere in the F-5 to F-7 range. And your average adult ranks somewhere around an F-9 or F-10."
Harry nodded. "While this is all fascinating, really, I don't really get what it has to do with me. Knowing how I'm going to lose control and destroy everyone around me one day isn't going to help me."
"Just bear with me. So, when I examined you over the Christmas Hols, I did an F-Scale diagnostic charm, the estimate where your power is at. Honestly, it doesn't work too well doing it that way. You kind of have to be actively casting magic to get a truly accurate reading and you were unconscious at the time. But, based on the rate that your access to magic was replenishing itself, I would easily estimate that you are right now, on par with some fully grown wizards. Probably you'd rate at an F-8 or F-9. But that's just in raw power. Skill and knowledge is something else.
"Basically, Harry, if you can learn to control your temper and your other emotional states better, you'll have better control over your magic. If you get a better control of your magic you won't have to keep up with these sessions"
"I've been worried," Harry admitted, quietly. "Especially after last week. I just get angry so easily, lately," Harry muttered morosely "I never got angry so much at the Dursleys, I don't get why I can't hold my temper like I could back then."
"Well that's simple."
Harry gave Gant a quizzical look and the healer returned a broad smile. "You're free."
"Huh?"
"The environment that you lived in at your relative's home was toxic, Kid. Aside from the physical damage they did to you, they taught you to shove down your feelings and ignore them. You learned to push away your anger and you hope and any other emotion that might have caused you to react in a way that could have sparked off the anger and hostility from your relatives. You shoved everything down and tried to forget it, but now, those girls of yours are drawing out those emotions and you're free, finally, to actually feel them. You're feeling things you haven't really paid much attention to in years and you just don't know how to handle it, yet."
Harry frowned, considering that.
"Understanding your strength is important, Kid. You have access to a lot of magic and you've got some issues, no way of sugar coating that, that means your control is lacking. That lack of control is why we're here, why some people are trying to make you out to be dangerous. You understand a little better now. Do you think you can take my exercise to help you with your control seriously? I would have mentioned sooner, but honestly I expected you to take a little longer to come around to the idea that you needed better control."
"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "You said I could end up hurting Daphne, Hermione, or Susan the way I've been going. That's the last thing I want to have happen so why wouldn't I want to control myself?"
Gant shrugged. "You were pissed about the idea of having these sessions. I get why and I don't blame you in the slightest, I just figured it'd take you a little longer to move past the being upset about it and into the 'what do I do about it?' stage, ya know?"
Harry shrugged at that, not really sure what to say.
"All that aside, I'm thrilled that you've come around so quickly. So we've got a few things to look at. Number one, you need to lean on those girls, as much as it goes against every instinct you have. Let them help you, Kid. Let yourself feel what they're feeling. It'll only help you to deal with your own emotions in the long run."
Harry nodded, somewhat reluctantly.
"Second thing that I wanted to mention was Occlumency."
Harry perked up at that. "I've heard that mentioned before. Susan was going to have her Aunt send us all some books to look over so we could all start practicing it."
"I know, Amelia mentioned to me that she'd sent them to Susan. So I'm giving you some homework to do before next week. Read the first three chapters in 'The Occluded Mind' and practice the exercises every night before bed between now and the next time we see each other, okay? Our sessions will continue to include talking on whatever topic you want, but it'll also start including Occlumency instruction."
"Why the Occlumency? Daphne's friend Tracey thought it might be useful since the girls were having trouble telling each other's emotions apart."
"That's true, it could probably help them keep everyone separate in their own minds so they're not confusing each other's emotions for their own. But one of the things that Occlumency is good for, aside from protecting your mind from mental intrusions, is that it helps you to organize the chaos that is the average human mind. It'll help you bring some order to all those hard memories that you've got buried in there…"
Harry and the healer talked for another hour before they finally ended the session and Harry left the room, still feeling a bit troubled and wrung out, but with a sense of purpose, and a few ideas of things he could actively do to work on improving his overall mental and physical health. He clutched several sheets of parchment in one hand as if they were the most precious things in the world and he was terrified that someone was going to take them away from him. He had a listed schedule of training he was being asked to start. Occlumency training, a daily physical training regimen, and a few other vague ideas that Gant suggested would be food for him to look into, with the help of his bonded.
When he exited McGonagalls office he closed the door behind him and then stopped as a strange sound reached him. His head whipped to the right and his eyes widened as his head slowly turned back to his left, eyes tracking something in a state of bewildered confusion.
Moments later, it happened again.
And a third time.
After another two minutes passed with nothing else happening, he decided it was probably safe to return to the common room. He grinned as he walked, well aware that he was going to have a fairly amusing story to relate to his bonded and their friends at breakfast the next day.
#####
"You have got to be kidding!"
"I'm not! I swear I saw it with my own two eyes!" Harry insisted as Tracey Davis and Hannah Abbot stared at him in open mouthed shock. Neville was slowly turning red, Daphne had a smirk on her face. Susan was laughing outright and Hermione was doing her best to look stern and disapproving even while he could see her face getting red and her lips twitching as she struggled not to laugh or smile.
"I swear. I was leaving Professor McGonagalls office last night, right? So I walk out of the room and close the door behind me and before I can do anything else I hear someone running. So I look to my right and what do I see? One of the Weasley twins. Who the hell knows which one. Anyway, he runs past me and he's got six toilet seats with him, three of them hooked on each arm as he dashes past me like the hounds of hell are after him."
At this point Daphne gave up smirking and started chuckling quietly, Susan started leaning on Harry's left shoulder while Hermione began giggling almost uncontrollably and Neville had crossed his arms on the table in front of him, laying his head down on his arms as his shoulders shook and shuddered violently.
"I'm standing there, trying to figure out if I actually saw what I thought I just saw, when the other twin runs past, also with six toilet seats looped on his arms. So now I'm seriously trying to decide if I'm hallucinating or something and I'm beginning to wonder if maybe Healer Gant put something in my tea…" Harry trailed off for a second, laughing almost uncontrollably before he managed to reign himself in and finish the story.
"Just as I'd decided that my tea must have been spiked, what looked like every single girl in third year and I swear from every single house, came streaming by me like a stampede, screaming bloody murder. I'm pretty positive I heard a few of them screaming something about 'falling in' and that once they caught the red headed menaces they were planning on using their heads as plungers."
With his story finished, Hannah and Tracey joined the other girls in laughing while Daphne leaned against Susan and Hermione leaned on Harry's other shoulder, laughing so hard tears were streaming from their eyes. Poor Neville was completely done in as he sat up, head back and laughing so hard his entire body shook. As he tilted back he failed to grab hold of the edge of the table and rolled off the bench, falling backwards onto the floor of the Great Hall where he laid there for some minutes, laughing and rolling back and forth. His pitch off the bench sent the rest of them into new fits of laughter and just about everyone else in the Hall was beginning to stare at them, wondering if perhaps someone had cursed or hexed their entire group.
For Harry, he honestly couldn't remember ever laughing as he was right then. And he knew, he'd never once shared such a funny moment with any friends. That alone had him feeling happier and more content than he felt a thousand sessions with a mind healer would ever be able to achieve. A quick glance around told him the twins were nowhere in sight and he made a mental note that he needed to find some way to properly thank them.
Right about that moment Neville attempted, while still laughing and gasping for breath, to get back into his seat. He missed, clattering to the floor again and that sent them all off into great peals of laughter once again.
