Chapter 14: I Hope to Be Around
I do not own Harry Potter and I am not making any money from writing this whatsoever. The Harry Potter franchise is the property of Warner Brother's and J.K Rowling.
This chapter takes place between the months of January and February.
"You are loved, Johnny."
- Mona Simpson, 1988
┈ ┈ ┈ ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟ ┈ ┈ ┈
He awoke to a wet sensation on his face, the fragments of his long and winding dream already leaving him, though he had no trouble recalling the actual events they covered.
Face was too broad of a term, he noted, as the wet sensation made its way to his nose. He opened his eyes blearily, orange clouded his vision.
"Wuh...?" Johnny mumbled incoherently, trying to sit up.
"Mrow," was the response.
That orange clouding his vision was actually a rather chubby cat. Crookshanks ugly face stared at him blankly from its seat on his chest. He meant ugly with the upmost fondness, for even though the cat looked like he'd been punched in the face, it was a little adorable in a funny way.
Another lick on his nose, and Johnny was up.
"Okay, okay," he grumbled, lifting Crookshanks up carefully. The cat let him, which was good, he'd seen the looks Crookshanks gave to Ron on occasion, and if looks could kill, well... Johnny didn't want to get on the his bad side, to say the least.
Johnny exited the room with a huff, Crookshanks still in his arms. Mrs. Black eyed him warily from her position upstairs, but did not say a word. Kreacher shuffled by, mumbling various curses towards Johnny, but he paid the elf no mind.
"Morning," he grunted as he entered the dining room. Karkaroff was there, eating a bowl of cereal and reading a newspaper. Remus held a cup of tea in his hand as he carefully watched the former death eater, and Sirius was digging into some scrambled eggs.
They all gave their own various responses to his greeting as Johnny sat down in a seat next to Sirius.
"What's on the agenda today, Johnny?" He asked jovially, passing him a pitcher with orange juice in it. "No pulp," he assured him.
Johnny accepted it gratefully, and poured himself a glass. "Not sure," he said to Sirius, "not much more to really do on the bike, I have a good amount of clothes now." Johnny put the pitcher down and helped himself to some bacon, some scrambled eggs, and toast. He eyed Sirius and Remus curiously. "Still no word from Dumbledore?"
Remus looked decidedly uncomfortable, and Johnny knew it was because the man had too much respect for Dumbledore to speak ill of him.
"Not yet," the werewolf admitted, "he hasn't returned to Hogwarts either, Minerva has sent word that Umbridge is unrelenting in her demands to see the Headmaster, and with the backing of the Ministry and her own personal little army in the Inquisitorial Squad, if Albus doesn't return soon, they might replace him in the interim."
Sirius shook his head. "This is the opening Fudge has been waiting for, he'd love the excuse to get rid of Dumbledore."
A brown and tawny owl decided then to land on the windowsill, it's leg outstretched and eyes boring into Johnny.
"I'm going to have to start leaving treats and water there, the amount of times owls come here for you, eh?" Sirius said, "tell Hermione to ease up, yeah?"
Johnny scowled, "you don't even know if it's from her." But even to him, the words sounded hollow.
Sirius merely snickered in response.
Harry adjusted his bag strap as he made his way to the library. Barely the first day back from break, and he was studying. Not spending some time with his girlfriend (could he call her that? Were they even dating? They hadn't really discussed it) in the free period after lunch, no, with a girl he hardly knew, one that had friends that were incredibly weird. Well, he amended in his head, Blaise was alright, but Greengrass was as intimidating as she was odd, which, was a lot.
Ron still tried to dissuade him back in the common room, but it was to no avail, Harry simply valued his own life far too much.
He was vaguely aware of the shockwaves this could send throughout the school, what with a Slytherin and Gryffindor spending time together, much less studying. Especially considering it was him, and his fame - though having dwindled since first year - would mean everyone would know about it by the end of the month.
A sudden chill ran through him as he got to the corridor right before the library. Would Cho approve of this? It's not as if they've really talked at all after the kiss at Christmas. Was this considered cheating? Harry truly had no idea. But then a voice in his head piped up, sounding logical and rather like Hermione.
Of course it's not cheating, you're studying with your partner for class. There's literally nothing wrong with this.
Shaking his head and feeling a bit silly, he entered the library, eyes sweeping through the main entrance area in search of Tracey's sandy brown hair.
He saw her in the far back sitting at a desk wedged in between two bookshelves. Two books open as she scribbled hastily on some parchment.
"Hey," he said awkwardly, as he got to the desk, sliding his bag off his shoulders and letting it hang off a chair. He took a seat as she merely nodded her head in acknowledgement, too focused on her studies to greet him properly. It kind of reminded him of Hermione, especially around the time of a test. The books she was reading weren't for Transfiguration, however, like he'd thought they'd be, but for Ancient Runes. Then he remembered that she mentioned already completing the essay assigned by McGonagall, this study session was purely for him.
Harry sat there awkwardly, switching between watching her write and looking around the library to pass the time. He wondered when they'd begin, and honestly if there was any way he could weasel out of it. He was sure Hermione would help if he asked.
He then noticed that Tracey had stopped writing, and had started putting her books back into her bag. He took this moment to speak.
"Look," Harry began, and she stopped to meet his eyes, "I appreciate this, really, but I'm sure I'd do just as well if I got Hermione to help me. You really don't need to waste your time here with me, when you look busy enough yourself."
There was a pause, and during it, Tracey looked down at the table, considering his words. There was a weird sensation in his chest, he felt nervous. Why did he feel nervous?
"I see," she said quietly.
Harry now suddenly felt terrible, had his words come off too harsh? He hoped she wasn't offended.
Her face scrunched up, and Harry was terrified she was about to cry.
Two girls in the span of a month, nice going, Potter.
"I..." She tried to say before Harry could even think of something to say to comfort her. "I have been informed... that, I should try to make new friends."
He sat there in stunned silence. Is that what they were here for?
"By... by Daphne?" He asked.
She shook her head morosely, no trace of her usual indifference. "No - well, yes, she has expressed that before, but Blaise is the one that said you'd make a good one."
Harry remembered the conversation he had with Blaise after first meeting him and Daphne in the Three Broomsticks. It's what spurred him on to accepting Hermione's proposal of letting the younger Slytherin boys join the D.A.
It was a little heartwarming, he supposed, that they cared that much about Tracey to want to broaden her circle of friends.
"I still care about your education, of course!" She went on, worried by his silence. "But, that's mainly why I asked you here. I-I never had a lot of friends growing up, only really when I got to Hogwarts and met Daphne and Blaise."
That was a bit much to take in, but he related far too well. "There's nobody else?"
A familiar sort of wit returned to her, and she scoffed. "You really don't know anything about my house, do you, Potter?"
He frowned, and Tracey sighed.
"I'm a half-blood," she said, "and though it could be worse, to them, I'll never be equal."
"But," he floundered, "but they can't all be purebloods, can they?" Harry remembered Hermione, or maybe it was Professor Lupin or Mr. Weasley, saying that there were hardly that many pureblooded families left in Britain since the thirties.
"Most aren't," Tracey admitted, still looking a little bit sad, "but the ones that are, run the common room, and everyone else more or less just falls in line. Flint, Malfoy, Daphne, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Urquhart, Nott, Parkinson. I try to not let it bother me, put up a front, act indifferent, but it doesn't always work."
He had a hard time believing Zabini 'ran the common room', due to how they likely viewed his muteness as a weakness, but got the gist of it anyway. It was honestly a little sad. One rarely saw a Slytherin interacting with other's outside of their house. The only other purebloods he knew from school were Neville, Lavender and Ron. And the fact that her being all nonchalant was an act? Wasn't that surprising now that he'd already seen her ramble on a few occasions.
"If all you wanted was a friend," he said after a moment, "you could have just asked."
"Well," she said, wringing her hands together, "well, yes, I know that, but... it's easier said than done."
True enough, Harry supposed, it wasn't like he was the most social person around.
And now a semi awkward silence settled over them for the moment, where Harry didn't quite know what else to say. He wasn't really good with girls, and honestly, was just relieved Tracey wasn't crying like Cho did. Granted, he hadn't tried to kiss Tracey.
"Do you..." she tried, breaking the silence, "I mean, would you like to hangout at the Three Broomsticks again, then? You could bring your friends too, if you wanted." She looked so nervous, it made Harry feel all the more guiltier.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he really was, "but the next one's on Valentine's day, and I have to go with Cho." Harry was pretty sure he did, anyway. It was probably expected of him, right?
"Oh," she said, "it's fine, don't worry, it might be for the best then, in case Malfoy ever saw you hanging out with us."
Madam Pince stalked by, glaring at them, but continued on.
He began to stand up, grabbing for his book bag.
"What are you doing?" Tracey asked.
"Well, I," he said, pausing in confusion, "I thought I'd just head back...?"
"No," she said a little sharply, "you still have an essay to write."
Harry groaned.
Later, Harry hurried towards the dungeons in search of Snape's office.
Occlumency wasn't fully explained to him, other than it would help stop the terrible visions and nightmares. Which was all the incentive he needed, really, though his willingness was hampered by the fact that it was being taught to him by Snape. A professor that loathed his existence, and made Harry fully aware of it every potions lesson. The man was a bully, plain and simple. If it was anyone else that taught potions, Harry was sure that he'd be performing better. Even Neville, who was easily the worst in his year at potions, would likely get much higher marks under a different teacher.
If the lesson was going to be as terrible as Harry expected it would, at least one good thing had come out of today, he'd finally asked Cho out to Hogsmeade. It was a bit away, just over a month, in fact, but it'd been settled as he made his way to the dungeons. Cho had blushed when he asked, and gave an enthusiastic yes, so Harry had high hopes.
He paused outside the door when he reached it, wishing he were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, knocked, and entered.
It was a shadowy room lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which floated slimy bits of animals and plants, suspended in variously colored potions. In a corner stood the cupboard full of ingredients that Snape had once accused Harry - not without reason - of robbing. Harry's attention was drawn toward the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. Harry recognized it at once - Dumbledore's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing here, he jumped when Snape's cold voice came out of the corner.
"Shut the door behind you, Potter."
Harry did as he was told with the horrible feeling that he was imprisoning himself as he did so. When he turned back to face the room Snape had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite his desk. Harry sat down and so did Snape, his cold black eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Harry, dislike etched in every line of his face.
"Well, Potter, you know why you are here," he said. "The headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than Potions."
"Right," Harry said tersely.
"This may not be an ordinary class, Potter," said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, "but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."
"Yes... sir," Harry said.
"Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in your dear godfather's kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."
"And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?" Harry said, looking directly into Snape's dark, cold eyes and wondering whether he would answer.
Snape looked back at him for a moment and then said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency -"
"What's that? Sir?"
"It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind -"
"He can read minds?" Harry said quickly, his worst fears confirmed.
"You have no subtlety, Potter," Snape said, his dark eyes glittering. "You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker."
Harry resisted the urge to say something scathing back, it was Snape's fault that he loomed over Harry in class, criticizing every little thing.
"Only Muggles talk of 'mind reading.' " Snape continued. "The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter... or at least, most minds are..." He smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."
Whatever Snape said, Legilimency sounded like mind reading to Harry and he did not like the sound of it at all.
Flashes of his life went by as Snape pointed his wand at him, unbidden and personal.
Dudley and his little gang chasing him across three blocks, yelling and cursing at him... Aunt Petunia throwing a frying pan at him from across the kitchen... Vernon, purple faced and enraged, slowly advancing on him along a corridor after Harry had accidentally made a light burst... Aunt Marge's dog Ripper chasing him up a tree... The sorting hat telling him he'd do well in Slytherin... Hermione lying flat as a board in the hospital wing, petrified... a hundred Dementors gliding over the lake towards him... Cho under the mistletoe, eyes closed and leaning forward...
No, said a voice in Harry's head, as the memory of Cho drew nearer, you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private -
He felt a sharp pain in his knee. Snape's office had come back into view and he realized that he had fallen to the floor; one of his knees had collided painfully with the leg of Snape's desk. He looked up at Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark.
"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" Snape asked coolly.
"No," Harry said bitterly, getting up from the floor.
"I thought not," Snape said contemptuously. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."
"Did you see everything I saw?" Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.
"Flashes of it," Snape said, his lip curling. "To whom did the dog belong?"
"My Aunt Marge," Harry muttered, hating Snape.
"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," Snape said raising his wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."
"I'm trying," Harry said angrily, "but you're not telling me how!"
"Manners, Potter," Snape said dangerously. "Now, I want you to close your eyes."
Harry threw him a filthy look before doing as he was told. He did not like the idea of standing there with his eyes shut while Snape faced him, carrying a wand.
"Clear your mind, Potter," Snape said coldly. "Let go of all emotion..."
But Harry's anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs...
"Prepare yourself," Snape said, "Legilimens!"
He tried, but it was to no avail.
More flashes went by. Uncle Vernon raised his fist towards him in the living room... He was gloomily watching Cho dance with Cedric at the Yule Ball... He narrowly avoided being scorched by the Hungarian Horntail... A bike was flying downwards through the sky, its rider a skeleton with a head on fire... Cedric's cold, dead eyes staring up at him...
"NOOOOOOOO!"
He was on his knees again, his face buried in his hands, his brain aching as though someone had been trying to pull it from his skull.
"Get up!" Snape said sharply. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"
Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was.
"I - am - making - an - effort," he said through clenched teeth.
"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"
"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment," Harry snarled.
"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" Snape said savagely. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"
"I am not weak," Harry said in a low voice, fury now pumping through him so that he thought he might attack Snape in a moment.
"Then prove it! Master yourself!" Snape spat. "Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!"
Johnny was cooking breakfast with him, telling Harry about the man in his vision... He was in the courtroom, afraid he'd be expelled for defending himself... He was in the Shrieking Shack, Sirius Black's manic eyes boring into him... Uncle Vernon was shoving him into the cupboard under the stairs, telling him he'd go without eating for the rest of the week... Tears stung his eyes he looked at the cane marks on his back from Aunt Marge... He was running along a windowless passage with Mr. Weasley... they were drawing nearer to the plain black door at the end of the corridor... Harry expected to go through it... but Mr. Weasley led him off to the left, down a flight of stone steps...
"I KNOW! I KNOW!"
He was on all fours again on Snape's office floor, his scar was prickling unpleasantly, but the voice that had just issued from his mouth was triumphant. He pushed himself up again to find Snape staring at him, his wand raised. It looked as though, this time, Snape had lifted the spell before Harry had even tried to fight back.
"What happened then, Potter?" He asked, eyeing Harry intently, he looked startled, as if he'd seen something that deeply troubled him.
"I saw - I remembered," Harry panted. "I've just realized..."
"Realized what?" Snape sharply.
Harry did not answer at once; he was still savoring the moment of blinding realization as he rubbed his forehead.
He had been dreaming about a windowless corridor ending in a locked door for months, without once realizing that it was a real place.
Now, seeing the memory again, he knew that all along he had been dreaming about the corridor down which he had run with Mr. Weasley on the twelfth of August as they hurried to the courtrooms in the Ministry. It was the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries, and Johnny had been there the night he was attacked by Voldemort's snake...
He looked up at Snape.
"What's in the Department of Mysteries?"
"What did you say?" Snape asked quietly and Harry saw, with deep satisfaction, that Snape was unnerved.
"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, sir?" Harry said.
"And why," Snape said slowly, "would you ask such a thing?"
"Because," Harry said, watching Snape closely for a reaction, "that corridor I've just seen - I've been dreaming about it for months - I've just recognized it - it leads to the Department of Mysteries... and I think Voldemort wants something from-"
"Do not say the Dark Lord's name!"
They glared at each other. Harry's scar seared again, but he did not care. Snape had an unrecognizable expression on his face. When he spoke again he sounded as though he was trying to appear cool and unconcerned, but it was a pathetic attempt, he sounded startled instead.
"There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you, do I make myself plain?"
"Yes," Harry said, still rubbing his prickling scar, which was becoming more painful.
"Good," Snape said, though it was void of his usual bite, the man still looked very uncomfortable. "I want you back here same time on Wednesday, and we will continue work then."
"Fine," Harry said, he was desperate to get out of Snape's office and find Ron and Hermione.
"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep - empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"
"Yes," Harry said, who was barely listening, he hardly cared now why Snape was speaking without his normal malice towards him, he'd figured out something incredibly important.
The weapon Voldemort wanted, it was in the Department of Mysteries.
Hogsmeade truly was beautiful this time of year, the village looking much like a postcard.
Despite his appearance and attitude, he actually liked Valentine's day, it was always a heartwarming sight to see Crash whip out a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolate's for Mona year after year. She'd always expect something too, but there was always a surprised reaction and an adoring look on her face. That created a sort of fondness for the holiday that was truthfully nothing more than a cash grab.
One thing about it though, he didn't have much practice with the whole dating thing. He had a girlfriend before, in like, the ninth grade, which hardly counted. Hardly any good options for boys either, not that he particularly wanted to out himself to an American school not likely aware of what a bisexual was.
Still, here he was, snow falling around him, students walking through the streets, a few eying him for his lack of winter attire. One nice thing about being the Rider, he didn't really get cold anymore. Johnny wouldn't say he was here on a date, exactly, but if he knew teenagers, of which he was one himself, they'd pretty much all take it that way.
Johnny didn't bring flowers or chocolate, she'd specified what he was here for in her letter. Just had to make his way towards the Three Broomsticks. He had asked Tonks if she wanted to come along, but with her being swamped with paperwork and an increase of pressure to find the Azkaban escapees, she couldn't. So instead, he drove over as the Rider, and transformed back into himself just outside the village. He was grateful for the smooth transition, too often recently Johnny was afraid that he'd backslide into spontaneous transformations again. That couldn't happen anymore, it'd put everyone at risk.
The Three Broomsticks was hard to miss, even if he'd never been in it before. The sign on the front of the building was a dead giveaway. He made his way towards it, the snow blowing annoyingly into the right side of his face. He pushed the double doors open, walking inside and towards the counter. It was packed, which made sense, he was pretty sure it was like one of three places to get any real food or drinks around here. Still, Hermione's bushy brown hair wouldn't be that hard to find. But try as he might, he couldn't see her. Was he early? That was the only thing he could think of, Johnny rather doubted Hermione was late to anything so that was immediately not an option.
He walked up to the bar, eyeing the menu behind the counter.
"Anything for you, dear?" An older woman said, she was very beautiful. She was clearly in a rush, and seemed a little impatient. To be fair, there were like ten other people along the bar waiting to order.
"Er," he didn't really have any wizarding money.
Two medium sized silver coins landed on the counter in front of him.
"He'll have a Gillywater, Rosmerta." Fred Weasley said, sliding right beside him on his left.
"This one doesn't like any alcohol," George Weasley added, now on his right, "can you believe that?"
The woman, Rosmerta, didn't answer, just grabbed a cup and pulled a lever. A water like substance spewed out of the tap, it was tinged green.
She took the sickles and put them into the till, handing Johnny his glass of Gillywater.
"So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"
Johnny laughed, he loved the twins' humor. "Meeting a girl, if you can believe it." He said.
"Oh, we can, Johnny." George said.
"You're quite the catch," Fred added on, "there was a smattering of gossip around you after our little get together in October."
"Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones were quite smitten with you, my friend," George said with glee, "I guess the whole Zacharias Smith off in front of them is a real turn on."
"The talk of the school, you were," Fred said, "for about two days, anyway."
He took that with a grain of salt, they were probably fucking with him.
"You know me," he said with a grin, "I love the spotlight."
"So, this girl," George said slyly, "it wouldn't be Hermione, would it?"
"We just couldn't help but notice your proximity at Christmas, is all," Fred said innocently.
He was saved from answering by the appearance of three girls, two of them, darker skinned and looking at the twins with barely restrained contempt.
"This is where you've been off to?" One of them said, she had shoulder length black hair.
"You said you'd buy us drinks almost twenty-five minutes ago!" The other said.
"We've had to watch you walk around and talk to random people the entire time!" The third one said, shorter and lighter than the other two.
Fred and George turned to them, grins plastered on their faces.
"Ladies, ladies," they said in unison, "we could never forget about you!"
"Rosmerta!" Fred called, getting the barkeep's attention again. "Five butterbeers, please!"
The woman bent down under the counter, and pulled out five yellowish bottles.
"Fifteen sickles," she said.
George took out the appropriate amount of money from a coin bag. "Here you are," he said.
"Satisfied?" Fred said, handing out the bottles. The girls took a moment to answer, all of them looking at Johnny.
George followed their eyes, "Ah, you remember Johnny, don't you? All around swell guy, and a fellow hater of Zacharias Smith."
"Johnny, this is Angelina Johnson," Fred began introducing, first pointed at one of the dark skinned girls, "Alicia Spinnet," the other one, "and Katie Bell," the third one.
"Nice to meet you," Johnny said.
"Same to you," Katie replied.
"Let's go back to our seats, shall we?" George said.
"Johnny here has himself a hot date," Fred added.
He scoffed as they left him alone, and took a sip of his Gillywater, which was still cold. It tasted a little bit like vitamin water, so it wasn't that bad really. Plus, the twins payed for it, so he sort of felt obligated to drink it. Johnny just hoped Hermione showed up soon.
"Women!" Harry muttered angrily, trudging through the snowy street with his hands in his pockets. "What did she want to talk about Cedric for anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?"
Suffice to say, his date with Cho did not go well. At first, it seemed she had tried to make Harry with jealous by telling him about how Roger Davies - who was snogging some girl in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop - had asked her out a few weeks ago, but she'd turned him down. How was he supposed to feel about that? And then, she brought up Cedric and his death! The absolute last thing he wanted to talk about with anyone, let alone Cho. She'd gotten mad at him for bringing up the fact that he promised to meet Hermione in the Three Broomsticks, and yes, perhaps he should have explained better that it wasn't anything remotely romantic like she had assumed, but still! Causing a scene like that in the tea shop they were in, now everyone probably thought he was a gigantic prat. It was probably over between them, he realized.
He turned right and walked quickly down a street and within minutes he was turning into the doorway of the Three Broomsticks. He knew he was too early to meet Hermione, but he thought it likely there would be someone in here with whom he could spend the intervening time. He ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to get the snow out, and then looked around the room. It was packed, but Harry saw that Hagrid was sitting alone in a corner, looking morose.
"Hi, Hagrid!" He said, when he had squeezed through the crammed tables and pulled up a chair beside him. Hagrid jumped and looked down at Harry as though he barely recognized him. Harry saw that he had two fresh cuts on his face and several new bruises.
"Oh, it's you, Harry," Hagrid said. "You all righ'?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied; in fact, next to this battered and mournful-looking Hagrid, he felt he did not have much to complain about. "Er - are you okay?"
"Me?" Hagrid said. "Oh yeah, I'm grand, Harry, grand..."
He gazed into the depths of his pewter tankard, which was the size of a large bucket, and sighed. Harry did not know what to say to him.
They sat side by side in silence for a moment. Then Hagrid said abruptly, "In the same boat, you an' me, aren' we, Harry?"
"Er -" Harry said.
"Yeah... I've said it before... Both outsiders, like," Hagrid said, nodding wisely. "An' both orphans. Yeah... both orphans."
He took a great swig from his tankard. "Makes a diff'rence, havin' a decent family," he said. "Me dad was decent. An' your mum an' dad were decent. If they'd lived, life woulda bin diff'rent, eh?"
"Yeah... I s'pose," said Harry cautiously. Hagrid seemed to be in a very strange mood.
"Family," Hagrid said gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important..."
And he wiped a trickle of it out of his eye.
"Hagrid," Harry says, unable to stop himself, "where are you getting all these injuries?"
"Eh?" Hagrid said, looking startled. "Wha' injuries?"
"All those!" Harry said, pointing at Hagrid's face.
"Oh . . . tha's jus' normal bumps an' bruises, Harry," Hagrid waved it off dismissively. "I got a rough job." He drained his tankard, set it back upon the table, and got to his feet.
"I'll be seein' yeh, Harry... Take care now..." And he lumbered out of the pub looking wretched and then disappeared into the torrential rain. Harry watched him go, feeling miserable. Hagrid was unhappy and he was hiding something, but he seemed determined not to accept help. What was going on? But before Harry could think about the matter any further, he heard a voice calling his name.
"Harry! Harry, over here!"
Hermione was waving at him from the other side of the room. He got up and made his way toward her through the crowded pub. He was still a few tables away when he realized that Hermione was not alone; she was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest group of drinking mates he could ever have imagined: Luna Lovegood, Johnny Blaze and none other than Rita Skeeter, ex-journalist on the Daily Prophet and one of Hermione's least favorite people in the world.
Whatever he could say about today, it certainly wasn't a boring Hogsmeade trip.
"You're early!" Hermione said, moving along to give him room to sit down, now sandwiching herself between him and Luna. Johnny sat beside Rita. "I thought you were with Cho, I wasn't expecting you for another hour at least!"
"Cho?" Rita said at once, twisting around in her seat to stare avidly at Harry. "A girl?" She snatched up her crocodile-skin handbag and groped within it.
"It's none of your business if Harry's been with a hundred girls," Hermione told Rita coolly. "So you can put that away right now."
Rita had been on the point of withdrawing an acid-green quill from her bag. Looking as though she had been forced to swallow Stinksap, she snapped her bag shut again.
"What are you up to?" Harry asked, sitting down and staring from Rita to Luna to Johnny to Hermione.
"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," Rita said, taking a large slurp of her drink. "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to him, am I?" She shot at Hermione.
"Yes, I suppose you are," Hermione said coldly.
Johnny smirked into his Gillywater, and then jumped a little suddenly, catching everyone's attention, especially Rita, who looked mildly intimidated by him. He shot Hermione a dirty look, who Harry had seen kick him under the table.
Unemployment did not treat Rita well, who looked quite unkempt. Her hair was a mess, and she was wearing significantly less jewelry than the last time he'd seen her.
"Pretty girl, is she, Harry?"
"One more word about Harry's love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," Hermione said irritably.
"What deal?" Rita said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days..." She took a deep shuddering breath.
"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and me," Hermione said indifferently. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"
Johnny had a harder time smothering his grin again, Harry noticed, and Hermione glared at him a little.
"You don't need my help with that," Rita said idly, "with what the Prophet's been writing lately." She then shot a glance at Harry. "How does that make you feel, Harry? Betrayed, angry?"
"Obviously," Hermione said before he could, scoffing, "Because he's told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him."
"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?" said Rita, lowering her glass and subjecting Harry to a piercing stare while her finger strayed longingly to the clasp of the crocodile bag. "You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness - ?"
"I wasn't the sole witness," Harry snarled "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"
"I'd love them," Rita breathed, now fumbling in her bag once more and gazing at him as though he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. "A great bold headline: 'Potter Accuses...' A subheading: 'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us.' And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you: 'Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding community of being Death Eaters...' The Quick-Quotes Quill was actually in her hand and halfway to her mouth when the rapturous expression died out of her face. "But of course," she said, lowering the quill and looking daggers at Hermione, "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"
"As a matter of fact," Hermione said sweetly, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want."
Now, Johnny spoke, his voice was commanding, menacing, even. "And you'd do well to do exactly what she says. That means writing for her paper," he indicated Luna, "the Quibbler, for free."
Rita looked caught between a laugh and outrage, but before she could argue, Johnny kept on. "Don't even bother, you have no choice."
"That's right," Hermione said, nodding, "refuse, and I'll go straight to the Ministry, let them know that you're an unregistered Animagus. Who knows? Maybe 'Life In Azkaban' will be you next scoop? I bet people would kill for an insider's account on that."
Rita look scandalized and terrified. Hermione looked quite happy with herself, Johnny's expression was still intimidating, and Luna merely hummed 'Weasley Is Our King' to herself under her breath.
"I rather think that went quite well!"
Johnny raised an eyebrow at her as they walked. "You're pretty scary, you know. I don't think you even needed my help in there."
Hermione blushed a little, or maybe it was just the cold. "Yes, well, extra precautions are always helpful."
They walked a little more in silence, him still in his leather jacket getup, and her bundled up in a winter jacket and beanie.
"I was afraid you wouldn't come," she said suddenly, looking unsure of herself, "after last time..."
They stopped by a candy store, Honeydukes. God, these names.
"I forgave you for that, remember?" He said kindly. "We're good."
She nodded. "Yes of course," Hermione said, "I know that, it's just..." She was still anxious.
They went into Honeydukes. The place was a kids dream, candy and chocolate everywhere. Things called cockroach cluster's, acid pops, never melt ice cream. He had a toothache just looking at it all.
Hermione had invited him here, plainly stating that she needed his help to intimidate Rita Skeeter into doing an interview with Harry to get the truth out of what transpired last school year. The things Johnny heard, Harry had been through so much. She had also said in her letter that they could just walk around the village, see the sights properly this time. He knew it was a sort of do-over for her, and was glad to take any opportunity to get out of the house. Harry had opted to return to the castle.
He eyed the cauldron cakes with mild interest. Johnny didn't have a sweet tooth by any means, but cake was a kind of guilty pleasure for him. Hermione seemed disinterested in the candy, merely patiently following him around.
"Don't you want anything?" He asked.
She shook her head. "I'm a dentist's daughter, twice over, remember? Never had much sweets growing up. You can get want you want though, I don't mind paying for it."
He was getting a little tired of being a leech, though nobody had ever seemed upset about it before.
"We're sharing this," he said firmly, taking a wrapped up cauldron cake off of a display shelf. Brown with lime green icing, it had multicolored sprinkles all over the top. "If you're going to be paying for it, you might as well have some."
Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but then stopped herself. They went to the register and payed two sickles for it.
"Where to next?" He asked, unwrapping the cake. It was a bit bigger than a cupcake, and he belatedly realized that sharing it would be hard. Not because he'd eat it all, but because trying to split it would be messy if they did it by hand. Shrugging, he took a bite. It was fucking amazing, he was definitely coming back here. He didn't know flavors like that even existed! It was so much better than any regular cupcake he'd ever tried. Hermione laughed a little at his expression.
"It's good then, I take it?"
"Vmery," he said with his mouth a little full, "sorry," he said, "very good, yeah."
She shook her head, smiling. Her cheeks were still pink. But her expression quickly shifted to slight surprise as he held the remaining piece out to her.
"Eat," he said, "I'm full, I can't have anymore."
He was pleased to hear her laugh. "You took one bite! How could you possibly be full?"
Johnny didn't answer, just waggled the remaining piece of cake in front of her.
She took it with a sigh, and put it in her mouth. Hermione's eyes widened comically. "That's," she started, but then stopped to swallow, "that's really good."
He laughed. "I know, right?" There was a very odd feeling in his gut, Johnny felt a little silly. He was some guy who's head burst into flames and killed demons and sinners, and here he was on Valentine's day sharing a cupcake with Hermione and giggling about it like idiots.
"Oooh, there's a new collection for sale!" Hermione said suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced towards where she was pointing, and saw the shop named 'Tomes and Scrolls'. Of course, she'd want to go in there. "Do you mind if we go in?" She asked him.
"Of course not," he said easily, and the genuine smile he received in turn made it all worth it.
The shop was a bit dusty, and the man behind the counter looked so old that Johnny thought he could pass away at any moment. Shelves and shelves of books and scrolls of paper. He couldn't count them all if he tried. Hermione tugged on his arm, which he hadn't even realized she'd been grasping with her left hand, and she led him over to one of the shelves near the middle of the store. There was a small sign there that indicated this was where the new books were located. Hermione stayed there reading for almost a half hour as he patiently waited. But he caught the annoyed look that the man behind the counter was giving them, and whispered to Hermione.
"I don't think he's very happy with us."
It took a moment, as she finished reading a page, before Hermione looked up to where he was indicating.
"Oh," she said, looking incredibly embarrassed, "he doesn't like me very much, you see, most of these are very expensive so I come in here, read them all in one go, and leave without buying them."
Johnny laughed, a little too loudly at first, and Hermione's cheeks were red enough to know it was not from the cold. She shushed him urgently.
"You are such a nerd," he told her, "and I mean that in the best way possible." It was honestly adorable, though he didn't say that out loud.
Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm, and they left.
Without buying anything, of course.
They visited many other stores after that, but it was only in a store called Gladrags Wizardwear, did something eventful happen.
Johnny was looking at the most outrageous pairs of socks he'd ever seen. Apparently some of them screamed if the wearer's feet were too smelly, which was hilarious to him. Not as funny, were the new people that entered the store not long after they had.
"Merlin, Granger, are you seriously considering buying those?"
The most pompous and weaselly looking boy entered, along with a dark haired girl, and two other rather large boys. He was blonde with pale skin, and was sneering at Hermione, who had been laughing with Johnny at the socks.
"I'm half-tempted to take points from you in sheer disgust." He said.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Prefects can't take points from other Prefects, Malfoy." She said.
The boy, Malfoy, rolled his eyes at Hermione, and Johnny immediately decided that he hated him. "I know that, Granger, but members of the Inquisitorial Squad..." He fished out a silver badge with an 'I' on it out of his jacket pocket, as if he'd been carrying around all day to do this. "Can, in fact, do that."
Hermione looked affronted. "Umbridge can't do that," she said, "that is such a gross misuse of power!"
Johnny recognized that name, for Hermione had mentioned this 'Umbridge' in a few of her letters, mostly with hatred laced into the words.
"Members of the Inquisitorial Squad have the power to dock points from other Prefects... so, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about how Professor Umbridge runs things, and oh, yeah, you're a mudblood, so I'll have ten off for that-"
Johnny stepped forward so quickly that Hermione failed in her attempt to grab at his arm to hold him back.
"Say that again," he said calmly, but Johnny was anything but calm right now.
He saw the fear in newcomers faces, even if it was for a moment. The two bigger boys stepped forward to try an assert their dominance, but Johnny would not back down. It was stupid of him, really. He couldn't transform here, it'd make nationwide news if he did, and obviously he didn't want to kill some students. In a fight, they had magic, so they'd win, but Johnny still stood tall against them.
"Say that again," he repeated, "go on, see what happens."
For a moment, Johnny thought they would, but Malfoy glanced over at the cashier, an older woman who was watching the exchange unabashedly. He seemed to think better of it.
"Forget it," he sneered, "you're not even worth it."
Johnny watched them go, before turning back to Hermione.
"Thank you," she said, looking at him. "With Professor Dumbledore not here, and the Ministry passing a law that made Umbridge have as much power as the Deputy Headmistress, there's been a sort of power struggle as of late. I think they're trying to take over the school."
He shrugged, not really knowing what to say to that. It didn't really affect him, as he wasn't a student. "Hopefully he'll be back soon."
They left not too long after, again, not buying anything, and just as they got outside the clothing store, he headed for where his bike was. Johnny had parked it behind the Hog's Head Inn, unafraid of anyone that might have tried to steal it. The amount of charms Sirius put on that thing to prevent a theft was insane.
"And now," he said, attempting to lighten the mood, "for the main event." Johnny tossed a leg over the bike, sitting down on it before grabbing the key out of his breast pocket and putting it in. "Hop on," he said, indicating with his head behind him, "I'm taking you for a ride."
"Oh," she said wringing her hands together, looking around nervously, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Johnny, I mean, what if people will see? It's not exactly against the rules for you to drive that, but there'll be questions - Umbridge might even hear about it..."
He considered that for a moment. Johnny certainly didn't want to get her in trouble.
"Is there another way you normally get back to Hogwarts from these trips?" He asked.
The carriage they were in bumped along the large paved path up to the castle, the weird black horse things carrying them along the entire way. Hermione didn't seem freaked out by them, so Johnny figured they were harmless.
He was sitting across from her in the admittedly comfortable seating, idly starting out of the carriage window to pass the time.
"Can you see them," Hermione said suddenly, "the Thestrals?"
"The what now?" He asked, confused.
"The creatures pulling the carriage," she clarified, "they're called Thestrals."
"Er, yeah," he answered, taking another look at them, "am I not supposed to because I'm not a wizard?"
Hermione shrugged a little, which was something he'd never seen her do. She looked a little uncomfortable now. "It's just - well - oh, I really shouldn't have said anything but, they can only be seen by people who have witnessed death."
Oh. Yeah, that made sense. They lapsed back into a somewhat awkward silence.
It didn't take long at all though to return, and as they stepped out from their ride, he noticed several other students doing the same, their own carriages scattered across. A few looked his way, some of them clearly not recognizing him at all. His attire was definitely out of the ordinary too.
Before he could even walk her to the entrance, Hermione pulled him into a tight hug.
"Thank you for today," she said after pulling away a moment later, "I had fun. I never asked, but how can you even go into Hogsmeade, or see the castle? There's spells to keep muggles out."
"Dumbledore had told me sometime before my first trip here that he keyed me into the wards in case of an emergency, but also, when I'm, er, the Rider, magic can't fool me, or keep me out." He said, recalling the conversation sometime after he'd been initiated into the Order. "And I had fun too."
Hermione had a look in her eye that told Johnny she'd extensively research how that worked later. "Maybe I'll ride on the bike with you another time," she said, though her expression was apprehensive.
"Good," he said, "you need to step out of your comfort zone sometimes, who cares what other people think?"
Even as he said that though, he noticed more people looking at them.
"Maybe," she said, "anyway, I guess I'll see you at Easter?"
"Guess so," he nodded, "see ya."
Hermione smiled, before leaving. "Take good care of Crookshanks! He likes to mess around with balls of yarn, if you can find some. And he likes to be cuddled!"
He left then too, deciding to walk back to the village.
Halfway back to the Hog's Head, he swore out loud.
She did leave Crookshanks there to cheer him up.
A/N: Now, my dear readers, you may have noticed that while Snape mentions being there at Grimmauld Place to let Harry know about their lessons, it is only slightly different than canon. For one, in canon, Dumbledore is there, but in my story, it is only Snape that goes to Grimmauld Place to let Harry know. He still gets in the same arguement with Sirius from the books, and that's pretty much the only thing that's changed, hence why I've skipped over it. So no, I did not forget, I purposefully did not include that particular scene from the book.
However, you will notice something here with Snape during said lesson that is in fact different than canon, and will become more and more apparent as the chapters go on. Yes, he will be a little OOC, but, it's my story, so just bear with me.
Also, in canon, I'm pretty sure it's raining on Valentine's day, but a snowy Hogsmeade is a superior Hogsmeade.