Welcome to the Jungle
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Glee. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part Two: Sixteen
Chapter Eleven: It's My Life
It's a few days before the Glee Club field trip, while he's elbows deep in homework, essays, and class projects, when Harry decides to drop Computer Science, Critical Thinking, and Health at the end of the current school year. Japanese, he's still not sure about - only two Foreign Language credits are required for him to graduate - but more than that would look good on his university applications. His parents will blow a gasket, either way, but the prospect of continuing Japanese is tempting.
Minimising the damage, and all.
In truth, it makes him vaguely queasy, knowing they won't be pleased with his decision. At the end of the day, though, it's Harry's life. His next two years will be packed with his SAT's, his A Levels, his WMHS syllabus, work, and everything else, and it's impractical to weigh himself down with classes that are, in the grand scheme of things, unnecessary for his future.
Unwilling to give himself time to second-guess his decision, Harry types out an email to Ms Pillsbury to inform her of the change in his plan regarding his Junior and Senior academic course load. He explains his reasoning as well, and once he's done, he reads it through, briefly considers courtesy copying in his parents, thinks better of it, and then sends it off with a relieved sigh. It's a load off, knowing he'll have more time to commit to the subjects he will be taking, but it's still only September, and he's still got the rest of 10th grade and his IGCSE's to get through before he can really appreciate it.
With that in mind, Harry returns his attention to his English paper. It's yet another essay, a literary analysis of Charles Dickens' 'David Copperfield', and he's already partway through his first draft. Mike and Hermione have already finished theirs - apparently they actually get some studying done during their study dates, who knew? - and are each in the midst of the editing process.
It's no surprise, of course. Mike and Hermione are consummate overachievers, and although they're each as busy as busy gets, school is extremely important to them both. It's probably why they work so well as a couple, but Harry doesn't care to think about it much. Their relationship is none of his business, after all.
All the same, it rather grates to realise he could be at the same point as them, could be that much closer to having one less assessment piece to worry about. If only he was faster, if only he was better at micro-managing his time, if only he was better and identifying notable themes, plot points, quotes. If only…
Outside the library, the school bell blares. It's the first bell of the morning, and Harry has seven minutes to make it to homeroom.
He sighs, resigned, disappointed, and a little relieved. He packs away his things, too, shoulders his backpack, and slowly meanders his way towards the library doors.
Rachel Berry falls into step with him before he reaches them.
"Good morning, Henry," she greets him, and Harry blinks at her, a little bemused. He hardly ever hears anyone outside of his family call him Henry. Beyond that, though, he can't quite make sense of why Rachel's approached him. He doesn't actively dislike her, but they're not exactly friends. "How are you today?"
"Morning, Rachel," Harry greets her mildly. He holds the door open for her, and Rachel steps through the doorway with a charmed smile on her face. He steps through himself, the door shuts behind them, and Harry continues on his way. Rachel continues beside him, and Harry slows his stride to make it easier for her. "I'm fine, thank you. How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you for asking," Rachel smiles, brushes a lock of hair behind an ear, and informs him, "I'd hoped to speak with you regarding the travel arrangements for Saturday's excursion to Akron."
"Why?"
"Well, as you know, Mr Schuester expects us to make our own way there. Unfortunately, not everyone in the Glee Club can drive, or has access to a car. The only people who do, in fact, are you, Kurt, and myself."
Harry nods his understanding. His parents had given him the okay to drive himself and Kate to and from Akron - no layovers, detours, or delays - and excepting a search for directions on Google Maps, he hadn't thought much about it since.
"Assuming you're driving your sister, that leaves four of us unaccounted for."
Harry frowns. "I'm legally allowed to drive one person that isn't directly related to me, but I don't know, I don't think my parents would be okay with that. Or anyone else's, for that matter. As is, Mum and Dad aren't exactly happy I'll be driving to a place over two hours away."
In fact, they're rather disgruntled by the administrative neglect (such as it is). So much so that Lily plans to write a strongly worded letter to Mr Schuester, to the McKinley High administration, and to the school board regarding the issue, and Harry is mortified by the prospect.
Kate is, too, and she'd spent the evening prior trying to talk their mother out of it. Lily Potter is stubborn though, and once her redhead temper is ignited, there's no going back from it. As such, Kate's attempt hadn't been successful, and the siblings can only dread the fallout from their peers.
"Nor are mine," Rachel acknowledges. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and there's a displeased frown on her face, "We cannot pass up the opportunity to take stock of our competition, however."
"No arguments here, Rachel." Harry holds the door open to the homeroom they share, and Rachel passes through the doorway with yet another smile. He continues, cognisant of the scrutiny of their classmates, "Anyway, I think the plan is for Mr Schue and Ms Pillsbury to split up everyone who needs a lift between their cars. There'd be eight seats between them, so…"
"I assumed as much, as well," Rachel says. Once more, she finger combs a lock of hair behind her ear, straightens out her plaid skirt, and sits primly in a seat near the front of the class, "I wanted to ascertain whether or not you'd be available to drive anyone else. I can't imagine our fellow team members would exactly be thrilled to travel with Ms Pillsbury or Mr Schuester, regardless of how pleasant they are."
Harry shrugs, "I don't mind. If my parents say 'no' though, then I won't. I'm on thin ice as is, and I don't want to be grounded any longer than I have to be."
It'd be fine if he could sneak out, but his parents are exceedingly diligent with the security alarm. It's on every night, easy to monitor via their phones.
Harry could risk it, of course, but he'd get caught, and He'd be stuck doing the yard work until the end of time. As such, although it's tempting, a few hours of freedom aren't worth the hassle.
"That's understandable," Rachel acknowledges, "I'll ensure the others are informed. Thank you for humouring me."
"It's fine," Harry smiles briefly, "Have a nice day, Rachel. I'll see you around, I guess."
He makes his way to his usual seat, behind Mike, and ignores their inquisitive glances as he retrieves the materials he would need for class. His friends aren't the only people staring though - most of his classmates are, actually - and the weight of their attention is stifling.
"What was that about, Harry?" Hermione prods. She's too curious not to, "I didn't know you were friendly with Rachel."
"We were just sorting out something for Glee Club," Harry explains, nonchalant. He doesn't clarify his relationship - such as it is - with Rachel Berry, however, and Hermione doesn't pry further.
Mike doesn't pry at all. He's stopped being weird about the Cho thing, but generally speaking, he's not really one to stick his nose in where it isn't wanted. He's curious, of course - like Hermione, he always is, about everything - but he'll rarely ever ask about the serious stuff. He's observant though, with a preference for listening over talking, and an uncanny, infuriating ability to hear what isn't ever said.
"How is that going?" Hermione queries, "Are you getting a lot of flack for it?"
"Mostly from Karofsky and his lot,"Harry replies, "But I don't hang out with them, so it's no big deal. Santana and Puck are a bit weird about it - Brittany actually asked if she could join, too - and everyone else just… Doesn't give a shit."
As their teacher strides through one of the classroom doors, Hermione hums her acknowledgement. "I guess I'm not surprised."
Their teacher calls them to order before Harry can find out what, exactly, Hermione is unsurprised about. They each turn their attention to the woman in question, and around them, conversation peters off until all Harry can hear is the hushed whispers of a pair of cheerleaders in the back of the room, a round of stifled laughter, and the harsh rasp of a pencil in a pencil sharpener.
To this accompaniment, the teacher proceeds with her regular morning roll call, Harry slumps in his seat, and resigns himself to yet another long, monotonous day in McKinley High.
In that regard, he is not disappointed.
-!- -#-
Kate cooks dinner that night. It's an attempt at paella that turns out well, and she preens under everyone else's compliments. Conversation eventually turns to other things, though - work, school, Harry's sports, Kate's dance, their Martial Arts - and any discussion of Britain, of Sirius and Remus' work there, of the continued - if somewhat diminished - threat to Charles' and Dorea's wellbeing is carefully avoided.
In a lull in the conversation between his parents, Harry informs them of the choice he'd made regarding his classes. Kate, sitting across from him, stills momentarily, and then silently continues to eat. She carefully avoids eye contact though - with anyone - and presumably, she's praying she can be anywhere else.
Harry, meanwhile, continues as though he hasn't just summarily overturned his parents' plans for his education, and stubbornly refuses to bow his head. He's not ashamed of his choice, he doesn't regret it in the slightest, and he's not going to let either of his parents guilt him into changing his mind.
James sets down his cutlery, props his elbows on the table, and clasps his hands in an arch over his plate. Lily, meanwhile, pats around her mouth with a serviette, sips a glass of water, and then sighs.
All of this happens in only a matter of moments, but for Harry, they feel like the longest of his life.
"Can you explain to us why?"
Harry swallows his mouthful of food, gulps down a mouthful of water, and then does so. He's rehearsed his speech dozens of times since that morning, mapped out all of his reasons and considered the best way to explain them, and he does so now, clear, concise, and entirely unapologetic.
When he is finished, his parents share one of those long, inscrutable looks - one of those silent conversations couples always seem capable of exchanging - and then they nod, pick up their cutlery, and continue their meals where they'd left off.
As he does so, James acknowledges, "If that's what you think is best for you, Harry, then so be it."
…
…
…
Harry is dumbfounded. He's floored, astound, completely flabbergasted.
In all of his imaginings, he'd not expected a response so utterly, completely anticlimactic.
Neither had Kate, it seems.
"Seriously?" She's incredulous. "Is that all you're going to say?"
"Your brother is old enough to make his own decisions regarding the future," Lily reasons patiently. "He's clearly thought about it, considered the ramifications, weighed the costs and benefits. After all of that, how can we possibly begrudge his choice?"
"We're not tyrants, Katherine," James contributes. There's a mild rebuke in his tone, and Kate ducks her head, embarrassed.
"I know that," she insists, "I'm just… You made as sign up for so many of the subjects available."
"That's because we want you to have as many opportunities available to you as possible," Lily explains, "But there's a point where we won't be able to make your decisions for you."
After that, the remainder of dinner is rather subdued. James and Lily talk between themselves, in low, subdued murmurs, and Kate picks listlessly at her eats methodically, clears his plate and drains his water, but his mind is elsewhere; on his Year 11 and 12 subject selection, on the prospect of IGCSE's, of his future SAT's, ACT's, and A Levels. He contemplates the prospect of university, of the RAF, of returning to Britain, and he longs, poignantly, to be a child again.
It's not the first time, and Harry knows - without a doubt - it won't be the last.
Author's Note: Hey, readers. Happy holidays, whatever you celebrate. Hope you enjoy the update. Until next time, -t.