"You're not supposed to patrol this side."
Albus amiably nodded. "It seems I have confused tonight's patrol with tomorrow's. My most sincere apologies, Phineas."
"It's Black!" the Slytherin snapped.
"Of course, of course. Sorry again."
Phineas Black suspiciously looked at him. Finally, he shrugged. "I suppose it's none of my business who you're looking for or why. Just know this: if I find that person, I will not be as lenient as you are and I will give detention."
Albus' lips curled. "I have no idea how you reached such conclusion, Black. I did make a mistake with our patrol schedule."
"And I'm the goblin's king. Now get out of my dungeons."
Albus nodded and quietly went back to the ground floor. Once he was certain nobody was going to come and see him, he heavily sighed.
After a moment of hesitation, Albus had decided to leave the Common Room and find Harry. Sadly, the wizard seemed to have found a hiding place even he was not aware of and it looked like he wouldn't manage to find him tonight.
Usually when Albus hurt somebody, he let them alone as he suspected his presence would do more harm than good to resolve the problem. But there had been something very raw and very fragile in these emerald eyes. A raw pain Albus had only managed to take a glimpse of but he just couldn't take off his mind. And maybe it was a terrible idea, but the prefect couldn't help thinking leaving him alone was an even worse one.
Albus tried to imagine what the wizard could have asked him but came short of an answer. Harry Potter did not particularly strike him as somebody asking for help. Helping others? Yes, that he could easily believe. Seeking help however? Even for his essays, Albus had to push because Harry certainly wasn't going to say he had troubles with History of magic and might need a helping hand.
Whatever it had been, Albus knew, it had to be very important for Harry Potter to ask for help. And he also knew he had deeply hurt him and that it was very unlikely the wizard would ask again.
Whatever it was, Albus hoped that Harry would be able to handle it. Even if it was without him.
Harry sneezed.
He then handed Professor Mesmer the handkerchief the man had lent him. "Sorry about… this."
Mesmer said, "If you want to see clearly, you need to sometimes clean your eyes."
Harry paused. Finally, he shrugged as the man cleaned the cloth with a flick of his wand.
"Is it not a lesson you learn in your time?" the seer asked.
"No."
If there was one thing he had learned with the Dursleys, it was that tears didn't solve anything and would only make his situation worse. Aunt Petunia would snap at him, Uncle Vernon would order him to stop being so needy and go to his cupboard and Dudley would only laugh and punch harder.
Harry had always linked tears with weakness, and he couldn't help feeling deeply embarrassed at the thought he had cried in front of the man and Dumbledore. Crying people only wanted others to feel guilty. It was useless and needy. The only thing it did was showing the people hurting you they had won.
He wondered if that was why he had hated seeing Cho crying. Cedric is dead and not coming back. Your tears won't bring him back. Can't we just go past this?
"And I thought this century was bad," Mesmer said with a sigh. "Let me tell you this then: in your situation, you cannot allow emotions such as fear or anger could your judgement."
"I can-"
"You can't," he interrupted. "Bottling up your emotions and running from them never works, it is only delaying the inevitable lash out. If you want to control your emotions and not be their slave, then you need to accept them."
Harry considered it one second.
No. He just couldn't do it.
The seer looked at him and sighed, as if he knew what he had just thought.
"Keep it in mind, would you? You may need to remember this one day."
Harry imperceptibly shrugged. "If you say so."
Looking at the teacups on the table, he took his. With some surprise, he realized his was still warm and wondered how that could be.
Magic, probably.
"Tea works too, I suppose. A nice warm cup and then you read the tea leaves, hoping the answers of all your problems are at the bottom of the teacup."
Harry snorted and quickly finished his cup. "Are they?"
"No."
Harry sharply raised his head.
"What?" he numbly asked.
"These are only tea leaves. Not even magical leaves, I bought them like all the leaves in my classroom in muggle London. Your potion professor and I once tried to make a potion using tea leaves, it just gave our concoction a rather odd taste. In the end I had no other choice but to acknowledge the truth: tassomancy is not about the tea."
Harry numbly looked at the Divination Professor. The man snorted.
"The entire thing about the tea leaves coming from a very special tree? It is a lie. It adds to the mystical part and justifies higher fees but is utterly false. And the tea usually is disgusting because we buy the cheapest."
"That doesn't mean tassomancy isn't genuine," he amended. "But real experts know it is not what is at the bottom of the cup that matters, it is how you interpret what you see. So you've got that stuff at the bottom of your cup? I do not care what it is, I want to know what you see. Is it a wheel? A sun? Similar shapes but very different meanings and only you can decide which is the correct one. So no, it is not the tea who will show you what tomorrow is going to be like or what to do, it is you. The tea is just a convenient excuse to take a moment, think about your problem and listen to your guts. They often know more than you do."
Harry's slowly lowered his head and looked at the leaves at the bottom at his teacup.
"So… It's like that thing with ink stains and people asking you what you see?"
"Encromancy? Same principle, yes."
"No, I mean… Nevermind."
The last time he had tried tassomancy, he had been informed he was going to learn about some betrayal. He had snorted and posed his teacup but was it possible he already had his suspicions and had just refused to see? Could have he known, deep down, that something was wrong and yet elected to ignore the bitter truth until he had no other choice but to face reality?
"Please, tell me what I forgot."
"Why should I? You'll forget again."
Harry didn't wait for a reply the next day and when it was Transfiguration, he headed to Slytherin's side, ignoring the rest of his house.
Black only raised an eyebrow when Harry sat next to him.
"So it was you," he just said. And even though Harry tried to find what he was talking about, the Slytherin never gave him an answer.
At the present moment, Harry didn't want to talk to Albus, or any of the many Gryffindors who seemed to have chosen to defend their prefect. Meaning he had no other choice but to stick with wizards from the other three houses. Considering Harry had never truly felt comfortable with Slytherins, he preferred staying close to somebody he at least knew.
"That's not every day he doesn't show off," the Slytherin remarked once Professor O'Connor went past Albus who had transfigured his goblet into a bird but not done something outrageous or seemingly impossible. "Last time was in September. I even found it odd, that's how rare it is."
Harry shrugged and asked, "Who cares?"
He spent the rest of the lesson brooding and pointedly looking anywhere but at Gryffindor's side.
Realistically, Harry knew something must have happened for Albus Dumbledore to forget. The discovery one of your housemates was a time-traveller was not something you could just forget like forgetting you were supposed to hand an essay.
But frankly… He was too exhausted to care.
He was exhausted of all this. Of seemingly making progress until to learn it was only a setback. Of understanding that, no matter what, he was going to sit his OWLs again and spend at minimum an entire year here. Of trying to pick up the pieces and make them somehow fit, praying it would stick this time.
What was the name of that guy who kept pushing a boulder up a hill only for the rock to fall down and for him to do it again? Because Harry was feeling like him right now.
Elphias looked at his friend a week later and sighed.
"I know it's weighing on you, but it's not as if Potter is blameless either. I mean, why hadn't he asked you more about this thing you were supposed to help him with?"
"He did ask, I think."
"Yes, but they were only allusions, weren't they? It's not as if the two of you had a heart to heart or were sharing notes. You couldn't because you didn't remember but what's his excuse? Why didn't he push more, or tried for the two of you to –oh, I don't know- work together?"
Yes, Albus had wondered about that too. From where he was standing, whatever plan the new student had cooked up had been entirely ridiculous. Who would ask for help on something or a project and just decide to go solo until he thought to remember he had asked somebody else to work on it? If that had been a group project, Harry Potter would have failed on its most basic premise.
Albus would have asked him why he hadn't said anything until then but that would require the Gryffindor to actually talk to him instead of looking at him as if he had committed the ultimate betrayal.
If the goal was to make him feel guilty, Albus had to admit these looks were extremely effective.
Albus said, "I am not arrogant enough to believe the blame lays sorely on me, nor do I think I purposefully made myself forget what he has confided to me. I just…"
He was just aware that, somehow, Albus had let him down. The same way, he couldn't stop thinking about these pained eyes looking at him as if Albus had just broken something very fragile in him.
"I just think it hardly matters who is more responsible for this situation," he finally decided to say. "Whether it is me or him, it changes very little in the end. Harry is, I think, deeply hurt by this situation and I regret it came to this. That's all."
Elphias looked at him and sighed. "You're too soft, Albus."
"I know."
"Somebody one day is going to take advantage of that if you're not careful, you know?"
"I know." He smiled and said, "But do you really think that person is going to be Harry?"
"I don't know…" Elphias mused, "He seems to be an alright bloke but we don't really know anything about him either, do we? Where he's from, why he came here, what sort of business he wanted you to help him with… He's asking a lot from you and is barely giving anything in return. I mean, what sort of person asks for a favour and just pretends he hasn't said anything for months? Was it really innocent or did he have a good reason to let yourself work on it while he barely did anything?"
"I think you're being slightly paranoid here, my friend," Albus said with a smile.
"Perhaps, I am. I probably am but it has to be said. I know you're probably not going to listen but…" He sighed and told his friend, "Keep that in mind, will you?"
"I promise."
Phineas Black threw his pendulum on the table and ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't care if Galileo himself proved the magical properties of pendulums, I have enough of this. I have enough of pendulums and astrology and tea. I have enough of divination."
"Then why did you pick it?" Harry mumbled as his turned counter-clockwise.
Whenever Harry was dealing with the pendulum he couldn't help remembering that hypnosis séance and, more than that, Voldemort and his assurance he needed his help.
If Harry had so far managed to shake off the need to seek the dark wizard, the current situation he was in was making it hard for him to remember why talking to him was a very bad idea.
"Honestly? I wanted to annoy my father. That's why I also picked Muggle Studies."
Harry raised an eyebrow, eyes never leaving his pendulum swinging. "Did it work?"
"Sort of. But looking back, I'm not sure I haven't made a mistake there. I mean, is it really going to be useful?"
"Is it really going to be useful for you to know divination, eh?" Harry said.
The pendulum abruptly stopped swinging.
Quickly, the metallic disk raised before flying in the direction of the paper where was written 'YES'.
Phineas groaned. "I don't believe this. Did somebody curse it?" he wondered as he suspiciously at the rest of the class.
"Looks genuine to me," Harry said as he curiously looked at the disc floating on its own. "Now, is Gryffindor going to win the House Cup?"
The disk flew to 'NO'.
Black looked at the pendulum with something akin to wonder. "I can't believe it actually works."
"We're in the lead. Gryffindor is going to win."
Phineas snorted. "In your dreams, Potter. Last year was a miracle but there is not going to be a repeat. Gryffindor is not going to win. It's a fact, the pendulum said so. Now, is Slytherin going win the House Cup?"
Phineas smirked when the pendulum answered by the affirmative. Taking his own pendulum, he started swinging it.
"Now," he whispered, "what did you do for this to happen?"
"No clue."
As Black tried to make his own pendulum work, Harry suddenly wondered if it would answer the question of whether or not Harry was ever going to leave that blasted nineteenth century.
But as he was about to whisper his question, a terrible thought came to him.
What if it said no?
The words died on his lips.
And if the answer was no, then what was Harry going to do?
The pendulum's disk floated in the expectative.
Harry posed it on the table and sighed as he hid his face behind his hands.
He was so damn tired.
That night, Harry couldn't find sleep.
He'd toss and turn but every time Harry thought he could finally get some rest something came to his mind and he couldn't stop thinking about it.
His friends from the future who were in danger and still needed to be rescued, the prophecy Cassandra Trelawney had given Aberforth Dumbledore, the one from the Department of Mysteries concerning him and Voldemort, Voldemort.
If he had somehow managed to find some peace before, not even his best attempts to use occlumency were enough to calm his tormented mind which seemed determined to remind him just how fucked he was.
After a few hours, Harry gave up and got from his bed. Not even bothering to change, he put on his shoes and left the Common Room. Once he left the castle, he headed to the Quidditch pitch. And taking the first broom on hand, he started to fly.
He flew as high as the broom would let him, putting as much distance as he could from all his problems he's left on the ground. Once his broom refused to fly higher, he made a few zigzags, a small smile slowly forming on his lips.
He didn't know if his animagus form would be some sort of bird, but in that moment he couldn't imagine being a creature unable to fly.
After a few blissful minutes, he finally decided to go back to the ground.
When he landed, he realized he was not alone.
"What are you doing here?" he blurted out.
Albus raised an eyebrow and with a finger touched his prefect badge on his impeccable school robes.
Harry painfully closed his eyes, suddenly remembering he was still in his night robe.
"A lone flyer in the Quidditch pitch at a time where students should not be out of bed… I had to check if that mysterious person had indeed left his bed or if there had only been an incident with a levitation charm gone awry, you understand." His lips curled and he added, "Mind you, had you been in fact flying on your bed, I suppose you wouldn't have been breaking any school rule and I would have had no other choice but to watch. I wonder if that could be a new sport," he mused. "Quidditch in bed."
Harry sighed as he got down from his broom. "I suppose I'm going to get punished," he stated.
"Punishment?" Albus mused. "I suppose you did break the rule so yes, yes… You probably should…"
He closed his eyes and hummed.
"I suppose you could do lines," he finally decided. "'When it is night, I must only fly on my bed', I suppose that could work."
Harry's scar on his hand twitched. "I'd rather avoid lines."
"Then I suppose I should take points. How many do you think this situation warrants?"
He shrugged. "The pendulum says we're not going to win the cup so do your worst."
Albus' lips twitched and he asked, "The pendulum says we're not? That's quite worrisome. I've been working quite hard for Gryffindor to get the Cup, you know? I suppose that means I will have to work even harder in order to defeat Fate and the mystical powers of a rock at the end of a string. Also, yes, yes… I cannot have too much of a handicap in order to succeed... Well then, one point from Gryffindor."
Harry couldn't help smiling. "You're terrible at this."
"I can always take two if you prefer."
He chuckled. "Wouldn't that put you in a bigger disadvantage?"
Albus wisely nodded. "True, true. I probably shouldn't curse myself in the foot even further. I know I have a gift in doing so but I probably shouldn't make it worse."
Once Harry put the broom back to the broomshed, he saw the prefect was intently looking at him.
"Why did you come here, Harry?"
Harry heavily sighed. "Couldn't sleep," he told him. "I had too much on my mind. I thought if I could fly, I would just… find some peace."
"Ah." A pause. "Did you?"
Harry pretended to look at the sky. "Sort of," he told him as his eyes sought a particular star.
"It's not because of me you go flying in your sleepwear at two in the morning, I hope."
"I've had a lot on my mind ever since I've been here," he slowly began. "So it's not just that."
When he found it, he couldn't help a sad smile.
All this mess because he had wanted to save Sirius.
"Harry, what did you tell me?" Albus softly asked.
He had been so scared of losing the closest thing he has ever had to a parent he hadn't even once considered he could lose everything.
"I'd rather not talk about it."
For a moment, none of them said anything. Both of them too busy musing on their problem, Albus looking at Harry, Harry looking at Sirius.
"Harry, I'm sorry."
Harry gave a long sigh. "It's not your fault," he finally admitted.
Deep down, Harry knew something must have happened for the wizard not to remember. Finding out your new housemate was from the future was not something you could forget easily. It was not some homework to turn or something utterly boring you pushed back until it was utterly hidden it from view and yourself. It was a once in a lifetime event, something so incredible you just couldn't help remembering it decades down the line.
"It's just... It's not fair."
For a time, Harry had actually believed it could be alright. After all, he wasn't alone is this mess, was he? And if Mesmer's help was more than welcome, Albus Dumbledore was more. He was the past, but he also was a link to his time, the present. The only person he actually knew, or thought he did, the one familiar face in that sea of strangers.
Sometimes, Harry would see red hair and sharply turn his head only to realize that this was not a Weasley he had spotted. Sometimes he would forget when he was and begin to panic.
And whenever he spotted these deep blue eyes, Harry's heart would stop racing and he found it easier to breathe. It's okay, he'd start thinking. Albus has got your back, you can do it. Everything is gonna be alright.
It suddenly occurred to him that had been very childish of him to think this. The same way, he had to look like Dudley putting a tantrum because he hadn't received the exact present he had wished for.
From the corner of his eyes, he hesitantly stole a glance in Albus' direction.
He quickly looked away when he realized the boy was looking at him.
"It is not fair, is it?" the auburn-haired softly said. "You trusted me with something very important for you and not only did I not help you with it, I outright forgot what it was. As if it was not even worth remembering. As if I didn't care."
After a pause, Albus slowly said in a hesitant voice, "I just want you to know… that this is not true at all."
Harry turned his head but the other boy was now pointedly looking at the stars, cheeks red in embarrassment.
He slowly smiled. "You do, don't you?"
Maybe this Albus Dumbledore didn't know Harry Potter was a time-traveller, that didn't mean he hadn't done his best to help Harry adapt in this Hogwarts. He didn't have to help him, in fact Harry seriously doubted any prefect would have bothered with a transfer student like him, and yet he had done his best to make sure he would feel at home here.
Without him, Harry was aware he would have lost it months ago. And maybe Albus Dumbledore wasn't spending time with him because he wanted to help Harry, the strange wizard lost in time, he was still here for just Harry.
"Thank you."
How strange it was. To be just Harry.
