Chapter 3
Sleeping and Breakfast Talks
Dumbledore's POV
"Okay, we've read two chapters, now it's time for bed, so that tomorrow all of us can do what they decided to do during this reading. I sincerely hope our new guests will accept to sleep where my students do." I end in a semi-question and Jeremy says: "Don't worry, Harry provided us with a place to stay."
And he motions for Elena, who pulls a small beaded bag out of the arm of her robe before, shockingly, diving arms deep into the bag itself and Minerva whispers: "An Undetectable Extension Charm, that's genius." And Elena mutters: "And Hermione's. She was pretty happy about giving it to me and told me to never give it back."
This makes me tilt my head and she says: "When I asked her, she said last book and nothing else. I'm guessing that during their attempt to destroy Voldemort, this little thing came a little bit too in handy for them and they didn't want to keep it just to let it remind them of the terrible time the war had been for them."
I nod, understanding why my grandson would make such a decision and Irma says: "To be honest, Harry also mentioned something like that. He said the most valuable item he had that meant the most to him when it mattered the most to his life was somewhere he would never find it again. He seemed pretty happy about that."
This worries me and I wonder what my grandson could have had to go through during the upcoming war. Looking at the three books that the Gang told us would describe the war, I both desire to read them now and desire to never read them as it would only prove that the only family I have left will be in the gravest of danger.
Harry's POV
I see grandpa looking at the last three books, the books that will tell us of the war and I gulp as I can only imagine how my 15 to 17 year old self must feel, going through the same horrors my parents had to go through during their own school years and for the first time ever, I hate having something in common with them.
Shaking my head, I see Elena pulling a large, old and slightly baggy tent out of her beaded bag before she shakes it, Jeffrey using his Wind ability to make sure it lands perfectly stable onto the floor before Jeremy uses his Earth power to have small pieces of the Great Hall floor serve as poles and pegs, keeping the tent standing.
The Gang nods and crawl in one at a time and, feeling curious, I follow their example, only to have my mouth drop at the inside. A long table with three benches on each side is in one part of the tent and several bunk beds, stationed on opposite sides of the tent, are in another spot. There are side tables with lamps and small chairs.
All in all, the inside of the tent looks like a wooden mountain hut, but then with linen walls and a soft floor instead of wooden trees and a hardwood floor and I can barely believe I stayed in this tent, let alone slept in it during my Seventh year. Rosaline then lies herself on the table and sighs in peace, like she always does.
This makes me smile as Rosaline loves to lie in nature, whether it's her own backyard or high in a tree, anything related to nature and flora is something that makes a smile appear on Rosaline's face as soon as she touches it. But then the girl's smile disappears and she says: "There was a fight here." Shocking me deeply.
Everyone looks at her and she says: "A fight – between friends. Two friends – but there were three people in the room. There was dark magic that caused the fight, but the two friends themselves continued it. I – I can't see who one of the friends is, but –." She leans up on her arms and says: "The other was you, Harry."
This shocks me deeply and I say: "Then the other two have to be Ron and Hermione. Hermione after all had the beaded bag and Ron's my best friend – I would never go camping without him. But with who did I have the fight with?" Rosaline lies back down, but after a while moves back up and says: "I don't know, Harry."
I sigh and say: "Thanks anyway, just get some rest. It won't really matter, either way, the camping trip won't be until the last book and we're only at the first. It won't matter if we forget for now, reading about it later will let us remember this and we'll be prepared." Rosaline smiles at me and I smile back before turning around.
I stand at the entrance and say: "Just go to sleep, all of you, and I'll meet with you tomorrow. Don't forget you'll be picking up aunt Rosie tomorrow." My friends nod and I crawl out of the tent before walking over to where grandpa and the other teachers are gathering. Seeing Professor Snape notice me, I roll my eyes at his glare.
Instead I keep my pace even and walk to Professor Dumbledore, not to ask him if I could sleep near him, just to wish my grandfather a goodnight and to thank Professor Lupin for his support of me after my outburst to the school. This makes me focus solely on my two targets and I know I'm only angering Snape further.
Yet, I can't get the need to care up in myself, perhaps because of fatigue or perhaps because there are people more important to me than him and I walk over to where grandpa and Professor Lupin have now noticed the little problem between me and the Potions Master, the smiles on their faces barely visible but to my keen eye.
I smile back at them and give a quick hug to grandpa, whispering: "I hope this chapter won't disturb your sleep, grandpa." Making the man hug me back before I reach a friendly hand out to Professor Lupin and say: "Thanks for being there for me, sir. I really hope we can find out who kept us apart all these years."
The man seems astounded at this, but smiles after a few minutes of me having my arm stretched out to him and he grabs it firmly – proving his werewolf strength to me – but with a kindness I can only compare to that of a father wolf caring for his cubs, as he says: "So do I, Harry, and thank you for not blaming me."
This makes me raise an eyebrow and I ask: "Blaming you?" But then decide to shrug it off as grandpa says: "That will be for tomorrow, Harry, I can already see how tired you are, so off to your sleeping bag. Off you trot now." And then, unable after hearing it a second time, I say: "Grandpa, I'm not a horse, you know."
And laugh as the man looks at me in shocked confusion while Lupin quickly lets go of my hand to hide a snicker behind it. I then move over to my sleeping bag and pull it up, dragging it over to the circle of slabs of rock that Jeremy had forgotten to put back to normal, but where I feel very safe and protected by my friend's ability.
Lying the cloth in such a way it will have me resting comfortable, while still capable of leaning against a few slabs of rock, I cuddle into the sleeping bag, ignoring how some of the students try to gaze over the slabs to get a look at me and then a very shy, inquiring voice asks: "You comfortable there, Harry?"
I look up, seeing the chubby form of Neville Longbottom and while lying on my side with my arm under my head, do I smile at him as he seems to wonder if I thought this through and I say: "Very, Neville. The surrounding rocks make me feel protected by the ability of my Gang leader. Thanks for asking, though."
The boy nods, apparently settled at ease and he leaves, obviously to inform the rest of Gryffindors he was lying with what I told him. I then cuddle deeper into the sleeping bag, using my arm to prop up a small bit of it into a pillow and then sigh as, even after this unexpected, eventful – and at points – crazy night, sleep overtakes me.
Neville's POV
I always knew Harry went through a lot and that he hid just about everything he did with his modesty and his fear of his fame turning his actions against him, but to hear it in such detail and to know that there are people with the same amazing investigation skills as Harry – who know him better than anyone else – is quite shocking.
I look at the tent that the Gang told us had been given to them by Hermione and while not many realize what I do, do I hate my knowledge as Harry isn't the type to go camping during a war. No, that tent had been Harry's way of having gone into hiding while still being moveable enough to fight against You Know Who in secret.
The idea of my friend and dorm mate – at age seventeen – fighting You-Know-Who makes me not fear for his life, but hate whoever is responsible and everyone who thinks such an action right. Having always been as rational as my mother had been, was something my gran hated about me, but I call it a blessing in disguise.
It made me see what others didn't and if it wasn't for the fact that I hate the spotlight as much as Harry, I know I would have made a speech like he did today years ago. Knowing especially one time where I had wanted to shout at my own House – not to mention my Own Head – I glare, yet again, at the Hourglasses.
Harry might not be as shy as I am and might embrace the fame and attention more than I could, but he too has a troubled look in his eye whenever something doesn't go right and that glint grows every year, making me worry for my friend, angered at the Wizarding World and relieved that the Gang has finally arrived.
Knowing this last part was something future Harry didn't get to have, I can only imagine the person the Gang knows from that timeline and look at their tent, knowing Professor Dumbledore has a Pensieve and hoping I can borrow it sometime to have a look at future Harry – if only to catch a glimpse of his eyes.
I then look at the only person who can get that glint out of the eyes of my friend and hate how Alicia, Angelina and Katie seem to be keeping Oliver from reacting on his emotions. I can, of course, understand how they did that last year and the year before, but Harry is in a stage where such chances would be happily welcomed.
To have someone like Oliver Wood, who is so driven and so strongly in-tuned with his emotions can only be beneficial for Harry as it will make sure Oliver will constantly push Harry to his limits, will stop him from fearing what his friends think of his talents and will push the real, caring and powerful Harry James Potter to the surface.
Looking back at the circle of rocks hiding my friend, I hate that Harry hides himself, if only not to be hurt by those expecting things of him they would never expect of themselves and decide that, looking at the books, I will use this chance to give Harry exactly what he deserves – a loving boyfriend and a chance to be himself.
I then walk over to Oliver and ask him: "Summon my sleeping bag, will you? We need to talk of Harry." This instantly gets the boy's attention, but it also draws the attention of those around him. Checking my surroundings, I see that none of my dorm mates are around and send Katie and Alicia a very firm keep-out-of-it look.
Oliver then does as requested and I lie in my sleeping bag, on my back to keep people from drawing suspicions as the mumble around me starts to lower a little and yawns are becoming more frequent. This Percy Weasley seems to strive on as he says: "Lights out in five minutes." Before turning to the teachers for confirmation.
Shaking my head at his behavior, I try to tell Oliver with my eyes to behave comfortable before I say: "People always overlook me because I behave very un-Gryffindor-like. It allows me to observe whoever finds me unworthy of their attention and those not even close to me directly, such as older students and teachers."
Oliver nods if the slight movement in his sleeping bag is an indication and I say: "I always thought it ridiculous that Harry excelled so amazingly in dangerous activities such as that Troll and the Monster of the Chamber last year, yet is so average when it comes to his school work. I can only determine what he revealed today."
This makes Oliver let out a softly audible sigh and I say: "Harry needs someone motivated. Someone who cares for him so much, it's on the brink of insanity. Someone who is constantly close to him, simply because he wants to be." I then look at the side of my sleeping bag to that of Oliver's and say: "You know that's you."
And I see two fingers move up out of the sleeping bag from where I can only assume is Oliver's temple, a gesture I am quite familiar with. Smiling at this, I say: "It's been hard for you, these past years, I know that, but those girls need to realize that – especially with these books – your emotions are exactly what Harry needs.
He needs something stable and a Soulmate Bond is for life, so more stable than that, you can't get. I don't think the bond will be revealed in the books, seeing you haven't shown the slightest sign visible to Harry, so I don't think you will in the books – and there we're already halfway through his Third and your Seventh."
Oliver sighs again as the lights suddenly go out, the muttering around me almost completely silent and I say: "Oliver, I know you promised Harry you would explain this would it not be in the books, but you can't deny that the last two chapters haven't already confirmed to us both that it won't. You have to tell him."
Then a female voice asks: "Are you sure?" And I see Alicia lying on my other side. Holding back a tearing groan, I ask: "Does nothing I said before convince you then? You know as well as I do, that when we reach the books with the war, Harry will need what I mentioned before – and Oliver is the best to provide for that."
"But what about Dumbledore? And Black?" Alicia asks and I sigh, looking shortly at Oliver as I say: "They can make sure Oliver's emotions don't overthrow him. I know he loves Harry, but I also know that – like with Quidditch – he could oversee things and go too quick. If you just pass the reigns to Dumbledore, all will be fine."
The girl nods, having sat up just slightly and she lies back down, her moving sleeping bag proving me she is trying to find a comfortable way to fall asleep and lie my hands behind me head, allowing for the stars above me to give me that same amazing feeling book-Harry apparently had and I fall asleep before the first check-up round.
Jeffrey's POV
Late at night I somehow feel my surroundings changing and while still feeling my body lying down on the slightly comfortable bottom bed of the bunk bed I share with Jeremy, do I also feel my body sitting up, on a hard chair with soft cushion on the seating but a hard wooden back, my legs scraping against the downside of a table.
The table has an ornamental row of something – something made of wood – stretched in strange patterns I can't decipher in my sleepy state, but apparently is the body I am, through my dream, occupying very used to this pattern as he moves his – I am sure the body is male – leg to cross his other from the ankle down.
The man sighs and a woman, who's red hair is the only thing I can properly see, says: "James, you've been sighing all day. What's wrong?" And the man – apparently named James – says: "I just can't let go of that strange feeling I had a few hours ago. It almost felt as I was finally remembered. You know, as more than –."
But the man stops and I feel two hands, belonging to two different people, lying themselves on my shoulders as a voice on my left says: "James, we understand how you feel." And the other goes on: "But Pettigrew was a total expert at hiding every trace of us." And James sighs again, his head down in defeat.
At this I feel myself returning my own body as soon as the man closes his eyes and I shoot up, wondering what I just witnessed. Lying a hand over my eyes and sitting up with my knees raised, I breathe in and out in a steady rhythm, using an exercise I discovered helps me think thanks to my abilities as a Wind Elemental.
"So someone named James was captured by Pettigrew, the man everyone believes has been killed by Black, and he is locked somewhere quite – elegantly, I think – together with at least two men and a woman, but they didn't tell me their names. Who were they? And why did I dream of them?" But then I remember something.
"James felt remembered only hours ago. It must have been when we discovered that Black killed Pettigrew in a state of unthinking helplessness. No wait, those people said that Pettigrew had hidden them away. Does that mean Pettigrew wanted Black killed so he wouldn't look for these people? But why that?"
Unable to find a proper answer to my own questions, I decide to hold a Gang meeting the next day and feel glad that we planned to get Aunt Rosie tomorrow morning. Lying back down and looking at the bunk bed above me, I wonder if I'm the only one having strange dreams now that we're in the past before falling back asleep.
The next morning
Lupin's POV
The whole Gang seems very much in a hurry this morning and I can't blame them. To get back with someone they saw being killed only months ago must be a blessing for them and I wonder who this Aunt Rosie is as Harry values her very much, although I also feel curious about Jeffrey, who seems even more in a hurry than the rest.
They barely eat anything from the breakfast buffet Dumbledore has allowed to be set up at where normally the Head Table is and the man had assured us teachers that the tables and everything else would be back to normal by lunch time. Yet he, I myself, Susan, Harry and Ron all have busy plans for today and so eat quickly.
I personally wonder if what the Gang discovered last night is really true, about Sirius only killing Pettigrew because he was defending himself and hate myself about the fact that I was once friends with someone who was willing to attack a friend when he was at an emotional end, let alone wanting to murder said friend.
Not wanting to think of Pettigrew that way and hating how Harry will probably be thinking about Sirius for the next few chapters, as I saw that there were quite a few between the Map and the Cat chapter, I focus on my few sandwiches and the pieces of meat I had taken from the buffet table, storing the meat in a small bag.
Knowing Sirius will be grateful with me for this, I wonder where I will be able to find my friend and decide to look around the closest outskirts and the secret passageways first as I'm sure Sirius used those to get in and out of the castle. Using what I read last night to know which passageways to search, I make a mental list as I eat.
Harry's POV
I can only imagine the amazing many places my dad could have left me the yearbook that Lupin told me about and as I wiggle out of my sleeping bag and roll it up to lie it next to the slabs of rock, do I mentally go over all the rooms and small places that Ron and I travelled to during the days we would still get lost at Hogwarts.
Smiling at how many times we walked into empty and sometimes awfully dusty classrooms and storage rooms, I suddenly realize that grandpa is right, Filch really has to go if he can't even keep unused classrooms clean for the chance of them being used again and complains about one student leaving muddy footprints.
Still not really liking this fact, I wander over to my friends and sit with them for breakfast, the twins and Ron talking about some random stuff and Hermione silently picking her food as she seems deep in thought, while every so often sparing a quick glance at the book we were reading last night, making me know it worries her.
Sitting next to her and lying a hand on her knee, the girl looks at me and I say: "Hey, it's going to be alright. We'll discover that Sirius is innocent and I'll leave the Dursleys. You'll see." The girl smiles at me and she asks: "But what about what your future self said. About how that file could have helped so much this year?"
I shrug and say: "I can't say, I'm not future me – at least, not yet." This makes the girl looks shocked and I smile at her, causing her to laugh softly before she asks: "Harry, do you – do you think that – in the books – you will keep holding back on what you can do – and what you know?" I sigh, my head down and say:
"I never intended for anyone to find out about that. I wanted to stay average as a student and then excel as a teacher, as proof that – no matter how hard the years – I really had a study worthy of my future. I never wanted to let anyone know where my true strengths laid until that time had come or unless truly necessary. But now –."
The girl nods and lies a hand on my knee as well before a strong voice asks: "Hey, is this seat taken?" I look up behind me and see Oliver standing there with two small plates. I shake my head and he sits down, putting one of the two plates on my lap as he says: "I saw you missed going to the buffet, so I got you a small meal."
I smile at him, happy how he always looks out for me and then the boy sighs and says: "Harry, Neville talked to me last night and what he said was true. The signs in the book – especially the sign that we're already halfway through the year – prove that I won't be telling you what I promised to tell you after we read of the match."
I can't deny this and thus just listen as he says: "When I first saw you, I thought Professor McGonagall had lost it. Yes, you were small and very slim and you obviously had a flexible build, but I also saw that you barely had any muscle and I feared what could happen to you if we trained too hard – or if a match turned rough.
Then McGonagall told us of what you had done and for a small time my concerns were at rest. Then I saw you fly, during that first practice we had." I nod, happily remembering that time as it was only the second time ever that I remember flying. Oliver smiles at me, something that always makes me feel warm inside and he says:
"You stole my heart that night, Harry." I look shocked, having not expected this as I only just started wondering why those amazing smiles always made me feel so warm and confident and he says: "My – my family stands for as long as it has – because we have these – these people that are – absolutely perfect for us."
"Soul Mates?" Hermione asks in surprise and I suddenly remember about a Wood finding his Soul Mate at age eleven with a seventeen year old back in 1614. Shocked that Oliver could even think of me as a possible Soul mate, I see the tall, burly – and handsome – boy nod at my best friend and he says: "Soul Mates."
I look at him and he lies a hand on the one I don't have on Hermione's knee, the touch warm and soothing, but the trembling fingers proving that he either doubts or wonders about something and he says: "I know I can't fully provide you with what you want the most – but I can give you something that is almost second best."
Shocked that he would think me to believe his love for me only second best to the love I could get from any possible family, I lean closer, my hand unconsciously grabbing his as I say: "Love is love, Oliver, and to me – it means the world." Making Oliver smile, his brown eyes glinting with happiness as he locks contact with mine.
Albus' POV
I was lucky enough to have overheard last night's conversation between Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Wood and have already decided that his idea of letting me keep Mr. Wood's need of speeding things up in check to make sure he doesn't overwhelm Harry is a very fine one and so, this morning, I am pleased with the results.
Mr. Wood has obviously decided to take Mr. Longbottom's advice and while the seventeen year old seems worried that this will all turn out wrong, does he still gather his Gryffindor courage and does he sit next to my grandson and Mss. Granger, engaging them in conversation and obviously telling them of how he feels.
Harry seems shocked at the revelation, while I can softly hear Mss. Granger actually coming up with it, but just looking at my grandson makes me smile as he seems deep in thought and then Mr. Wood says something that makes me want to both set the idea in action and makes me proud of Harry's self-control at the same time.
While the full move must have been slightly unconscious, does Harry both move a little closer to Mr. Wood and does he grab the elder boy's hand, saying something that I know will make any girl seeing them awe as I can see a budding love shining in my grandson's eyes, while the devotion in Mr. Wood's eyes is just astounding.
Happy that I have another person that can help me take care of Harry, I hear Minerva whisper: "Is something wrong with breakfast, Albus?" And I answer: "Just silently sharing in the happy moment between my grandson and my possible grandson in law." Making the woman turn to the two with great shock in her eyes.
Minerva's POV
Possible grandson in law. Four words I did not expect to hear from the greatest wizard I have known since coming to Hogwarts as a student, but still the idea that James – prankster extraordinaire – was actually the nephew of my long-time friend both mind-boggles me and makes me feel very happy for the next generation.
Harry definitely needs someone like Albus, someone who has so much experience he will be able to handle any situation at all, but I do agree that Black might be a valuable asset as Albus is over a hundred already and will probably have forgotten how it was like during his own teenage years, something that might cause trouble.
Yet, I worry for this same fact as I am not sure if someone can be a capable guardian for a young boy after spending 12 years in Azkaban and I think: "At least Black will have Remus, Albus – and now apparently Mr. Wood – to help him along. Let's just hope he won't be as rash and behave on his instincts as much as he did."
I then sigh, hating what I have put that poor boy through even more than the sorrow my book-self expressed about Pettigrew and suddenly I wonder something. The most revealing chapter concerned a dog, a cat and a rat, which Mr. Weasley confirmed would be his pet rat Scabbers – a rat that was in the Daily Prophet a few months ago.
Wondering if this rat could be the person Black was mumbling about in Azkaban, as Albus confided this with me after Cornelius had told him, I fear who the rat might actually be as I suddenly remember Percival telling me he already had Scabbers for six years when he asked me for permission to take the rat along to Hogwarts.
I then whisper to Lupin: "Ask Black if he read the Prophet with the Weasleys in it." And the man nods, while he too keeps a close eye on Harry, who now talks with Mss. Granger and Mr. Wood, his eyes sparkling brightly – especially when talking with Mss. Granger – and letting me know he is sharing his actual knowledge.
Hating myself for what I had done, as I too had overheard what Mr. Longbottom said last night when he started his conversation with Mr. Wood and I can only agree with the boy as it shouldn't be possible for anyone to be so average in class and yet so amazing outside – even when in the face of the dangers Mr. Potter faced.
Hating myself for not pushing him further, to let him prove his actual abilities after I had heard from Mss. Granger what he and Mr. Ronald did to the Troll, I whisper: "If any teacher decides that Mr. Potter is hiding his intelligence, he is to report that to the students we will assign to help Mr. Potter come out of his shell."
And all teachers – except Severus – nod as Filius asks: "Who will you assign, Minerva?" And I whisper: "Mss. Granger at the least, and I believe Mr. Wood will also be a proper choice, seeing their possible bond. Mss. Bones will also be helpful, seeing the information her aunt can provide. Any other options, anyone?"
And Remus answers: "I do believe having a student that excels in one subject each sitting near Mr. Potter for the next few classes will encourage him to be as wonderful as they are, which will help Harry excel where he can. It will be a good way to let us know what classes he masters and what classes he needs help in."
"And we need to encourage him to ask questions." Pomona then says and she goes on: "Those Muggles after all forbade him of such and that made him not know anything about his parents and made us think he already knew them inside out." I nod, agreeing with her as last night obviously proved very different.
"So it's decided, Potter gets special treatment, again." Snape sneers and Remus says: "If I have to go by what we discovered last night, can I only conclude one thing, Severus." The man glowers at my favorite student and he asks: "And what is that?" And Remus spats back determinedly: "Harry needs the help and the treatment."
The two glare at each other and Remus says: "I may not have always played an active part on those pranks on you, Severus, but Harry is not James and you got a very clear piece of evidence of that thrown at you last night. Do you really want to kill a boy's spirit before you can let the spirit of your old enemy rest?"
The Potions Master now reels back, as if shot with a stunner and Remus says: "That's right, you heard me." Before turning his face back to myself, Albus and the food we're eating. Hating the two and their bond – as it can only cause trouble during the reading – I decide to let it rest for now and focus on the rest of my breakfast meal.
Susan's POV
Going over the letter once again, I suddenly realize something and tear the whole parchment to pieces, using my wand to light up the left over bits and turn them to cinders before asking a shocked Seventh year if he would Vanish the cinders. After having done so, I turn to my shocked friends and Hannah asks me:
"Susan, what was that for?" And I answer: "The letter was too directly. My aunt may accept it, but she won't be the first to read it if she's already at work. Who's to say Fudge won't read it; he'll think me an idiot and that I'm hindering him catching Black. It could really cause my Aunt a lot of trouble if that happened."
My friend nods and I say: "No, a small note asking her to just visit me as soon as possible is a better idea. I just need to know when we read, so I can tell her not to come during those times. Oh, and remind me to ask her if she and Fudge will be willing to come during that Cat, Rat, Dog chapter, I just know it will be an eye-opener."
My friend smiles at this and I have to hold back on my feelings yet again. The Bones family has a long history with many Family traits lying dormant in certain family members for generations and while my Aunt was blessed with our ingrained Sense of Justice and Observation skills, did I become an ingrained quarter Veela.
This was something my Aunt discovered when I was five and first walked out of Madam Mallekin with a fitted dress on. Apparently the dress had shown growing female curves and Auntie had been shocked – and had to arrest a thirty-seven year old man for almost abducting me and selling me to a whorehouse.
The memory still sends shudders down my spine, no matter how much I had loved wearing that dress and while I had never worn it again, had it been kept in my closet as proof of me having a very rare Family Trait growing inside of me, one that made the few other Bones girls that had the gene the happiest of our family.
I too am experiencing possibilities of this happiness as just being near Hannah makes me feel strong and confident about myself, while her friendliness makes me want to prove myself to her again and again, a positive sign that I am a quarter Veela vying for her mate's approval. Still, I don't tell Hannah any of this.
The idea that she would be disgusted – that it could ruin the budding friendship we have been building for the last three years – is something that, since my thirteenth birthday, has been keeping my ever strengthening Veela below the surface of my consciousness, strong enough to love Hannah, but weak enough for me to temper its acting.
Hannah is yet to have seen a sign of the growing creature inside of me and while my Aunt has always taught me that Veela, Werewolves and Vampires were just respectful creatures that were different by only their traits, not their actions or beliefs, is it still hard to like this part of me if it could drive away the most important person to my life.
And so, as Hannah sits close to my left, just far enough away that we do not touch, but close enough that I feel her body heat mingle with my own, I bite my toast a little hard to fight down the need for the Veela to rear out, controlling my own body heat at the same time as I know that this will surely alarm my friend – and beloved.
I shake my head slightly, whisking a few crumbles from the corner of my mouth, but then suddenly notice something. Just like Oliver Wood had been following the drip of chocolate sauce going down Harry's chin last night, so is Hannah now watching my hand ever so vividly as I wipe the crumbs off of my chin.
Trying not to let any visible signs show my shock, I suddenly wonder what I could have missed as I constantly read the book my family kept on how our ingrained Veela could behave, would the symptoms start to show since the start of August, when it was my birthday and my Veela started feeding on my growing emotions.
Wondering if it could have been my need to keep my Veela down that made me blind to the chance of Hannah liking me back, I decide to let the next Hogsmeade Weekend be the judge of that and suddenly – I hate the Gang that arrived last night as the last Hogsmeade weekend was only yesterday, leaving me with months till the next.
Then the Bones in me rears up again and I think: "Only better. The more time you have to figure this out, the better you will know if asking Hannah to the next Hogsmeade weekend is a good idea or not." And I smile as I just know that my Veela side and I might finally reach a united goal – making Hannah Abbot, Hannah Bones.
