Chapter 7 – False respite
Harry had woken up a while ago, but he kept staring at the ceiling of the tent, blinking occasionally. Tired, he couldn't muster the strength to get up and do something. Any coherent thoughts eluded him. Tournament. The task was done and finished. On the one hand, Harry didn't die. On the other, it wasn't the best performance. He wasted practically all his options, but he pulled through and made it in one piece. Somehow.
Glancing around only revealed an empty room with no one in it besides him. Harry found himself still in the medical tent's bed. How long has he been out? Harry couldn't help but wonder what happened in the meantime when he was asleep. Both Krum and Cedric were gone along with Pomfrey and everyone else, also what could have been possibly Fleur's bed was uncovered and empty too. Not even Charlie or Dumbledore was around. The tent felt deserted. He was thankful for the respite. No one to accuse him of something wrong he had done. This time. Harry mentally scoffed. All he had done was his best to survive. He would want to see Crouch facing the dragons or Charlie when they were 14-year-old students. He could only imagine they would have fared even worse. They could bitch and moan all they wanted, but they weren't there facing it. Bunch of hypocrites.
While he was more than a little frustrated about how easily he fell into Madam Pomfrey's trap, Harry was feeling much better physically now. The sleeping potion he hastily drank surprisingly helped a lot. He dodged the questioning crusade from Dumbledore and others. Also, any pain associated with the immediate healing was something he was glad to not have to deal with now. Harry shouldn't have any broken bones this time, but even without Skelegro there was hardly anything pleasant about healing, no matter the wound. From his injuries, Harry's left hand remained a bit itchy and painful under the wraps, but all of his fingers moved just fine. Harry was okay. The same couldn't be said about his trusted companion.
Harry sat with surprising ease and looked around more properly than the quick glance he did before. Close by, on the night table, sat the Egg from the Tournament. He wasn't in the mood to do anything with it, though. His broom was also leaning on the table, close to his wand sitting there. Good, he was worried for a moment about where were his things. Harry felt a wave of sadness over his less than fine looking Firebolt, scorched marks marring it and several bristles missing or shorter than they should be. It may never fly as well as before. Maybe he could fix it somehow, but he doubted it.
"Oh. Somebody's up and ready," spoke a womanly voice from the other side of his bed, interrupting his thoughts. Harry turned around who the energetic voice belonged to and had a sudden urge to jump down from the bed in panic. He didn't even understand why his body moved on its own, wanting to get away from her as soon as possible. What? Why? Instead of running away, Harry stopped his struggle and simply stood there, puzzled. He couldn't figure it out. He was always quick to leave the hospital, to begin with, but he wasn't there right now.
"Please stay in bed, Mr. Potter. I'll arrive shortly to check the healing progress. In the meantime there is someone who wants to talk to you," said Madam Pomfrey calmly as Harry sat back on the bed, dumbfounded. He was nervous from the anticipation. So lost in his thoughts about his overreaction, he nearly didn't notice the newcomer entering the tent. It wasn't until the person came closer, he noticed who it was. Professor Dumbledore. Harry looked toward his headmaster and-
"Am I in trouble?" blurted Harry as soon as he registered him, instead of greeting of any kind. Curse his mouth. That wasn't how he wanted to start the conversation, but what Crouch had said before had truly spooked him. Was his usage of portkey illegal? Professor Dumbledore was looking at him with a conflicted emotion showing up on his face for a moment until his face slackened up and changed back toward the kind grandfather Harry was used to seeing.
"Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, his voice quiet, but firm, as he sat down on the chair nearby. Harry simply nodded, not trusting his mouth.
"While you were resting, Miss Lovegood spoke to me about your little deal with her portkey. As you would surely want to know, the dragon in question is being transported back to her proper handlers as we speak. You don't have to worry about that." Professor Dumbledore smiled kindly at Harry while presenting the news.
"That's good." Harry liked the sound of that. He was worried about nothing, after all. There were still Charlie and Crouch to deal with, but hopefully, he would need to meet them at all.
"While the usage of portkey in the tournament has been approved as a valid strategy, there are other issues," said Professor Dumbledore calmly. Harry frowned at the direction Professor Dumbledore's words headed towards. Why can't this man ever share anything straight and have to circle around? Why?
"What issues?" asked Harry in nervous trepidation, not liking the sound of the false calmness from Professor Dumbledore. He was too calm. Preparing for something. Something bad. Bad for Harry.
"Ministry has their own rules about the usage of portkeys inside British soil," continued his talk Professor Dumbledore. Harry's left eyebrow twitched in a silent scream. The headmaster was going to deliver the bad news. Agonizingly slowly. Torturing Harry over every word and delivering it in the most painful way possible. He could feel it in the air. He couldn't comprehend what the issue was and furred his brows in deep thought. Maybe he would be in trouble for porting the dragon out after all? Harry was getting frustrated over the headmaster skirting around words again.
"What does it mean for me?" asked Harry straight with worry in his voice. He barely knew what portkey even was before Luna handed him that icky blob. On one hand, he wanted to get angry at her for getting him into a mess, but on the other, thanks to her, he survived relatively unharmed and even finished the task. Gratitude and anger were very conflicting emotions that warred inside him at the same time over the portkey situation.
"Unfortunately, I have no answer for you yet, Harry. Mr. Crouch is currently in talks with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement over its lawful use. While the portkey was cleared for transport of a dangerous species, it was only so for the Lovegood family which you are not part of." Professor Dumbledore dramatically paused his speech, looking away, his half-moon glasses glistening in the light. Harry could only nod helplessly. Looking in the same direction, Harry saw nothing out of the ordinary, just an empty wall of a tent. Harry slumped his shoulders helplessly. 'Stupid convoluted rules' cursed Harry silently.
"I'm sure things will get back to normal soon. Nothing to worry about. Ministry will probably execute caution over its use. At most, Ministry will make you pay a fine and you will be cleared in no time," finished Professor Dumbledore almost cheerfully, before looking straight at Harry. Harry said nothing. He wasn't feeling very chipper at the prospect. What even was caution? Like being reprimanded? He was afraid to ask for clarification.
Easy for the Professor to say, but Harry didn't want to get into such trouble. Would he have to visit his vault once again? He hoped it would somehow become a nonissue on its own, but he was pessimistic about this outcome. He wasn't that lucky, ever. The silence between them stretched into uncomfortable territory. Dumbledore just stared at him while Harry looked at anything but his headmaster.
"Now, when we have this out of the way. I would like to ask where did you find these curses you used in the tournament, Harry. Who taught you them?" asked Professor Dumbledore kindly and with a twinkle in his eyes. Despite his light words, the atmosphere transformed from awkward and grew heavy. Harry did not wish to share. Spilling his secret? Giving up the Room as the headmaster would inevitably ask about it? Why would he do that? Harry hadn't shared even with Hermione, someone much closer to him, his only friend. The Room and its contents were his safe refuge, and he did not wish it to become a place of common knowledge for anyone to study, or worse, make the room access granted only if Professor Dumbledore gave permission.
Trust went both ways and Harry's diminished significantly this year. How would speaking about spells help him? Dumbledore did not help with the investigation about his entrance into the Tournament, offered training, or even slip some helpful book of spells. No, he had to do everything on his own and not for the first time.
"No one, sir," answered Harry quickly, when his thinking pause grew too long, skipping most of the question. He taught himself because it was the only way. Well, Hermione helped with the summoning charm, but mentioning this would hardly satisfy his professor. Harry looked toward the bed's side with his broom, thinking about the task. Dumbledore already knew about Luna's part and Harry surely didn't want to talk about the books he read in the Room of Requirements, his haphazard and likely reckless training with dummies, or the spells the books contained. Harry's eyes darted across the room, looking for a way he could use as a distraction. It was right there, at the night table. The one not containing the egg and his wand.
Harry reached out from his bed to the glass filled with something. Leaning his nose toward the cup, Harry picked up the familiar smell of pumpkin juice. Not his favorite, but it would suffice. Headmaster looked like he wanted to continue asking things, but Harry hurriedly pretended he was busy with drinking. It took him a while to finish and he make a lot of loud gulps on purpose in the meantime. He may or may not drink the full glass just to prolong the silence. Unfortunately, the glass didn't last that long, and he had to place the empty one back. Time thinking about excuses ended.
"Ah. It appears you were quite thirsty, Harry. Poppy's spells, healing potions and salves have that kind of effect on the body. Do you feel better? I have my utmost confidence about her healing abilities," quipped Dumbledore in a light tone, smiling softly, reminding Harry how he used to be in his previous years. Unlike his previous years, Harry was not a kid anymore and couldn't help but roll his eyes mentally. He wasn't particularly bright in social interactions, but even he could spot the jarring change in theme.
"I'm fi-" Harry stopped himself abruptly as he realized what he was about to say and started anew. "I'm feeling much better now. Only my hand is still itching a bit, sir," answered Harry carefully and waved his still bandaged arm a little. He nearly said what a few people called his signature line, but remembering the recent walk with Hermione and McGonagall, he rather changed his answer. Did he really say that line often?
"That's good, Harry. I'm sure you would be up and running in no time," shared Dumbledore kindly as he pat him on the shoulder. Harry did his best to not recoil from this brief physical contact. Becoming uncomfortable with the touch, Harry mentally shuddered but kept his body stiff.
Since when did Dumbledore care about Harry's health? He sent him to the Dursleys every summer months. Sure, he was there for him after Harry had encounters with Dementors. Then there was the whole thing with Dobby and Chamber and more. It was often, actually. How often did he end up in the hospital, exactly? It felt like he was meeting Dumbledore every year on the hospital bed. Or when something bad happened. Usually both. Did Harry have an actual conversation with the man that wasn't about some shit, uncovering some grave plot, suspicion, or when he was hurt? Harry couldn't honestly remember. Keeping his agitation bottled, Harry feigned composure.
"Harry, about the spells and curses used in the Tournament, did you find them in the library?" asked Dumbledore in a weird mix of gentle and compelling voice. Harry was tired of this question and annoyed by this routine. What's so important in these spells? Most curses weren't illegal. Well, using curses on wizards could rise a controversy at least, but on creatures like dragons, it was perfectly fine. Harry checked facts in ministry guidelines and read several mentions of books about dragons. Responding seemed pointless. He doubted it was what Dumbledore wanted to hear and Harry would not divulge any information about the Room freely.
"I'm trying to help you, Harry. Talk to me. I'm sure you would feel better if you shared what's bothering you," suggested Dumbledore politely, with that annoying twinkle in his glasses. Share? Why? Harry couldn't comprehend why would or should he do this. It was as if Dumbledore was trying to be Harry's confidant, but that ship sailed when he abandoned Harry to the Tournament this very year. Ha. Bothering him. Harry smirked as the devious idea formed in his head. Sure, he would tell him what's bothering him.
"Sure," answered Harry slowly, forming what to say in his head. Dumbledore smiled back, thinking he had won the battle of wits, arguments, and attrition, but he couldn't be more wrong. Dumbledore twitched his own wrinkly mask he called face, looking older in a mere second as he saw Harry's twisted expression.
"What about the fact that I've been pushed into this deathly trap of Tournament? Huh? Got any leads who wants me dead this time?" asked Harry harshly, pushing what was bothering him the most at the moment. It was tactless and rude, but he had to get it off his chest. Not that he wanted to hold it in, but he would never get anywhere with 'keep your mouth shut and do as I say' way of life instilled from his life with Dursleys. It was time to change it. Harry was doing his best while everyone else was just content to let him fumble around, even if making any wrong move could spell his death. And when he did something, everybody was an expert, and it was somehow wrong. Crouch, Charlie, and now Dumbledore. He had enough of this shit.
"Harry. Alastor is making some progress, but it's going slowly. He is working on the solution to fi-" Dumbledore didn't get the chance to finish his speech. Harry knew where the conversation was heading. It was likely about big fat nothing, anyway. Harry's bottled feelings erupted. He was angry now.
"All this time and you have nothing? It's been weeks already. All these students calling me a liar and cheat while newspapers vilify me and you still have nothing?!" raged Harry, interrupting Dumbledore as he raised his voice.
"Harry, calm yourself. We are doing what we can-" fired back rapidly Dumbledore, his own voice raising, but Harry wasn't listening to his excuses.
"No! You do not!" shouted Harry fiercely, interrupting Dumbledore once more and making him shut up. Dumbledore should listen and do something for once. Not just talk and talk, listening to his own bullshit and resolving nothing.
"You never do anything! You could have easily said that I didn't enter myself, but no! That would require some actual effort from you!" screamed accusatory Harry and pointed his finger toward Dumbledore.
"You know that's not true, Harry. It's never that simple," explained Dumbledore, calming his voice at the end. Harry gazed back at Dumbledore for a moment in contempt but began to calm down too. Harry realized that shouting at this man would accomplish nothing. He was disappointed by his headmaster's words. Dumbledore made it sound as if he was nobody, not the most powerful wizard of current times with 3 positions of power over wizarding Britain, one over Hogwarts herself. What was his influence useful for? Harry never saw him using it. Not even for Sirius. House points rewards at the end of the year? Just an elaborate joke, more hurtful than beneficial in the long run. It made his own life more complicated with resentment from the other houses, particularly Slytherins. And how couldn't they when he was always awarded for something that was essentially secret?
"Simple? You are a bloody Albus Dumbledore! One word from you and everyone would listen!" called him out on his bullshit Harry. Dumbledore was about to answer, but Harry wasn't letting him.
"Remember when I was rumored to be the Heir of Slytherin? You never did anything to help either! Nothing to stop the rumors back then and now it's the same!" exclaimed Harry harshly, his voice breaking. He was silently raging, the shouting match diminishing. His anger transported more into cold fury as his eyes get misty.
"I couldn't. I had no evidence-" bumbled Dumbledore. Harry wasn't going to listen to his weak, arse-pulled explanation.
"Excuses!" shouted Harry, finding his voice once again. He did not give Dumbledore time to gather some long-winded and good-sounding reason that he formed only after the fact.
"I assure you that-" Harry interrupted Dumbledore's attempt once again.
"Leave it! I don't want to hear it!" screamed Harry, furious. The air grow heavy and felt like it was wobbling with an uncontrolled spell in the making.
"Harry! Stop your unruly behavior this instant!" fumed Dumbledore, hand resting on his wand and his glasses dancing on his face in anger. Harry couldn't care less. He had no right to berate Harry, Dumbledore wasn't his parent and he would never be, despite his earlier years demeanor.
"Why? Are you going to make me?" asked Harry with a challenge in his voice while clasping his own wand. His eyes went into icy slits, daring him to say yes. He wanted to know how far would Dumbledore go to control his life.
"Yes. I would rather not, but I will if you continue throwing tantrums like a little child," berated Dumbledore as if Harry was genuinely unruly spoiled 6 years old Dudley. Well, his cousin never got a reprimand for similar behavior, so that analogy was flawed from the beginning. Far from it, Harry still had his wits with him, the one who behaved illogically wasn't him in this confrontation. He had to find some way to make a comeback.
"That's rich coming from you. You want me to be old enough to behave properly like an adult, be old enough to compete in this shitty tournament for adults, yet I was never old enough to live on my own!" shouted Harry indignantly, once again finding his drive. It felt so good to flip one over Dumbledore's high ground.
"This and that are different matters. Living with your family keeps you perfectly safe over the summer months," replied Dumbledore quickly, as if these empty words meant anything to Harry. It even sounded insincere, as if he rehearsed the answer many times. Why was he going back there, actually? Could Dumbledore do something drastic as to expel him from school if he didn't? Harry wasn't sure, but he was going to find out.
"Safe from what? Voldemort?" mockingly asked Harry, glaring at Dumbledore, but he put his wand back into his pocket. No, fighting his headmaster would be utterly foolish and it would accomplish nothing but his defeat. Only madmen and Voldemort fought with Dumbledore head-on.
"Of course, Harry," answered Dumbledore, lowering his wand too as calmness spread around them. Harry had nothing to rebuke there. He trusted Dumbledore in this matter. No longer trading barbs back at him as the silence spread, he was in deep thought instead. Dumbledore also waited, not eager to start the conversation. As he said, Harry was safe from Voldemort, but was that all?
"Voldemort isn't the only threat, isn't he?" slowly started a new line of thought Harry.
"No, there are many wishing you harm," answered Dumbledore calmly.
"How would the charm on Dursley's home be able to protect me from anyone and everyone?" Asked Harry calmly. Dumbledore only raised his eyebrow to let Harry continue.
"What about random Death Eaters? Lucius Malfoy? Karkaroff? Or the traitor Pettigrew? A hired hitman?" asked Harry a barrage of questions, thinking about a multitude of options. Voldemort did not need to show up in person and send a middleman instead. Dumbledore kept his silence. Harry was eager to know, with the recent resurgence of several caped criminals in the Cup, he was feeling more vulnerable in Vernon's house than ever. The protection was too abstract and vague. Worse, it all hung upon Dumbledore's word with no way to know for sure. Harry did not feel safe there at all.
"How would it protect me, exactly?" asked Harry forcefully, pushing the question. He really wanted to know the answer.
"I'm certain that they wouldn't be able to get anywhere close to you while you live with your aunt," answered Dumbledore finally. And of course, Dumbledore didn't disappoint in offering the answer Harry expected with no details of any kind whatsoever. It was another of these obscure answers that defaulted into 'trust me' category that answered practically nothing at all. Harry very much doubted his words. Doubt that only grew from last year and how he handled or more to say didn't handle Sirius and did nothing against the behavior of Snape.
Thinking back about the protective charm. Could magic pick on ill intent? Harry remembered Fudge sending Obliviators to his home address, and they made Marge forget about the incident when he blew her up as a balloon. Wasn't that an example of ill intent that wasn't stopped by some mysterious protection at all? Hell, all these unknown wizards were roaming unimpeded inside the house, doing who knows what. As a bonus, his relatives also had zero protection against being influenced by wizards. Was he ever safe from them? The answer was obvious. He wasn't.
"And what about them? My esteemed relatives?" snorted Harry derisively. Thinking about this direction, how hard it could be for any adult wizard to manipulate, befuddle or bewitch his uncle or aunt with a spell or potion? It could get worse than what Vernon ever did for his accidental magic. Heck Vernon even had a gun. Make a magical scene in Grunnings, and get him sacked as a result. Harry feared that Vernon could snap and carry on with something drastic without any further magic manipulation involved.
"What? Why would your family wish you harm?" asked Headmaster, spreading his hands, looking quite puzzled, as if he couldn't imagine it. Harry smiled bitterly at the fool. Dumbledore's expression was a clear sign he believed in his own words. As if he wasn't the reason why Harry had to spend 10 years of his life there in the first place. Did he ever check? Tried to make things better for Harry? Harry doubted it, as he never saw him around.
"Family? You are delusional. They were never. For Dudley? Sure. But not for me. They are my relatives, nothing more. Before meeting Weasleys, I had no concept of how genuine family looked like," spat Harry accusingly, pointing a finger at his face. Dumbledore lowered his hands and sighed.
"It pains me to hear your relationship is worse than I thought," he said, frowning and scratching his beard. Harry only glared back at him. Did he actually care or not?
"Harry. You asked me why I placed you there and not somewhere else. I was reluctant to answer before. You were too young. It's still rather early, I would have rather waited and shared my explanation with you later, but it doesn't seem like an option anymore. Harry, would you hold your questions for a moment and let me talk? I have many things to share," said Dumbledore somberly. Harry only nodded. As much as he wanted to rip into him, he was eager to find out the answers.
"Four years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well, not quite. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years," said Dumbledore solemnly. Harry listened and kept nodding, but his anger didn't go away. In fact, his cold resentment was hard to hide.
Harry did not interrupt Dumbledore as he shared his fears about Death Eaters right after the attack on Potters. His special charm was used on top of already preexisting protection from his mother, and the real reason why he had to live with Petunia and not in any of the wizarding families. Harry frowned the entire way in the face of the explanation. It felt so weak, incomplete. Yes, it was a sound plan and made sense at the end of the war, but what about later when he begin to grow up? Was Dumbledore truly unable to do anything against the danger to his life Harry was currently facing? If there were so many dangers to his life on top of Voldemort, would he ever be safe? Harry wondered about its worth. The protection upon the house would break as he reached the majority in the wizarding world, anyway. Dumbledore was also the oldest person Harry ever saw. How long could he protect Harry? Harry had 3 years at most outside of Hogwarts and then he would become like a deer in the open season for any Death Eater to take aim and shoot as Malfoy senior already did when dumbledore was just there in another room. Honestly, it sounded like cock and bull explanation.
Dumbledore then talked about Harry's first year and how Harry was perhaps unhappy, underfed, but not pampered, and most importantly, alive. Headmaster spoke about the challenges Harry overcame in his first year and praised how he delayed Voldemort's return to full power and strength. At that moment Harry's blood boiled. He stopped listening. He had realized now that as much as the Stone was a honey trap for Voldemort, Dumbledore using frankly laughable protections even first years could overcome meant that it was a deliberate test. And he walked straight into it. Confirming such a theory was Dumbledore himself as he showed Harry the Mirror that would play a huge role later. It was no coincidence. So lost in his mind, Harry at first did not register the question, but Dumbledore asked again.
"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby?" Harry frowned. He did want to know, but Dumbledore always mysteriously dodged answering. But would he get a straight answer now? Not getting something thinly veiled into a rope to hang himself instead? Harry was already wiggling his butt impatiently, ready to jump from the bed, restless and on the verge of another outburst already.
"I decided not to answer you then. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much-"
"Never, huh? And now it isn't? Suddenly, I'm old enough to know?" jumped Harry, his feet firmly on the ground. Harry was frankly quite stuffed from all the curly explanations Dumbledore threw around.
"Harry, let me fin-" said Dumbledore, trying to gain control back, but Harry listened for long enough and his patience was gone. His whole body was shaking like a leaf.
"Just glorious. All I had to do was to get angry. Ha. How utterly moronic reason," mocked Harry as he kept his wand from falling from his pocket and hurriedly collected his broom. He never looked back at Dumbledore. All this hanging up the carrot in front of him, but only after he rebelled against his authority and caused some backlash. No more.
"Harry, wait, sit back down, you are making a mistake," tried to reason Dumbledore, but such words couldn't persuade Harry.
"You know, Dumbledore. I have one word for you now about mistakes and plans and just... Stuff it! I don't care!" shouted Harry as he turned back and glared at Dumbledore. In the corner of his eye, he spotted something golden, but he couldn't care less about the egg. He was going to leave it just there. He was out of here. Dumbledore just stood there like a statue, so Harry turned around and at a fast pace approached the exit. One quick flap of fabric and he was out.
"Harry! So nice to see you!" boomed Hagrid in his normal voice, which was actually louder than the whole shouting match inside the tent. Harry didn't answer and rushed past him, back toward the castle. As he run, he spotted Ron and Hermione not too far away, but rather than going toward them, he sneered and went the long way around, hopped into his broom, and with a few irregular movements rapidly closed the distance to the entrance, ignoring their calls and erratically moving broom.
- •o• -
Albus watched as his ward Harry stormed away, still not believing this happened. Where did he go wrong? What words steered the conversation astray? His approach was perfectly measured, and the conversation went as he planned, at first. It was supposed to be an easy talk about spells and finding out where did Harry gain access to the books of spells he used in the Task. He was reasonably sure at least one of the curses wasn't in the public section. This outcome was however outside his prediction. Why did Harry behave like that? He had an outburst far earlier than he expected and out of nowhere, too. The encounter with the dragon was hardly as dramatic and dangerous as the one with the basilisk, for example. He was just about to salvage their relationship and share the details about the prophecy with him when Harry run away from the talk completely. Why? It was incomprehensible, how could his mood swing so unpredictably and widely? Nothing he had done so far indicated a problem. Albus did not understand what was going on in Harry's head.
Could it be? Did the connection to Tom Riddle start to grow stronger to influence him? Albus could not deny some similarities and he was frankly afraid of that possibility. Yet, something did not feel right about this theory. One thing set this conversation apart. He could not glean any surface thoughts from Harry, which was odd in itself. Making a glimpse into Harry's surface thoughts was often unreliable, but never this difficult. What changed? Perhaps the connection to Tom influenced Harry, yet shouldn't it be the opposite? Especially when angry? Harry's mind screaming his thoughts loudly to the world? With how angry Harry seemed to be, it was inconceivable that he noticed vast and empty nothing as if there was no one sitting in front of him with a mind at all. It was a peculiar puzzle indeed.
"Albus. Did you finish your talk- Where is Harry Potter?" asked Poppy, her voice growing sharper with every word. She crossed her arms and glared at him. He did not give her the satisfaction of acting startled, despite her surprising him. She entered the tent when he was reflecting on the conversation with Harry and he completely missed her entrance. He was really getting old. His perception was not getting any better every year, unfortunately.
"Ah, Poppy. Harry simply had enough of lying around in the hospital bed so I allowed him to visit his friends," said Dumbledore kindly and gestured outside. He hoped it would be enough. He was fully aware that it was a lie, but couldn't help himself. Sharing what happened in the tent would not be wise. He would have to catch up with Harry later and try to find the reason for today's outburst. Perhaps reviewing his memory in the pensive might give him a clue.
"Albus. Did you somehow gain the title of mediwizard when I wasn't looking?" berated Poppy, as she stepped right in front of him and scowled at his eyes. It was a very fierce look. Not dissimilar to what Molly had on occasion. Of course, he knew the reason why she was angry.
"No," answered Albus with an easy smile to placate her. Unfortunately, as predicted, it did not work. He tried it anyway. One day it will.
"Then I would appreciate it if you do not meddle and dismiss my patients as you wish. Are we clear?" asked menacingly Poppy. He did not wish to step on her toes, but he would rather have that solution over letting her spread the details about the shouting match with Harry and leak this rather sensitive information to other people. Albus would never admit it to anyone, but Poppy could be quite frightening when she wanted. Bypassing her authority in her field was a surefire plan to make her unhappy and irritable. Albus could only wait for her to cool down. He shook his head. He had made quite a few people angry today. Maybe he should go and suck on some lemon drops to calm himself, too. That and perhaps some firewhisky after the long-
"Poppy. Did you bring a cup of pumpkin juice for Harry?" asked Dumbledore, fearing the answer. His thought process was very rattled upon the possible discovery.
"That's a fairly random question from you. No, pumpkin juice isn't recommended for after treatment of burns, why?" asked Poppy quite miffled. Albus schooled his expression into a stony mask and smiled gently. He did not feel like explaining his recent thought processes to anyone. It could be nothing but a wrong conjecture. He would not share his suspicion until he was sure.
"Never mind. I'm sure it was nothing. Now if you excuse me, I have to find Hagrid. He wished to speak with me," said Dumbledore as he got up from the chair, very close to the nightstand, and swiped the empty cup into his robes.
"Hmm, Harry forgot his Tournament's golden egg in here, oh my, I'll see to it that he would get it as soon as possible," said Dumbledore reliably and picked the egg from the other nightstand with a theatrical flair. He put the egg into his second pocket. It was quite convenient how he had the expansion charms on nearly every robe he owned. He remained looking as immaculate as ever, with no bulges ruining his image anywhere. Poppy only humphed, irritated, and pointed at the exit. Normally, he would dwindle and argue about such disrespect, but considering today's disaster, he would just go silently.
When stepping outside, he spotted Hagrid heading toward him. Albus stopped and took note of the distressed groundskeeper. What happened there?
"Professor Dumbledore. Did you talk with Harry? I don't understand, he just passed me, not even saying hello," grumbled Hagrid good naturally, but his spirits were low. It must have been a shock for him, too. Why did Harry ignore him? As far as Albus knew, Harry had no beef or issues with the groundskeeper. They were close, perhaps friends even.
"I did indeed, Hagrid. Something I have said must have angered the young man. I will speak to Harry soon and try to fix what was bothering him. I'm sure he would come around eventually and he will visit you. Don't worry," soothed Albus. Hagrid was a gentle soul. Such a rejection must weigh heavily on his mind. Perhaps when Albus would inevitably talk with Harry again, he would mention Hagrid and send Harry for a tea-drinking evening. That would do nicely.
"If you say so," answered Hagrid downcast. He looked momentarily appeased at least a little bit. Hopefully, things will only improve between them.
"Now before you go back toward the castle, could you do me a favor and locate Severus? I need to speak to him in my office about some urgent matter," impelled Albus as he needed to talk to Severus as soon as possible. He would prefer if Severus had his potion kit with him, but mentioning this detail to Hagrid may not be a grand idea. Same with sending Patronus his way. It would be as subtle as the rampaging dragons he had watched recently. Too many questions could come from it. If only he was sure Severus was in the Castle and alone. Alas, he was not.
"Of course, professor. I'm right on it," answered Hagrid as he steered somewhere back toward the stands. Not many people remained there. Almost every student was back already, but many professors still lingered, helping with the safe dismantling, directing student stragglers, and such. Albus sighed. Today wasn't really great day. Harry did well at the Tournament, considering the circumstances, but the aftermath was troublesome. Albus really hoped his intuition was right and he would be able to repair the distance that had risen between him and Harry. And the special vintage year of firewhisky he had in his cabinet couldn't possibly hurt. After the meeting with Severus, of course, he needed his mind sharp for that.
Author's notes:
Hmm, I planned the confrontation between Harry and Dumbledore to be short and move on. Then it kinda went away from me and this is the result. I couldn't finish the chapter originally and it stagnated for over a month with barely any progress at all. And finally, I have written over 1000 words in a day and rewritten like 1000 more soon after. Oh well. It's done now, finished and edited, and I already have plans for the next chapter. It will be more geared toward the glasses and their functions. Featuring numbers and such. At least that's the plan.
Now, for the picture. From the voting results I withheld from the last chapter, I present you, Tonks! She made it already in the last one, but I wanted to keep my focus on Fleur first. Now, even though Definitely-Without-First-Name Tonks will feature in the fic, I can't seem to fit her seamlessly into the story right about now. You would have to wait for her. I could do some side chapter, but it would be disconnected and I don't think I will write anything about her until somewhere around the end of the Tournament or maybe after. It would also be better if they first meet when Harry is slightly more mature.
Everyone can continue guessing the girls/women. Sorry for a bit of a stall in the last chapter. 3 correct guesses (from 3 different readers) to reveal what's behind the solid color. 3 girls/women per comment at most, but you can comment every time a new chapter is posted. Numbers left to pick from are: 3,7,13,37. Pair them with the girl/woman you think is hidden behind the solid color from the picture to reveal her image. The number is always above them.