Chapter 21: Unsettling Outcomes
Hermione waited for almost an hour before a grim Harry and a rather subdued Ron made it back out of the dungeon. Things hadn't gone to plan after they rescued Tobias, mostly because Snape was the first teacher to find them. Instantly irate when he saw the state of his Slytherins (six out cold, including Zimmy), only an exhausted and puffing McGonagall had kept Snape from tearing into Ron and Harry. But intervention hadn't lessened the burning of his dark eyes as he'd glared at Harry with something four years past hate, which Harry had viciously returned. He didn't expect Snape to act fair where the Slytherins were concerned, but supporting them when they had done something so heinous was going too far. If Dumbledore could only see Snape at moments like this . . .
Then Lupin had arrived, startling Harry and Ron. He had been in the castle, on duty for the Order and adding the last remaining students to the Marauder's Map security charm. Unfortunately, he had been working on the seventh-years' names and hadn't noticed Tobias' name down in the dungeon with the Slytherin sixth-years. It wasn't until Harry's name suddenly showed up in the room with Zabini, Draco and Crabbe that Lupin had grown alarmed.
He had first notified Snape, who had been in his office at the time, before running on to intercede himself. He was rather surprised that Snape hadn't gotten here sooner. Harry wasn't.
"He was probably hoping they might succeed," he said darkly as they mounted the stairs to leave the dungeons.
"And they nearly did. Harry, you've got to be more careful," Lupin lectured, stopping to fix fierce eyes on him. "Do not simply run into a room full of your enemies with no back-up. Oh, what am I saying? Don't run into the room even with back-up!" he corrected himself angrily. "Wait for help! Aurors are here now on duty every day. We're here to help protect you."
Harry glared down at the floor, feeling rather abused. Had he or had he not just done the right thing? They could sit around and dissect his methods all day long, but when it came down to it—
"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin began again, "I shouldn't be angry with you for trying to help, but—"
"—I do what I have to do," Harry interrupted. "I always have and I always will. You get onto me for it now, but soon it's all going to come down to that. And then I guess you'll be glad I'm so reckless."
Lupin stared at him. Harry turned away and started back up the stairs, halting only when Remus put a hand on his arm. "Not reckless, Harry," he whispered, "brave. Forgive me."
Harry looked back down at him and nodded. "Of course." With a nod, he led Ron back up the stairs, in a bit of shock over Lupin's turnaround.
At the top, they found Dumbledore waiting for them, as Hermione and Neville stood trying to keep a crowd of students out of the stairwell. The Gryffindors gave a cheer and Hermione looked relieved to see them. Ron headed straight over to her while Harry stood to the side and gave Dumbledore a full report. The Headmaster was grave as he patted Harry on the shoulder before heading down to make certain the Slytherins were sent to his office for questioning and that Tobias made it to the Infirmary.
"Thank you, Harry, for being so willing to help a fellow student," he said with a smile that quickly faded. "But perhaps next time you might first appraise the teachers of the situation before you charge off?" Harry stared at him until the Headmaster's smile returned. "I say that only, of course, if you are given time to do so. We wish to help you in any way we can and protect you, my boy. You do understand that?"
"Yes, sir," Harry admitted.
Dumbledore briefly ordered the students back into the Great Hall or back to their common rooms if they were done with eating. Harry and Ron returned to the Great Hall.
After grabbing a bite to eat, which Harry barely managed while answering all the questions put to him about the Slytherins' actions, he headed upstairs with the understandably angry and raucous Gryffindors. They wanted revenge, and as angry as Harry was, he couldn't talk them out of it. Hermione talked herself almost hoarse trying to keep the third-year boys from pelting the Slytherin Quidditch players with Dungbombs during their practice the next morning. Ron just laughed at her efforts.
Dinner was cancelled, much to everyone's surprise and sandwiches were set out on the tables in the common rooms. Hermione and Neville, the sixth-year Prefects informed everyone that this was a preventative measure. The students were to stay in the common rooms or in the dorm room for the duration of the evening to keep tempers from flaring and unintentional harm being done.
"Unintentional, my arse," Ron grumbled. "Next time I see Zabini, there's going to be some intentional harm done."
Harry couldn't help but agree. He tried to stay put but kept pacing in front of the fire, unable to focus on the games going on around him. Finally, he asked permission to go see Tobias. After a long delay, word came back from Professor McGonagall (who was in a meeting at the moment) that he had better stay put or else. Tobias was fine, but was not to be disturbed tonight, nor were any Gryffindors to be out wandering the halls—especially Harry. He threw himself down in a chair grumpily, near where Fred and George were playing a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny.
"Disgusting, isn't it, Harry?" Fred said airily.
"Humiliating," George agreed. "Next thing you know, they'll be putting a bib on you at meal time. Don't want to get messy din-din on your nice clean uniform, do we?" he cooed in an irritating falsetto.
"Then it's just a short jump to diapers and breastfeeding—OOF!" Fred was interrupted by a pillow stuffed into his mouth.
"I knew you'd work the conversation around to breasts somehow," Ginny said coolly. She stepped around George, who was looking affronted on his brother's behalf, and dumped herself in Harry's lap.
One sweet smile later, Harry's thoughts were successfully railroaded in another direction completely. Ginny often had that effect on him.
Hermione often had the opposite effect. She showed up in the common room after being taken off Prefect duty. "McGonagall wasn't actually in a meeting. She was waiting outside the Headmaster's Office, where Professor Dumbledore was meeting with Snape. They'd been in there an hour already. That means there'll be no time for me to meet with him about the research I've done."
"Well, he'd've probably been too busy anyway," Ron reasoned before stuffing another half of a ham sandwich in his mouth and catching the full brunt of Hermione's glare. "We' 'e woul'!"
After several stinging remarks were traded, Ron caught her bad mood. Harry managed to worry a bit—though Ginny's full attention was on him now—that things might not be going according to plan if Snape had the Headmaster's ear. But as it was a Friday night, they all eventually put aside their worries and the twins brought out a new product line for them to test, something for their Transfiguration Project.
"Don't ask us for details, Hermione," Fred warded her off with a raised hand, "we can't tell you a thing except that you might want to have some Galleons handy next Friday – especially you, Harry, if Katie's Project goes as well as expected. And also, Ron, you might want to make good on that apology to our esteemed Quidditch captain before then. I knew I would," Fred exchanged a secretive grin with George.
The new product line was experimental jellies which featured—along with Frigid Marmalade (which made Neville cold to the touch when he ate too much), Jolly Jam (with a light Cheering Charm embedded in its ingredients), and Pleasant Preserves (with a stronger cheering effect)—Jittery Jelly, which had much the same effect as a Jellylegs Jinx.
Fred stood like a statesman, addressing the Gryffindors as they eagerly passed around the samples. "Imagine you're sitting around at breakfast and you're manky stepmum makes you take out the garbage again. So you return—"
"—with appropriately manky hands—"
"—and very sweetly fix her some of this. Say you want a good day: fix her some Jolly Jam. Or if it's revenge you're after—take the Jittery Jelly to her instead. She'll be in bed in a twink."
Seamus dared Colin to try it. "Hell yeah, I'll try it," said the smaller boy, his cursing still causing amused looks from all the older students. "I'll try anything. Just ask Dennis."
"Oh, he will," the pint-sized fourth-year offered. "He's really up for anything."
Colin took a big scoop and everyone watched him eat it with bated breath. "Tastes nice," he offered thickly, smacking his lips, "a bit like strawberries. Oh, wait, there's a jiggle."
And off he went—legs jittering so much that when he talked, it sounded as though he were operating a jackhammer. Of course, Harry had to explain what he meant by that when he said it, but then everyone agreed. And that was how Colin finally got one of the things he most fervently wished for—a nickname from his fellow Gryffindors. From then on, he was Colinjack—unless it was the twins speaking, who, of course, called him Colinjill.
Saturday dawned as bright and clear as if someone had ordered the perfect Quidditch day. The team was Captainless as Ron hadn't been able to get up his nerve to apologize to Katie yet, for which, of course, the team soundly ridiculed him as soon as they reached the Pitch.
"Is poor ickle Puss scared of the big, bad Captain?" Ginny called out, the last words of which were screamed over her shoulder as Ron gave chase. The whole team got involved in trying to keep Ron from throttling Ginny. Harry ended up holding him back, half-laughing, half-angry.
"All right, all right—no one dies during practice! Save that for the game!" Everyone laughed and eventually Ron relented, gripping his broom tightly. "Now that everyone is warmed up, let's start with the three-man passing drill. Line up!" Harry hadn't meant to take over for Katie, in fact, he'd been expecting Ron to do it, but it seemed to come natural to him. And to his surprise, everyone did as he asked. After an hour, he was happily ordering them around, yelling if needed, thrilled by giving voice to the various weaknesses he saw in the team. It wasn't easy for the Chasers to function well without Katie, but with any luck, she'd be back before the first game. After another hour, Harry was sweaty and exhausted, and hadn't practiced Seeking at all, but felt pleased with himself and the team.
Ginny walked beside him as they left the field. "Aren't you the little dictator?" she said playfully, bumping against him.
"Well, if Katie won't do it," he reasoned, "why not me?"
"I can think of no one better." Her smile lit up Harry's insides.
After showers, they caught up with Hermione at dinnertime. She had been fruitlessly trying to gain entrance to the Headmaster's office and had been sent another note from Dumbledore apologizing for the inconvenience of having to wait. He would send for her when his time was once again, free.
The Great Hall seemed sparse. No seventh-years attended dinner except Cho Chang, who hardly seemed aware of where she was, so intent was she on her Transfiguration text. The Slytherin table was noticeably thinned out. Those who had participated in Tobias' abduction had not been seen all day. Neither had Tobias, who was supposed to have been let out of the Infirmary at some point. The trio plus Ginny spent a few minutes looking for him back at the dorm but didn't find him. The day ended in an orgy of studying: Harry trying to get caught up on his Transfiguration homework; Ginny readying for her O.W.L.S.; Hermione calculating Arithmancy suppositions and Ron falling asleep over his History Book.
"It's impossible," he groused. "I've been conditioned to get sleepy every time I see the thing. I mean, Binns couldn't be exciting if he doused himself with gasoline and lit a bloody match."
"Ron."
"All right, all right!" Ron exploded, turning around to glare at her, "A stinking match. Binns couldn't be exciting if he doused himself with gasoline and lit a stinking match! Is that better?"
"Yes," she said calmly, turning a page. She looked up and gave him a smile that Ron returned lopsidedly. He looked a bit dazzled.
The night came and went, leaving Harry with the blissful feeling of having caught up on sleep and not being needed anywhere at once. He woke up Sunday feeling thirsty, but hopeful, in fact, better than he had in weeks. He gazed up at his crimson curtains with a vague smile that slowly grew into a grin. Three of the five remaining Seven Deadly Slytherins were out of commission and surely on their way out of Hogwarts by now. Even Snape couldn't talk them out of that. So that meant there would only be two more attempts on his life—which was undoubtedly better than having four to look forward to.
Harry grabbed his glasses, stretched and popped out of bed. "Get up, mate," he said as he parted Ron's curtains and thumped him in the head.
"Unnn unnngh," Ron replied.
"Did not hurt," Harry said over his shoulder as he jerked off his pajama top and reached for a t-shirt. "Get up. We have a lot of work to do on the team today, and remember, I'm captaining again since Katie still won't be there—thanks to you." Harry thumped him on the head again.
"OW! Geroff!" and a disheveled, shirtless, bed-headed Ron was on his feet, groggily rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Quidditch. Right," he mumbled as he headed for the bathroom.
The Great Hall was nearly deserted as Ron and Harry met Ginny and a few other team members for breakfast. Ginny was pale and had dark circles under her eyes.
"Didn't you get any sleep last night?" Harry asked, taking her hand in his own under the table.
"Sort of. I was reviewing Potions, trying to stay on the O.W.L. schedule Hermione planned out for me, and I fell asleep on my books. Then I had a nightmare that Snape was chasing me through the castle, demanding the ingredients for Frigid Marmalade," she said with a shiver. "Stupid dream, but it creeped me out a bit and I couldn't go back to sleep once I got in my room. Shouldn't have drunk that coffee, I suppose."
"Suppose not," Harry agreed. "You can nap after practice."
"Yeah," Ron nodded, "we're all going to need naps after today's practice. I say we do double drills and a one-handed scrimmage." A few groans were heard from down the table. "Do you want to beat Slytherin or not?" Ron asked them loudly. "We only have two weeks, you know."
Practice flew by as Harry tried to get serious about the team's deficiencies. By the end, the Beaters were definitely improved, and he thought the Chasers—even without Katie— actually had a chance against Slytherin now. Harry had even managed to practice Seeking during the second half of their scrimmage. He'd caught the Snitch in less than eight minutes.
The glow of a good practice and a good workout stayed with Harry after his shower and about ten minutes into his lunch. Then, like a dark fog shrouding a sunny day, the Slytherins entered the room. First came some third-years, all looking at Harry strangely—a few laughing. Next came a few fifth-years, then a clump of girls and following them, Draco—a limping, pale Draco who was using what looked like a black cane to support him as he crossed the room. His gaze was fixed on the Slytherin table.
Harry was watching him with a slightly gaping mouth and only heard the reaction around him as the next Slytherins entered.
"What the bloody hell—?"
"That's impossible!"
"Harry? How did—?"
But Harry couldn't answer. In stunned amazement that quickly turned to fury, he watched Bulstrode, Nott, Crabbe and Zabini stride across the floor.
"What are they doing here?" Ginny grabbed at Harry's sleeve, but he was already on his way to the teacher's table. Dumbledore wasn't there, but a tight-lipped Minerva McGonagall was in her usual spot. Severus Snape was staring at them with a small smile from his seat.
"Not a word, Potter," she waved at him.
"But—"
"The Headmaster has dealt with all my objections in the same way he will deal with yours—by reassuring that this is the only fair and reasonable thing to do."
"HOW? How can this—"
"Potter! Not another word." She paused and took in a deep breath through her flared nostrils. "Those students you see maintain that they were put under the Imperius Curse—"
"WHAT?"
"Imperius Curse my arse!" Ron bellowed beside Harry.
"Mr. Weasley! Ten points from Gryffindor for that disrespectful language, though I must say the sentiment is not unshared." She gave him a stern look. "There was evidence, using a Priori Incantatem, that Mr. Bletchley had, indeed, performed the Imperius Curse many, many times over the past weeks. Under the circumstances, the Headmaster was obliged to give the students the benefit of the doubt, since Professor Snape vowed to serve as the responsible party for any more . . . incidents."
"Indeed I have, Mr. Potter," Snape said in his most oily voice. "I hope you have no problems with the outcome."
Harry glanced at the Potions professor and then turned on his heel. Fury fueled by desperation heated his every moment so that he fairly whipped the air as he moved to confront the Slytherins. Hot blood pumped in his veins.
Draco saw him coming, raised a single eyebrow and crossed his arms. He murmured something to Blaise, who immediately jerked around and zeroed in on Harry, who was already glaring down at him.
Blaise gave a very fake smile. "Potter. I am so very sorry about that misunderstanding the other night."
"Oh yes, the one where you went to kill me and missed?" Harry hissed through his teeth.
Blaise's eyes narrowed. "I never meant to kill you. Surely even you can't be that dense."
Harry leaned over closer. "Do you know why you had to trap me in a room and surround me by four other Slytherins before you'd throw a curse my way? Because you're a coward."
Blaise jumped to his feet and his eyes glittered. "If I'd meant to kill you, Potter, you'd be dead. Think! What's one of the Seven Deadly Sins? Anger? Are you angry now? Did my little trick make you angry enough? I think you so."
"So do I," Millicent said loudly, a smug smile on her repugnant face. "He's angry."
"And when you're angry," Blaise pointed out, "you make mistakes."
Harry was going to have to try harder. His upper lip curled. "You're the one who's made a mistake. You're too much of a coward to take me on alone."
"How dare you."
"What? Don't you know that's common knowledge? Everyone knows Draco is a ponce, Crabbe is an idiot and Zabini is a coward. Even baby Gryffindors know that." Zabini was shaking with rage, but he hadn't reached for his wand yet. "Everyone's watching you and everyone knows you would never pull your wand on me."
"I will. My turn is still to come," Blaise breathed.
"Oh. Brilliant. And do you know what happens to Deadly Slytherins who try to kill me and don't get the job done right?" A flicker of fear rose in Blaise's eyes. "Yes, I can see you do. Pansy and Goyle do—I mean, did. You're a coward, Blaise. Salazar Slytherin himself would be ashamed of you." Very aware of the line he was crossing, Harry spat on Blaise's face.
Then there were arms grabbing Harry, pulling back, and Slytherins reaching for Blaise as he vaulted the table, wand waving. Screams sounded and teachers were yelling, but Harry had Blaise right where he wanted him. Harry shook off his friends and punched his wand into his hand, dropped to one knee, opened his mouth and—did not fire a curse.
Blaise was howling something inarticulately—his frenzy ending in a Bludgeoning Curse.
He jerked to the side and let it pass, then stood up. "Nice shot, Zabini."
Blaise's jaw dropped, but he moved to fire another curse. Draco knocked his wand hand down with his cane—so hard that the crack echoed around the room.
Harry stowed his wand, a grin on his face. "And have a nice trip home." Blaise was stuttering madly. With a grin, Harry walked back to the Gryffindor table.
"Great job, Harry!"
Ron pounded Harry on the back. "I thought you'd lost your marbles for a minute there, but that was brilliant."
Ginny kissed Harry on the cheek soundly. "Very brilliant. Zabini was the worst of that lot and now he's gone."
Hermione wasn't nearly as nice. "Harry James Potter! You spit on Zabini?"
"He wasn't reaching for his wand and I didn't know what else to do. He . . . wait—" Harry stopped and turned back around. Professor Snape was snarling at Zabini.
"How dare you pull a stunt like that in the Great Hall! You were made aware by the Headmaster that this sort of misbehavior would result in immediate dismissal from the school grounds, and yet you flagrantly disobeyed the rule. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Harry slid a glance over to Ron and saw him staring as well, pale and gaping like a fish.
"I—I—I don't know what to say, sir," Blaise stammered out. "He was baiting me—
I—just—wasn't thinking."
"Obviously. Apologize to Mr. Potter and then go and pack your things!"
"But sir, Potter—he was—" Crabbe began from beside them. Harry saw Draco make a gesture to quiet him.
"There are no exceptions to the rule. Apologize to Mr. Potter!"
The hall was deathly quiet. Blaise walked stiffly over to Harry, who felt that he'd been plunged into a surreal dream.
"I . . . apologize for my behavior."
"Yeah. Er . . . sure."
Blaise's face settled into a sneering grimace, what he might have meant as a smile, and turned away.
Snape, who had been watching Blaise with a stern eye, moved his gaze to Harry, where it softened. "I am certain Mr. Potter will forgive you for your outrageous behavior. He is the forgiving sort. Correct, Mr. Potter?"
Harry blinked.
"Of course he is, though I hardly think he is blameless in this episode. Mr. Potter, there will be no verbal attacks on students allowed in the Great Hall, either. If you have a problem with a fellow student, come to a faculty member first. Is that clear?" Professor McGonagall asked in ringing tones.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said in a voice that didn't carry half as far.
McGonagall then turned to the gaping student body. "Now, do we need any further underscoring of the rule that there will be no spells in the Great Hall—ever? No?" There was a general shaking of heads. "Then get back to eating!"
As Snape escorted Blaise out, Harry looked blankly round at Ron and Hermione. Ron's face was a mask of horror; Hermione was blinking over and over again, as if her thoughts were spinning too fast to register. Ginny tugged at Harry's hand and he let her lead him toward the table. They all sat under a heavy cloud of silence.
After a moment, Ron roused himself. "Did Snape just say something . . . well, I mean, could it be called sort of, maybe . . . well, nice—what he said?"
"Yeah," Harry murmured.
Ron nodded. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"It's just so wrong," Neville added with a shudder.
Blaise was gone now, having left the hall without a backward glance, Snape right on his heels. Harry would give anything to hear that conversation. His gaze traveled back over to where Draco sat watching him, his face impassive. Harry had a thousand questions going through his mind.
As the new week dawned, the mystery of Snape's behavior deepened. Potions was a waking nightmare now, marked not with sarcastic remarks and bitter hate directed at Harry, but with sugary words and niceness from the Professor that went far beyond the bounds of creepiness.
By Wednesday, Harry wanted so desperately to go back to the way things had been before that he spilled his Delirium Draught on purpose, right on Snape's shoes as he walked by. Here, Harry thought, here's where the yelling begins and we get back to some normal, detention-giving rancor. But instead, Snape's face turned a mottled purple color, reminding Harry vividly of Uncle Vernon, and then—he smiled. Harry flinched.
"Did I brush your vial as I went by, dear boy?" Snape's voice oozed with charm. "How clumsy of me. Scourgify! You'll still get full marks, of course." Then he walked directly to his office and closed the door.
Hermione stared at Harry, trembling. "Why did you do that?"
Harry shook his head, his eyes never leaving Snape's office. "I'll bet he's put a Silencing Charm in there and is breaking things right and left. Why's he pretending to like me? No one believes it. No one likes it."
The Slytherins were regarding Harry with the utmost contempt, murder in their eyes. Draco, however, was sitting with a vacant expression, one hand propping up his head. He looked abjectly miserable.
"I don't know, Harry," Hermione said, putting a hand on his arm to get his attention. "But I don't think it will help anything if you make Snape lose his temper. Just play along."
"Play along?" Harry asked. The germ of an idea was beginning to form. "I can do that. I can definitely do that."
From that day on, he was as pleasant to Snape as Snape was to him. He did it because he knew it bothered Snape more than anything else he could have done in return, and the look on his face was quiet comical the first time Harry told him he looked extremely well-dressed that day.
The Headmaster agreed to meet with Harry for a few minutes on Wednesday night, after meetings with concerned parents and professors wishing to heighten security and before his almost nightly conversations with Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. Bletchley had been handed over to Aurors over the weekend when Dumbledore reluctantly contacted the Ministry. The consequences, though not unforeseen, were grim.
Several members of the Wizengamot were calling for an investigation into Dumbledore's control over Hogwarts, questioning his ability to keep the students safe. An editorial had made it into the paper, causing a flurry of speculation and concern about Bletchley's safety. The boy would probably go to Azkaban to await trial, which was not good. Dumbledore was doing his best to waylay the Head Auror Costa Fornier, from pursuing this course of action, but the man was stubborn. Having lost Narcissa Malfoy to suicide, he was taking no chances.
Professor Dumbledore recounted all of this information in that way he had, of making it all seem to be a bother instead of the grave complications that they were. Even when Harry brought up the Seven Deadly Slytherins, Dumbledore seemed unfazed. He had known about them from the start of the year, from Snape, and had the Professor working on the problem from the inside.
"He hasn't done exactly a bang-up job, sir, do you think?"
Professor Dumbledore leaned back. "I would be careful of dealing out judgment so quickly, Harry. The situation is much more complicated than you know. Severus must be careful not to show his hand, so to speak, and that hampers him from dealing directly with situations."
"And that kept him from warning me about the Love Potion, or about the Portkey? Or maybe it was spite? Really, sir, I—"
"I have my own reasons for trusting Severus, Harry." Harry opened his mouth to argue and shut it again. There was really nothing else to say after that. "There are things in Professor Snape's life that you do not understand and probably never will understand. There is little love lost between the two of you, but you are no longer on opposite sides. Surely, you've noticed the change in how he treats you in class. I've heard that your reciprocation has been a little less than what I had hoped for."
"Well, I'm sorry sir, but it's just . . . creepy." Harry barely restrained a shudder. "And I don't understand what you mean that we're no longer on opposite sides. You've always said he was on our side."
"Yes, but he had to appear to be on the other side, as he was reporting to Tom as a double-agent of sorts. That is no longer the case."
"What? Since when?"
The Headmaster smiled. "Do not feel badly, my boy, but it all goes back to your rescue of Charlie Weasley. Severus had already told Tom at that point that you were still in a coma. Your rescue showed that Snape was either a liar or completely undependable. He had a desperate choice to make: return, beg forgiveness and take the consequences, or never return at all."
Harry let that all sink in a moment. "So, he's chosen to never go back?"
"Precisely. Therefore, he no longer has to force himself to menace you in front of the Death Eater's children or future recruits. He is free to act as a normal professor will. That is the change you have seen in him."
Harry wasn't really satisfied with this, but he let the subject drop. He thanked the Professor for his time, then stopped himself at the door. "Have you seen Draco, sir?"
"I have. He seems to be caught in a difficult spot. But I am afraid that is where he has placed himself and we are of little help."
"But he's being bullied, sir. That limp of his had to have—"
"—He insists that it was a clumsy accident and no more. Professor Snape said that Draco tried to heal the broken leg himself and did so badly. Draco refuses to go to the Infirmary to have it fixed. As it does not pose a danger to him, we are letting things take their natural course."
Harry gritted his teeth. "And, sir, Hermione asked me to let you know she's ready to meet whenever you have a spare moment."
The Headmaster chuckled. "Remind her that I will send for her as soon as that spare moment appears. Will that help?"
"No, not really. I've been telling her that all along, but you know Hermione. Thank you, sir." But as he walked down the stairs to collect Ron, he wondered how much of the truth Dumbledore was missing because of his blind faith in Snape, faith that seemed more blind all the time.
Toward the end of the school week, the seventh-years were by turns, exhausted, giddy and mysterious, which drove Hermione mad. Finally, on Thursday evening, McGonagall announced to the school that the Great Hall would be closed on the following day for the seventh-years to prepare their Transfiguration Projects. Breakfast and lunch would be served in the Common Rooms.
This sparked a flurry of wild speculation, none of which was commented on by the reclusive seventh-years. The Gryffindors were all complaining about the change in eating venues until the breakfast buffet appeared in the Common Room the next morning. Instead of the simple fare they had expected, it was like Christmas come early. The spread of hot dishes and sauces and baked items were accented by a gold-leafed tablecloth and shining crystalware edged in cold. The milk was cold and frothy; the coffee hot and strong; the juices were icy cold. Everyone served themselves and then lounged all over the room, chattering in between bites.
Even Tobias made an appearance, settling himself in a corner with Violet Hooch, taking care to be as far away from Harry as possible. Harry watched him, determined to at least exchange a smile with the boy. He hadn't seen him since the incident. Tobias had made every attempt to avoid him; it was obvious he felt uncomfortable in his presence. Even now, he had to be aware Harry was trying to get his attention, but he kept his eyes down on his own plate.
"Give him some time, Harry," Ginny said as she settled down beside him on the couch, balancing a muffin and another cup of coffee on her plate. "He was really scared."
"Have you tried the casserole? I hate it when Mum makes it, but this is grand!" Ron happily stuffed his face, making Harry smile. This was like a giant indoor picnic, with the promise of another one for lunch.
So Harry's mood was high as he kissed Ginny goodbye at the portrait and walked to class with Ron and Hermione. They were sinking into a deep Quidditch discussion when they rounded the corner on the third floor—so the attack by the Slytherins took them completely off guard. All Harry knew was that suddenly Ron was gone, Hermione was screaming and Draco had hit him so hard that he was slammed against the wall, blood pouring from his nose.
Now, truth be told, Harry could have prevented that punch—his Sensing told him where that fist was and when to dodge—but he was so surprised by the force of his concern for Draco and distracted in trying to figure out why the boy was doing this that he did nothing at first.
Once he did manage to get a hold of Draco and get in a good punch to his gut, the Slytherin seized the chance to lean in close to his ear, whispering frantically. Harry listened, his gaze flickering from the intensity in the boy's eyes to the other Slytherins, who were screaming encouragement or harassing the Gryffindors. Abruptly, Draco was finished, shoving Harry away and pulling Crabbe from Ron any real damage could be done. The Slytherin crowd followed Draco reluctantly, giving Harry filthy looks as long as they could. Harry watched, wiping blood from his mouth and spitting more on the floor.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked tremulously. Harry nodded.
Professor Flitwick showed up, but Harry assured him it was a simple misunderstanding—that Draco had gotten in his way and tripped him so that Harry had hit the wall with his face. Ron blustered until Hermione shushed him. The crowd of sympathetic students that had gathered around them stared at Harry, shocked by his lie.
Harry stared back. Once Flitwick had gone, Harry muttered, "I don't want a professor fighting my battles for me. I'll take care of Draco my own way—don't worry."
The students nodded and looked generally approving again.
"Be careful, Harry!"
"Give 'em hell, Harry!"
One first-year walked over and reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Laughter spread around the hallway as Harry blushed and bent down awkwardly. For the life of him, he couldn't remember her name, but she was a tiny blond fairy of a girl. "You have to stay safe, Harry. Don't worry about that nasty boy. What goes around comes around—that's what my mum always says."
"Thanks," Harry said faintly, wishing everyone would stop staring. The little girl turned to Hermione and gave her a smile, then returned to the group of giggling girls she belonged to. Once the crowd had dispersed, Hermione turned again to Harry, "What did he say to you?"
"What? Who?" Ron asked, looking from one to the other.
Harry felt his nose gingerly. It didn't feel broken, but Draco sure hadn't pulled the punch. "He said I'd better not eat any pudding tonight."
"Why not?" Ron asked, louder.
"Shush!" Hermione hissed.
"Apparently, it's Crabbe's turn," Harry admitted, picking up the books he'd dropped and sighing before he looked at his friends. "He knows about the drug-laced cupcakes we gave him in second year and he knows that Goyle is dead."
Ron and Hermione exchanged grim looks. "Well, still—not eating any pudding at all?" Ron shook his head. "How long do they expect you to keep that up?"
Ron stuck to that line of reasoning no matter how many times Harry explained that pudding wasn't worth dying over.
As they sat in their chairs, ready for Transfiguration, Ron leaned over to have another go at Harry. "Listen to me, you prat! I can be your taster. Show me what you want to eat and I'll try a bit. If I keel over and die, then you'll know not to eat it!"
"I don't need a taster," Harry growled. "I'm not some poncy prince."
"He shouldn't eat anything at all," Hermione said firmly from the other side.
"That's a bit much, don't you think?"
They had a whispered argument over Harry like he wasn't even there. He thought he agreed with Hermione until she said that he should go to his dorm room and stay there all night, fasting. That was going a bit too far. Nevertheless, he agreed that he was going to have to be careful.
Once Transfiguration Class began, he found out how difficult of a job it was going to be.
"This year it was deemed unsafe to let the student body travel to Hogsmeade," McGonagall said in a clipped voice that preempted complaints. "Thus, Professor Dumbledore has asked that the seventh-years be allowed to try to bring Hogsmeade to us. They have each chosen a type of shop to run, and have Transfigured, bought or borrowed what they need to make their shop and stock it accordingly. You will want to have your Galleons handy. The bazaar will open at three o'clock sharp, with food and sweets of every kind. No dinner will be served, so eat up. By your purchases, you will be ensuring a better grade for your fellow students."
Ron was shaking his head. "Fred and George get all the breaks. How in the world did they happen to get back into school the one year that seventh-years have to run a shop to get a good grade? When are we ever going to have an assignment on something I'm good at?"
Seamus leaned back from the table in front of them, "You mean like clearing out the bathroom with that stink of yours?" Ron just grinned and nodded. "You are exceptionally talented in that area, mate."
Hermione ignored them with a muttered, "Boys are mad."
Harry smiled, but sweets and enticing pastries were spinning in his mind. He flexed his left bicep and felt the familiar tug of his Universal Poison Antidote, the one made by Snape. Did he dare trust in it? He could take one before eating anything he suspected poisoned and it would neutralize it—at least according to Snape. But trusting Snape at this point seemed utter folly.
Harry went over his options all morning, with Ron and Hermione interjecting their polarized opinions intermittently.
By the time for the bazaar, Harry still hadn't come to a conclusion. He joined the throng of students waiting in the Great Hall and took Ginny's hand. She turned and gave his hand a squeeze. "You'll be fine. We'll test everything before you eat it. Simple. No worries."
Harry nodded. But what if Draco was wrong? What if the Slytherins fed him misinformation to lead Harry off the track? Harry shook his head. He had to trust Draco. He had to. He just wished it didn't sound like such a completely idiotic thing to do.
The student body waiting in the foyer of the Great Hall grew louder and louder as the clock approached three. Everywhere, there were faces lit up with excitement, obsessing over what they would find inside the huge doors—speculating from Owl Post deliveries, theorizing and recounting every hint and tidbit anyone was lucky enough to gather from a willing seventh-years.
"You know, Fred and George said something about Katie's shop being right up my alley. Oh, sorry, mate," Ron said as he was stepped on the back of Harry's shoe, "getting shoved here. So, d'you think it could be a Quality Quidditch Supplies kind of a shop? D'you think she'd give me a discount or something?"
"Not enough of one," Ginny said tartly. "The whole point is to see who can make the most money today. That counts for a large part of the grade."
"That hardly seems fair," Hermione sniffed. "Obviously some things will sell for more money than others."
"Yes, but the students were supposed to take that into account and think up ways to bring in more money to compensate. I think it's going to be interesting to see who does the best."
Ron poked her. "Where's your loyalty? Of course Fred and George will sell the most. They've got real-world experience. And candy."
Just then, the doors to the Great Hall opened and out stepped Professor McGonagall.
"Quiet down. Quiet down, everyone. Now, the students have worked very hard to make this a wonderful experience for all of you and to get the best marks they can. Don't ruin by behaving badly. Respect all of their hard work, regardless of which house they are in, and remember that buying their products will help ensure a high marks for them. Are we ready? Good. Then proceed in an orderly fashion. I said orderly!" But with a delighted cry, the students surged faster than Professor McGonagall had anticipated. She quickly put up a shield that made a twanging sound every time someone bumped into it, and berated every student that came near, eventually resorting to taking House Points. In that one crush, over two-hundred and ninety House Points were lost, most of them Slytherin.
In surging crush forward, the trio and Ginny nearly got separated. But they managed to stay in a pack by fierce, dogmatic stubbornness—aided by Ron's long reach and Harry's temper—and entered into a world completely unlike the one they traversed every day.
The first thing they noticed was the sky magicked in the ceiling above them, which was radiating the thrilling mix of oranges, reds and yellows that appears just before sunset. Only this sunset was controlled, lasting the whole three hours that the bazaar was open, and setting into a clear, starry night once it had closed, as Fred and George told them later.
Beneath the brilliant sky was a winding maze of brightly-colored stalls and tents selling all kind of wares. Colors assaulted the students from every side in the awnings and flags that waved, advertising the goods inside as well as the house of the owner. Looking more closely, Harry could easily pick out the shop boasting of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes about halfway down the winding path, using bright neon orange as its base color. Up higher, on some sort of magical hill that supported a large clump of shops, was Katie's Kwidditch Keeper. Both of those Harry would definitely visit—later.
First were a clothing shop run by a Hufflepuff girl who had always been nice to Harry. Ginny picked out a scarf there as Harry and Ron stood in the open air eyeing Cho Chang's food stall down the lane. The smells of the rich and spicy foods that wafted forth were tantalizing. Harry was hungry.
In fact, that was all he could think about as they walked forward, peering into the next shop that they could actually fit into. Students were packing in all of them, especially Cho's, Harry noticed. It didn't surprise him at all when Ron bought a meat pasty at the first kiosk they came to, the Hufflepuff Pasty Shop.
Hermione gave him a look, but his mouth was too full to defend himself. After Ron had eaten over half of it, he took pity on Harry and handed him the rest.
"Oughtta' be safe. Tastes great," he summed up, licking his fingers.
Harry didn't care how much was already eaten, it was fabulous. That was the pattern they followed for the next hour as the girls shopped—Ron buying food, some paid for by Harry, eating a bit and then handing it off. Neither of them was really satisfied in the end, but it was better than watching Harry starve all afternoon.
They had to wait in line to get into the Weasleys' eyesore of a tent, even though the twins didn't resort to tricks or bribes to get anyone inside. The crazily-striped orange, lime green and nautical blue tent was filled with gadgets and candies from the other store at even lower prices, since there was less overhead. The twins were in their element, making deals, padding sales with miscellaneous items, cutting the prices for the prettiest girls. Hannah Abbot, Harry was surprised to see, had actually donned a talking apron (designed much like Harry's bothersome sling) and was helping tally up sales.
"Buy more and spend less!" the talking apron boomed, "Everything's on sale! Everything must go! Moving sale! Going-out-of-business Sale! Inventory Reduction Sale! Inventory Predilection Sale! Inventory Selection, Predisposition, and Trepidation Sale!"
Hannah, who blushed pink when George winked at her, continued to blush as Harry bought a galleon's worth of tricks and candies.
"Aren't they doing great?" she said enthusiastically. "I think they're going to win!"
"Yeah," Harry murmured. He was still debating eating a nougat when Ginny stepped over to him.
"I'm bored here. Let's move on."
Katie's Kwiddich Keeper was a beautiful shop, all done in varnished wood with properly working doors and an open ceiling, with magically-hung ceiling fans, to let in the sunset. She met them at the door and walked around with them proudly. "The brooms I inventoried just to give it atmosphere, though it would be nice to sell one or two. They give the most profit of anything I sell. But I also have a great line of supplies to clean brooms and anything you need to make watching the games more comfortable—Omnioculars, Bum-bastic Seat Cushions, huge House Supporter banners and clackers. Imagine when we're playing Slytherin and our whole houses clacks those during a penalty shot!"
Ginny was in awe. "Katie, how on earth did you get enough to stock the new Firebolt?"
"Actually, it's a loan. If it doesn't sell, I return it to Quality Quidditch Supplies. If it does sell, I get half for commission."
Harry had noticed Ginny's eyes come alive as she'd studied the new Firebolt Beam. It was smaller and lighter than his own, with a Deluxe Seating Charm and Heater. The twigs were straight as an arrow and the handle glowed softly in the fading light. It was beautiful and fiery—just like Ginny. He had to buy it for her.
They enjoyed looking at the other things, and each bought a Gryffindor banner to hang in their dorm rooms. The clackers they couldn't use because they would be in the air during the games, of course. When Harry mentioned they missed her at practices, Katie stiffened, saying that she couldn't think about that until after the Transfiguration Project was done.
"I hope she sells a lot," Ginny whispered as they left the shop, "so she'll be in a good mood and come back to play."
Just then, they passed Neville, who was happily stuffing his face with Chinese food as Luna steered him to a nearby table.
"Hello, Harry!" Luna called, smiling. "Keep an eye on the crows!"
Harry didn't appreciate the reminder of that dire dream she'd had about him, but it did remind him to keep an eye for Crabbe. So far, he hadn't run into any of the Deadly Slytherins, but was almost sure he'd seen Lupin duck out of sight up ahead. Good. Aurors on duty.
Harry looked around for Ron and saw him exiting his brothers' tent, eating some sort of licorice. "Let's go and get Ron," he said, taking Ginny's hand.
Ginny sighed. "I was hoping to spend some time alone with you."
Harry squeezed her hand. "We will later, all right?"
"All right, then," she said with a sigh. Just then, George stuck his head out of the tent.
"Bitsy, you're wanted!" he called gaily.
"Excuse me while I go hex a brother out of existence, doesn't matter which one," Ginny growled as she grasped Ron's arm. He whispered the bodyguard spell and Ginny was on her way again so quickly that Harry almost missed the whole thing.
"Harry, haven't been eating anything without me, have you?" Ron asked as he sucked on his licorice. "Wanna' bite?
"No, thank you. I prefer my licorice dry."
"Been to Katie's?"
"Actually, yes. Want to go with? I have something to buy."
Ron was alight with jealousy when he saw the broom Harry was going to buy. "I don't think she'll accept that, Harry. I mean, it's a bit much."
"Maybe. But it's perfect and I would buy it for her if it only cost a shilling. It's not the amount of money that matters. You don't think she'd understand that?"
Ron nodded his head, comprehension slowly dawning. "So, is that how I should be, too? Like if I . . . wanted to buy something for Hermione? Just find something perfect for her and don't worry about money?"
"Er . . . yeah, I guess so. Works for me. I mean, I think it does. It's not like I've done this before or anything."
After working out the payment with Katie, who was thrilled beyond belief to be selling her second broom of the day, Harry headed back out, satisfied, and ready to eat half a cow if it was presented to him in a bowl. "I have to eat something. Let's head over to Cho's."
Cho's InterContinental Cuisine didn't just serve Chinese food, but hot Indian food, Thai food, as well as Mexican and Italian dishes. The smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly, even as mixed as they were. Ron tossed the last bit of his much-abused licorice in a trash bin nearby and led the way. It was set up cafeteria-style, with all the dishes laid out on trays according to type. Harry picked an Italian feast of spaghetti, lasagna and stuffed shells in Alfredo sauce. He was barely patient enough for Ron to taste it for him before digging in. Ron had gone with Chinese food, mostly because Harry had the Italian covered and he knew he was going to get to eat his as well.
The food was excellent. Behind the counter, Cho looked satisfied, if frazzled. She had a staff of four underclassmen working to get the trays ready and another seventh year running the register. They were doing very, very good business.
Just as Harry had taken the last bite, Ginny showed back up. "I bought you something," she said, pulling Harry away from the table where Ron was still finishing up.
"'ey—wai'," Ron called through his food.
"We won't go far," Harry assured him as Ginny pulled him on to the alley between Cho's and a half-filled book stall run by a disappointed-looking Ravenclaw.
Harry pulled his hand out of Ginny's, wondering at the tightness of her grip. "You can let go. I'm not going to run away."
"Oh," she blinked, then smiled. "Sorry. I just wanted you to have this before you got too full." She handed him a small package.
"What is it?" Harry asked as he opened it.
"A mini-gateaux. It's really rich chocolate cake, only it's small enough to not make you sick. You know, since you have that thing about chocolate cake."
Harry looked up at her and nodded. He did have a slight aversion to it because of his aunt's chocolate cake that had been poisoned. Which reminded him . . . he hated to ask, but . . .
"Did you . . . taste it already?"
She stared at him. "No. Why? Does it have a bite missing or something?"
He looked back at the cake. No bite missing. But Ginny knew he couldn't eat anything sweet tonight . . .
Harry jerked his head up, wand already in hand. "Couldn't come up with anything more original . . . Cra—"
Ginny's face twisted and she flung a container of liquid at Harry's face. He jerked aside, but some splashed on his cheek. His skin seared with pain and both of his eyes were forced close as the fumes rose. He was now fighting blind. Automatically, he turned to Sensing.
A curse was coming, Harry felt it—the Killing Curse!
But there were students behind him—he couldn't duck. He had to shield. Was that even possible? With only a half-second to spare, Harry desperately conjured the gray shield of Occlumency, focusing it outside of himself. There was a terrible pressure, a pain that came from beyond the shield. It threatened to splinter his mind, to rip his soul from his body and Harry fought it with every ounce of power he had. But it wasn't enough.
It was breaking him—he could feel it. A scream began to build inside, filling up his mind with darkness and pain. And then, suddenly—there was light.
Harry's mind glowed with an infusion of silvery essence, feeding him power out of nowhere—no, not nowhere. It was familiar, ephemeral magic, and it acted like adrenaline in Harry's body. He used it to fight harder, focusing on his shield, strengthening it until it was impenetrable.
The Killing Curse could go no further and it snapped back, returning to where it came from.
Harry was thrown in the opposite direction, body limp. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that took his breath. Gasping, weak, he looked up into the white, shocked face of Fred who was trying to say something—something important. Then the world slowly faded to white.