Chapter Thirty-One

Doubts and Dreams

Ran tried to shut the lid on his trunk, but it wouldn't latch. He sighed in frustration. He was positive that everything had fit in here at the beginning of the school year. How was it that it didn't anymore? It might have something to do with his mother's help while packing the first time.

He opened the lid and peered inside. Perhaps he should have folded the clothes. He wasn't about to pull them all back out and start over, though. The train was leaving in just a few hours, and he didn't even think he'd have the time, much less the inclination, to do it all again.

He saw movement and found his classmate Quinn coming in for his own things.

"Quinn, come here, will you?"

Quinn was cautious around him, as always. Ever since someone had started a rumour first year that werewolves weren't restricted to the full moon . . . School hadn't been the delightful, friendly place so many others found it to be, not for him. The only ones here who'd ever really seemed comfortable around him were Matt, and by extension Bear. And— no, he wouldn't think of him. He'd tried to avoid thinking about him anytime he wasn't in the classroom, and as rarely as possible then.

Ran had spent the last two months wondering whether there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was ill. Because even when he didn't think about his Potions professor, even when he deliberately pushed the thoughts away, all his insides still felt like they'd been shredded up. Every movement hurt. He'd lost weight, couldn't sleep. Maybe that was his trouble getting his trunk closed, maybe he'd just lost some of his strength.

"Just sit on this for a few seconds," Ran said, pointing to his trunk. Quinn was understanding of that, at least, and sat down on the top. He bounced up and down a few times to be sure it was squished shut as well as it could be, then Ran snapped the catch. "Excellent."

"Got it?"

"Yeah, thanks Quinn."

Quinn got up to gather up his trunk and his pet rat, but then waited for Ran and descended the stairs with him. The common room was rapidly emptying out, just a few students dashing about and looking for lost items. They passed through it silently, and Ran felt almost like a ghost. The Quidditch team always spoke to him, but none of them were in here. Nobody else really bothered to take notice of him, unless he made them. He didn't consider it worth the effort, most days. Quinn's behavior, walking with him, helping him, was a little strange, come to think of it.

"Hey, Ran," Quinn said quietly, getting his attention.

"Er, yeah?"

"Me and the other guys have been noticing . . . you seem sort of upset lately."

"Do I?" Ran muttered dully. "I didn't know you were paying that much attention."

Quinn winced. "I know we haven't been fair to you, all right? Look, you don't really make it any easier on yourself. All I mean is, I wanted to ask you if you were all right."

"I'm brilliant," Ran said. "Why?"

Quinn glared at him. "Why do you always have to be so touchy with us?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's just that you told the whole school I might rip out their throats at any time."

Quinn looked away, embarrassed. "That was supposed to be a joke. Besides, I didn't even do it. It was—"

"Look, it doesn't matter, okay?"

"If you say so. Look, Ran, I'm sorry about all that. We'll try to make it up to you next year."

Ran sighed. "I don't know that I'm coming back next year."

Quinn looked shocked. "What?"
"I've talked to my mum about it. She reckons I might go to a Muggle school and have private magical lessons."

"Oh. It's about Professor Malfoy, then? Your mum's one of them that thinks he'll kill us all, now we know who he is?"

"No," Ran growled. "I just don't want to be here anymore."

"He used to be your favorite teacher, though," Quinn argued. "You can't tell me he was faking it when he would go sit up all night with you when you . . . when you're a werewolf."

Ran shrugged his shoulders like he was ridding himself of an annoying pest that landed there. "It doesn't matter. Look, I've got to go. I see Simon waiting for me. Have a good summer, Quinn. Thanks for helping me with my trunk."

"Hey, wait—"

Ran hurried away from him. Not to Simon, just away. Quinn didn't get it. No one understood it. If he was the professor's favorite, if the professor had really liked his mother so much . . . how could he have lied to them for so long? He was a killer, that was one thing, but what really made Ran angry is that all the trust he'd thought was between them didn't really exist. And if he could lie so well, he could lie to Mum. He could hurt her. Just like Ran's father did, he could lie to her and leave her. Ran would never, never allow that to happen. Mum needed his protection now, and he wouldn't let any stupid feelings he might have get in the way of that.

Charity Pritchard sat down on Justine's bed and sighed. "Father's being dumb again," she said.

"What do you mean?" Justine asked.

"He's threatening to send us all to Beauxbatons next year. Mother keeps egging him on, too."

Justine shrugged. "I wouldn't mind. I've heard that at Beauxbatons, they don't allow people to behave so coarsely as they do at Hogwarts."

"I like Hogwarts," Charity said plaintively. "I like being in Hufflepuff."

"As well you should. Hufflepuff is a noble house with a long history of good wizards."

"It sounds like you got that straight from Professor Smith," Charity remarked. "Anyway, I've had fun with all the people in my year. Well, except for Alistair, he's always a bit annoying. But I like Robin, and Jennifer, and Hector. And Marcus, I suppose."

"And that's why Beauxbatons would be good for you," Justine sniffed. "Your little classmate is a very good addition to Hufflepuff, and it's only spending so much time with rough company that makes you think otherwise. He's very intelligent, you know."

"And silly," Charity said. "The other boys only spend time with him because they have to."

"That's all the reason I spend time with Hestia Waverly," Justine answered. "She's always practicing Quidditch and coming back to our room all dirty and . . . yeuck. But you must have manners."

"I have got manners," Charity insisted. "I don't want to go all the way to France, I want to stay here. I don't see why we can't go back to Hogwarts next year."

"Well, we might, Father and Mother haven't made up their minds yet. It's all to do with that Professor Malfoy."

"You act like you don't even know him. You've been taking classes from him for a year."

There was a knock on the door, and their sister Megan, the prefect, slipped inside. "Hi."

"Hi," Charity answered.

"What?" Justine answered.

"I've talked to Father. He's agreed to let us go back to Hogwarts in the fall."

"What does Mother say?" Justine asked.

"That it's up to Father to make the final decision. She's not happy, but too bad. We're going back."

Charity jumped up and ran to throw her arms around Megan. "Oh, goody!" she cried. "I'm so glad!"

Megan smiled and smoothed Charity's hair. "I'll be in my sixth year, I wasn't about to switch schools at such an important time. Beauxbatons does their testing under an entirely different format; I'd lose all my OWLs. I just had to tell Father to be reasonable. And I told him that his favorite daughter would be heartbroken, of course," she added, giving Charity one last squeeze of affection. "I was glad to see you doing so well at school, you know. I'm very proud of you, and so is Father."

Justine made a snorting noise and flicked over a new page of Witch Weekly. Megan frowned at her.

"Look, Justine, you might be wanting to join in decrying Professor Malfoy to fit in, but I'd rather do the right thing. He's a good teacher, and he's done well by all four houses. Father's an important wizard, and people will be watching our family. We will do everything we can to ensure that they see only excellence from the Pritchard girls. We have a duty to our family and to Hufflepuff."

Justine sighed. "I suppose we do. Fine, then, I promise not to say anything inappropriate. We have an image to uphold. Now will you two leave me alone so I can read my magazine?"

Megan rolled her eyes jokingly as she guided Charity out of Justine's room. "Aren't you excited to have Harry Potter next year?" she asked, her eyes glowing. "We'll learn loads of things from him, I'm sure."

Charity nodded and giggled. "It will be great next year."

Apollo mumbled incoherently to Nibs with his mouth already full of his sandwich. Lysander scowled at him. Apollo saw him and rolled his eyes, then swallowed deliberately. "Thank you, Nibs!" he called at the house elf's retreating back. Nibs turned back to squeak out some self-deprecating nonsense and disappeared to do whatever he did when he wasn't serving lunch to spoiled brats.

Lysander knew it was really his own fault that Apollo was so spoiled. Their parents were not very affectionate people, and Lysander had always wanted to fill that role for his brother. Sometimes he might have carried it a bit overboard. Well, the damage was done, and besides, Apollo had turned out decently well. Both of them were pretty well liked at school.

"Did you hear what Mum said at breakfast this morning?" Apollo asked.

"No, what?" Lysander asked, barely listening, as he picked up his own sandwich and started reading the letter Lark had sent him.

"She said having Professor Malfoy out in the open will ruin all the work we've done to make Slytherin acceptable again."

Lysander looked up from the letter with an offended frown. "That's ridiculous."

He and Apollo had had the charge laid on them before they ever went to school: reclaim Slytherin in the name of decency. Sure, Slytherin students had a tendency to be crafty and devious, but that didn't have to be a bad thing. Lysander and Apollo should do their utmost to be upstanding students and strong influences on their classmates. They could restore the house to its former glory, and the Sorenson family would be well remembered for what they'd done. All in all, it hadn't been so hard. The two boys had been gifted with good looks, charm, and athletic talent. The Sorensons had been friends with the Kilburne family for a long time, and Greg and Jack had already paved the way for Lysander and Apollo to do as they'd been instructed. They made the effort to form friendships outside of their house and get along with their professors. And now, this.

"Well, she has a point," Apollo said in his most logical tone. "She and Dad have always avoided associating with pardoned Death Eaters. Now there's one teaching at the school."

"Yeah, but look what he's done," Lysander argued. "He's raised the standard, and he's gone on to become Head of Gryffindor, not Slytherin. The Sorting Hat told us all in the song at the beginning of the year that our houses can't tell us who we're meant to be, don't you remember? They just provide a place for us to be among like-minded people and develop the skills we already display."

Apollo shrugged. "I'm just telling you what Mum said."

"Well, what do you think?"

Most thirteen-year-olds would shrug off that kind of question, Lysander thought. But this one had been raised in an environment that told him his thoughts and opinions were just as valuable as anyone else's, just as Lysander had.

"I think next year will be really interesting," Apollo answered. "Harry Potter becoming a professor ought to attract some new students, even if Draco Malfoy drives a few away. I guess we'll know for sure when we see whether or not they can work together."

Lysander nodded. "That's what I was saying to Lark the other day. I mean, she and I can get along, but then, it's a bit easier for us. I didn't devote myself to a murderer who was trying to kill everyone she loves."

Apollo picked up his sandwich again. "It doesn't really matter to me. I'm just going to keep doing what I was doing."

"What's that?"

"Learning how to be a great wizard, and changing Slytherin's reputation."

"It's been hard work, so far, and this might make things even harder."

"I know. So what? Like you're not used to hard work, Lysander."

Lysander grinned. "Well, when you put it that way."

Aiken Ackerley knew people made fun of him for reading Muggle books, but he didn't care. They made fun of him anyway, so he might as well enjoy his graphic novels. Today, though, he was just lying on his bed, his book open on his chest, and thinking. It was hard for him to order his thoughts. He didn't think that was normal, for it to be so hard to think straight, but it had always been that way for him.

If he'd read a few more Muggle publications, he might have heard of attention deficit disorder, but all he knew was that he was different from most of his classmates. He tried to stay focused, he really did, but there was so much else to do, so much else to think about, all the time. As he lay there, he was tapping his fingers in a frenetic drumbeat on the bedclothes. A million practical jokes he wanted to play when the fall term came around kept trying to crowd out his thoughts, but he wasn't letting them. He was thinking about Professor Stevens.

He knew the man's name was actually Draco Malfoy, but he'd told them his name was Drew Stevens, and Aiken couldn't get himself to make the switch. Whenever he saw the professor, the only name he could think of was Stevens. He liked Stevens. Stevens was patient with him, and laughed at his jokes sometimes. Most people didn't laugh at his jokes. For some reason, they'd decided that his jokes weren't funny just because he liked to tell them to the ghosts, too. At least the ghosts laughed.

Aiken jumped off his bed, forgetting about the book and trying to catch it before it thumped onto the floor. He grabbed it by a corner and tossed it onto the bed. He wanted to go flying, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed. They lived too close to the Muggles. He hated it, wished he lived in a town like Ottery St. Catchpole. Charlie Weasley had told him about that, about flying in the summer with all his brothers. Aiken wished he had brothers. He'd sometimes wished Charlie were his brother. Charlie was another who'd always been patient with him. Charlie used to help him study so he could stay caught up in his classes. He missed Charlie. He hadn't liked Professor Stevens at first, for taking Charlie's place. He supposed he didn't mind anymore. Still, he wished Charlie would write to him. He wanted to hear about dragons.

"Hey, Niles."

Niles looked up from his experiment only briefly. "Gil."

Gilbert sighed, knowing he'd never get his brother's concentration away from whatever he was brewing. "I just wanted to ask you something. I'll come back later."

"No, I've got to let this stew for ten minutes," Niles said. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to ask you, if you meant what you said in the Daily Prophet. That Professor Malfoy was so great."

"I don't write anything I don't mean."

"I didn't know you were taking extra lessons from him."

"Well, I did."

"How come?"

"Because I wanted to, why do you think?" Niles snapped.

"I just wondered why you didn't take extra lessons in anything else."

Niles glared at him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To see me get mocked even more because I need extra lessons."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, that's what you meant. Look, I know I'm not a good student. I don't like any of my classes. I just like Potions."

Gilbert shrugged. "Fine. I just wondered." He frowned. "If you were nicer to people, they wouldn't make fun of you so much. It doesn't help that you hex anyone who looks at you cross-eyed."

"I'm a Slytherin, you idiot. Slytherin aren't supposed to be nice."

"Oh, so what am I, then?"

"I don't know," Niles smirked. "Didn't you want to be in Ravenclaw?"

Gilbert crossed his arms over his chest. "Shut up about that. I'm in Slytherin, so obviously that's where I should be. I'm just saying, not all Slytherins act so spiteful."

"Oh, you're talking about the Sorensons, are you? I'm surprised they're not in Gryffindor."

"What's so bad about Gryffindor? Professor Malfoy is Head of Gryffindor now."

"Yeah? Harry Potter's from Gryffindor, and look what a self-important little bugger he is. You think Professor Malfoy will keep that position now that Potter is coming to teach here?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

"First of all, because Potter will just take it from him. He expects the whole world to give him favors. And secondly, no self-respecting Slytherin ought to be working so closely with him."

"I thought you liked Malfoy."

"I do. I just think he'll resign his Headship."

Gilbert shook his head. "That's not the way things are supposed to be anymore."

"I know. Sometimes, things are the way they are, whether they're supposed to be or not."

Matt sat on Charley's floor, playing with building blocks with her, while Dad fixed a cut on Crash's cheek. She tipped over the tower they'd made and laughed infectiously, making Matt laugh with her. He loved his baby sister, and he didn't mind playing with her sometimes. But the idea that she would be following him to Hogwarts in the fall made him a little bit uneasy, a little bit resentful. It wasn't that he was angry about having his family around him there. Merlin knew he'd missed them last year. It was just . . . not the whole family. Mum wouldn't be there. And if Mum were there, the family wouldn't have any reason to be at Hogwarts to begin with. Dad was only bringing Crash and Charley so that the three of them wouldn't be living in their big old house all alone.

Charley seemed happy enough now, Matt thought, but it wouldn't last. She cried for Mum almost every night. Crash didn't cry anymore, he just had nightmares sometimes now. Matt understood how it felt, and he'd taken to leaving his door open so he could hear if Sirius yelled out in his sleep. They only saw Mum about once a week, right now. It wasn't fair. Not to any of them. Not even to Mum. Because Matt had seen what Dad was too angry to see and what Crash and Charley were too young to see. Mum missed them. She was always so sad when they went back home to Dad.

He'd asked her why she didn't come home. She said Dad didn't need her there. Matt contradicted her, telling her that Dad missed her terribly. And then Mum said something strange. She'd said Dad would do better without her. Matt didn't get it. How could she think that? She'd seen Dad, he knew she had. Dad had gotten very thin, and there were awful circles under his eyes, and he didn't laugh as much as he used to. Why would she think Dad was better without her? None of them were better without her!

Soon, they'd all go to Hogwarts, Matt consoled himself. They'd all be busy, and there'd be lots of people around. They wouldn't have time to feel so sad. Matt was determined that when he got back to school, he'd make everyone like Professor Malfoy again. Matt had never had any qualms about it, not since he'd accepted the man's apology while staring at his dying kidnapper. Professor Malfoy was different, now. Matt knew it better than most. He was determined most of all to make sure that Dad got along with him. Everybody was always watching Dad. Basil said that so long as Dad kept showing support, people would listen.

Maybe then, Mum would listen.