Between Deathly Hallows and school (and my muses saying "ooh, look at that shiny fandom over there!") this chapter took a lot longer than I hoped. Sorry everyone! But I'm working double-speed now so wish me luck on getting the next chapter out soon!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
::Mindspeech::
-Parseltongue-
Chapter Twenty-One: First Day Back
According to the ceiling of the Great Hall, the morning was cloudy and rather windy. Of course, several minutes ago strawberry-flavored bubbles had been drifting down from cotton-candy colored clouds (though nobody had tried eating any, to Harry's slight disappointment) and, in another couple minutes, it would start snowing. If anyone bothered to check a window they'd get a face full of dazzling sunlight; the day was all blue sky and bright sun, a boring way to start a school year in Harry's opinion.
The current inhabitants of the Great Hall weren't really enjoying the ceiling's theatrics but Harry assumed that the later risers would at least notice the show and was saving the best for them. Only five other students had bothered waking up so early on the first day of school: three Ravenclaws with their noses stuck deep in their books and their hair full of bubbles, a sleeping Hufflepuff, and a Gryffindor who was staring at the sky through glazed eyes.
That left, of course, the Slytherin table all to Harry. The former-Slytherin all but skipped over to it and claimed his seat by setting down his book bag with a flourish that was also unappreciated by his fellow students. He stuck his tongue out childishly at the Headmaster's seat (so far unoccupied) as he sat down and pulled out his book, a semi-Dark book in Parseltongue. It was one of those books that were only legal because nobody knew of its existence and Harry had another copy in his trunk, just in case Dumbledore confiscated this one. Disregarding and challenging authority? Maybe a little.
Harry absentmindedly took a bite of toast as he read and discovered that his strawberry-flavored bubbles really didn't taste that great on toast; the bubbles that had been floating down from the sky just minutes ago had drenched all the toast with the flavor. He put his toast down calmly (a habit of Salazar's that Harry took full advantage of was the 'I meant to do that' attitude that he used when he made a mistake in public) and wondered if he could trick Draco into trying some if he hid the one he had taken a bite out of.
He read for about an hour, trying to find anything that mentioned the various creatures that can be attracted to magical rituals but all he found was a vague mention of Scelus omens and the mention that there were several types of creatures that fed on magic that might also be attracted to rituals. There was no mention of what these creatures might be and Harry was forced to admit that there would be nothing more in this book. Indexes were Muggle inventions and you would only find them in the newer wizarding books; Harry would have to go through all his books page-by-page to try and find any mention of the shadow that he had seen the previous night. And then, of course, he would have to try the library.
Closing his book and tucking it into his bag, Harry looked up to find that the Great Hall was now more than half-full and that it was raining frogs. Several people around the Hall had umbrellas and it seemed as if the house-elves had put up a shield around the food so that it wouldn't be affected by whatever fell out of the sky. Harry checked the tables again, slightly bored. The Ravenclaw table was almost full and both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables were half-full (the Slytherins so far seemed to have chosen seats on the far ends of the table, staying far away from Harry, who had chosen a seat in the middle), while the Gryffindor table was almost empty. Harry remembered the scrambles for showers and cloths after oversleeping that were common in that house and wasn't surprised.
The teachers appeared to be trying to fix the ceiling. What with the Weasley twins being gone and the ceiling having been enchanted by the Founders themselves, they seemed to think it was some sort of charms malfunction rather than a prank. Harry amused himself by watching them for several minutes before pulling his book out again and beginning to read, this time for enjoyment rather than research. A few minutes later he was distracted by Draco's arrival.
"You have bubbles in your hair," the blond commented dryly, sitting down next to Harry. A frog landed on the table between them and then hopped away hurriedly.
"Shut up and have some toast or something," Harry said, handing the other a piece of toast without bothering to look up from his book.
Draco obligingly took a bite and then made a face,
"Ew." Harry hid a smirk. The toast had been on the table since before the house-elves' charms to protect he food, since nobody was around Harry to have eaten it and Harry had managed to stop the house-elves from taking it away. It was thoroughly soaked with the remains of the strawberry-flavored bubbles, not to mention the other random things that had floated down from the ceiling before the house-elves thought to set up shields.
Thunder rumbled ominously and Harry glanced up before pulling an umbrella out of his bag. He tapped it with his wand to enlarge it and then attached it to the table with a spell, ignoring Draco's comment of "If you had that all along, why are you just taking it out now?"
"You know," Draco commented suddenly after a few minutes of silence, "It's even kind of cold in here. You really went overboard on this rainy weather stuff, didn't you?" He seemed unfazed by the fact that it had started raining orange juice.
"It's too sunny outside," Harry said, pouting, "I have to stop working on an experimental potion I was hoping to get done until it's cloudy for at least five days in a row."
"But its good Quidditch weather," Draco pointed out reasonably.
"Not when it's too hot. And I don't mind playing in cloudy weather as long as it's not freezing or so windy that I can't fly strait." Toast started floating down from the sky, landing in the puddles of orange juice and were quickly followed by large drops of marmalade and assorted jams. Harry noticed that Dumbledore's beard was gathering a rather colorful assortment of sticky foodstuffs and whispered a spell to make the jam fall down faster than before.
They continued talking for a while. Eventually the teachers gave up on finding out what was wrong with the ceiling and moved to shelter (those who hadn't already). As soon as Dumbledore moved under the large teachers' umbrella, Harry cast a spell on him so that anything falling from the ceiling would be drawn to his beard, despite the shelter. The spell was a simple one that would disintegrate once the man left the Great Hall but Harry was pleased to see, at least for now, that teachers in the line of fire were scooting away from the Headmaster.
Snape was heading towards the Slytherin table looking angry and Harry thought for a minute that Snape was coming to yell at him (the newly-former Slytherin Head had been looking suspiciously at Harry all morning) before realizing that he was merely handing out the schedules. It should have been Moody's job but Harry would be the last person to complain about that; perhaps Moody had taken Harry's advice to heart. It was nice to see things going so right so easily, for once.
As soon as Draco got his schedule (Snape ignoring Harry's presence at the Slytherin table the whole time), Harry stole it from him and looked at it himself. Gryffindors and Slytherins shared NEWT Potions first and then had no more classes for the rest of the day; slightly disappointing but not surprising.
"Hey!" Draco protested Harry's theft, "Give that back! Shouldn't you be getting your own, anyways?"
Harry looked somewhat skeptically at the Gryffindor table,
"I suppose you're right," he muttered. Despite his words, the Slytherin-turned-Gryffie didn't move towards the other table.
"Go on," Draco said, snatching his schedule back from Harry, "And if you hurry, you can get back here and we can go to Potions together. If not, the Gryffies might be able to keep you until the bell rings and then they'll probably escort you to class, too."
"Fine, fine," Harry said, standing up, "I'll be back in a minute."
He made a beeline for Professor McGonagall, who started to give him a lecture abut his behavior towards the Headmaster but was interrupted by students eager for their schedules. After collecting his timetable, he headed straight back feeling rather pleased with himself, having both accomplished his mission and somehow managed to drop a note in Ginny's oatmeal with nobody else seeing.
And then they were off to Potions.
NEWT Potions, Harry found, wasn't all that much different than regular Potions except that the class was a lot smaller. With four Slytherins and three Gryffindors (not counting Draco and Harry) the class had a grand total of nine students. This was because that most of the ingredients that the students were now handling were highly dangerous and the potions they were making were now extremely difficult; some couldn't even be made in the time span of one class. And, of course, very few students could meet Snape's high standards (even if they had wanted to). Ideally, the teacher would be able to give each student more attention than in a full-sized class and, hopefully, pass on more knowledge to individual students.
Snape took a few seconds to magic instructions on the blackboard, gave a brief warning about more the more violate potion ingredients (which ended up sounding more like a threat), and disappeared behind his desk to grade potions essays. Every once so often he would get up and walk around the classroom, hovering over students' cauldrons while making disapproving noises. All of this was done with a perpetual scowl (though Harry rather thought that was because of his own presence). Harry was ignoring the tense atmosphere and chatting happily with Draco but even so…
We can't all be potions prodigies, Harry thought with a twinge of annoyance, He should be taking the time to teach them something instead of sitting around waiting for their cauldrons to blow up! He sighed and stared broodingly at the glowing purple potion bubbling away in his cauldron. It was far from the pink of the potion they were supposed to be making but, luckily, Snape hadn't come near his cauldron yet; the professor was either avoiding Harry or completely ignoring him.
"A zero for today, Weasley," Snape had stopped in front of Ron's cauldron. They were working individually today and without Hermione as a partner, Ron's potion was doomed to fail, "Put the powdered Diricaw claw down and clean up your mess of a working space."
"What for?!" shouted Ron, face flushed with anger. Snape opened his mouth to say something, but a lazy drawl from across the room interrupted him.
"Because, Ron, had you addedthe Diricaw claw and then the powdered root of neverbloom you have at your table instead of powdered seed of neverbloom after adding your foxthorn four steps too late, the potion would have exploded with such a force that everyone in the room would be in so many pieces Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to put us back together or, if someone was extremely lucky, extremely injured."
"Show off," Draco muttered. Harry grinned and dropped a bowl of chopped…something into his potion, which immediately turned a murky orange.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting a teacher, Potter," Snape said, walking back up to the front of the classroom.
Harry grinned at Draco,
"See? Since I have a teacher who hates Gryffindors, especially me, whereas there are teachers who distrust Slytherin, but won't take off to many points. Face it, God, the house cup's Slytherin's.
Draco scowled at him,
"Well you don't have to rub it in!"
"Yes I do," Harry said, sprinkling a white powder into his cauldron. The potion became to froth and, within seconds, it shot a humongous stream of ice-cold potion into the air. In such a small classroom, the potion quickly hit the ceiling and came back down, drenching the entire classroom on its way. Well, everything except the other students' potions; Harry had put shields around them beforehand (it wouldn't be fair to ruin other peoples' Potions grades, would it?).
Harry looked around proud of the chaos he had caused. Everything in sight was colored various shades of green and silver. And the stunned students were beginning to cause a commotion.
"Turn me back," Draco demanded angrily from beside him.
"What makes you think I know how?" Harry asked his green and silver friend, smirking.
"Sal…" Draco started warningly, and then frowned, "Hey, that's not fair!"
"Life's not fair," Harry said automatically, "What's not fair?"
"I can't say your full name, since…You know…" Draco said, "And I was going to do such a good R'ena impersonation, too…"
"You could just call me Potter," Harry suggested.
Draco shuddered, "But it's just so wrong thinking of you as Potter!"
"We'll think of something," Harry said, shrugging.
"Potter," Snape said angrily, coming up behind them, "what did you do?"
"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said with his widest, most innocent eyes, "I don't know what happened." Draco gave a snort of laughter behind him. Harry frowned at him, "Well, it's not my problem that you got that particularly horrid shade of lime green. We should call it Fudge green, I think. Isn't that the exact shade of his bowler hat?"
Draco made a face.
"Potter," Snape warned from behind them.
Harry went from thoughtful to regretful in almost no time at all,
"I'm sorry, Professor, honestly! I have no idea what happened!"
"Thirty points from Gryffindor for lying to a teacher and fifteen more points from Gryffindor for exploding the cauldron," Snape said, glaring. "And a zero for today for your failed potion," He added before walking over to the other side of the room to help some of the Slytherins, completely ignoring the Gryffindors that were making the most noise, having suddenly found themselves in their rival house's colors.
"Forty-five points lost…That's not that bad. D'ya think he's caught on and realized that I'm trying to loose Gryffindor points?" Harry stage whispered (rather loudly) to Draco. Ron turned around and glared at Harry while Hermione sat primly, staring straight ahead and obviously ignoring him. Neville, the only other Gryffindor in the class, looked like he didn't know how to react. He looked at Harry, turned to look at Ron, turned back to look at Harry again, accidentally met Harry's eyes, and turned back to his cauldron, obviously embarrassed at being caught staring. The Slytherins looked everything from thoughtful to uninterested.
"Sal," Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands, "Please don't try and provoke half the classroom…I thought I was the Gryffindor here. Um, I mean…relatively." He gave a guilty look at the rest of the classroom, most of which were probably eavesdropping on the conversation.
"Well it's not my fault that we didn't get to prank anybody last night," Harry said, "I needed to explode something. Or work on a potion. Or prank someone. I did all three at the same time!"
"But I haven't had the chance to prank anyone yet! That's your second one!" Then, realizing what he had just said, Draco gave another guilty look around the classroom.
Harry rolled his eyes (it wasn't as if he was planning to keep his identity as the new prankster secret for long),
"Later; you can set up anything you want tonight. Finish your potion or something; my potion didn't touch it and it's about to boil over. Eh, that goes for the rest of you students, too," He added, raising his voice, "Your potions are unaffected…I'm not saying anything interesting so you can stop eavesdropping…really."
The rest of the classroom hurried to their cauldrons, trying not to look like they had been eavesdropping while Draco cursed and quickly dumped the next ingredient in. Harry winced at the splashes.
"And then you have to cut up the sunflower stem," Harry prompted, "Paper-thin is best. No, not the silver knife, one of the other ones will work better."
"Go away," Draco pouted, "I can do advanced potions just fine without you giving me weird tips. Or could. You know, when I was a normal Slytherin." Godric had been horrible at Potions and both of the reincarnated Founders wondered if that had affected Draco's decent potion skills. Of course, since Draco admitted to copious tutoring from his Head of House, this learned skill was probably for keeps. Harry was slightly jealous; as Salazar, he had never been able to get Godric to brew even one potion correctly, save the incredibly easy ones.
"Fine, fine, don't say I didn't warn you," Harry said and wandered off towards the other students. Who to bother next? Hermione and Ron were out, of course, Harry really didn't want to talk to them. He wanted to talk to one of the Slytherins but not as a group and, anyways, Draco had already warned him not to do anything 'reckless'. Obviously, the two of them had very different ideas of what the word 'reckless' entitled. Ah, well; it wouldn't be a good idea to do anything 'reckless' just yet…at least not in front of Draco. All other options eliminated, Harry turned and headed towards Neville.
"Hey Neville," Harry greeted cheerfully.
Neville hesitated but eventually answered,
"Hi Harry."
"I was surprised to see you here!" The exaggerated enthusiasm in his voice caused Snape to look up and glare at him.
"Yeah," Neville agreed quietly, "I'm not very good with potions."
"Nah, you just haven't had 'nuff practice or instruction…or confidence."
Neville looked surprised,
"Yeah, sure," he sounded unconvinced, "I was surprised with my letter said that I'd gotten an EE and Snape had changed his mind and allowed EEs in his class. Everyone knows I'm horrible at Potions! I've never finished a single potion without messing it up horribly or just blowing it up."
"You can't be that bad…See, I once knew this kid who was really bad at potions. Horrible. Definitely worse than you. This guy couldn't mix two potion ingredients together without blowing the house up." This time Draco looked up to glare at him. "But I recently learned that he can actually make a pretty decent potion; he got a really good teacher to instruct him on the dos and don'ts of potions making. He could do it all along; he just needed a bit of extra instruction."
"And anyway," Harry continued, "How could you have gotten an exceeds expectations if you were that horrible?"
"I studied really hard," Neville mumbled, "I needed to take this potions class. And most of the questions on the test were close enough to Herbology stuff that I could answer them."
"Neville, everyone studies really hard for the OWLs. Most can't pull off an EE in classes they're bad at. And that Herbology stuff? It's advanced Herbology stuff. Anyways, Herbology is really important in potions. You're lucky you're so good at it! This guy I told you about…Ow!" Harry rubbed his arm and turned around just in time to see Draco tuck his wand back into his bag, looking smug. Turning back to Neville, Harry grudgingly decided to stop teasing Draco. "Anyways…I wanted to as: that letter that said that Snape changed his mind about the grade required for this class…do you remember when you got that?"
"End of July, like always; it was with the rest of the Hogwarts letters. Why?" Neville asked curiously.
"No reason." What reason did Dumbledore have to delay his Hogwarts letters? Was it merely security? Had it even been Dumbledore at all, not Death Eaters or some innocent delay?
They talked about Herbology and its ties with potions and then a bit about pureblood and muggleborn opinions of each other. Harry was practicing on Neville, raised by his proper pureblooded grandmother, what he'd later have to try on the Slytherins while at the same time collecting pureblood views on muggles. He noticed he was starting to sound a bit preachy for muggle rights but at least Neville agreed with what he was saying.
Throughout all of this, Harry helped Neville by instructing him on how to properly brew the potion. It didn't turn out to be the perfect potion (it was more of a forest-green than the sea-green that it was supposed to be), even though Harry tried to give Neville directions that compensated for small mistakes, but it was definitely passable. He was surprised that Snape hadn't tried taking points from Gryffindor for 'cheating'. Oh, right. Snape was ignoring him.
Neville was one of the last students to finish up and the room had long since become full of rustling and movement as other students bottled up potions and packed up their bags, eager to be free of the class. Harry glanced across the room and saw Draco smugly bottle up his own potion, which was only a few shades too dark.
"Coming, Harry?" Neville asked, having bottled up his potion and successfully delivered it to the front of class just as the bell rang, "We have Divination next, right? Or did you not sign up for it this year?"
Harry pulled out his own schedule (he hadn't even bothered to look at it after he going through all the trouble to get it) and frowned,
"That's not right," he muttered to himself.
"Did Professor McGonagall make a mistake?" Neville asked, peering over Harry's shoulder.
"I didn't sign up for Divination," Harry explained, frowning at the parchment, "I even sent a letter requesting…I've got to go see McGonagall about this. Great."
"Now? But class is starting…If you skip, you'll get in trouble," Neville said nervously.
"Yeah, but there's a mistake," Harry said decidedly. It wasn't that he hated Divination or that he didn't believe that he could learn anything useful from it. There was a prophesy involving him and, though it would be more useful learning about possible loopholes, he didn't believe that he would learn any of that in Trelawney's class. "I've got to go talk to McGonagall about this."
"Right now?" Neville squeaked, "But she could be anywhere! She could be teaching a class!"
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, "It's her job, right? She's my Head of House, so I'm supposed to be able to go to her any time if I have a problem. Why don't you go ahead to Divination, I'll see you later."
Neville didn't look convinced but there wasn't really anything he could do and if he stayed any longer he would be late to class.
As soon as Neville left, Harry headed towards his Head of House, having already been told where to find her by Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was in the middle of a class and didn't look very pleased when Harry showed up.
"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, not at all pleased to see him.
"There seems to be some mistake in my schedule, Professor," Harry said in his most polite voice. Professor McGonagall was Not Impressed. But then again, she had been a teacher and Head of House for both his father and godfather. Being polite probably just reminded her of James or Sirius trying to get out of trouble.
"Problems can be sorted out between classes or during mealtimes. Not during the classes themselves."
"Then I'll wait 'till this class is over. Like I said, there's a problem with my schedule and I don't really have any classes to go to."
Everything in the Gryffindor Head's posture screamed disapproval but she eventually nodded and said tightly,
"Very well. However, I have a class to teach and I will not allow you to be a distraction. Wait in my office; I'll see you at the end of class."
The Deputy Headmistress found Harry lounging in her office some time later. She gave him a disapproving look, both to his lack of proper manners and the fact that he had stolen a book off of her personal shelves and was now reading it. She did, however, admit a glimmer of respect for the boy; the book was an extremely advanced transfiguration book (way beyond the level of any student) and he appeared interested in what he was reading.
She cleared her throat,
"Mr. Potter."
"Professor," Harry acknowledged as she walked over to her desk and sat behind it. He took the time to reluctantly close the book, though he didn't tuck it back onto the shelf just yet.
"I understand that you are dissatisfied with your schedule?"
"Yeah," He picked up his schedule, which he had left lying on her desk, and handed it to her, "I was hoping to take Arithmancy this year. Instead, I got Divination."
His Professor raised an eyebrow,
"Arithmancy is an extremely hard subject, Potter. This is highly irregular. As it is, you haven't the proper OWL for taking the class. I'm sorry, but you missed out on your chance to choose it as an elective in your third year. If you had asked when you were a fourth year, I may be able to bend the rules a bit and sign you up with the third years but…"
"That's okay, Professor," Harry said, "I'd rather not take the beginner stuff. And I know that it's irregular, which is why I sent you a note along with my request."
"And I sent you a letter back informing you all the things that I've just said."
Harry frowned,
"I never got it."
"That explains why I didn't hear from you again," the Transfiguration professor mused, "I was expecting further argument. When I didn't get a reply, I consulted the Headmaster. He said that you'd have an interest in Divination and suggested that you'd accidentally signed up for Arithmancy."
"Since when has the Headmaster decided individual students' schedules let alone chose classes for said students?" Harry demanded, annoyed, "Because it obviously wasn't a mistake if I wrote a note along with it."
"That is why another note was sent out to you, one that I presume that you never received," Professor McGonagall said calmly, a note of disapproval in her voice at Harry's rudeness, "Regardless of the cause, Arithmancy is an extremely difficult subject, Potter and it is simply impossible to get into a NEWT-level class without the OWL grades to back it up. You simply don't have the knowledge to make up for three years of missed classes."
"I don't know," Harry's smile made his Transfiguration teacher feel like she was missing something, "I learned a lot of Arithmancy over the summer."
"Okay," he abruptly continued, "I won't take Arithmancy this year. But I won't be taking Divination, either. I expect that I'll have free time in its place. Remember, I never signed up for the class, so I won't be required to take it."
McGonagall took a moment to consider this, surveying his schedule thoughtfully,
"That leaves you with five classes. That's acceptable for a sixth year, assuming that they are in accordance with your chosen career. Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures…Yes, that's a nice, broad base. Perfect for an auror."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, standing up, not bothering to tell her that he had no desire to be an auror.
"Oh, and Mr. Potter?" She waited until he turned to look at her, "You may keep the book, as long as your promise to return it in prime condition and a timely manner."
Harry grinned at her,
"Thanks Professor!" A little overly enthusiastic, perhaps, but the book was interesting and he was very interested in finding out how different areas of magic were explored during the thousand years since he last looked at them seriously.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
The classroom that Harry had chosen for his meeting with the Hufflepuff Founder's reincarnation was small, dark, crowded, and (most importantly) significant to the both of them. It was significant because it had been in this classroom that Helga had taught the few young witches and wizards aspiring to be healers. Because of this, they could both find the room easily but it was an obscure enough room that the Headmaster was probably not monitoring it and it was not likely that they would be interrupted.
Piles of boxes filled the room, blocking the windows from sight and Harry absentmindedly noted hiding places that gaps between boxes created. He was feeling vaguely paranoid, mostly because he didn't know what to expect of the upcoming meeting. This was partly because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned but mostly because he was nervous about how the whole meeting would go.
A good portion of his sanity rested on the outcome of this meeting, he knew that. If Ginny reacted badly, he would recover…But he wouldn't be the same. Harry thought back to his wings and the remaining streaks of white. Black and white was pretty evenly balanced but if just a few streaks of white were replaced with black…
The scuffle of shoes on stone from somewhere nearby distracted him from his musings. Harry had arrived half an hour early (alone, since Draco had claimed that he had homework to do). Ginny arrived not ten minutes after him.
She did not see Harry at first, as he was perched up on top of a pile of stacked boxes. Having glanced around, Ginny waved her wand and a couple of fireballs flared into life. She directed them around the room and soon the room was fully illuminated with warm firelight. Just when she was she was directing the last fireball towards the corner where Harry was sitting, she suddenly noticed him and jumped so violently that the fireballs flickered as one and she nearly dropped the one that she was guiding.
She, for her part, looked up to see him sitting still as a statue, appraising her with amusement glittering in his emerald eyes, and nearly had a heart attack,
"Don't do that!" And getting no immediate response, "When did you get there?"
"A while before you did," Harry stood up and jumped gracefully down to the floor. Ginny didn't quite flinch, but she looked at him with a certain wariness in her eyes that made him decide against walking over to her just yet. He felt slightly hurt; Draco had so quickly accepted him back and Harry had so quickly forgiven Draco that, even nervous as he was, he hadn't really considered that she might feel unsafe in his presence. Of course, the first time she had tried to confront him she had attempted to do so in front of a room full of Gryffindor boys.
Harry raised his wand (she did flinch ever-so-slightly this time) and summoned two chairs, each a fair distance from the other.
"So," he said, sitting down and pretending to act perfectly relaxed, "You wanted to talk, so talk." And of course he had left suddenly (supposedly with thoughts of vengeance) and then disappeared for days, months, and then years. The other Founders would have been constantly on guard for a long time until, over time, they would have let their guards down, then forgotten. That's how the world went.
And before he had met the others, Salazar was the type of person who would have disappeared with vows of vengeance. But they had been his friends…He had forgiven them so easily, long before Draco had ever come to ask for forgiveness. When Draco had asked for a truce, Harry had accepted because he wasn't Godric, yes, but would he really have turned the other down even if Draco had had full memories of his life as Godric?
"I…Um…" Ginny's hesitant voice snapped him out of his musings, "I…We'd wanted to see you again…After you…left, I mean…We had no way of knowing…that you were dead."
"Those were hard times," Draco had said, "Helga cried a lot and looked after her 'Puffs as much as she could. I spent weeks at a time off wandering. Rowena tried spells after spells to look for you and then, when she finally stopped denying and believed you were dead (she was the first), she invented spell after spell and read book after book to try and talk to you or bring you back."
"I don't know why we were so stupid!" Ginny's anguished cry made him jump, both at the unexpectedness and the volume of it, "You may just think that I'm just making us excuses but…We always regretted it afterwards. As soon as you left, we realized what an awful mistake we'd just made. Just as soon as you left the school, Godric jumped up and ran after you." Here was a part of the story that Harry had never heard, though Harry wasn't surprised that Draco hadn't mentioned it. Gryffindors were all so noble in their own way…But Ginny was starting to cry now, despite how hard she was trying not to, "He spent all that time out looking for you…Rowena was always looking for some way…and…I've always been so useless."
"Hey…" Harry began but his voice was so quiet, he wasn't sure she heard him over her sobs.
After a minute or so Ginny stopped crying. She wiped her tears away angrily and then faced Harry defiantly,
"There," she said with an odd finality, "I've said what I've wanted to say for…a long time. Do what you will."
"Hey," Harry repeated, a little stronger this time, "I'm not…mad at you. I mean, of course I was disappointed, upset, mad… at the time. But it's not like," he moved his hands as if trying to communicate some concept that words could not, "Of course I was mad. And I suppose I still am, that my friends could…But…You're my friends…I suppose the only friends I've ever really had. I thought for a while afterwards…especially with Ron and Hermione…but you're real. And if you had done it deliberately…but…Things just got out of control. Something happened…I still don't know what it is, but something went wrong…And if it happens again, I don't think I could trust anyone but…You're my friends." He floundered rather helplessly. Where was that silver tongue that most Slytherins were reputed to have? "And…if we could try again…I'm willing to try."
Ginny looked at him for a long minute, uncomprehending, then suddenly beamed at him and burst into tears again.
Harry felt extremely awkward. This, he thought, was a thousand times worse than dealing with Cho Chang.
"I'm sorry!" Ginny cried, wiping away her tears furiously, still smiling through her tears, "…Can't stop crying…And I'm sure you've had enough of crying girls to last you a lifetime…"
"Hey! I only really dated her once or twice and that was before I came to my good senses. So there!" He stuck his tongue out at her, which had the intended effect: she giggled.
"You'd think after crying so much in my past…well, pasts…You'd think that I would be able to just not cry and stop being so useless."
Harry thought agreeing would be rude.
"Well, then you wouldn't be Helga," he pointed out sensibly, "You'd be Rowena with all her scary efficiency."
Ginny laughed,
"Did you just call me useless?"
"…Not really useless," Harry hedged deliberately. Then he grinned, "You, at least, have common sense, unlike Godric. Come on, none us renowned Hogwarts Founders," he said the title with exaggerated honor, "Were really useless or stupid. Except Godric, of course."
Ginny giggled again but then sobered,
"It doesn't really feel right talking about him…I wish he was here. And Rowena…" She trailed off gloomily.
"Well, he's only not here because he says that he's got too much homework, the liar. He just didn't want to deal with you if I got you all upset."
"He's…here?" Ginny looked started, "I…Oh…Now I really do feel stupid. He's Malfoy, isn't he? I'd kind of assumed that it was just the two of us. I mean, he doesn't look like Godric."
"You don't much look like Helga, either. I'm just lucky, I suppose. Really, I have the best luck in the most inconsequential things and then somehow the worse luck everywhere else. You know, this summer it was arranged by Dumbledore that I go stay with Snape and Draco? Except Draco didn't know he was Godric (which was really awkward but only for me) in Snape's house which ended up being the house I lived in a thousand years ago. And then I snuck away and into Hogwarts and the wards attacked me and I'm pretty sure I would have died except Hogwarts tried to help me and I somehow got sent…"
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I'm sorry to everyone whose reviews I haven't answered! I was trying to get everyone for a while but it's been hard. I think from now on, I'll just work on updating. I want to get to chapter twenty-four by the end of the month. Now who thinks I might make it?
Harry did not want to talk to Helga. Before I ended up writing that bit, I went ahead and wrote most of chapter twenty-four along with a good bit of chapters twenty-two and twenty-three. It was my first time really working ahead not counting a few odd scenes and plot webs. The strangest type of procrastination…
And of course, review please!