Chapter 10: Miscellania
Tonks was the metamorphmagus tutor Dumbledore had promised him weeks ago. She put Harry through his paces, and shrugged when he fell below her expectations.
He felt comfortable lengthening his hair and controlling its shape, though she told him he was slow. Color was harder. She changed her hair from pink to purple to black and back to pink in just a few seconds, but it took five minutes for Harry to get his hair mostly red, and black hairs still ran through it, and the red wasn't the same red all over.
She tried him on eyes, and the only part he changed the color of was the part that was supposed to be white. She tried him on changing skin tone, and he got freckles on the end of his nose.
Tonks said, "Why'd you practice so little? Most metamorphmagi get a kick from it."
"I was basically muggle-born, so I had to keep it secret." Uncle Vernon had caught him at it once and that hadn't been good.
"You're at Hogwarts now, so play. Once you're good with color, we'll work on form. It's not just disguise. There's a lot of fun to be had." She grew cat ears to demonstrate.
Harry grinned, and grew lion ears.
Tonks dropped her quill. "You said you haven't experimented much."
"Animals are easier, and this is useful for hearing."
Tonks said, "It shouldn't be. It should just be like cupping your hands around your ears."
Harry said, "That's what I meant. I was wondering if you really could learn to hear like a lion, but no?"
"Practically no. Function changes only insofar as form changes. That's a law of metamorphmagery. That's why it sounds posh. In order to hear like a lion, you'd have to have a complete understanding of a lion's hearing, and visualize all the little itty bitty bits inside."
"Can metamorphmagi who are also animagi change in animal form?"
"Try it," said Tonks.
He turned into a lion and looked into the mirror. Oliver Wood had said his mane looked like a bad haircut, but that had been kind. His mane looked like the scraggly bank of brown pubic hair sprouting under Neville's underwear.
The mane was easier to grow out than his own hair had been, and he turned it the deep reddish-gold of the lion on Gryffindor banners.
He saw her expression in the mirror.
Tonks said, "Kid. I told you to try so you'd find out yourself. Only the original body is plastic. What you just did is impossible. She grinned like he was the funnest toy she'd found in years and said, "What the hell are you?"
Harry turned into himself. He'd been glib enough to cover up for the comment about using the lion ears to hear, and he'd been so relieved he'd let another secret fall out of his pocket. But as always, it was nice to see the surprise when a secret hit the ground.
"I'm Harry Potter."
#
#
He told the real Hermione about it on the way to detention, and she told him she'd signed up for dagarary club because of what Snape had said about being slow.
A house-elf appeared in the passage, and Harry jumped.
For three reasons. First, the way it'd appeared out of nowhere, with a flash and a bang. Second, he'd never seen one in the corridors before. Third, he'd never seen a house-elf in nice black slacks and a black button shirt, a gold hoop in its ear.
"Mistress Orphiel will see you now," said the house-elf.
Hermione said, "We have detention."
"With the Headmaster or your Head of House?"
"No," said Harry. "Professor Snape."
"Then Mistress Orphiel will see you now."
The house-elf walked. They followed.
Hermione said, "Didn't you just apparate? It's impossible for wizards to apparate in Hogwarts." That had been talked about in the common room during the Sirius situation.
"I am not a wizard," said the house-elf, and nothing else till they reached Professor Orphiel's office.
Harry stuck his head in the door and said, "We have a detention with Professor Snape. If we're la-"
Professor Orphiel said, "Consider your detentions canceled for the week. You'll be with me. I'll send Severus a note."
The house-elf cleared his throat, Professor Orphiel said, "Do as you like," and the house-elf disapparated.
"Come in. Sit."
The Professor sat at her desk, a short sofa before it. Smoke rose from a censer, smelling of old books, concrete, cut grass and a goose down pillow like Harry slept on every night in the dorms. Harry relaxed, the scent, redolent of all his safe place, easing the tension in his back.
"That's a strange house-elf," said Hermione.
"Ever since young Albus became Headmaster, Hogwarts has had a standing policy that any house-elf who asks to be freed would be freed. Cedarknot asked. I employ him now."
"Young Albus?" said Harry.
Professor Orphiel said, "I taught the Headmaster charms when he was boy. However great and grey-haired he's become, he was still once a trying boy whose bottom I beat with a paddle."
Even as relaxed at the scent had made him, Harry tensed.
Professor Orphiel said, "I do prefer the modern methods of discipline. I helped set them in place."
Hermione said, "You taught Charms? You teach potions now."
"I have taught every core class at this school, and no few of the electives. I've even served as school counselor, but enough. Sit."
Harry sat, wedging himself against the arm of the sofa so Hermione had space.
Professor Orphiel asked about their favorite classes, what they thought of the school, asked what they smelled from the censer (Hermione smelled cinnamon cookies in the oven and old books) and asked Hermione what riding a lion was like.
"We don't talk about that," Hermione said.
Professor Orphiel laughed. "Do something unusual once, it's scandalous. Do it twice, and you're cracked. Do it a hundred times, it's just who you are and no one thinks twice."
Hermione said, "I'm not riding Harry to class every morning."
"Think about whether that's what I meant. But first, think of the troll."
At the word, Harry shivered.
Professor Orphiel said, "Starting at shadows. Chills run down your spine whenever the word 'troll' is said. When you're in a room by yourself, you feel it behind you. You look, it isn't there. A minute later you look again, no matter how stupid you know it is."
Harry and Hermione nodded.
"Close your eyes, and imagine that night."
How big it had been, its vast teeth, somewhat like a human's, somewhat like a pig's, it had tried to kill him, he'd thought it might.
Professor Orphiel said, "You see a single image. The worst moment of it all."
The troll distorted, strangely lit, as it had looked as he transformed to lion, his eyes halfway in between.
"Pati reveles." said Professor Orphiel.
A death of image, a sensation of grabbing a hundred different hand holds with a hundred different arms, tracking how the troll was spread through his head like butter over bread, filling the cranny that was the sense of darkness, the fear of danger, the idea of dying, a memory of stubbing his toe, the memory of the time Uncle Vernon had spanked him very hard, but then Uncle Vernon's hand had swelled purple, and Uncle Vernon had become scared and angry, and Harry hadn't understood what was happening, but he'd understood that the next time, no matter what, Uncle Vernon's hand couldn't swell, and it hadn't, but Uncle Vernon hadn't ever spanked him again either.
The troll had gotten into all of it, and it didn't belong.
Professor Orphiel said, "Find every place where the memory is that it shouldn't be. Gather them to your chest like laundry warm from the dryer."
Bullies, and loud noises. Clubs. Cutting with his lion claws. The dungeon where it had happened, which he hadn't been to since. Footsteps in the dark. The smell of latrines and bad cheese. Avoiding parties—yes, he'd become afraid of avoiding parties. October 31st.
Professor Orphiel said, "It's gathered into a lump at the front of your mind."
Like a rock pressing against his skull.
"Pati Meue," said Professor Orphiel.
Pressure at the edge of his eyes. Moisture on his cheeks. Not tears, tears didn't stick on your hands like something you needed a napkin for. They weren't black like motor oil and yellow like the filling of lemon meringue pie or snot when he was sick, and they didn't smell like sweat and piss.
Running out Hermione's eyes and down her cheeks, the very same.
Professor Orphiel gave them warm, wet towels to wipe their faces with.
Professor Orphiel said, "You'll find you're better. You'll be in the dark, you'll hear a strange sound, you'll fumble for the fear and it won't be there. Like checking your wrist for the time when you've left your watch at home."
As Orphiel spoke, Harry realized that the bob to his head, the shiftiness to his eyes, the ever alertness, the readiness to view the harmless as dangerous, wasn't there anymore.
"The troll remains a frightening memory, as it should, but we drain the excess. And that was quite enough for one day. Look at the clock. This took longer than you thought. You must get to bed, and I must check on Quirinus. We'll resume tomorrow, and start on dementors."
#
#
The week passed. Harry had one more session with Tonks and Hagrid both. They had sessions with Professor Orphiel every night, and they prepped for the End of Term Exams.
The Fall Term Exams weren't nearly as big of a deal as the End of Year Exams, but that didn't stop Hermione from re-reading her books and lecture notes with a speed Harry could match unless he didn't worry about comprehension. Then she went to the practice room and repeated and repeated spells she'd long mastered.
"You know you're going to be in first anyway," said Harry.
"I'm not very fast at casting."
"And they already told us that won't be part of the scoring unless we're excessively slow, and you're not."
Hermione said, "They say speed won't be part of the scoring, but if one student does it nice and promptly, and the next needs a moment, that'll change the scoring."
Harry did his own studying. First place on the first-year List belonged to Hermione, but anything less than second for Harry would be embarrassing. It shouldn't be hard. He didn't see many other students studying hard. The school was too busy buzzing with anticipation for the year's first Quidditch match, which had been postponed due to the Sirius Black situation. Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. It would be on Saturday, and half of magical Britain, supposedly, would come in through Hogsmeade.
Harry made an effort not to think of it. The detentions with Snape resumed on Saturday, and the Saturday detention was scheduled at the same time as the Quidditch match. He had asked Snape if he wouldn't like to re-schedule it, and Snape had said no, so he'd asked Professor McGonagall to use her authority as Head of House, and she'd said that rescheduling a detention so students could watch a Quidditch match missed the point of detention.
But there was something to look forward to on Saturday. Owing to a scheduling conflict with Professor Orphiel's session, he and Hermione had missed the first meeting for new members of the dagarary club, but early Saturday morning they'd have 'half a foolabout,' and Harry wasn't sure that was except he'd get to flash people.
#
#
When Harry woke early Saturday, snowflakes were falling. He put on his snow clothes, figuring he could take them off if the meeting was moved inside. A mitten on his offhand, and a fingerless glove on his wand hand.
He came down the stairs into the common room with Ben and Dean, who'd also joined the club, and met up with Hermione, who was waiting with Tatiana Crush, Fay Dunbar and Fei-Fei Kim.
A little under thirty Gryffindors gathered in the common room, weighted toward younger students. Older students tended to drop the club for more practical ones, and seventh years tended to drop clubs entirely.
But Alice Bell, who, in addition to being a seventh-year Prefect, was in three different clubs, led them out.
Dawn had started at some distant horizon, but between the clouds and the light snow Harry couldn't tell which one. Professor Pratchett put a very bright light up a hundred feet in the air, illuminating a field that didn't look like it normally did, even aside from the thin but thickening layer of snow. The ground was strewn with logs and barrels. There were several muggle cars, three cut in half, and a large playset at each end.
Professors Quirrell and Pratchett were there, along with Lupin, Shelby, and a TA Harry didn't recognize. And near on to a hundred Hogwarts students.
The club officers introduced themselves, said there would be a short scrimmage to greet the new members, and explained the rules.
Purple vs orange, which made sense since neither was a house color. Hermione was given two orange armbands, one for each arm, and Harry was given to purple armbands. He secreted himself behind half of a car, keeping his wand-hand warm in a pocket as he waited.
The whistle blew. Harry poked his head out and was flashed by a fifth-year.
The scrimmage took twenty minutes, but all the first-years were flashed in hardly five, which Harry guessed was the point of it.
They ran the scrimmage again, same teams, and the second time Harry hid behind a log that was near another log and coordinated with Tatiana Crush and an older Gryffindor named Keith Bonk. They waited, and flashed a third-year Gryffindor who went past too recklessly, and at Bonk's direction attacked an even older student, who blocked, and flashed them both, but was flashed from behind by Bonk.
With the snow falling more heavily, the Club officers announced the second scrimmage was the last, and all the logs, cars and playsets disappeared into the earth. Heads were counted, Harry rejoined Hermione, and they walked to the main set of courts, which weren't getting snowed on at all despite being outside. There wasn't any invisible dome he could make out, but all the weather managed to happen outside the courts, which answered the question of whether the snow would bother the Quidditch match; a bunch of wizards wouldn't let it.
Harry ate two biscuits. It was still hours before he normally had breakfast on a Saturday, but he usually spent those hours sleeping, not running through the snow.
Shelby and Lupin gave a fast and furious display on the court that had bleacher seating, putting so much curve into some of their attacks that it was occasionally hard to tell whose attack was whose.
Shelby won 8-6. Then the seventh and six years had a mini-tournament. Then it was the fifth and fourth years' turn.
While that was happening, Malfoy, who Harry hadn't realized was in the club, but of course he would be, told Tatiana that he was arranging extensive Christmas presents for Professor Snape, his Head of House, so if she could just write a Christmas wish and signature into his little black notebook, Malfoy would get it transferred to the commemorative silver plate destined for Professor Snape, along with the best wishes of all the other first-years.
When Malfoy asked Harry, Harry said, "I did you a big favor once already-the broomstick lesson, remember-and you haven't exactly acted like you owe me since."
Malfoy said, "The one I fight with is Ron. Sure, I make fun of Hermione riding you," Malfoy laughed, "but it's not my fault that's irresistible. Now, do you want to be the only first-year who doesn't wish Professor Snape a Merry Christmas?"
Harry ransacked his brain for something nice to say, and finally wrote
Thank you for always pushing me,
Merry Christmas.
"Sign," said Malfoy, so Harry signed.
Hermione wrote something similar.
The first-years' tournament was played on needle courts, which Harry hadn't done before. 79 feet, just a tad longer than a muggle tennis court, but narrow, with very small circles you couldn't take a full step in. It made it more about rate and rotating colors. Blocks were less important and counters more, and flashing someone off the draw just wasn't going to happen across that much distance.
Harry surprised himself by flashing a Ravenclaw girl off the draw, (she didn't position her blocks right, then panicked and used a blue block instead of red) and moved easily through pool play, (it was just first to five, win by two) and he watched Hermione fall in the quarters to a Hufflepuff boy whose name he couldn't remember, and Harry beat the Hufflepuff 5-3
Harry faced Malfoy in the final.
The white-haired Slytherin had pinged through the draw somehow, but with more trouble than Harry had, looking sluggish and slow, circles under his eyes.
Harry's blue tore through Malfoy's red and struck a green farther down, which was extinguished a beat later by Harry's red. Malfoy elected to counter with blue instead of blocking, and missed.
1-0, Harry.
2-0, Harry, in a nearly identical point.
Malfoy blocked, Harry put up flashes at a higher rate, and it was 3-0, Harry.
The fourth point, Malfoy didn't notice the green Harry slipped behind a red, and it was 4-0, Harry. He wondered how Malfoy had made it through the draw playing so badly. Hermione and the Hufflepuff boy both would've won.
Malfoy took a moment, stepped outside his circle, took the mitten off his off hand, and stuck that hand in his front pocket, taking a pose Harry would've thought was silly even for someone who wasn't down quadruple championship point.
The court beeped, and Malfoy's aim on his red was off. Except it was off enough that when it clipped Harry's red, Harry's red was knocked off target, and Malfoy's was knocked on target.
4-1. Harry had seen older students do that, but Malfoy must've done it by accident.
Except Malfoy did it again. 4-2.
The older students, who'd been watching the first-year tournament with a mixture of laughter and benign inattention, focused in.
Malfoy got a blue to make a fancy double curve. 4-3. Harry took a moment, but when he came back, Malfoy beat him with sheer rate. 4-4.
The ninth point was tighter, Harry depending less on his wand for defense than on his ability to bob and weave, and it seemed he might win before Malfoy's green attack glanced off the bottom of Harry's green block and hit Harry.
4-5, Malfoy, and Harry was down match point.
It was a bad point. Harry pointed his wand straight forward, sent a continuous stream of straight attacks, and was hit almost immediately by a green counter. 4-6, Malfoy's win. The Slytherins put up a cheer.
Malfoy dropped his pose and shook Harry's hand at the center of the court. "Good match, Potter."
Harry congratulated Malfoy, trying to smile.
Shelby said, "Malfoy. That's the best I've seen you play."
Malfoy accepted the praise from her and others, saying he'd been working on advanced movies but couldn't pull them off consistently.
The meeting ended with promises that the next foolabout would be longer, and as it broke up, a couple of older girls asked Hermione whether she'd ride her boyfriend to breakfast.
Hermione fumed. He thought she might use some real foul language, like "Shut up," or "darn it," but instead she grabbed Harry arm and dragged Harry over to the other first-year Gryffindor girls, none of whom he spoke to often.
Hermione said, "Turn into a lion."
"Huh?"
Hermione said, "Do it a hundred times, and it's just who you are. Harry, turn into a lion." She leaned in close and whispered, "Bigger than normal. With the nice mane."
"I don't think-"
"Trust me. We can end this right here. I think."
Harry turned into a lion with a nice mane. Students turned to look, pointing him out to others, a halt in the exodus.
Hermione said, "Fei-Fei, would you like to ride a lion?"
"I, um..."
"It's better than riding a pony, I swear. Get on." She cast the Feather-light Charm on Fei-Fei, pushed her half-unwillingly onto Harry's back, and Fei-Fei took tight hold of his mane, digging her knees into his ribs.
Hermione whispered in his ear, "Take her for a ride. It has to look fun."
Harry adjusted his ribs so she'd get a better hold, moved a little fat onto his back to pad his spine, and they took off, crashing through a snow bank, Fei-Fei pulling on the mane and shrieking. They jumped across a long depression, Harry aiming for the speed where Fei-Fei's shrieks were more about fun than fear, reassuring himself that between the snow and the Feather-light Charm, she wouldn't be hurt even if she fell. Fei-Fei laughed and yelped on his back, the crowd of students watching.
He trotted back to Hermione, Fei-Fei got off, red-faced and smiling, and Hermione asked Fay Dunbar if she'd like to try.
Fay hesitated, then nodded, and Hermione cast the Feather-light charm on her.
Alice Bell said, "Hey! First-year! No using spells without proper supervision."
Hermione said, "I'm sorry, I wanted to make sure it's safe."
Alice picked up Fay by the elbow like she was a paperback book. "You did a good job of it, and it's not even a first-year spell. Alright, I'll supervise."
Fay got on Harry's back and he romped around the snow while Fay whooped, and Harry romped back over. Tatiana took a turn, then Alice pulled rank and rode Harry side-saddle before flipping around, legs around his back, casting a couple spells on herself, and saying "Full speed."
Harry went to what he thought a real lion's full speed would be, though the Nemean lion had another couple gears, and Alice laughed and hung on as Harry cleared thirty feet in one jump.
Ben took a turn, then an older Ravenclaw boy, an older Hufflepuff girl, the Hufflepuff boy he'd beat in the semis, and Eloise Midgen was the first early riser who wasn't in dagarary club to wander over from making snow angels and request a ride.
The number of students asking for rides grew more quickly than the number of students he'd given rides to, and eventually Harry turned back into himself, claiming hunger and exhaustion.
On the way to the Great Hall, Harry said, "How does it feel to no longer be, among your many titles, 'the girl who rode Harry Potter?'"
"It might be sad if I weren't now 'the girl who gets to ride a lion almost whenever she wants.' People are going to ask you-oh gosh, people are going to bug you for rides aren't they?"
Harry said, "Someone will approach me with a saddle. But earnestly, probably. It'll be better."
Hermione spoke quickly. "I wasn't even thinking about you. This'll end the other line of teasing, but now you're 'the boy who turns into a lion and gives people rides,' and that might be worse."
"It's fine. You know how much I love having to show off."
#
#
After lunch, detention. The dungeon was colder than it had been last time, the dictionary was waiting on the desk, and Snape welcomed them by saying, "You're late."
"We're two minutes early."
"Those who aren't early are late, and two minutes are too few to count. You must be at least five minutes early to not be late. Perhaps I'll hold you five minutes after our time is up. Now write."
They wrote, and after five minutes, Snape said, "I assume you've been too lazy to do your homework."
"Homework?" said Harry.
"From your last detention. Visiting house-elves, and pondering why or whether 'this statement is true' is so much simple than 'this statement is false."
"I visited the house-elves."
"And you haven't thought about the question?"
"I've been busy. You know I've been busy."
"Opening a lion ride service?"
Harry's face turned red as he tried to think of a reply. Snape had heard about that already?
"Giving interviews to the school paper?"
"That was before the detention."
"Reading about yourself in The Daily Prophet."
"I have to know what people are saying about me." Harry's voice was rising. He ignored Hermione's hand on his shoulder.
"Obsessed with image, quick to anger. Familiar, somehow. On top of it, complaining that life's too hard."
"I had tutoring with Hagrid and Tonks, visiting Ron-"
"Tonks?" said Snape.
"Nothing."
Snape said, "Nymphadora Tonks?"
Nymphadora?
"Hufflepuff girl, stayed for an Eighth in Defense Against the Dark Arts, turns her hair different colors, mostly pink. Is that her?"
Harry said nothing.
"I'm going to look inside your head."
Harry readied his occlumency barriers.
A brief scrabbling in his head, and Snape said, with some surprise, "You're attempting occlumency. Very, very badly, but occlumency nonetheless. And you're a metamorphmagus?
Snape looked at the ceiling. "It makes sense. Your father would want to, and your mother would be able to. It does run in the Potter side, through the Blacks, but I doubt you came by it naturally. They selected the trait. It's a wonder you lived among muggles. Most metamorphmagi transform in the crib, wiggling the power around like any other limb."
Harry said nothing. Snape smiled. "Ah, but you didn't start doing it at all till a couple years ago. They probably set it so it wouldn't manifest till you were older. So it could be a secret. Clever, and suited to that paranoid time. But even now, with the war long over, Professor Dumbledore's having you keep it hidden. I assume you think it's a shame you can't show it off?"
"I like having secrets," said Harry, concerned that he didn't feel Snape anymore but Snape was still reading his mind.
"You like spending secrets, rather. The looks you normally have, the eye color, they're natural to you?"
Harry said nothing.
"Beginning occlumens often suppose that anger can block legilimency. It doesn't. Anger doesn't hide, it projects. Granger is more suited to the mental arts. And yes, those looks are your natural looks. You're hardly skilled enough at metamorphmagery to change them. Really, what has Hagrid been doing with you in that hut if you're still so bad at protecting your mind?"
He shut his eyes. Hagrid had talked on and on about being calm. If he could be calm, maybe he could kick Snape out.
Hermione said, "They've been focusing on charismancy. He's very talented at it."
That was true. He could be the greatest charismancer in the world someday. That was true, wasn't it? One of the greatest at least. There weren't many.
As he calmed, he felt the buzz of Snape in his mind.
"As you detect, I retreat. Now write. Aim for the Bs. And I want an answer to that question about truth."
He didn't think Professors were supposed to enter your mind without permission. Hagrid had talked about the rules.
Maybe he could complain to Dumbledore.
Snape said, "Write, or stay longer."
Apple of Discord. Apple of Iduna. Apple of Sodom. Lots of Apples. Aqua vitae.
They did better than before at synchronizing their writing, and when time was up, Snape said, "We can make it a double-session, and get one of those other sessions out of the way."
Hermione shrugged at Harry and said, "I don't have anything pressing to do."
The other option was going out to try and watch the end of the Quidditch match, and he didn't want his first Quidditch match to be one he maybe just caught the end of.
After a restroom break, they resumed, and Snape again asked Harry about using the word true in the liar paradox, and Harry sighed, thought about it, said that 'this lie is true,' was the same as 'this sentence is a lie.'
Snape nodded minimally, and Harry heard students walking through the hall outside. The Quidditch match had ended.
Harry was almost to the Bs when he noticed a long line of spiders crawling along the edge of the floor, stretching from the front of the classroom to the crack under the door. He poked Hermione, pointed, and they watched.
Snape said, "You're not writing."
Hermione said, "Why do spiders flee?"
"A riddle, Granger?"
"Look."
Snape walked to the back of the room, spotted the spiders, and knelt by the wall, watching. Small spiders, large spiders, jumping spiders and web builders. Prey and predator, marching together, making a faint scuttling like rain on dry leaves.
Just louder than the scuttling, barely distinguishable from it, a faint voice said, "...kill..."
The spiders ran, no longer an orderly march, crawling over each other, the line a wave rushing for the crack under the door, Phil rushing so far into Harry's ear that it bothered his hearing.
"Come ... come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear..."
The voice was the taste of biting an apple and finding a razor blade.
"Hermione, listen."
"So hungry, crunchy bits, warm hearts, warm, warm warm."
Snape said, "What do you hear?"
He thought about not telling.
Hermione said, "Do you hear the voice from when Mrs. Norris was killed?"
Snape said, "I'm going to look in your mind again. Don't fight."
That feeling like feathers brushing his mind.
The voice came again, quieter, receding. "Let me kill you... let me eat you... let me..." and it was gone.
Harry said, "You heard it?"
"Through your ears. If you made it up, you don't know that you did." Snape stood in the classroom's center, torn between chasing the sound and going to his desk.
He strode to his desk and snatched away a felt cloth, revealing a crystal ball. Snape stared into it, running his fingers over it, squinting, muttering spells.
"What was it?" said Hermione.
"Nothing you ought to concern yourselves with. Perhaps an old Potter family ghast."
"But-"
"I'll walk you to your dorms. Detention is over."
#
#
The common room was full of excited conversation about Hufflepuff's win, and whether Ravenclaw's apparently weak side would be a three and out this season. Such debates did nothing to improve Harry's mood but did cover his and Hermione's first argument, which they had at a whisper.
It started with a discussion about what the voice might be and whether they had to worry about it, and moved to Harry asking Hermione about Snape having said she was better at mind magic, and Hermione saying Snape had only said that to anger him, and he was the one who'd been doing charismancy before ever getting a lesson in it.
That should've averted an argument, but from there, they got to more about Snape, and Hermione having fetched Snape when Harry had gone after Sirius.
"I shouldn't have gone into the forest, but Hermione, you don't get it. He's my godfather. If he's exonerated, I might not have to go back to the Dursleys."
Hermione said, "Duh. I know. I was the first one to ask whether he'd get custody or not, remember? Look. Running to him like that when he would've found out safely in a few days anyway was a bad idea, but that's not what really bothers me. You told me that if you saw him you wouldn't approach, and would run if he approached. Five minutes later you saw him in the Forbidden Forest, and you went after him like a shot."
"I'll apologize for that if you apologize for getting Snape."
"No, I'm not apologizing, because it was the right choice. He was the first person I could find."
"Wasn't Hagrid closer?"
"Hagrid doesn't have a wand."
"Still, why even go for help? We knew he wasn't going to get hurt me."
"Harry, when the whole world thinks a man is trying to kill you, you don't decide he's totally a safe a few days later because you made up a complicated theory about what really happened and a man you know is a liar confirmed it."
"Pettigrew was under Veritaserum."
"And I know you were listening when the older students talked about there being a hundred ways around that. The man we caught could've been someone Sirius captured, implanted false memories into, and transformed in order to make everyone think he was innocent."
"That doesn't make any sense. Scabbers was with the Weasleys for years."
"That's not the point. You promised me you'd do something, then a moment later you did the opposite."
"Alright. I'm sorry for the running into the forest after telling you I wouldn't."
"Good."
He waited. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"It's your turn to apologize."
"I didn't do anything wrong."
Harry glared and pulled at his hair, bringing a firm protest from Phil. "Let's just forget it."
#
#
The next morning was awkward, but neither of them brought it up and it was swiftly buried beneath homework resuming, Potions homework that had to be made up (every teacher but Snape had voided it), detentions going by, and the whole school getting into gear for Fall exams, taking place the first three days of the week following the coming week.
The Exams came, each class having a mixture of written tests and spell demonstrations (even History of Magic had a few spells, mostly to do with tracking citations and proper care of primary sources) and Harry smiled wider as the exams went by. There were a couple questions he wasn't sure about, a few short essays he looked sideways at, and three spells where he nervously rushed and needed a second try to stick, and he dwelt on those issues, but overall it looked very good. Even his Potions practical went well.
Following the last exam, there was a party in the common room that Harry wasn't sure how to participate in, then two days of fun and games as TAs guzzled coffee and marked tests, culminating in the End of Term Feast and the Posting of the Lists.
The Posting of the Lists was what Harry was really looking forward to. The top 10 students for each year were listed. Number one earned 50 house points. Number two, 45 house points, number 3, 40 House points, and so on, till the tenth place student, who earned 5 house points.
When they were finally Posted, just before the start of the End of Term Feast, Harry ran past those for higher years to the first-year list.
In first place, Hermione Granger. He felt a stab of disappointment at not pulling off the upset, but looked eagerly a line down, expecting to see his own name next to the 2.
Padma Patil.
Harry was sixth.
"Sixth?" said Harry.
Hermione said, "Good job Harry."
"How is it a good job? I'm sixth!"
"Out of 79."
"78, with Ron in the hospital. How am I sixth?"
"I'm sure you were second or third at spells, and would've been better if speed counted. But you probably lost ground on the writtens. Handwriting shouldn't matter, but no one likes to squint, and then, everything else we've done this year counted too, and some of your essays..."
"What about my essays?"
"Some of your essays could be better proofread, and maybe you should make a format first instead of just writing whatever you think of. But Harry, you're sixth. That's really good. You're the only Gryffindor boy on the List."
"I guess." Technically, he was on track to become a prefect in his fifth year.
There weren't scores, but there was one number next to first place, showing the gap between first and second.
The gap between Hermione and Padma Patil was 118 points, and the biggest gap in any of the other years was 43.
Harry said, "How did you win by so much?"
Hermione said, "During the spell demonstrations I showed them some spells we haven't worked on in class yet and I got extra credit."
Harry had done that too. Mostly the spell variations that were in the textbook but that they hadn't gone over in class, but nothing he'd done had been a tenth so impressive as, for example, the incorporeal form of the Patronus Charm.
Harry swallowed his frustration and took a closer look at the Lists. Percy was third among fifth-years. Alice Bell was seventh among seventh-years. It was close, but there were fewer Gryffindors and Slytherins on the Lists than Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
The House known for intelligence and the House known for hard work did well on tests, Harry supposed. What was more galling was that after slacking off all year, skipping out on homework, and getting poor marks on some quizzes Harry had glimpsed, Malfoy had finished ninth among first-years. He must've aced the exams to bump up that high. It heightened the looming feeling, born on the dagarary courts, that Draco Malfoy was getting ahead of him.
Percy clapped them both on the shoulder. "75 points for Gryffindor between the of you. Well done." He directed the next at Hermione alone. "A 118 point gap. Did you get the top score in every class, little Miss Polymagus?"
She steepled her index fingers. "I don't know. Maybe. Herbology and Defense should've been close."
Tatiana and Fei-Fei congratulated her on being first. Then Professor McGonagall swept them both into a hug.
"As your Head of House, congratulations and well done. First and sixth, even with all the distractions. Harry." She squeezed his shoulder. "Your parents would be proud. And Hermione. I'm not sure even Lily Evans Potter ever managed quite as big a lead on second, though she did have Severus Snape to contend with. Fantastic."
McGonagall tightened the hug, released them, and left smiling widely, while Harry felt like sinking into the floor.
He should've asked Professor Quirrell if occlumency counted to for extra in Defense Against the Dark Arts. It ought to. And charismancy should count for extra somewhere. Probably Defense Against the Dark Arts too. He'd used it to help catch a Death Eater after all. And all his transformation abilities should be extra in Transfiguration. Harry said, "We'd be a lot closer if they wouldn't only test us at what you're better at."
Hermione said, "I know you're disappointed, but don't be angry at me for it."
Harry said, "I'm not angry. It just isn't fair. All my best talents are hidden."
"It isn't?" said Hermione. "You're right, it isn't fair. You know what else isn't? No matter how well I do I'm always just 'Harry Potter's best friend.' And when I do too much better than you for that to make sense, they compare me to your mother instead."
Her cheeks were red, her mouth was tight, and that only made him angrier. "What's wrong with that? She was great."
"She was Head Girl. And she did important research. I know. But there are other Head Girls. One every year. Maybe some of it's because she was a muggle-born girl, but a lot's because I'm your friend and she's your mum, and everything I do is somehow part of what you do."
Harry said, "No one ever compares me to her except to say my eyes are the same color."
He hadn't know those words would sound so bitter when they started forming at the front of his mouth. Hermione froze, and it should've been funny that they each hated what the other was jealous of, but it only felt tense and sad.
Fred Weasley said, "Now kiss and make up" and bonked their heads together just hard enough to hurt.
A lot could've been said and a lot would've been said, but Fred Weasley had just bonked their heads together and angst didn't fit.
So Harry sheepishly said sorry, Hermione said it too, and they ate too much at the feast.
#
#
Lacking much else to do, Harry went with the other students to the train depot, gave about fifty hugs goodbye, a few to older students whose names he couldn't quite remember, and watched all his friends but the one who was in the hospital pull away.
He walked back to Hogwarts with Hagrid, who mentioned that three thestrals were missing, and Harry wondered what thestrals were.
:::
The chill continues. Christmas should be fun, and I expect to have a proper cliffhanger for the ending.
Canonically, there weren't (as I recall) End of Fall Term Exams, and there certainly weren't Lists of the 10 students with the best grades in each year, earning House points accordingly.
Canonically, the size of the Hogwarts student body is small, but tends to be whatever suits Rowling in a particular scene. I'm jealous of that sort of ability to draw the reader into a dream, but I decided that each House in each year has about twenty students, which meant I needed to make new students.
Tatiana Crush is a boss name for an extra, like a retail worker driving a Lamborghini, and Fei-Fei is a Chinese name, and Kim is a Korean name, so Fei-Fei Kim probably has an interesting family history.
Canonically, Lily was 21 when she died. But this story needs her and James to have had great accomplishments and making them just one year older made me feel a lot better about that. Physicists and mathematicians often do their best work at young age, so I don't think 22 is toooo much of a stretch.
Maybe the better move would've been to age her another five to ten years, more how she appears in the movies, but ah well. That would've meant I had to significantly age Lupin, Snape and Sirius also, which would've made me wonder about aging Tonks and maybe others.
The first title I thought of for this story was "Harry Potter And The Girl Who Was Better."
I wrote a book called Monstrosity. It's good. You should check it out. If you found yourself in a conflict you didn't understand, would you assume the side you ought to help was the one wearing white?
Is Cedarknot the house-elf going to be an important character? Idk. But there'll be more with house-elves and I wanted to throw another one in the pot.