Chapter Twenty-Two
Recklessness
Potions was cancelled for the rest of the week. The aurors returned during breakfast, but this was a different set of aurors and they weren't so forceful. They spoke first to Madam Pomfrey and then Albus Dumbledore before ordering both Pomfrey and Dumbledore to accompany them. No one knew why those two had been chosen or what was under discussion. Everyone just assumed that they were talking about Snape. Harry picked at his breakfast. Dean still hadn't woken up and Pomfrey forbade him from flying that evening.
Harry glanced up and saw Katie looking him. Her eyes were narrowed with effort and she seemed to be concentrating very, very hard. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, drawing blood. Alicia and Angelina were trying to talk with her, trying to stir her, but Katie didn't stir. She just stared at Harry. She knew. He knew. He had to learn to be the best that he could be. He had to learn how to constantly channel that instinctual healing so that people like Dean wouldn't suffer from it. Harry stared down at his right hand. The tips of his fingers were still bandaged. There wasn't any pain, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to fix the scars that came from a healing salve mixed with cayenne pepper. Stupid spices.
He looked up again. Sarah Bathsheba was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Adrianna Sampson. She'd probably hate him for this… Harry got up – by now, most of the people he normally ate with were used to him popping up and down without saying anything – and went over to the Ravenclaw table. Neither Sarah nor Adrianna seemed to notice him until he coughed. "Uh, Sarah?"
She looked up at him, her eyes flashing momentarily to his right hand before returning to his face. "What's up, big Harry?"
"I have to quit the play."
"No," Sarah said, firmly enough. She reached for a bread roll.
"I have—" He couldn't keep talking once Sarah jammed the roll in his mouth and pointed a finger at him, daring him to say a word.
"Nu-huh," Sarah snorted. "You only have to eat that roll and scurry back to your book bag and be sure and come to play rehearsal on Saturday. No one is quitting."
Harry pulled the roll out of his mouth and managed to say, "But—"
Sarah stuffed the roll back on his mouth, twisting his fingers in order to do so. Harry gave up. He rolled his eyes at the seventh year and headed back to the Gryffindor table. Hermione was reading another Annaline Addison article. Little Sarah was studying her charms text. Tracey was arguing with Anthony. Nat Shacklebolt and Artemis Ingraham were sitting across from Sarah, trying to get her to look up from her studying which the Gryffindor did after some prompting. Neville and Theo were aristocratically debating something. There were others scattered around, and Harry knew all of them, he just didn't bother cataloging who was who and who talked with who as he sat down next to Sarah.
"Hey, Harry," Nat started, instantly, "you've got to convince Sarah to come study with us today; she says she's going to spend her Potion's period up in the Gryffindor tower."
"They want to meet in a classroom and do something, like play games," Sarah said, sounding very unsure of herself. "Just second year Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs."
"And not all of them," Artemis clarified, "although if you want to come—"
"I don't want to be an exception," Harry said, smiling. "You should go, Sarah. It'll be fun."
"Okay," Sarah said, looking from Harry to Artemis and Nat.
Harry finished eating the roll that big Sarah and stuffed in his mouth and pulled out The Return of the King from his bag beside Sarah's feet. He glanced at the staff table; everyone was there but Trelawney, Binns, and Remus. Why was—oh, right. Harry buried his nose in his book, but not before seeing Vicky Frobisher sitting along (at the Hufflepuff table, for some reason). No… he didn't… he really, really didn't… Harry put his book back in his bag and headed over to sit down next to Vicky. She looked utterly dejected. "Hey," Harry said, plopping down next to her, "you okay?"
"I'm fine," Vicky said. Her stressing of the word was a little worrisome. "Professor Lupin isn't," she continued, her voice hissing through clenched teeth.
"What do you mean?" Harry had a very real suspicion that he knew exactly what she was talking about. The full moon was that night.
Vicky bit into a sausage and chewed heavily, not answering.
"Victoria…"
"Fine," she grumbled, swallowing her mouthful. "I'm only allowed to see my dad for half of the year. Half of the year, all because of some ministerial decree about werewolves and kids." Oh, Harry thought, wondering if it was obvious or if he was just daft. "Half a year," Vicky continued, "I can't see him in the week before or the week after a full moon. So why is it that our professor is ill on the full moon? That can't be a coincidence!"
There was no one close enough to hear her rant. Harry stared at her with no clue what to say. The girl was the mad. No, Vicky was beyond mad. He tried to put himself in her situation but really couldn't. She obviously loved her dad, who was obviously a werewolf, but what would make her mad at their professor? Was it because she'd seen him in the week leading up to a full moon and she didn't get that chance with her dad? Or something else? "I don't know, Vicky," Harry said, truthfully. He really would have to ask Aurora how he should this situation later.
"I could see my dad longer if he had access to the wolfsbane potion," Vicky pouted, biting down on her sausage again.
Harry immediately resolved to ask Remus what the wolfsbane potion was, how accessible it was, and how he could get it Vicky's dad. But… Hermione was looking fit to kill again back at the Gryffindor table. He'd better make sure that Tracey didn't accentuate whatever was bugging his friend. Gah. He really wished for once that he didn't care so much about his friends' feelings and everything. It was very, very frustrating to be constantly wanted to appease and comfort and protect and… stop whining, Harry ordered himself. He loved his life. He loved his friends. He'd never want to stop protecting them. "What's your dad's name?" Harry asked, somewhat absent-mindedly.
"Herman Frobisher," Vicky finished her sausage and stood. "I'm heading back to the common room." She left.
Harry darted his way back to the middle of the Gryffindor table and slid back into his seat between Hermione and Sarah. Hermione was stewing. As soon as he sat down, Hermione slapped the latest Addison article in front of his nose. "Do you know how behind wizard society is of muggle society? In a poll that Addison took of purebloods and up, less than a forth of them knew that normal people had been to the moon!"
Tracey and the other students had all stopped their conversation and were watching Harry, as if wondering what his reaction would be. "Do you know, Hermione," Harry said, evenly, "the percentage of muggles that know that wizards exist?" She opened her mouth. Her face turned red. Harry could see she wanted to scream at him. "It's not bad, Hermione. Sure, it would be great if a greater understanding was fostered between magic and non-magic, but this inexperience with each other isn't all that detrimental! Hermione, when did muggles make it to the moon?"
"1969—"
"Neville," Harry barreled on, before Hermione could interrupt his speech, "when did wizards make it to the moon?"
"1493," He said, rather confused. "It was a Native American shaman or something like that. He went because he was scared and curious and then came back and wrote a book about it."
"1493?" Hermione screeched, incredulous.
The purebloods and higher looked at her, all utterly confused.
Harry started laughing. "Look, Hermione, you're looking at things from a muggleborn's point of view, and there's nothing wrong with that. Neville and Tracey and Anthony here are looking at things with a pureblood point of view. And there's nothing wrong with that either! It's okay to be aloof from muggles! We live in two totally different societies."
"But that's Slytherin talk!" Hermione said. The words were already out of her mouth before she realized what she said and tried to choke back the words. "I'm sor—" It wasn't Tracey or Theo or the nearby Slytherins that were offended.
Harry stood, slowly, and stared down at his longest, closest friend. "No. It's not. Haven't you gotten over that stupid bias yet? Can't everyone just get over themselves?" He didn't want to be here right now. He wanted to be in the library or Aurora's office or somewhere that wasn't crowded and had eyes watching him. He didn't like the eyes. He didn't like how the eyes questioned and condemned and praised and assumed and… how each pair of eyes represented an actual person. "It's times like this, Hermione," Harry's voice was deadly quite, "and only times like this – when people give into a bias that only compounds the problem that they're trying to rail against – that I wished I'd never come into this society. Because you're right. We're a messed up society. But magic and its culture is a whole lot better than most of the rest of it out there." He grabbed his book bag and stomped away.
"Harry, that was mean," Sarah said, to his back.
"He's right," Hermione's rebuttal came, quickly after what Sarah said. "He's right and I was… incorrect." She hated to admit that she was wrong.
Harry kept walking. He'd hurt his friend. His friend had admitted that she was wrong. Hermione never did that! Harry didn't stop walking until he reached Professor Babbling's office. The teacher wasn't there, but the hallway was thankfully empty. Harry slid down to the floor and buried himself in his language textbook, because when he thought about the words and societies of cultures long past or unswervingly foreign, he didn't have to worry about his own problems. Part of him wished Tonks was around; he wanted to be able to master all that magic that he could do but he couldn't do. It didn't make any sense. Harry raised his hand in front of him face and focused on trying to change the lengths of his fingers. It didn't work! He'd taken the bandages off his fingers; the tips of three of his right hand fingers had fascinating red scars on them. He'd study those later.
He could remember the feeling of the magic coursing through him whenever he tried to change around Tonks. He could picture that clearly; he could feel it clearly; but he couldn't channel it! It was a spell he couldn't master. A potion he couldn't grasp. It was utterly infuriating! He didn't want to be limited like this. He wanted to learn. He wanted to excel. He wanted to be able to repel a dementor. Harry looked down at his watch; there was a good half an hour before his first class of the day. The boy pushed himself up off the floor and sprinted for the grounds of the castle. His feet carried him over the quickest route to the edge of castle grounds, where he knew there would be a dementor. It was a gray day; drab and dark, with a few rain drops sprinkling over the quickly freezing November earth. It was cold, yes, but Harry didn't stop to think about that. He reached the edge of the grounds.
There was only one dementor that floated nearby, and that dementor glided towards Harry almost instantly. Harry pointed his wand at the beast. He could hear his mother screaming his mind. He could clearly see his Aunt and Uncle loaming over him, with frying pan and belt. He could clearly see the broken, beaten bodies of his friends. "Expecto patronum!" Harry shrieked, focusing on the first time he rode a broom and how fabulous it felt to fly. A sliver of gray mist game from his wand, but it dissipated, almost immediately. "Expecto patronum!" Harry cried again, letting the joy of flight wash over him and combat the dark, horrifying thoughts. Orion didn't come… It didn't work. It still didn't work!
"Expecto patronum!" This time, Harry thought about his wand and the power he'd felt when he first touched it. Hermione had yet to name the majestic phoenix. Harry had taken to calling it Bob as he waited for her to choose a name. There was another burst of silver mist, slightly stronger this time, but the dementor rolled straight through it. It reached out a scaly, skeletal hand, and touched Harry on the shoulder.
His mother's screams got louder. The frying pan struck. The belt cracked. Quirrell died. He fell. Ginny; beaten, broken, so close to death. Hermione, petrified. Everything… it scared him.
Harry collapsed in an unconscious heap.
o.o.o.o.o.o
Harry didn't show for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione wasn't particularly worried; the Headmaster was covering for Lupin, and she knew that Professor Sinistra had been actively trying to keep Harry away from the Headmaster. It was a fascinating lecture; Dumbledore was a great teacher.
Harry didn't show for Arithmancy. Hermione and Seamus panicked. He hadn't been in DADA, and Harry wouldn't miss Runes unless he was forced to… And it didn't help that out the window, they could see Hedwig flapping about, rather frenetically. When Arithmancy ended, Pavarti, Hermione and Seamus took off running for the Astronomy Tower. The three students found Aurora Sinistra at about the same time that Hedwig did. After that, it took a good few minutes before Aurora managed to break through the chatter, learn what was going on, and send Hermione and Seamus on to Transfiguration. Pavarti would be the fastest runner if something needed to be fetched. Hedwig was a crazy bird, constantly veering towards the window like she wanted to be followed. It gave Aurora the horrible idea that Harry had gone outside.
She and Pavarti followed Hedwig out of the castle and towards the edge of the grounds. Harry wouldn't have. He knew how the dementors affected him. He wouldn't have been so reckless! There weren't any dementors around. Sinistra was grateful for that; her patronus charm was never really strong enough to repel one. And, sure enough, Hedwig alit on the ground by the still form of her little charge. In seconds, Aurora had sent Pavarti to go get Madam Pomfrey and the girl took off like a rocket. Harry was alive, Aurora managed to assess, but he was cold; so, so cold. Aurora cast a few broadband warming charms, but nothing on Harry himself. She cast her patronus, but it only hovered around in a dull mist as she worked. She conjured a blanket and cast a warming charm on that, before rolling Harry onto it so he wouldn't touch the ground. He'd only been out of the hospital wing for a couple of hours! What had caused him to be this reckless?!
Hedwig hooted softly. She combed her beak through Harry's hair. The owl truly was his familiar, Aurora decided, which only gave credence to her having the knowledge to condemn Albus for the memory charm. Which scared her. It scared her a lot. It took nearly ten minutes before Pavarti and Poppy reached the edge of the grounds. There had been no change in Harry.
Poppy didn't say anything, but Aurora could tell she was terrified over the cold little bundle of Harry Potter. The mediwitch wrapped Harry up in the blanket, cast her own warming charms, and headed back for the castle. Aurora – reluctantly – knew that Poppy could do her job and she had to do her job. She escorted Pavarti to her Transfiguration classroom. While the class was busy, she pulled Minerva out of the classroom and informed her about Harry's location. The Transfiguration teacher paled, bit her lip, and seemed to quiver for a long moment before regaining control of herself and returning to her classroom to assuage the fears of her anxious Gryffindors. Dean was still in the hospital wing and Harry hadn't been around all morning, from their perspectives. Hermione had been frantic…
Aurora headed back for the hospital wing, half hoping that Poppy hadn't succeeded in waking Harry up yet. She didn't want to deal with him at the moment. She didn't want to comfort or scold or whatever he'd need. She didn't want to be the guardian when it came to things like this. But when she stepped into the infirmary antechamber, she could already hear Poppy and Harry fighting, with Dean interjecting a few comments here or there. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. Harry was sitting on the bed, his arms crossed, glaring at the mediwitch who was busy reprimanding him for going anywhere near the dementors without adequate protection. Harry just looked… resentful. She'd never seen him look so resentful.
"Oh good," Harry noticed her first, "can you please tell Madam Pomfrey that I'm fine! I'm missing classes!"
"Why'd you go outside?" Aurora asked, not saying yay or nay.
"I needed the patronus charm to work," Harry said, quietly. She sat at his side and waited for him to explain further. "Everything I try, everything I can do around Tonks, or around Katie, or even sometimes not around Katie, I need to control that. I need to be able to handle this stuff! And if I can't use a patronus charm against an actual dementor, what good is it to be able to cast multiple ones! It's all rubbish if I can't fight back a dementor."
"That doesn't mean you go looking for one!"
"I need practice!"
"You need to be a student, a normal student!"
"I'm not normal!" Harry screeched. "I'll never be normal. I don't have magic!" Neither Dean nor Poppy had heard this before; they both inhaled and stared at the astronomy teacher and her charge. "And I need to learn how to control this magic that I do… leech… from other people! I need to!"
"Yes," Aurora said, her jaw narrowing, "under a controlled environment. You can't go near the dementors, Harry!"
"Then let me learn!" Harry shouted. "Let me help people!"
"You were so reckless today," Aurora said, her voice raised, just slightly. "You were stupid."
"I'm a Gryffindor," Harry spat.
"That doesn't define you! Harry, you're losing sight of goal of not defining who you are by what house you're in!"
Harry stewed. "I want to go to class."
"You can go to charms," Aurora replied, waspishly, "and if you magically survive that, you won't have to be confined to the infirmary for a week. Harry, you're still stupid. Poppy is a much better judge of your capabilities to handle magic and learning then you'll be for a long time yet. Listen to her."
"But—"
"Listen." Aurora commanded, raising her voice just a little higher.
The boy slouched back on the bed, his green eyes dancing with anger and restless energy. "Then I want my books."
"Where's your bag?"
"Probably in the Runes hallway," Harry said, shrugging.
"If I get it for you, will you stay in the hospital wing until Madam Pomfrey releases you?"
He bit his lip and shrugged again. "Yeah."
"Good." Aurora left, stomping from the infirmary.
Harry and Poppy could see the anger rolling off her in barely controlled waves, but Dean didn't seem to notice. The injured Gryffindor grinned at his roommate. "There's some downsides to having a parent, eh Harry?"
Harry shrugged again. Poppy handed him a glass vial with a potion in it; Harry downed it instantly, even if he did so in a rebellious manner. He did not want to be controlled. He wanted to be free. He listened to Dean chat at him for a few moments, all the while waiting for Aurora to get back with his books. He currently was reading Able's Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, Katie's Complex Brewing for the Competent Student, and Mary's very unused copy of Defensive Magic: Protect Yourself and Others. They were all in his book bag, along with Grade 3, his language text, and his Arithmany and Potions textbooks. If it weren't for Snape, Harry would probably have loved Potions. There were a lot of books once you started reading the textbooks from students in other years; he'd have to get Sarah and the others to teach him what Lupin was teaching them. His beginning DADA teachers were worthless.
"Harry," he vaguely heard Dean say, "What are you doing?"
"Plotting," Harry replied, shifted his position into something more comfortable.
"Oh. Plotting what?"
"My eventual takeover of the world.
"…Harry…?"
"Dean, it's a joke."
Dean sniggered slightly. "Can I be your minion?"
"Sure."
"Awesome."
"Awesome." Harry parroted Dean's word back at him, not really sure of how to respond. It was times like these that he really, really, really didn't understand other people.