A/N: I wrote the epilogue today. Eleven more chapters and an epilogue. I'll get them posted soon enough, but it's because I'm done with this story. I needed to end it. I doubt that anyone is going to like the ending, but that's what life is: it doesn't end. It goes on. So, yeah. I need to put the story to sleep, because it's pathetic and it's dragged me down. But there's always future stories, always future ideas. With all the characters in the Hogwarts universe... there's always ideas.
Chapter Twenty-Five
You're Gonna be Popular!
Emma and William spent nearly half their afternoon tucked away with Harry, Hermione and eventually Neville. Able popped in and out, but Cormac stuck around; they ignored him for the most part. Eventually, Emma and Hermione started talking about shopping – of all things. Cormac left, and Neville said he was meeting Sally-Anne, Hannah and Gregory Goyle for some sort of especially advanced Herbology class. That left Harry and William to talk.
And it was odd. Harry liked and trusted Oliver, but the older boy was more of a coach and captain than a friend and mentor. And he really hadn't spent enough time around Eric and, well, Percy was Percy, so he'd never had a real adult mentor. So as the girls chattered about this and that, William and Harry talked about sports about classes about life and, in hushed, whispered voices, about girls.
Harry never got the feeling that William was laughing as the older boy explained a few things about the opposite gender. It was a bit weird, but Harry had been noticing and, urm, thinking and you know, that sort of stuff. It wasn't like he'd really act on it, not yet – he told himself – but curiosity doesn't die, neh?
It was around three o'clock when the two separate conversations actually merged back into one. But that only lasted for about fifteen minutes before Hermione left to go to the library and William asked Emma to leave. Harry was sort of curious…
"Harry," William said, as he stood, awkwardly, in the middle of the room. "I know you were there when, the, you know." He blushed a bright red, nearly a Weasley color. "Anyway, I've been researching marriage laws, 'cause I would like to propose, and it's not like… normal." His confusion both amused and comforted Harry. It really was cool to know that someone like William could struggle in the wizard world just as much as he would. "Poseidon helped a lot, actually."
Harry vaguely recognized the name Poseidon as one of the Slytherin seventh years, but he hadn't actually met the guy.
"I'm a total muggleborn," William said, frowning slightly. "And you know Emma's a nomah. It was different in your dad's case, because we're a patriarchal society, you know." Harry didn't really know, but he let William ramble. "And, well, what Poseidon said was that I'd need a sponsor; someone from a Noble and Ancient House or higher to propose on Mr. MacDonald on my behalf and Poseidon said he'd do it, but he's not the head of his house, so it wouldn't carry nearly enough weight and, well, the Grants and the MacDonalds aren't enemies, but they aren't allies either. Do you think, I mean, would it trouble you, if, um, would you sponsor me?"
Harry had started blinking very rapidly a few seconds ago and hadn't really stopped. The surrealness of this all… "Sure? But, well, I'm not sure what that consists of."
"Me neither," William said, somewhat sheepishly. "Poseidon and Mary will probably know though, so they can help us."
Able burst into the room and completely ignored the somewhat awkward way William and Harry where holding themselves. "Hey, Harry, Eddie wants to call another meeting; apparently Su's group has been meeting twice a week, so he wants to copy them. You okay to join us the Charms wing?"
"Yeah," Harry said. His book bag was hung over the end of the bed, but it was stuffed full of this and that. He pulled out the fiction and two of the personal journals he'd gathered from the various vaults. That left just his lightened textbooks, the language book, and one of the Arthure grimoires. Harry and William shared a bit of an awkward goodbye before Harry left with Able. They nearly got mobbed in the common room. Again. That was when Harry decided that Able Vane would make the perfect bodyguard, because he really was spectacular in warding off all the people that Harry didn't want to talk too.
The walk to the charms wing was quite; neither Able nor Harry talked much, which Harry appreciated. His friend didn't need the near constant chatter or pointless fluff that he'd gotten so used to around Ron and Hermione. It took five minutes to reach the fourth floor education wing, but the Carmichaels and Persephone Grant already had a classroom staked out. Academically, they were a fairly strong group. Harry could pull his weight in DADA, Charms, Astronomy, Runes and in most of the other classes. He and the Carmichaels had any Muggle Studies questions down pat, and Persephone was exceptionally gifted at understanding the human mind. Most Slytherins and the rare Ravenclaw she interacted with had her pegged as a future Undersecretary to the Minister, or perhaps the first female Minister of Magic (not that anyone said such things to her face). They were a good team, Harry had decided, but as teams went, he preferred his Quidditch team much more.
After they worked together – for a few hours – it was Able who managed to convince the two Ravenclaws that dinner was actually a good idea. Nora was the one who convinced Harry he couldn't continue to hide. And so they went down to the Great Hall together. And… well… yeah…
"Partumdeignis not partumetignis, really, Eddie, how can you get them confused?"
Harry didn't know the fourth year spell that they were talking about, so he let the fourth years duke out their latest pronunciation battle. His instinct told him that there was very little difference between the correct pronunciation and the one that Eddie had mistakenly used in their last class… Persephone had detached herself from the group and was walking a few paces ahead of them. Nora and Able were on either side of Eddie, arguing over that spell and Harry trailed just a few steps behind them, not actively listening to their conversation.
That was… until they reached the Great Hall. It was fairly late for a normal dinner, so most everyone had arrived. The four fourth years continued inside as if nothing was amiss. But Harry stopped. Harry stared.
It was a statue.
An actual statue.
And it sparkled.
Um… Harry stared at the full size – a little larger than full size, even – statue of himself. What in the name of Merlin's thrice-blessed, curse-ridden, bejeweled, bloody trousers! Morgana on high, reign down some pittance of sanity! What had happened?! Harry quivered. He didn't… Oh bloody hell…
No one but Paradise noticed when Harry turned from the Great Hall threshold and ran. She excused herself, graciously, and chased after him. An elf named Sal could feel that Harry was unaccompanied, so he too chased after Harry and Paradise. Up four flights of stairs, she chased him, barely managing to stay within sight. She called, but he refused to stop. Finally, the boy ran into what appeared like a dead end. Paradise stopped and stared at her shaking brother. "It's about the statue, isn't it? I told them—"
"It's okay, Paradise," Harry said, still shaking. "I just…" He shrugged and looked around at the corridor around them. It was dimly lit, but not at all dusty. It still had a very disused look about it. Harry pushed open one of the doors, figuring that he might as well keep exploring. They really should make a map of Hogwarts… "I'm not going to dinner, though."
"I wasn't asking you to," Paradise said, pouting. "We're going exploring?"
"If you want," Harry said. The door opened onto a long room with five of the armor statues spaced about a white circle drawn on the floor. All sorts of weapons were propped up against the wall.
"Wicked," Paradise whispered, as she stepped inside and around Harry. She went up to the wall and studied a few of the swords and knifes and staffs.
Sal entered the room behind them. "Tis the armory, Mister Student Potter."
Harry jumped, startled, and stared at the little elf. "Is it normally used?"
"Not at all," Sal twittered. "But it is available to teach students to use arms. Master Headmaster Sir like to forbid students to use this room." The elf squeaked and covered his mouth with a hand.
"Wicked," Paradise said. "Let's, Harry. Let's."
"How does it work?" Harry asked, half to the room, half to the elf. It be cool to learn how to use a sword.
"I don't—" Sal said, bouncing on his heels. "me don't know."
"I wanna learn," Paradise said.
One of the statues creaked, bending at the waist and unbending. A disembodied, rather creepy voice filled the armory. "Which do you want to learn?"
Paradise bounced, eagerly. "I want to learn to use a sword."
The voice laughed, snickering evilly. It didn't feel like it was coming from the stretching statue, but rather the building itself. "Lift one of the swords, girl. Lift it and I'll teach you."
Paradise turned and tried to pull one of the swords from the rack on the wall. She managed to get one free, but couldn't hold it upright. It was too large for her. "Um—"
The statue turned to Harry as the voice continued to snicker. "You?"
"I want to learn," Harry said, shrugging.
"Good. Leave the sword, girl, and both of you, come into the circle."
The statue and the disembodied voice began instructing Harry and Paradise in various stances for hand to hand combat. Both of them were clumsy, with no idea how to obey the voice's commands. Paradise picked it up a bit faster than Harry, but as time dragged on Harry could manage the stances and motions as well. Sal made them stop every once in a while to drink and take a breath. They lost track of the time, eventually, and Sal had to drag them out of the circle to remind them about curfew. Paradise wasn't happy about that, but Sal insisted that it was his responsibility to keep Harry safe.
The elf caved a little, and said if they wanted, he'd let them stay out an extra hour after curfew the following night, if they had a way to guarantee that they wouldn't get caught. He also promised not to tell any of the teachers. Harry and Paradise grinned, thanked the elf, and left for the Gryffindor tower. Most everyone had gone to sleep by the time they returned, but Hermione, Neville, Sarah and Able were up, waiting for them.
All four of them were extremely worried about Harry, especially Able. The older boy apologized and apologized for not thinking. Harry shrugged it off, gave Hermione and Sarah calming hugs and joined the boys in going up to bed. Harry fell into bed, exhausted. Training had been fun… Paradise would be really good sooner or later. Well. If they kept up with it. Honestly, he got so busy sometimes, he couldn't think… Sleep claimed him.
o.o.o.o.o.o
Classes on Monday were unbelievably frustrating. Professor Rhythm wouldn't let him brew while in potions, and Herbology was just a lecture. Harry got the impression that Professor Sprout was intentionally talking so that he'd still be able to participate in class. And then in Ancient Runes, he failed a vocabulary test, because he mixed up the old Nordic script that they were supposed to be learning with one of the other languages he'd studied.
Professor Babbling just laughed at him, congratulated him, and gave him full points anyway. The rest of the class had enjoyed that. At lunch, Harry ate at the very front of the Gryffindor table, as far away from the statue of himself as he could get. Able was engaging in very loud arguments with Emma and some of the older students from other groups. And some of the younger girls. They were refusing to take down the statue. Harry just ate as fast as he could and retreated into the library. Angelina was studying for her OWLs, so Harry pulled up a chair and read next to her. He quizzed in some stuff, and actually helped her with work in DADA.
Charms was horrid. Professor Flitwick gave him some reading material, but as he didn't have a wand, he couldn't cast anything. He missed his wand. He really missed his wand. Aurora collected him after Charms, saying they were flooing directly to Ollivander's. They were skipping Care of Magical Creatures, because it fit in Aurora's schedule. Harry was tiring quickly, as he got more and more frustrated watching Hermione and Su excel in the charms they were working on.
But he was glad to spend time with just Aurora. It was a nice break from all his classmates. Lavender and Pavarti had reverted to giggling whenever he was around. And with Daphne completing their trio, it was almost worse. The Robbins girls, every single second year girl – minus Sarah, Ginny, and Harriett – were acting like rapid fangirls. It didn't make sense. They'd treated him normally before.
They flooed from Aurora's office to the dingy, offbeat little wand store. It was empty, thankfully. Harry could see out the window that Diagon Alley was rather busy, but not nearly as busy as it was in August. Ollivander wasn't by the desk. Aurora rung the little bell and sat down in one of the desk seats. Harry rested his elbows on the window, watching the robed wizards and witches stroll by. "Aurora, what do you have planned for Christmas?"
"I'm not on school duty," the teacher said, "So we can do whatever you want. Do you have plans?"
"Um," Harry picked at the paint on the window sill. "There's the Longbottom Ball on Boxing Day. And I think I need to visit with Mr. and Mrs. Spinnet. And, oh, Aurora, what's proper for Christmas presents?"
The teacher blinked. "I don't know. Perhaps you should ask Miss MacDonald or someone else at your social status."
"Okay," Harry said, quiet. "But I just… I want to give people stuff this Christmas. I've never really had that chance before."
"Do it." Aurora said.
Ollivander stepped out from the back, from among the shelves. "Mr. Potter. Madam Sinistra." He sounded vaguely surprised. "How many I help you?"
Harry turned around from the window. "My wand broke."
Eyebrows rose, the old man wasn't believe what was going on. "Holly and phoenix feather, a brother want to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Aurora startled at that. Harry hadn't told her about that brother wand thing. "You broke it?"
"Not intentionally," Harry grumbled, moodily. "I had it on me during a Quidditch match. And I passed out."
Ollivander half snickered. It sounded like a laugh that wasn't really quite there. Ollivander could laugh? "Not a good combination, Mr. Potter. Do you have the pieces?"
"It burnt," Harry said.
Aurora stepped forward and placed a little box on the desk. "If they are of any value—"
Ollivander opened the box and sniffed the burnt feather and pieces of wood. He closed box and tossed it aside. "Worthlessness." Harry gathered the box and jammed it in his pocket, glaring at the old man. That was his wand. Well, what was left of it. And he was going to keep it. "You were a tricky costumer, young Potter. Are you ready to go again?"
"No," Harry answered, very truthfully.
And it was on. Ollivander retook his measurements with the odd little tape measure and started thrusting wand after wand at Harry. None of them felt right. A few of them even made his stomach turn. His magic vehemently protested every phoenix feather, which seemed to be what Ollivander primarily had in mind. After over an hour of wands, one dragon heartstring and maple wand caused physical pain to Harry's hand. He dropped the wand with a soft shriek, backing away from the desk.
"Something is wrong with your magic," Ollivander said, half condemning, half curious. "Any idea what that is?"
Harry rubbed his aching right hand. "Phoenix tears and basilisk venom." He said, quietly. "Last year, I got bit by a basilisk and healed by a phoenix. I've had violent reactions to dementors; I passed out because they were trying to kiss me. Make of it what you will." He turned his back on the wandmaker and moved back to the window. His hand still smarted.
"Harry—" Aurora said, softly. He pulled away from her gentle touch.
Ollivander retreated amongst the shelves and stayed there for a good ten minutes. He finally returned with two separate wand boxes, each labeled with intricate runes. Harry only recognized a very few of the runes. It took some convincing before Harry would touch either wand, but he finally picked one up and it didn't react badly with his magic. It didn't feel nearly as good as his holly and phoenix feather, but it wasn't bad… He didn't wave it about. The first wand, Harry put down and he picked up the second. This was a much shorter and darker wand. The wood felt unimaginably smooth. It too didn't feel bad, just… Harry really didn't understand magic.
"Try some magic," Ollivander said. "You have permission in this building."
Harry bit his lip and picked up the first wand. He twirled the first wand and whispered a quiet "expecto patronum" and watched as Aegisa – the lion cub – burst forth and bounced around the disheveled wand store. It looked like Ollivander might have some sort of stroke or something… Harry put that wand down and waited for a few moments. Aegisa didn't disappear. And the magic worked. It actually worked. With the second wand, Harry cast another patronus charm. This time, a little robin spurted out of the wand and flirted through the air. Harry winced. It didn't fell like a new one, but rather… had he actually managed to cast it around the dementors? Maybe Harriett…
"They work fine," Harry said, rolling the second wand through his fingers a little more. He liked the feel of this one better.
"Try both," Ollivander suggested, his voice low and whispery.
Harry snatched at the second wand, and with one in either hand, he cast another patronus charm. This time, the phoenix patronus spurted out, and shown, all golden and silver and glowing. The light filled the whole shop, filled, overflowed, burnt… Harry canceled the spell. His magic was singing. "That felt good. What are they made of?"
Ollivander sighed, "Rock, Mr. Potter. Rock."
Harry wasn't great at magical theory, but even he knew that variations of rock were almost always the least conductive materials for magic. "Excuse me?"
"You, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, his voice full of shock and humor. "You will never need another wand."
Harry closed his eyes and groaned. "But—"
"Good luck, Mr. Potter," snickered the old wand maker. "Because if my intuition is right, you are going to need it."