OMAC: If anyone can do it, I believe in Granger.
Mari: All problems he probably should have anticipated at the start of this, but what are ya gonna do. Gotta roll with the punches.
Took forever, I know, so no more talking. Read it and weep, and by weep I mean enjoy/review/follow/pm.
It was funny to think that only seconds ago Jake had been exhilarated, euphoric even, when now his legs felt weak and his blood ran cold as ice. He'd been so engrossed in his routine, captured by the demons that had taunted him without end, that he'd failed to notice that he'd attracted an audience. The slamming of the room's door had broken the trance, but not before he'd made quite the display out of assaulting the sad little wooden dummy and beaten it far beyond the point of casual training. As he stood there trying to calm his panting, part of him prayed that he hadn't been too careless, but judging from the borderline terrified expressions on the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, it was safe to assume that he'd gone a bit too far.
Jake was speechless, and it wasn't from the medallion resting over his chest. This is so not my day...
At the very least, the three of them looked even less prepared to engage in conversation, allotting Jake a brief moment to panic. This is bad, this is so bad. How much did they see? If I'd actually taken the necklace off... Jake clutched at his dry throat, the pendant weighing heavier than ever on his neck. Better not tell Stout or he'll never let me live it down. His mind raced to find some explanation, darting from the mannequin at his feet to the still gawking wizards. Alright, chill! Just chill. For all they know I'm still a 'wizard', just kicking back with some exercise. What's so weird about that? Play it cool and this'll all blow over...right.
He ran one of his hands over his loose shirt, smoothing out the fresh wrinkles, and teased his hair with the other. The Am-Drag's got this. You can deal with mom after coming home late on a school night, you can deal with this. No sweat. Taking a calming breath and bringing is arm up in a stiff wave, Jake flashed his most harmless, welcoming smile at the trio as if greeting old friends on a pleasant, average, winter evening.
"He's a lunatic," Ron whimpered.
Jake's hand halted mid-wave, his lips pulling down into a scowl. He was fairly certain he'd heard every variant of 'crazy-person' in the past twenty-four hours, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Oh sure, and let's all just forget that Potter was the one twitching on the ground and scream-laughing, because that's totally normal.
"Ron," Hermione hissed at him sideways. She looked more concerned than anything, though politeness was the farthest thing from Harry's mind as he stood glaring at the green-haired boy with the same distaste from earlier. Jake returned the gesture, oddly preferring it to the ginger's persisting grimace. Hermione, meanwhile, looked between the three of them impatiently and caved before long, striding into the pillow ridden room.
"Wait, Hermione!" Ron squealed from the doorway. A quick glance over her shoulder was enough to quiet him and she pressed forward to stand in front of Jake. Having her so near was enough for Jake to pull his stare away from Harry, focusing instead on the distressed girl before him. Heat rushed to his face under her attention, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously.
"What are you doing here, John?" she half-whispered. Jake jabbed a thumb behind him and looked back to where the dummy was, forgetting it had collapsed to the ground. Flustered, he bent down to lift it back up, balancing it on its wobbling stand and patting it in support with an innocent grin. Small tufts of ash puffed out from where he slapped the wooden man, and he winced at the soot covering his hand. The dummy was pocked here and there with matching little scorch marks. Aw man, I really did take it too far...
"But how? How did you find this place?" Hermione pried in a shrewd voice.
I could ask you the same thing, Jake seethed, the stupid coin said you weren't doing your thing for two more days! He could hardly explain that to Hermione, however, and instead shrugged, feigning a lack of understanding. Her eyes narrowed further, unsatisfied. Jake could feel her suspicions brewing and decided to take action before her thoughts could reach a dangerous conclusion. He stepped beside the mannequin and pointed between it and Hermione, miming a punch at its flat chest when she failed to comprehend his meaning.
"Oh! No, no," Her eyes flew open and she shook her head, "I don't do - well, can't do - whatever...that is," she refused. Ron began to walk towards them with Harry following just behind him, both of their expressions failing to have softened in the slightest.
"Hey, don't go changing the subject," Ron ordered him, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction. Jake was surprised he'd even managed to follow their hushed discussion. "Who told you about the Room of Requirement? C'mon, then, spit it out! Was it Neville? Lavender?" Backing away a couple steps, Jake held up his hands in defense and looked around the room. He found where he'd left his bag and clothes, abandoned next to the table of strange mirrors and spyglasses, and stepped around Ron to reach his belongings, withdrawing his writing materials. Diversions had failed to distract them, so now it was time for round two: complete, irresponsible denial. Ron groaned with impatience as Jake scribbled out a note and handed it to him. His eyes squinted together as he read aloud, "What's the Room of Requirement?" He chuffed, "Oh, so you don't even know what it's called, do you? Likely story..."
"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded him again, the scolding not dissuading Harry's own indignation.
"You just happened to walk in, then? On accident?" he derided. Jake's fervent nodding didn't convince him.
"Come on, you don't actually believe him?" Ron sneered.
Hermione faced the two of them and ducked her head low, her back facing Jake. "If someone did tell him, we'll find out who's responsible, trust me," she whispered to the pair of them. She jerked back upright and turned around when Jake tapped her on the shoulder, handing her another messy note for her to read. "Hiding something?" she mumbled, her cheeks flushing in response. Jake put his all into stifling his triumphant grin.
"No," Harry answered, his voice firm, "we're not hiding anything, it's just..."
"Hey, who let the new kind in the D.A.?" Fred and George waltzed in happily, the twins both watching their argument with obvious curiosity. One of them turned to the other and continued, "They'll take anyone these days. Honestly, you'd think an illegal defense organization would be more selective."
Ron found renewed exasperation. "Well that's just perfect, why don't you go running down the halls shouting it while you're at it!"
They shared a skeptical look with each other. "Wait, you mean to tell us he doesn't even know about the D.A. yet?" Fred mocked.
"What git showed him here, then?" George inquired.
"No one brought him anywhere! He only...never mind," Harry groaned. More chattering students had entered the room and he turned back to Jake, his cheerless face set like stone. "You have to leave John."
You're really starting to push it, four-eyes, Jake scowled. He tapped a finger to his chest, pointed at the floor, and clapped his hands together in an act of shameless begging. I did NOT manage to find this place just to have you throw me out, cut me some slack! Harry glanced back at the arriving students, not so much 'swayed' as 'embarrassed' and his posture no less unyielding.
Jake had to stop himself from ripping out his hair. I can't believe you're going to make me do this. He didn't like it, but if Jake wanted a place in their group he'd have to resort to drastic measures. Welling up whatever dregs of sympathy he could, he scribbled down another message and shoved it into Harry's hands, staring at his shoes with self-loathing.
It only took Harry seconds to skim across the words, his brows furrowing together. "Well you should be! You had no right!" Harry scorned him.
"What'd he say?" Ron asked, preemptively offended.
"He said he's sorry for 'dissing' Hagrid," Harry relayed, handing the note to Hermione as she beckoned for it.
Ron stood a bit straighter. "Well Harry's right! You had no right doing...what was it you said he did again?"
"It means 'insulting someone', I remember hearing Jake use it before," Hermione explained, her face screwed up in thought as she looked back at the wide-eyed mute before her. "Where did you say you were from again?"
If Stout were here, he probably would have smacked him. As it stood, Jake had to appreciate his own profound, tactless stupidity on his behalf. He was thankfully saved from concocting some poorly thought out explanation by Dean, who approached their group from the now sizable mass of waiting students. "Everyone's here Harry," he cheered, doing a double take at seeing his newest roommate. "John? So Harry let you in, yeh?"
Before Ron could dispute the point, Hermione sighed, "We ought to let him stay, Harry, he won't be that much trouble. Besides, he already knows."
Jake could have kissed her on the spot. Betrayal poured off of Ron in waves, but Harry seemed resigned to both her reasoning and his own impatience. "Fine, you can stay John," he consented, lifting his glasses up to rub his eyes. "Just don't be...weird or anything, and we don't do that here," he added, gesticulating over to the still tilting mannequin they'd found him with. Jake nodded emphatically and pumped a fist in victory when the others turned away. Ron still seemed supremely annoyed, but they all moved to join the other students and waited for everyone to calm down at Harry's calling. As the room grew silent, Jake looked to his side at Hermione, his palms sweating when he found her still watching him out of the corner of her eye.
"Welcome back from break, everyone," Harry greeted them. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, we didn't think there would be time for a meeting tonight...sorry Cho," he apologized. Jake followed his eyes to the same black haired girl he'd seen the day before in the hall, and though Harry seemed uncomfortable she simply shrugged and smiled back. Harry returned it with his own, one that was a little too broad for simple friendship, Jake noted. "Anyway, I didn't have anything planned this early, so I was thinking we'd...er, yes Smith?"
"Who's he?" Jake turned to the source of the petulant voice and found a tall, scrawny blonde haired boy squinting at him. The other students all followed suit and soon enough Jake had a sea of questioning eyes trained on him.
"Right," Harry muttered. "For those of you who don't know, this is John. He's a new fifth-year, and he'll be joining us for..."
"But I thought you said we weren't allowed to tell anyone about the D.A.?" Harry's lips pursed together but he made no comment as the other boy 'Smith' fidgeted in the uncomfortable silence. "Well, don't we get a say in who gets in?" Normally Jake was a fairly sociable person, but something was supremely irritating about the arrogant tone of this Hufflepuff's questions, as if he were an argumentative child threatening to tattle to their teacher. That is, if the teacher weren't the person he was arguing with in the first place.
"Splendid idea, we should all get a say in who stays," Fred agreed. Smith's smug grin slipped away as he continued, "I vote we kick out Zacharias."
"Seconded," George added.
Smith blushed radiantly and scowled at the Weasley twins. "What if he runs off and rats to Umbridge? It'll be all our necks on the line, we could be expelled!"
"Doesn't sound so bad, if it means we don't have to listen you," George considered.
"That's enough. Here, if it'll make you feel better," Hermione sighed, walking over to a standing mirror and pulling off a paper stuck to its surface. She pulled out a quill on her way back and handed both to Jake, who saw a list of signatures written below a bold header reading Dumbledore's Army. His eyes grew wide as saucer plates at the moniker while Hermione continued, "If you want to join the D.A., you have to sign our ledger. It's our way of promising not to tell anyone else about it, including students and professors."
Once again, his unconvinced spectators were all watching him expectantly. If there was one thing Jake distrusted in the magical world, it was paperwork, especially when signatures were involved. Unfortunately, he could see no loopholes to pursue, no way of avoiding Hermione's demand. Reluctantly, he nodded and plucked the feather from her grip. He scribbled his fake name over the paper, cringing as he ended the last letter with a flourish.
Hermione took back the form and examined his signature with a pleased grin. "There, I think that should be enough for us to trust him. Any objections?" she announced, observing Zacharias Smith with obstinate patience. He scrunched his face and yielded with a slouch.
"Right, as I was saying," Harry continued gratefully, "I didn't have any new lessons prepared for tonight, so I thought we'd start the term off by reviewing with some dueling." The few groans that had sounded when he'd said 'reviewing' were swallowed by the tide of excited murmuring that followed. Though he knew he shouldn't have been, Jake was thrilled by the prospect. Dragon sparring was his favorite past time, and this was probably as close as he was likely to get to it in this stuffy castle. "Since most of us have never dueled before, we'll start with a demonstration before pairing up. Any volunteers?"
The ensemble of whispers vanished. Jake looked at the crowd behind him, all of the students now looking away in any direction other than towards their impromptu professor. Harry was twisting his wand in his hands, trying to even make eye contact with his class and failing miserably. When his expression began to grow desperate, Jake relented and lifted his hand high, exasperated that no one else was even remotely interested in participating. The exasperation turned into downright annoyance when Harry adopted their same look of reluctance when he noticed his offer.
"Er, thanks John, but I don't know if that's a good idea," he admitted. "I don't know how far on you are with defensive spells, and..." Jake waved off his objections and walked forward to stand beside him, his arms crossed with determination. Harry groaned but didn't press the matter and instead turned back to the remaining students. "Alright, so one more. Don't all jump up at once." The room remained dead silent, though Jake could tell Harry was nearing the end of his patience. He stopped toying with his wand and stood up straighter, looking straight into the crowd of black-clad teenagers. "Fine then. Smith, come up here." The Hufflepuff's head drooped down low, and Harry persisted, "You were eager to get started five minutes ago, so let's go. We haven't got all night."
Fred and George snickered quietly as the blonde squeezed his way toward Harry's other side, grumbling to himself. Harry ignored the sound and began lecturing. "Let's get started. The point of dueling is to disarm or incapacitate your opponent, but we'll stick to disarming." Jake's shoulders dropped a little. You mean I don't get to kick this dweeb's butt? Man, you take the fun out of everything. Harry moved them to face each other from opposite ends of the room, the other students spread out along the length of their alley to watch with bubbling enthusiasm.
"After you bow to each other, you can start casting. Whoever disarms the other first wins, clear?" Jake nodded to Harry before providing Smith with an embellished bow. Smith tipped forward in a stiff motion and lifted his wand just as awkwardly, his fingers fumbling with it in his grip. Jake had his own aimed squarely at Smith's chest, his free hand tucked out of sight in his pants pocket. The excited gossiping from the sidelines had died away and left only tension in its place as Jake grinned at Smith's apprehensive stance. Beads of sweat were popping up on Smith's forehead when he at last opened his mouth and drew back his arm.
"Expelli-"
His wand flew from his fingers and clattered to the floor between them. Jake had jabbed his own wand forward and flicked two of his concealed fingers before Smith had made a sound, smirking at the results of his manipulation. Smith gaped at his hand before looking around at their humming spectators, his cheeks blushing once again. "But how did...you didn't even say anything!"
"Excellent! That was great, John, well done," Harry said in baffled praise, picking up Smith's wand and tossing it back to him. Several other students agreed with soft approvals while Jake rubbed the back of his neck, twirling his wand around his fingers. "Alright, does anyone have any questions?" Harry asked aloud. "No? Then pair up with someone and line up along the room."
The members sprang into action and found partners, Neville cautiously taking Smith's place as the Hufflepuff shuffled away looking cheated. Harry walked along the rows, not dueling himself but preferring to observe and instruct, giving advice for the less coordinated. Each duel only lasted minutes, and afterwards one half of the room would slide down to their next opponent in a chain of never ending contests. Not a soul in the room was gloomy or displeased as the battles continued, each of them reveling in their victories and laughing at their faults.
For no one was this more true than Jake. After their demonstration, he'd become something of a test for the others as they bowed to him and tried their hardest to disarm the new kid on the block. Jake took up every challenge and met them eagerly, though he'd honestly anticipated far more skilled competition considering how long they'd had the group around. The majority of his opponents could get their spells off, sure, but they were clumsy, poorly aimed, and overall underwhelming. Neville had somehow managed to disarm himself, however that was possible. Ron looked like he were contemplating a few lethal maneuvers when they bowed to each other, an intense expression that promptly disappeared when Jake's magic pulled down his trousers to the amusement of the duelists nearby. The girl Harry constantly goggled at made clever use of some levitation charms to actually get the better of him (one of the few that did), and the Gryffindor Quidditch captain that Dominic had tormented ages ago landed some kind of jinx that knocked Jake's legs out from under him, though he'd managed to land in an impressive handstand and respond in kind.
It felt like they'd only just started when Harry announced that their next duel would be their last. The room echoed with collective groans of disappointment as Jake leaned forward to bow for his final opponent, his chest clenching as he lifted his head to see the lucky individual. Even had he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from beaming like an idiot.
"Ready, John?" Hermione smiled.
Anytime, anywhere baby. Jake raised his wand arm and slipped his other out to beckon her forward. Wavering at the taught, she paused just long enough to smirk back at him.
"Expelliarmus!" Jake stepped sideways and watched the bullet of red light shoot past him, miming a yawn with his wand hand. Hermione narrowed her eyes and whipped her arm around again, yelling, "Stupefy!" The spell flew over Jake's head as he ducked, energy from it bleeding downward and making his hair stand on end. He looked to Hermione in surprise and watched as she gave her own sarcastic curtsy. Grinning sadistically, he jumped back up and flung out his wand, flicking his fingers and intent on removing her weapon. Hermione, however, slashed her own wand out, shouting, "Protego!" Jake's manipulation collided with her shield like a concussive wave, deflecting to the sides and away from her harmlessly. You got some sick moves, girl, I'll give you that, Jake chortled.
He sent more manipulations her way, but each was repelled by her shields. It was then his turn to dance away from her own attacks, which proved a simple task until he lost his footing on a nearby cushion and nearly did the splits in the process. Before he could right his stance, Hermione took aim and yelled, "Impedimentia!" A ball of soft white light shot out from her wand and struck Jake squarely in the chest, flinging him backward onto a mound of cushions piled against the wall of bookcases. His head was swimming and he felt dazed as he untangled himself from the heap of pillows, vaguely aware that someone was calling out to him.
"John! Hang on, I'm coming!" Hermione was jogging toward him, bending down to pick something off of the floor on her way to stand over him. Damn, that must be my wand, Jake groaned. She actually got me. Heh, I must be losing my touch. She bent down, examining him with deep concern. "I'm so sorry, John, I didn't think it would be that strong! That was so careless...oh, please tell me you're alright!"
Alright? Forget alright, he was fantastic! Jake couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so empowered, so full of energy and strength, as though a he'd dropped massive weights and could run a marathon. He extended a hand out to Hermione and she helped to lift him out of his fluffed landing pad, still fretting over him as he stretched his arms and rubbed a tender spot on the back of his head. Must've hit my head harder than I thought, he reasoned.
"You're sure you're alright?" Hermione persisted. "I can show you to the Hospital Wing if anything's broken, or..."
"Calm down, Hermione, I'm good," Jake laughed, nudging her in the shoulder, "I'm not gonna lie, that was pretty sick. Wanna go best two out of three?" If anything, his assurances had made her more uncertain as she continued to search him for something, almost astonished. "You sure you're okay?" Jake asked jokingly, unnerved by her expression. He reached out to take his wand back from her open hand and found his training collar, cord snapped and silver medallion dangling, resting next to it in her palm. His hand flew back to his throat, groping for the necklace he knew he wouldn't find, and he felt his stomach plummeting as Hermione continued to gape at him.
"You can talk?"
"Like this Harry?"
"Yes, that's perfect Luna, just like that," he encouraged her. She'd been losing many of her duels and realized that her spells continually went askew, going either left, right, or above her opponent, basically any direction but the one she'd intended. Harry had recommended making a small change to her grip and watched with satisfaction as her next jelly-legs curse had Michael Corner sprawled on the floor, his legs kicking every which way.
There was an audible bang, followed by the sound of books hitting the ground. Facing the other half of the room, Harry saw John collapsed on a few cushions against the bookshelves with his head lolled forward and texts falling from the shelves around him. Hermione was already rushing toward him, and by the time Harry arrived they were standing perfectly silent, gawking at one another.
"Everything alright?" Harry asked. John flinched and hurriedly snatched something out of Hermione's hand, unfolding a thin string and tying it behind his neck. He stuffed the necklace and joined ornament under his shirt and, seeing Harry still waiting for a response, shook his head at Hermione imploringly.
"Yes...everything's fine," she answered in a low voice. She tore her gaze away from John to address Harry. "It was my fault. I got carried away with our duel, but we're both alright."
Something still felt off, but a quick glance at his watch told Harry that they were running their meeting dangerously long. "Alright everyone, that's good for tonight!" he announced. "Thanks again for coming, but it's getting late and we all ought to be heading back to our houses before Filch starts stalking about." There was a short round of applause as the students began collecting their things and heading towards the doors. John himself was first among them as he almost sprinted to the entrance, his bag and extra clothes swinging from his shoulder as he brushed past praises and farewells from other members and slipped into the corridor.
"I guess I was wrong. He did pretty well, don't you think?" Harry asked.
"I still think he's off his trolley, if that's what you're asking," Ron huffed as they piled up the pillows and arranged the bookcases.
"You're just upset because he beat you in a duel," Hermione laughed, levitating John's mannequin to a corner of the room and running her fingers along the black flecks that spilled off of it as it hit the floor. "It doesn't make any sense, though," she muttered.
Harry stood at the entrance, holding the door open for them to leave the empty room. When Hermione failed to finish her thought, he shared a look with Ron and asked, "What doesn't make sense, again?"
Her eyes were on the floor while she chewed her lip. "Any of it," she whispered, walking out into the corridor.
"Thanks so much for clearing that up," Ron rolled his eyes, continuing in a mumble, "Going after a man's trousers, I ask you." They let the door slam shut behind them, its frame melding back into flat, gray stone.
Yes, Harry was certain something must have transpired to make Hermione so flustered, yet in the coming days she avoided any of his attempts at bringing it up in conversation and John seemed just as distanced. His reclusive behavior was all the more strange considering his consistently encouraging performances at the D.A. meetings and the positive responses from the members that followed. It was easy to forget, however, that the handicap that made John's casting so impressive probably made being outgoing just as difficult.
Then there were his other problems, chief among them being Occlumency. Whenever Hermione or Snape badgered him about it, he'd lie through his teeth and say he'd been practicing closing his mind every night, which couldn't be farther from the truth and it was beginning to show. Every lesson with Snape only ended in an even worse headache than the previous one and he still had yet to produce so much as a smidge of resistance against the mental intrusions. Mixed in with their increasingly monstrous piles of homework, planning D.A. meetings, and having no Quidditch to relax with, Harry was coming to understand just why everyone dreaded their fifth year at Hogwarts.
Weeks passed in a blink, and Harry was shocked to find January had faded into February, bringing with it biting storms that turned the fields into leagues of splattering mud. Rain pelted the windows day in and day out, and it was no different this Saturday morning. Harry sat in the Great Hall, staring unseeing at the Ravenclaw table as another nagging problem tossed and turned in his mind.
"I take that as a no, then?" A hand waved right in front of him, making him flinch out of his stupor.
"Sorry, what?" Harry dozed, blinking out the daydreams from his eyes. Hermione shook her head at him in disappointment and slid over to sit between him and the table of blue and black clad students.
"I was asking if you had any plans today?" she pried. He fixed her with a blank stare. "With Cho?" she dragged. "For Valentine's Day?"
"Oh...no, not really," he muttered. "We haven't really done anything since...well...last term, you know." The back of his neck was burning at the confession. He'd tried to approach Cho about her activities, even with the Hogsmeade trip still cancelled, but every time he'd spoken with her he just felt so disjointed, as though she weren't interested. Maybe the Death Eaters had put her off, he proposed, she certainly wouldn't have been the only one. Or perhaps he was inventing excuses for his own lack of interest. That didn't feel right either, though, considering the squirming jig his stomach did whenever she talked with him.
"That's perfect," Hermione blurted, reaffirming at Harry's glare, "Not you and Cho, I mean. Listen, I need you both to meet me in the fields by the greenhouses at noon today, it's essential that you be there."
"Today? But Hermione, that's only half an hour away and it's pouring out there!" Harry disparaged.
"Isn't it always these days?" she countered. "It won't take long, I promise."
"Count me out," Ron groaned. "I'm off to the pitch after this, Johnson's got the team practicing all day. Not that it'll make any difference, we must be the worst Quidditch team in a century."
"Fine," Hermione dismissed him. His slouch deepened, as though disappointed she hadn't fought his rejection. "But Harry you've got to be there, it's taken me a month to arrange this and we won't get another chance." He opened his mouth to protest again, but she cut him off, "Promise me you'll come? Please?"
His eyes drifted wearily back to the deluge outside. He sighed, "Fine, I'll be there." She nodded and stood from her place, hurrying out of the hall with Ron soon following her out, whimpering all the while. Harry waited as long as possible at his place before conceding to his fate and dragging himself out into the downpour. As he passed through the doors to the fields and felt the first wave of drops smack onto his hood, he heard his name being called and turned around to see Fred and George catching up to him with a terrified looking John caught between them.
"Harry! Heading out to watch the Gryffindor practice as well?" George greeted him.
"So are we," Fred pressed on before Harry could correct them. "We figured we'd show John here the revolutionary skills of the finest lineup Hogwarts has seen in decades." They fell into step as they all trudged through the mud and down the hill, both the circular pitch and rows of greenhouses just visible through the foggy atmosphere. The twins continued to babble in mock conversation as they walked, John of course only squirming fruitlessly and peering at Harry in unabashed pleading as they dragged him down the hill. When the path diverged between their two destinations, Harry bid his farewells, gave John an apologetic shrug, and rushed toward the glass enclosures, spotting Hermione ducked below an awning with Luna Lovegood standing beside her in a ludicrously fluffed, multicolored coat.
"This better be worth it, Hermione!" he yelled, joining them below the shade with his arms hugging his chilled torso.
"Hello, Harry. Lovely day, isn't it?" Luna welcomed him, pulling a hand free of her scaly muffler to wave at him.
Harry nodded back. "What's going on, why's Luna here too?"
"I'll tell you in just a moment," Hermione comforted him, unfolding one of her own arms to point farther across the hill where the Whomping Willow shivered in the rain. "We're taking the hidden passage to the Shrieking Shack, come on!" She ran out into the rain with Luna and Harry chasing after her, avoiding the splashes of mud from her steps. As they neared, Harry could see the massive tree twitching nervously and lifting its gigantic branches in warning. Hermione pointed her wand at the tree and shouted, "Immobulus!" The tree stopped mid-swing with every twig and strand frozen in the air, its appendages sticking straight out and hanging perfectly still.
"Now's our chance," she urged them, though Harry needed no prodding. They ducked into the hole below its trunk and ambled down to the tunnel below, Luna looking around curiously as they went. Hermione led them through the narrow, dank passage and up the staircase at the far end, bringing them up into the creaking old house that resided on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
Streams of leaking rain water dripped from every possible crack, the smell of mold and rotted wood filled the air, and several of the support beams had more gouges and cracks than Harry was comfortable with. "This place isn't very nice," Luna commented idly, lighting the tip of her wand and illuminating the area around them.
"Hermione, what are we doing here?" Harry complained, stepping around a puddle. Clacking footsteps echoed from down a hallway and Harry quickly drew his wand in anticipation, his breath fogging into the air. "Who's there?"
A tall figure with half-done blonde curls, a ruddy raincoat, and winged glasses with holes where gems used to sit strutted into the blue light of Luna's wand. She carried a crocodile bag over her shoulder and daintily flaunted her chipped nails. "Now that does sting. Our triwizard champion doesn't even remember me." She flicked a wayward hair from her face. "And here I thought I'd left an impression."
The past year had not been kind to Rita Skeeter. "You've got to be joking," Harry groaned.
"If only," Rita sneered, leaning against the peeling wallpaper behind her. "So how've you been, Harry dear? Any new romances brewing in the air now that there's no life-endangering competition to satisfy your pathological desire for attention?"
Harry rounded on Hermione. "Explanation. Now."
"Gladly." She walked forward to stand in the middle of their group with crossed arms, her chin held high. "The Prophet's article on the Azkaban breakout last month was full of holes and misinformation, leaving a lot of people questioning the intent of the story and the Ministry itself. For once, people aren't sure that you've completely lost your marbles. If there's ever a time for us to convince everyone that Voldemort's back - oh get a hold of yourself, you're a journalist - and that you and Dumbledore have been telling the truth, it's now." The corner of her lips perked up devilishly. "It also happens that Rita here," she flicked a hand behind her to the snarling woman, "owes me a favor."
"Is that what they call 'blackmail' these days?" she snapped.
"And Luna's father is the editor of another newspaper, the Quibbler." Rita guffawed loudly, but a quick glare from Hermione returned her to seething quietly. "All it'll take is one interview and a factual article, and we'll set half of England straight in no time."
"I've tried telling Little Miss Perfect here that it won't work, but she refuses to listen to me," Rita scowled.
"Father can make any story work," Luna piped in, waving her muffler high, "especially when it comes to important cases like this. I'm sure he'll be thrilled!"
"Think about it Harry," Hermione said excitedly. "We can finally save Cedric's memory, reveal the Death Eaters we know about, and clear the Dragons of Draco Isle from the attacks! All you have to do is tell Rita about what happened in the cemetery." Harry's hands balled into fists, his jaw clenched tightly.
"And what about my end, hm? Surely you can imagine the usual fee for someone of my skill," Rita trilled.
"You," Hermione simmered, "get to write the story of the year, as Harry describes it I might add, and remain free of Azkaban. Of course, if you don't feel we're being amenable, I can always send a letter off to the Improper Use of Magic Office about a certain unregistered Animagus. Just imagine the kind of coverage you could get from inside a cell for a few years..."
"Watch yourself, curls," Rita hissed, her hands shaking with rage. "Working for free, the nerve of it...and for that rag of a journal! The very thought..." Her burning eyes drifted back to Harry, and they could all see the temptation warring with her pride, smoothing her features and easing her talon-like grip. "Mmm, but stories like these are few and far between, it's true," she smiled, one of her long fingers tracing the brim of her bag.
Hermione turned back to Harry, her brows furrowed. "Well, Harry? Can you do it?" All three of them were watching him intently, but he'd already made up his mind. He owed it to too many people, too many families. To not to say anything would be unthinkable.
"Alright," he said solemnly. "I'll do it."
"Wonderful." Rita conjured a chair and plopped into it, pulling out her quill and notepad in one smooth motion. "Let's get started, shall we?"
Wow...these guys are awful.
Whatever irritation Jake had harbored after being abducted from the Great Hall by the Weasley twins was replaced by dumbfounded confusion. Stuck to the wet bleachers with his hair matted to his forehead, he sat between Fred and George watching the players above them attempting to practice in the sopping weather. Even from Jake's limited experience, he could tell from Ron's missed catches and the blindly swinging Beaters that things were going just South of terrible.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Fred wondered.
"A wonder to behold," George added. Jake nodded numbly, still wide-eyed as one of the players hung upside down from his broom, kicking wildly at the air in his attempts to swing back up. "You see John, unless the Hufflepuff dormitories erupt in Fiendfyre..."
"...or their whole team falls off their brooms with laughter..."
"...we haven't got a chance of winning our next match," George admitted. "Our beaters are hopeless, and Ron's just making a fool of himself." Jake almost disputed the point in Ron's defense until the Keeper tried smacking away a shot from one of the Chasers with his broom and instead bounced it straight through his hoop. Jake cringed and covered his eyes, the twins moaning in unison.
"Our point exactly," Fred lamented. "You see, Georgie and I used to be on the team and it means a lot to us..."
"...and we couldn't help but notice at the D.A. meetings that you're pretty nimble on your feet. So tell us, how good are you at flying?"
How good am I at flying? Jake sneered, giving the twins a superior look. I was good enough to show all y'all up a few months ago, how's that for flying? They both grinned broadly and clapped him on the back, and it was only then that their intended meaning dawned on Jake. He jumped to his feet, waving his hands defensively in front of him and shaking his head. Oh no, no way I'm playing Quidditch the wizard way. As if I need the whole school watching me at once, I'm already in deep enough as it is!
"Come on, John, we need you! Even if you can only stay on a bloody broom for five minutes, we'll still be better off than with this lot!" George begged him. Jake slouched and turned away, making his way toward the stairs to find the exit portal.
"At least think about it!" Fred called after him. Jake pushed his way through the pitch tarps and left the stadium behind him, beginning the long, wet climb back to the castle. The hardest part was that Jake would have loved playing Quidditch, assuming he could even use a broom, but he couldn't trust himself not to slip up somehow. He'd already exposed his 'speech impediment' for the lie it was in front of Hermione, a mistake that had haunted him for weeks. Now that he was a part of meetings and becoming more familiar with the school, most of the other students were even friendly towards him, a fact he would have relished were the circumstances different. For now, however, one more accident was all it would take to seal his fate. He was constantly on edge, reminding himself why he was here. He was behind enemy lines; he couldn't afford comfort or complacency.
Why, though? Why can't they know? The question was a poisonous one, filling Jake's every waking thought. All of the other dragons refused to divulge the truth of their dual-natured lives, and when it came to certain wizards like Voldemort, he could understand that. But Dumbledore knew and the world hadn't suddenly come crashing down around them! So some of them can be trusted and some can't, but how do you tell which is which?
Jake had made it to the entrance hall of the castle and was turning toward the Great Staircase, flipping his fake Galleon in the air as he went. That's just it, you can't know 100% that they won't say anything...but isn't that the point of trusting people? Putting faith in them? Jake rubbed his eyes, a headache steadily brewing in his skull. I can't risk telling anyone, but I could be here for months! At this rate I'll need a straight jacket before Potter does...
"Password?" The Fat Lady's voice droned, and he groggily looked up at her usual pompous stature. "Well, have you got the password or not?" Rolling his eyes, Jake pulled out a slip of paper with a couple words he didn't understand written across it and held it up for her to see. She frowned down at him and snorted as she swung forward, "A proper wizard would say the password aloud. One person finds that scrap and the password's good for nothing." Jake stuck his tongue out at her and pushed through the tunnel into the common room beyond. Students lounged about here and there, but the couch by the fire was unclaimed and Jake eagerly fell into it, letting the warmth from the flames melt into his still soaked clothing.
He reached beneath his robe and pulled out a small leather journal, holding it gently in his hand. I could ask Stout, he's had to put up with wizards his whole life. Maybe he'll have some advice? He opened the book to the first blank page, imagining how the conversation would go. "Absolutely not, don't even think of it, Jake! They'll kill you, skin your family, and enslave all dragons if you tell anyone, you irresponsible, selfish American!" Sighing, he dropped the book limply to the floor beside him and took out his coin again. If I can't even hang with my friends, then why am I here? What's the point?
His thumb launched the coin into the air and he watched it glitter and tumble before catching it in his palm, the side with the human face up. Trix and Spud weren't supposed to know, but now look at them. These guys are good too and you know it, even if they are wizards. He flicked it into the air again, this time catching it face down with the dragon embossed side showing. But Rose finding out almost destroyed her and all magical creatures. He scowled and threw it again: dragon. It's not just my life I'm playing with. If this hits the fan, every dragon in the world could suffer. He chucked the coin angrily now, and it smacked against the ceiling, spiraling down to land neatly on his chest wizard face up. When am I going to stop pretending to be their friend and start acting like one?
There was no way to win. The fire's glow had seeped into his skin now, and he tiredly slipped the token back into his pocket, easing further into the couch. His eyes relaxed and he felt himself drift off, still turning the coin over in his mind. Heads or tails, heads or tails, how do you chose...
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Jake blinked a few times, panicking when all he could see was pitch black.
"John, get up!"
He flailed and sat upright, his eyes darting around the room and settling on the dark figure next to him. Hermione stood beside the couch, only barely silhouetted by the low embers burning in the hearth. The windows were black and the curtains drawn, and he realized his limbs were stiff as boards.
"You've been fast asleep all evening, you missed dinner," Hermione whispered. The room was empty except for them, and Jake was still struggling to calm his racing heart. The startled episode morphed into annoyance. Slept the whole day, smooth Jake. Way to waste the weekend. A drawn out yawn pulled at his mouth and he decided, with his day gone, to at least relocate to his more comfortable lodgings upstairs, standing from the couch and turning toward the dormitory staircase.
"Wait, John?" Jake paused, hesitating for a moment before turning back to Hermione. She stood twisting her fingers uncertainly and continued in a hushed tone, "Can I talk to you for a bit?"
Here we go, he gulped. Even if he simply ignored her tonight and went to bed, there would still be tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. This was Hermione, after all, and Jake knew her well enough to sense that she wasn't going to let this drop again. Reluctantly, he took a few steps closer to her and leaned against the back of the couch, waving for her to start.
She wasted no time dawdling. "Why don't you talk?" she asked softly.
Jake brushed a hand through his hair and shrugged, avoiding looking at her. She frowned and continued, "I know it's because of that necklace you wear, I recognized the symbol on the charm from Ancient Runes. I just don't understand why you'd wear it." Jake looked further away and folded his arms. In response, she stepped around the couch and back in front of him, a few feet closer now. Her expression was that of extreme distress. "Was it your parents?" she guessed.
Say what now? Unthinking, he gawked at her, baffled.
"To stop you from doing magic?" she clarified. "Umbridge mentioned they wouldn't let you come to Hogwarts, so I thought..."
Jake smirked and shook his head. Yo, that's actually a really good guess. Completely off track, but still.
She let out a gasp of relief. "Oh, thank heavens. I thought for sure...how silly of me," she teetered, brushing a strand of hair back and still watching Jake with concern. She almost bounced with unasked questions, but after a moment she relented and said, "It's getting late, and I don't want to pry, but...just know that...I mean..." She snapped her mouth shut and took a breath before finishing, "Listen John, if you ever need to talk to someone, you can trust me, okay?"
Jake's hand reached up compulsively and closed around the thread of his training collar. He almost took her up on that offer, but once again something held him back. Fingers trembling, he pushed off from the couch and brushed past her to the staircase, climbing up to his room without looking back. He slumped into his bed, pulled over the covers, and tried desperately to give himself over to a sleep that refused to come. When his hopes for rest had nearly vanished, a jarring thought occurred to him, an urge he hadn't felt in years.
Lifting the lid of the luggage at the foot of his bed, he dug through his spare belongings and pulled out a small pink crystal hanging from a delicate circlet of string, his chest thumping wildly as it glimmered in the moonlight.
A month's worth of thought and it had been the best explanation Hermione could think of. It made perfect sense, after all, but he'd just outright denied it. John could simply be lying, of course, but the way he'd laughed about it...no. It must be something else, but what? To intentionally hinder yourself like that was baffling, an action beyond Hermione's imagination or comprehension. Normally the mystery would have infuriated her, but for now she was simply too tired to care.
After this tortuously long day, what she really needed was rest. She picked up a small pail of water by the fireplace and poured it out on the few embers still burning in the hearth. She had set the container back down and begun walking toward the stairs to find her own bed when some out of place object slid beneath her foot. Hermione tripped to her knees, muttering frustrations under her breath, and began feeling around in the darkness. Her hand brushed against a smooth, square object, which she lifted up to her eyes, turning it over in her hand beneath the lit tip of her wand.
Something about the small leather bound book was oddly familiar to her.
Once again, thank you for reading! If you have any strong opinions or thoughts on the material so far, I ADORE reading reviews and PM's! Otherwise, follow for future updates if you haven't already and sit tight for the next chapter, which may be sooner than usual. Who knows how much a guy can write with Spring Break!