Chapter 24.
Жуко́вский (Zhukovsky)
You're a Gryffindor.
This had been Draco's parting words when Harry returned home the next day. It was the best thing he could've said, because ever since he had been 'sorted' into the house of gold and red, the raven had started to identify himself with it, had started to take pride in it.
A Gryffindor's greatest attribute was bravery. So even though Harry had been reeling from the nightmare, even though it had shaken him to the point where he wasn't even trusting himself anymore, Draco's words had reminded him that he was brave, and that fear was nothing. Fear was an opportunity for him to be strong, and he wanted to grab it with both hands.
It wasn't that the fear was suddenly gone. It didn't work like that. It wasn't like magic. Bravery was the way you chose to deal with the fear. But it did not go away, you still had to live with it. But Harry would not shed tears, or feel sorry for himself. That was how he decided he'd live.
Besides, he had many things to do. The raven was very busy taking care of Hedwig who dropped by on some nights. He'd procured some newspapers from the rubbish to spread out on his desk, and had gotten a perch from Hagrid, so she could rest easily. Harry had tried to make her understand she had to stay away, but when she showed up at his window, she would not move. She would croon and hit her beak against the glass until he opened, and when she hopped in she would bite his fingers in discontent.
Hagrid had given Harry some dry treats he could stash at the bottom of his closet, so Hedwig would leave his fingers alone. After having given her food and water, and some attention, she usually forgave him for making her wait outside. And when she was bored of staying indoors, she would make it known to him, and Harry would let her out. He pushed her out whenever he had to leave, so that Petunia would never stumble across the owl for some reason or other.
Literature classes always kept Harry busy of course. But he had also started to see Draco more often. Sometimes he stayed for dinner after school, and sometimes he stayed overnight during weekends. And so it was easier for both of them to keep up with Snape, since they could help each other out.
Mrs. Malfoy was also very kind to lend a hand here and there. She knew a bit about it. She wrote for a living, and had Severa Snape in the family after all. A minimum of knowledge about the classics of fiction and poetry were necessary.
"Severa is pushing this too far, though." Mrs. Malfoy said as she frowned at their homework. "How can she expect elementary schoolers to understand all the layers in these works, all the social and psychological dynamics depicted?"
But Harry and Draco protested that they were perfectly capable of understanding all the 'grown-up stuff'.
Then there were his chores in the house. The raven was still helping with breakfast and cleaning and washing. Now that he knew how, Petunia also sent him out grocery shopping when she couldn't. He didn't mind that so much as the rest, because at least he got to do it outside of the house. As long as he was far away from Vernon and Dudley, life wasn't so horrible. With aunt Petunia, things were different. On the outside, things were the same. She snapped at him, and he hated her. But there was some kind of unknown connection, as if Lily had the strength to form a bond between the two from her grave.
Last but not least, Harry spent more time with his friends than before. The weather was getting better with the coming of spring. Both Hermione and Harry were invited regularly to the Weasleys for some rugby or football in their large and wild garden.
Harry preferred football. Since he was the youngest and smallest of the players, he could never win against the tall older Weasley brothers in rugby, unless he was quick enough to get past them before he could get caught. But in football, there was much less body contact, and so he had more of a chance to get through.
Ginny was never allowed to play. Mrs. Weasley thought she was too young and small. And that was the exact same reason why she objected to Harry playing. She fussed around all afternoon, letting out little yelps every time she thought Bill, Charlie or the twins were too rough with him. But she could not prohibit him to play, and Mr. Weasley was sure to reassure her or send her away for some refreshments if it was really necessary.
Hermione was just as small as Ginny and Harry, but she wasn't as determined as the latter to play. She was content with watching from the sidelines along with the youngest Weasley sister, whom she had started to befriend.
Overall, it seemed like Harry and Hermione were effortlessly pulled into the family, as if it was already so large that one or two extra members wouldn't be noticed. Fred and George liked to toy with Hermione, push her buttons, and they seemed to like Harry's half-rebellious, half-timid attitude; an unusual mix. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Charlie were very nice and open, and did their best to make the newcomers feel comfortable. Mrs. Weasley showed all her appreciation with her baking and cooking, and her worrying about their life and health.
And then there was the last member of the family, whom Harry often thought of as somewhat of a ghost, who merely haunted the house, instead of actually living there as part of the family. Percy Weasley was the most serious person he had ever met with, and if possible, also the silliest. Harry tried to listen and be interested in the things he had to say at the dinner table, but he simply couldn't keep his mind from wandering when someone talked to him for fifteen minutes about all the different kinds of stamps and coins, and how they had evolved throughout English history.
Percy was never seen when they played in the garden, except sometimes to complain from a door or window. He was like a jack-in-the-box, or one of those cuckoo's clocks where the bird peeps out and disappears immediately after its job is done.
There was a lot to see and hear among the Weasleys. There was never a moment of silence or rest in that house. There was always a fight, or someone doing something noisy (like the twins playing darts with chairs, or playing 'war' with bowling balls as cannon balls). Ron complained a lot about his family, but Hermione being an only child, and Harry being often lonely in his little desolate room, they couldn't often agree with him.
With his friendship with his two classmates growing, Harry began to feel the need to share more than he had done previously with them. Not about his parents and his past, for he had not figured that out yet. He still had the strange mountain dream from time to time, without remembering the actual events on that dark day.
No, what he felt like sharing, were the things he loved. He showed them his Anna Karenina book, and the notes he made to try and get to understand the Cyrillic alphabet. When he did that, he also had to tell them where he'd gotten it from, of course. Hermione would not rest until she had all the details.
So Harry told them more about Malfoy. He had to defend him quite a bit, especially after the whole rumour thing that had been started by Pansy Parkinson. And when he felt that they weren't really enthusiastic about the idea of him fraternizing with the enemy, he found nothing else but to tell them of what Draco could do. Not just the languages he spoke, but the world he had created.
That caught their attention, especially because Harry talked of it with such passion and excitement. For an entire afternoon, alone in the bedroom Ron shared with Fred and George, on a rainy day when they couldn't play, the raven told about Hogwarts, about its headmaster Dumbledore, about the forbidden forest, the lake and the Quidditch pitch. Ron was very interested in the last one. The idea of playing a ball game in the air on brooms was particularly thrilling for him. While Hermione was much more absorbed by the Hogwarts school system, the spells Harry had thought of, and the ministry of magic.
But when the raven tried to explain how Ron would be best in Hufflepuff, and Hermione in Ravenclaw, they both argued vehemently. It almost turned into their first fight (Harry against them, instead of Hermione against Ron), and at the end of it Harry had to concede and let them join Gryffindor. He didn't really understand why they wanted Gryffindor so badly. He thought all the houses were equally worthy. Except for Slytherin maybe. He identified everything he didn't like in Draco with the Slytherin house: the misplaced arrogance and pride, the authoritativeness, the selfishness and the jealousy.
Maybe it was the same for Ron and Hermione. Maybe the idea of being in the rival house opposite Slytherin, making them Draco's enemy in their imagination was simply too appealing. Harry chuckled at that.
Unfortunately, a certain blond and grey-eyed person was not at all thrilled at Harry decision to share Hogwarts with his friends. When the raven informed Draco, and told him of some ideas Hermione had offered, it turned into another one of their fights, and quite a severe one. It was so bad that Harry returned to the Dursleys just a few hours after he'd arrived at the Malfoy house, and didn't return until a fortnight later.
As usual, it was Mrs. Malfoy who made the first step to reconciliation and went to get Harry for the weekend, and brought him home. Draco had been unbearably moody and had categorically refused to apologise to Harry.
And so, neither of them apologised. They simply started to talk to each other, in an awkward manner at first, but soon forgetting they were angry and feeling too happy and excited that they'd finally found each other again after such a long time.
But then, something happened at school that none of the trio had expected. Harry, Ron and Hermione were playing around a bench in the schoolyard on a sunny afternoon, when Draco arrived upon them with his troupe behind him.
Immediately, the trio moved in defence position, standing shoulder to shoulder and glaring at the others.
"What have we here! Gryffindors!" Draco sneered. But it was different this time. Harry could plainly see the playful smile Draco used when he was pretending.
The raven was puzzled at first, not understanding why Draco would say the word 'Gryffindor' in front of his own group of friends, who knew nothing about Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron nudged him slightly, thinking that he must know what this was about.
"Since there suddenly were three Gryffindors, I could not allow Slytherin to be surpassed." The blond nodded towards the five or six students standing around him.
Ron was actually the first to catch up. He knew about these kinds of politics by numbers. It was how things were done in his family. How many times had he tried to pry Ginny away from Fred and George? Or even Percy when he was really desperate?
"Those airheads can only count for half, Malfoy." He countered, bearing the same playful smile, which was soon imitated by Hermione who had thrown him a side glance. "So we're about even."
Malfoy turned an eye to Crabbe and Goyle. "I guess you have a point, Weasley." He admitted reluctantly. He seemed to be unhappy with his two closes accolites about some earlier dispute. "We're even then."
His grey eyes flashed at Harry, who felt happiness unequalled in the last year. Draco…Draco Malfoy had accepted his friends, had accepted them into Hogwarts, into the Gryffindor house. He realised he'd been afraid before, afraid that he would always stay divided between Draco on one side, and Ron and Hermione on the other. He'd been worried he would have to make a choice between them somewhere along the line. But all of those troubles had instantly vanished in that moment.
It did not stop there. During the last few weeks of school, Draco more often joined the trio on the playground than his own. It was hard for him though. Hermione and Ron were two years younger, and Harry three years. When no one was around to see it, like at home, it had not posed such a problem, but at school, everyone could see him hanging out with the 'little ones'. It resulted in an upsurge of arrogance, but the moment he even tried to take the lead, they were sure to put him back in his place, and then he had to move back to his own group for a while.
It wasn't an easy group to keep together. Ron and Hermione were hard enough to keep the peace between as it was, and then between Harry and Draco, and Hermione and Draco, and Ron and Draco.
Yes, things were complicated. But Ron admired the 'cool' side of Draco, that 'aura' of leadership. And Hermione was very impressed with his intellectual skills, as Harry had been before her.
Lessons were continuing as they should, and it looked like Miss Snape was determined to stuff every ounce of knowledge she possibly could into their heads until the very last minute. Harry was far from being the only one wondering how he would manage not to fail on her final exam of the year. He already had a bad feeling about the final essay he'd written. But like everyone else, he did not show it. It was a competition to show the least panic possible, and so all the students smiled awkwardly, and sat languidly on their chairs, pretending that nothing in the world was easier than to satisfy Miss Snape's unreasonable expectations.
Although Miss Snape had not loosened the reins in the least, the atmosphere in those last lessons was more relaxed, due to this game of pretentions. It was no source of concern for Severa, for she concluded that if her students weren't paying attention to her words, she would have the opportunity to fail so many more of them.
Harry had long wondered what good could possibly come from failing so many students. What would she do when there would be no one left to teach anymore? But Hermione had long ago conjectured that Miss Snape only wished to keep the very best, so that she would be spared from the task of explaining herself too much; that the students would actually do all the work themselves. Hermione had defended this strategy, saying it was the way to make the most progress in the shortest time, that it was how they worked at university (no other primary school student than Hermione would ever have thought about their academic career at that age) and that Harry should take it as a compliment that he was still in the literature class.
Harry had conceded, seeing no other explanation; although Fred and George's idea that Miss Snape simply loathed children seemed reasonable enough, it did not explain why Miss Snape was a teacher in the first place.
Little more than a week before the final tests of the year, the few students left were assembled in their usual classroom, the sunrays that came through the open windows inviting them out to play. But instead they were forced to bend over their desks to try and write down every detail while Miss Snape analysed a text from the Russian writer Gogol. Every head in the room was constantly darting between their copy of the text, and their notes, straining to follow whatever she was telling them about the art of 'Skaz', which Gogol was a master of, apparently.
Once finished, they were allowed a few minutes to massage their wrists and try to get the blood to flow through their fingers again. Harry thought his would fall off soon from the effort. It actually hurt to simply hold his pen.
The usual murmur arose while everyone talked or compared notes, when suddenly Colin Creevey put up his hand. Miss Snape stopped in the middle of putting something away when her disdainful look fell on Colin's upraised arm. The raven wondered how Colin found the courage to resist that look and insist on asking his question. Was he considering himself safe from prosecution just because these were the last lessons?
"Yes, Mr. Creevey?" Miss Snape questioned coldly.
"Is it true that you can speak Russian, Miss Snape?"
Harry saw Draco start from the corner of his eye, but he was more absorbed by the expression on their teacher's face. Snape's eyes had widened considerably and her lips formed a neat compressed line. It was not that this information was supposed to be a secret, but Severa abhorred being talked of behind her back, and even more to be boasted of, which she immediately suspected Draco of doing.
Harry's thoughts followed the same track. He was pretty sure his blond friend had talked a little too much when showing off to his classmates.
Everyone perceived the change in their teacher's countenance, and finally Colin seemed to understand how stupidly and carelessly he had behaved.
"Who has told you that, Mr. Creevey?" Miss Snape demanded much too calmly, her eyes still fixed on her protégée.
Draco shot Colin a hateful glare, but nothing could save him now. Except…
"It's me!" The raven exclaimed before he knew he was thinking the words. He immediately cursed himself for not thinking it through.
Draco's look turned to one of astonishment as he turned to his dark-haired friend who sat behind him, seemingly trying to communicate something to Harry through his deep frown.
"Oh, really?" Miss Snape wondered aloud, a sceptic shadow veiling her features.
"Y…yes." Harry stammered, knowing there was no way back now. The dark-haired, pointy-nosed teacher watched him expectantly, waiting… "Miss Snape." Harry added when he finally understood what it was she wanted from him.
"Well then." Severa Snape concluded calmly as she went back to her desk to continue the task she was performing. "The class is dismissed, you may all go home." Then she lifted her bag and smiled perversely at the raven. "Mr. Potter, you need not come back anymore."
The raven had not been as foolish as Colin not to expect some kind of punishment, but this? Just for talking about her, she was throwing him out of the course? After working so hard the whole year?
If she hadn't walked out of the room so quickly after giving him the news, Harry would have loved to say what he really thought of her, in front of her this time. He had nothing to lose now, had he? But she didn't even leave him that satisfaction, and everyone packed their bags and left the room in high spirits, for the class had been dismissed half an hour early.
"You blithering idiot!" Draco hissed at Harry as they sauntered through the hallways to the exit. "Why in the world did you do that?"
Harry looked at his feet as he walked. He didn't appreciate being reprimanded by Draco for saving his bloody arse, but he was busy trying to convince himself of the bright side: at least he no longer had to worry about that final exam.
Draco continued to let out a stream of profanities and Harry finally decided to interrupt him, stopping before the exit as he turned angrily to his friend. There were still many children playing in the courtyard, enjoying the good weather while they waited for their parents or their friends who were still in school. Hermione and Ron were out there somewhere too, Harry knew, and he didn't want to face them just yet.
"She would have thrown you out if I hadn't done anything. You know it." Harry said.
"But it doesn't matter, moron!" Draco fired back. "I won't be here anymore next year. But you still have two years to go."
Harry's mouth fell open a little. Draco was in his last year…he was leaving…He hadn't thought about that! Of course, he had been too rash in wanting to protect the ones he cared for. It was always the same thing that got him into trouble. But it simply was an instinct. He could not help reacting the way he did.
They glared at each other for a long while. Draco's look was calculating as he watched his friend. Then, seemingly deciding upon something, he grabbed his dark-feathered schoolmate by the arm, dragged him to the teacher's room and knocked. Most teachers had left and it was Severa herself who opened the door.
"It's me who told Colin Creevey!" Draco burst forth immediately. "I'm the one you should punish."
"Explain." Was all Miss Snape said, crossing her arms patiently.
"Yesterday, at lunch, Colin was telling everyone he would go to Spain this summer vacation, like every year, and that he could speak Spanish fluently now. But what he said didn't sound anything like Spanish, I was sure he was inventing it, so I showed him what I could do, and…well…they wanted to know how I learned it…" Draco seemed to shrink back onto himself as he neared the end of his explanation. Miss Snape's glare had slowly turned to ice.
"I've warned you many times about such behaviour, Draco." It sounded like she wanted to say more, but from the glance she threw him, Harry guessed that his presence prevented her from continuing. "I'll come by tonight to tell your mother. And to tell her you are no longer welcome in my class."
Snape prepared to close the door on the two boys, but Draco came forward again, pulling his friend in front of him. "Is Harry back in?"
"If your account is true, then Mr. Potter lied." Was the sole explanation she gave. It was clear enough. Harry was still out.
Before Draco could open his mouth to proceed protest, two figures came running down the hall and stopped next to them, gasping for air and bending over.
"Harry didn't say anything." Hermione panted, clutching her side, her bushy hair was in her face. "We did." She asserted. News had travelled faster than the raven had expected.
Miss Snape looked exasperated as she regarded the two newcomers. "Is this true, Mr. Weasley?" She addressed Ron with a malicious glint in her eye.
"Yes…yes." Ron panted along with Hermione, nodding frenetically.
"And what is it that you said that Mr. Potter did not say?" Severa held up her hand to prohibit Hermione from speaking up, making it clear Ron was to answer. Harry had a bad feeling.
"Uhm…well…we said that…you had a big nose?" His ears needed no other cue to become flaming red. Harry understood that Hermione had acted so quickly Ron had not had the time to understand what it was all about.
"I told everyone that you spoke Russian, Miss Snape." Hermione intervened hastily.
"And how is it that you, Miss Granger, know anything on the matter?"
"Miss Sullivan instructed us to look into our family tree. I searched the internet, and when I finished mine, I was curious about the teachers. I didn't find much about the others, but your family, Miss Snape, is such an old and respected one that there was much to be found. I was still surprised however when I saw that you had ties with the name of Zhukovsky, the Russian writer. I…I assumed, with such an important heritage, that you would keep your Russian roots alive."
She stopped for a moment. None of the four children had ever seen Severa Snape looking so astonished. Harry then knew it was all true. But why, oh why had Hermione ever thought it worth her while to snoop around Miss Snape's family?
"I am aware I overstepped my bounds," Hermione added humbly, "I must beg your pardon for it. But Harry was not wrong in the least. He doesn't deserve to be banned from your class, Miss Snape."
Severa was starting to show signs that she was losing her patience quickly. Harry understood that they were all in danger of her wrath now, all his dearest companions, and he had already made up his mind about his dismissal from her class, so he stepped up again.
"I did not lie before," he insisted bravely, "I am the one who told Colin about you speaking Russian."
Miss Snape now gave a clear sigh of exasperation as she turned her indifferent eyes on him once again. Draco pulled him back, instinctively trying to shield his friend behind himself. It did not go unnoticed by their teacher.
"And how is it that you know of it, Potter." The semblance of civility was gone and she no longer bothered to add a 'Mr.' in front of his name.
Darn! The raven had not expected to need an explanation ready. She had not asked one of him back in class. And now he was stuck. How could he have known? He usually didn't lack imagination, but none of what he could think of in a split second could sound as nearly credible as what Hermione had been able to bring forth. He could not say he had gotten the information from his friends either, it would incriminate them more, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
"Enough!" Irritation finally pierced through Severa's calm façade. "All of you, out! And you, Potter, with me, inside!"
She held the door open for him expectantly. The raven hesitated, stepped forward quietly, and looked back at his friends who watched him go with concerned looks. Ron seemed terrified, Hermione was biting her lip, and Draco, a head taller than both of them, was looking grave.
Harry was led through the teacher's lounge. Luckily Miss Sullivan was nowhere to be seen. Miss Snape made him enter a side office, took a seat behind the desk and made Harry stand on the other side.
"Now that we are alone, you need not indulge that ridiculous propensity of yours to play the hero in front of your friends." She sneered. "Tell me the truth."
"I did tell you the truth."
The silence was loaded with reproach and scepticism. But if she was asking him, didn't it mean she was doubting? If she was doubting, and he kept to his story, he could convince her…
For a long time, Severa simply observed the young black-feathered boy, watching every move, every impatient twitch. She had for a long time been able to see the bond that gradually formed between her protégée and this child, though what it was that Draco could possibly like in him, she did not comprehend. She had raised him better than that.
"Is Draco…"
"Do not concern yourself with Draco." Severa snapped and interrupted him. "He knows how to shift for himself. Besides," she added, "little does it matter who is in and who is out. I will no longer be teaching at this school next year."
Harry started, then frowned. "Why?"
Miss Snape's eyes narrowed. "You seem very quiet and shy, but you are in fact an impertinent little brat, aren't you, Mr. Potter." Her tone had reverted back to a cold civility, though it sounded somewhat sarcastic.
Harry dared not say anything more.
"Now that you are here, I will return your last essay." She began on another matter entirely, handing Harry a paper from her bag.
The raven took it apprehensively and looked it over while Miss Snape stood up to get something from the cabinet in the corner of the office. His heart sank, even though he'd expected it. He'd failed. 'Abysmal' was scrawled in red next to his title and his grade.
The sound of a heavy stack of paper being dropped onto a desk made him tear his eyes away from the sheets in his hands.
"This," Miss Snape said as she presented him the stack on her desk, "is a list of titles, text fragments, notes and assignments. If I am unlucky enough as to see you again in two years, and you bring me every single paper and essay of this list, and if they are significantly better than the horror you dared bring me last week" she nodded towards the contents of his hands, "I will consider letting you participate in my class again."
"Then…do you mean you will be teaching somewhere else?" Harry asked. Two years she'd said. That meant… "Will you be teaching at a secondary school?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Miss Snape." He added hastily.
"It is none of your business, Mr. Potter. Take these with you, and disappear from my sight." She dismissed him with a simple nod.
Harry stumbled out into the courtyard, carrying his bag and fumbling with the heavy stack of paper in his arms. His three friends, who had been anxiously waiting for him by the gate, came quickly forward to lighten his load. It was then that some of what Miss Snape had said was cleared up.
When Harry told them every detail of the conversation that had passed within the walls of the teacher's lounge, Draco explained to them that Severa Snape was to teach at St-James' College, a boarding school in Somerset, which was where Draco was going in a few months.
"You're going to a boarding school?" Hermione sounded surprised, but not nearly as surprised and shocked as Harry felt. Boarding school? In Somerset? What about Mrs. Malfoy? How could she send her son away? And when would Harry ever get to see Draco? It was too far to come back every weekend. He would only see him for the holidays. And even then, they would grow apart.
Just when everything seemed to be going so well, the little raven's heart felt itself beginning to unravel.
Good morning, or day, or evening, or night.
I bring you an extra long chapter to show my gratitude and love to all of you, to thank you for the reviews and encourage you to write more :)
The first part is a bit of a filler, to fill the gap, but I hope you like it all the same.
See you next time and enjoy the summer! (or the winter for you who live on the underside of our little blue ball)
Aoiika
