I Don't Want to be a Hero - Second Year
Chapter Thirteen
Halloween - 5 to 10 Oct 1992
By Monday on the 5th of October Harry had thrown off the flu with lots of chicken broth (which he learned had many healing magical properties), Nutrition potions (which Harry declared tasted like car exhaust), and an especially strong formula of Pepper-Up that was only distributed in St. Mungos or by Healer-qualified Potions Masters.
Harry slept a lot but when he was awake he studied his textbooks, or played chess with his father. Visitors were not permitted so as much as he was not looking forward to the resumption of classes he was very pleased to see his friends.
Ron was still not speaking to Harry, and in turn refused to speak to Hermione, and certainly not to Draco.
Fred and George scolded Harry for talking them into doing the right thing and showing the Headmistress the Marauders Map. He was honestly sorry to hear that it had been taken from them but then the twins overwhelmed him with welcoming hugs, and even embarrassing brotherly kisses to his cheeks.
After classes and just before dinner the new trio, which had been dubbed facetiously the Three Musketeers by George, had become explorers of the amazing attics of Hogwarts. Fred showed them one of the many attics that contained the ledgers of the discipline of past students. With the ledgers were also a set of books that recorded the sad tales of some students who never finished school. A few were expelled, an even fewer had died. One student of interest was Myrtle Tremble, a Muggle born like Hermione, who had died under mysterious circumstances.
Myrtle Tremble had been a Ravenclaw about 50 years ago who was not known by the other students to be pretty. Hermione had found a scribbled note from Minerva McGonagall in which the teacher found the young girl to be exceptionally talented in Transfiguration.
The day in the attics of Hogwarts was a relatively quiet one as Hermione learned more about the Founders, Harry learned more about the Marauders, and Draco found a stack of old Daily Prophets with articles that all pertained to Hogwarts.
"Harry! Hermione! Come here," called Draco. Now surrounded by dozens of old newspapers and articles clipped from the papers he found one article of interest.
"What is it?" asked Hermione.
"Exorcism Successful!" Draco read the large headline. He then went on to read the article, "Michelangelos Braden once apprenticed to the UnSpeakables, and now an expert in ghosts, and Ghost Exorcisation, has succeeded in ridding one Olive Hornby of the ghost that had been haunting her for nearly twenty years. Master Braden sent the ghost to its area of death in Hogwarts where current Headmaster Armando Dippet welcomed the ghost. He was quoted as saying, 'Hogwarts is home to quite a few ghosts, and as Miss Tremble was a student who unfortunately died here I am certain she will find a home with us.' Readers will note that Miss Tremble, daughter of Muggles, was the subject of a disappearance in 1943 that ended in the discovery of her body in the second floor girls' restroom. Cause of death has never been determined, and when this reporter tried to interview Miss Tremble he was met with the watery explosion of all the toilets, and Miss Tremble screaming at me to leave her alone."
Draco dropped the article, rummaged amongst others, and then picked up a new one. "Body of Myrtle Tremble Discovered in Bathroom by Student."
"Myrtle," mused Harry. "And, she's still here?"
Draco nodded. "She's the one Master Braden exorcised to Hogwarts. What if we talk to her and find out how she died? Maybe we can solve the mystery!"
"I wonder if that's Moaning Myrtle," mused Hermione.
"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" asked Harry.
"A ghost. She haunts the second floor girls bathroom. She's always flooding it when she's in a pique, or always crying about how terrible the world is," explained Hermione.
Draco grimaced, "Well she did die as a student so I'd guess she's unhappy about that."
"Let's ask her tomorrow," said Harry. "We have to do homework and eat dinner."
Draco sighed. He would rather explore than do homework. Hermione recognised that the young Slytherin was close to a pout.
"It's ravioli tonight, Draco," she reminded him with a purr.
Draco glanced up with a grin. "I love ravioli! Let's go!"
And with the promise of wonderful meat and provolone ravioli the exploration for the day was ended.
10 Oct 1992
The rest of the week presented the students with an avalanche of homework. Detentions were down, though, and points losses had lessened with the amount of students on their best behaviours. Harry had retreated to the sanctuary of his father's quarters in Hogwarts and had been allowed admittance to his private potions lab.
A corner of the lab had been turned into a comfortable area where Harry could sprawl with his textbooks, and do his homework. On the other side of the lab Professor Snape worked on a potion that he kept muttering over, and writing notes about. Harry paid little attention since he was having a bit of difficulty in Ancient Runes where he was to translate a fragment of an old spell. Even his father's ever-present cough had been relegated to the background as Harry worked.
Helios, Severus' black owl arrived in the lab with a short letter from the Headmistress. Glancing to see that Harry was still reading, he broke the seal, unfolded the note, and read it quietly.
Severus,
Poppy has been to visit me. It seems you were scheduled for an exam that you missed. I am not threatening but I would like you to get your exam completed at least so you are healthy for your son.
Do contact Poppy to re-schedule as soon as you can.
Sincerely,
Minerva
Severus folded the note but inwardly he was seething. He knew that Poppy, the matron of Hogwarts, wanted to examine him but he simply was too busy. At least, that is what he told himself. He had no intention of contacting the meddlesome Healer, and so he sent the Headmistress' reminder straight to flames in his laboratory fireplace.
"Harry, gather your homework," Severus interrupted after a time. Harry looked up to see his father dropping test tubes of various potions into a rack.
"What's up, dad?" Harry closed his Ancient Runes textbook and began stuffing everything into his bookbag.
"I have to go out. You are not allowed in my lab unless I am here," Severus told him brusquely.
Slinging his bookbag over one shoulder Harry hurried over to his father. His father's brow was furrowed, and he seemed either lost in thought or… right then his father coughed, and Harry suddenly feared the worst.
"Dad, are you all right?"
"Hm?" muttered Severus distractedly. He was staring at the potions journal he had been writing in.
"Dad," Harry spoke a little more firmly but it was the heavy worry in his son's voice that broke Severus from his thoughts. He faced his son. Harry reached out to touch his father's hand. "Are you all right?"
"I am fine, Harry. I just have some business at St. Mungos, and then I should be…"
"St. Mungos?!" now Harry was panicked. "What's wrong? Are you dying? Maybe I should go…!"
Severus caught his son by his shoulders. "Harry, shhh. Calm down. As I said, I am fine. There is nothing wrong with me." He then coughed softly once, and grimaced at himself.
"You're coughing all the time," Harry took a slow, deep breath. He then inquired, "Why are you going to St. Mungos if you're all right?"
Severus did not reply immediately as he noticed his son was spasmodically, worriedly, clutching the sleeves of his coat. "I have…" he began awkwardly. "There is… the wizard from Azkaban."
"Sirius Black?" asked Harry. "I've heard of him…" he recalled all the detentions and points losses and 'pranks' he and his friends (which included James Potter) had plagued other students with. "... a lot. He…" Harry frowned in sudden realisation. "He's friends with that Lupin wizard you don't like."
Severus nodded, and released one of Harry's shoulders. He carded his fingers through the boy's long hair; a habit he found to be as soothing as Harry did. He took a deep breath then said, "Are you aware that Sirius Black was your godfather." To his surprise, Harry nodded. "How did you know? I was certain that information had been magically wiped from all the books."
"Hermione found a history book that said my parents made Black my godfather. Fred and George and Ron and Draco said prisoners don't get to be godfathers so it was taken away," he related rather matter-of-factly.
"And, you do not wish to meet him?" Severus asked wondering what was going on with Harry's thinking. Was he not even curious about the man.
"I was sort of curious, dad, but then I read the ledgers in the attic. Sirius bullied a lot of people including in his own House. I know he hurt you, too, and that's not right. I don't want to meet anyone that hurt you." Harry threaded the fingers of one hand through his father's hand. "I… I know he's very sick and probably dying but… I just think… well, wouldn't it hurt him to know about me?"
"That is a possibility, Harry," Severus was jealous. He felt the rise of the green-eyed monster in his heart, and it did not help soothe away the feeling thinking that Harry felt even a little positive towards Black. Still, as much as he disliked it, Harry deserved to know of a connection to his parents. He needed to know that James Potter was not all the negative memories that he, himself, held of him. After all, both Lily and James had approved of him adopting Harry. That was something that he had never expected.
Severus added, "However, I am sure that he misses his friends, and that it would hearten him to know you are well." He nudged his son up the stairs. "Collect your travelling cloak and you may come with me to St. Mungos."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, dad." he started up the stairs, but stopped, and walked back down them. "You're more important to me than anyone else, dad. I don't want him or nobody else to ever take me away from you. Ever." Quickly Harry hugged his father, and then ran up the stairs.
Severus allowed himself to smile in the silence. It felt good knowing how important he was to his son. In that moment a breeze that had no business being in the still air of his lab brushed his cheek. The aroma of dried roses and lavender drifted into his nostrils. "Lily," he sighed. "You would be proud of him, Lily. You and James would both be proud. Harry is a very good boy."