Inaugurations IV

The time for the end-of-year exams was nearly upon them, and Harry, who, while meticulously preparing himself, didn't want to expose himself to another of Hermione's little rants, was currently exploring, drifting aimlessly through the castle with the faint hope of coming across some distraction.

His footsteps echoed through the empty hallways. Most of the school was outside, watching Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff duke it out on the Quidditch pitch, which was exactly why Harry chose to roam the castle in its empty and barren glory. No teasing teenagers, no galloping ghosts, no terrifying teachers, no clingy cousins; it was just him and the ancient, historic building bursting with magic. He felt liberated.

Smiling serenely, he allowed his Occlumency to relax a little, but it was difficult. Even though he'd been constantly practising (indeed, he had used most the time he had originally told Hermione he'd needed to 'study the charm' for this very thing), it was still a struggle. It felt like opening the tap only a little bit with the pressure of a giant lake bearing down on him, making him want to rip off the spigot and let it all rush out, make way, to have release. But he did not. He still remembered when he'd accidentally done so the last time. But even beyond that, he felt too elated, too intoxicated when he let loose. He couldn't quite help being a bit suspicious about that.

The colours were still as fantastical and strange as ever, though; the portraits that decorated seemingly every wall of the castle shone in an alluring seawater green, thousands and thousands of barely perceivable strands of animating magic weaved throughout the canvas. It was magnificent – and humbling.

The walls, even the walls, glowed in fiery red colours, murmuring of forgotten enchantments of old, hinting at magic forgotten, every single brick and stone a symphony to his senses.

In the next room around the corner, however, just barely within the reach he allowed his vision, there stood a raging inferno of magic, a vast pillar of unbound, wild and blinding brilliance. He blinked. He'd seen it before.

Harry groaned softly as he pushed his enhanced vision behind the veil of his efforts again; it felt so much better to just let go...

Nevertheless, he walked around the corner, hesitated for a second and knocked politely.

'Come in,' called a muffled voice.

Harry opened the door and entered. It was an old classroom, probably out of use for a century or so. One might happen across dozens if not hundreds of these rooms all over the castle. In the centre stood Aenor, her wand loosely in her hand, in front of her a dark blue...blob with strange red orbs. It seemed to be oozing. A lot of its ooze, Harry noticed, also seemed to have been flung across the room, with Aenor being the only notable exception.

'Fascinating,' she said, not turning around, her eyes focused on the strange thing on the floor.

'What is?' Harry inquired politely, walking up to her, trying not to step onto any of the foul-smelling substance.

'Ever wondered about the original shape of a boggart, Harry?'

'Aren't they thoughts given form? How could they have a shape?'

'Well, that's what I thought, too. But look at that.' She kneeled down, prodding the ooze with her wand. 'Fascinating,' she said again.

'What did you do?' Harry asked carefully, slightly creeped out by the misshapen mass of...something, not to mention that half of it seemed to decorate a substantial part of the room.

'Oh, well, I was experimenting, as a matter of fact. I always thought there was something familiar about the way boggarts transform, so I had a closer look. It wasn't very cooperative, but it turns out it's some primitive-if complex-application of Self Transfiguration. Well, as you know, any Transfiguration can be undone. Sadly,' she continued, still prodding the ooze, 'it seems like it did not survive the procedure. I may have been a bit forceful, perhaps.'

'So, that's a boggart?' asked Harry sceptically.

'I suppose so?' she said, apparently contemplating the point. 'It looks nowhere near like what it used to intimidate me, so I must assume that this is either its natural form or some kind of...accidental reaction to my rather energetic Untransfiguration.' She inclined her head a bit, giving the dead boggart one last prod.

Harry immediately decided that whatever there was that could scare this woman, he really wished he'd never have to deal with it.

'No matter.' She idly waved her wand and the boggart vanished. 'Did you want to have a word? I suppose I have a bit of time on my hands, if you wish.'

'Well, I was just passing time, so why not.'

She nodded and twirled her wand once, ending the motion with a violent swish. Her movements seemed so utterly casual, so offhand that Harry couldn't help but marvel when he saw the whole room start repairing itself; cracks in the wall fixed themselves, the dust on the floor (and the rest of the...ooze on the walls) disappeared, and the windows cleaned themselves to such a degree that even an elf would not have found any reason to complain. Even the brass of the doorknob seemed polished. It was a ridiculous display of magic, Harry decided silently.

Aenor, not even paying attention, wordlessly summoned something through the now open window that looked suspiciously like the desk from her classroom and conjured a pair of rather comfortable looking chairs.

Harry only raised an eyebrow when she sat down behind the desk and gave it an affectionate pat.

'What?! I love this desk!' she said defensively. 'Jealous?' she asked coquettishly, switching gears in an instant.

Harry just shook his head in exasperation and sat down.

'I'm surprised you're not at the match, Harry. I believe more or less the whole school is in attendance. Even Dumbledore's there, letting his hair down – so to speak...'

'Well, I appreciate the castle even more when it's empty.'

'Ah. Already tired of Greengrass and Granger?' she asked knowingly.

'Well, Hermione's still cross with me, so I am her elect target whenever she gets stressed out, which happens a lot with the exams around the corner. And Daphne...Well, Daphne has actually been rather bearable since Hogsmeade. A bit giggly, granted, but otherwise quite nice, really.'

'It really must be nice to be young and stupid,' she commented with a smirk.

'Shut up!' he retorted eloquently.

'Well, I'm sure Granger will come around eventually. She's at least talking to you again; so that's a start.'

Harry shrugged. 'I hope so. She really is pretty smart. I doubt I'll be able to beat her at the tests.'

'Oh? Already preparing your excuses?'

'Please,' Harry waved his hand dismissively. 'I doubt she'll beat me in your class. And I think I'm a touch more skilled than her with Charms too, not even speaking of my head start. On the other hand, all subjects requiring a purely academical approach or practical courses that have us start on even ground will probably be her win. I have to admire her dedication; she really does go to great lengths with her studies and homework.'

'She does,' Aenor agreed. 'She'll be useful for sure. But you'll have to work on her tendency to trust, her belief in authority, her suppressed emotions and her craving for attention.'

'How can you be so mean without even trying?' he asked amusedly.

'Want me to start on analysing you?' she shot back with a wry grin.

'No, thank you,' he refused drily. He leant back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Then, something came back to him that he'd not thought about since the end of the winter break. 'May I ask something about Hogwarts?'

She raised an eyebrow, inclining her head. 'Why would you need to ask for permission? Or why would I know much more than you, for that matter?'

'Well, it might have come up when you were given the job. It also might be something Dumbledore briefs his new teachers on.'

Her expression changed from idle curiosity to puerile delight. 'And why would I give two Knuts about anything the old man says? You're Occlumency is coming along nicely, so I don't see any reason why I shouldn't share whatever he forbids me to. Just ask!'

'I've been wondering,' Harry started slowly. 'About Occlumency.'

'I see. The library, I assume?'

Harry just nodded, watching her closely.

'Well, Dumbledore did indeed say something about that. But you might be surprised to find out that it wasn't his decision to remove most of the books. In fact, that you managed to gather any helpful material about the topic at all should be interpreted as silent protest on Dumbledore's side.'

'Crouch, ey?' asked Harry. Aenor smiled briefly, twirling her wand again to summon two glasses and two bottles. Harry took the butterbeer, choosing not to comment on her consumption of what smelled strongly like fruity liqueur during the day. 'I really don't like the man, but you have to hand it to him. On one hand, he uses the Muggle-borns and half-bloods to empower his own position. On the other hand, if he deprives them of any chance to effectively learn about mind magic...' He took a sip and smiled, looking down at the unlabelled bottle in surprise. This is some seriously good butterbeer. Tracey would sell her soul for this stuff. 'Nice drink,' he complimented her absent-mindedly.

'Thank you,' she replied gracefully, pouring herself another near-fatal dose. 'It's from my private collection. You Brits have your good points, but they're not food and drinks. Except your gin, possibly.'

'I beg to differ, my lady,' said Harry stiffly.

'I'm sure you do.' She smiled playfully at him, raising her hand to drink from her delicate-looking nosing-glass, licking her lips sensually, clearly enjoying the taste to its fullest.

Harry's eyes widened slightly, and he hastily looked away. 'How rare is Legilimency anyway?' he asked, just for something to say.

'Quite rare. Very rare even, though you might find it slightly less so at Hogwarts. In Crouch's defence, he has actually forbidden the unsanctioned study or practice of Legilimency. Talent also isn't really a factor; everyone has to study it, doing ponderous meditations, lengthy self-studies along with a lot of practice. A fairly able witch or wizard needs at least ten years to reach competency this way. That's why most who don't need it professionally don't bother. And even then, most can't really do much except interpreting some surface thoughts. Which is also why the average level of Occlumency is so woefully abysmal in the first place.'

'You still seem rather "competent" if you ask me,' Harry remarked, unconvinced.

She just smiled proudly. 'I had a really good mentor, Harry. And it still took me years and years. Why, are you interested? If you think Occlumency is gruelling, I'm not sure you're cut out for Legilimency.'

'I don't really dislike Occlumency,' he retorted. 'In fact, I've spent most of my time recently improving upon it.'

'Well, that's a good idea, Harry. I really don't want to be hunted down by your family for killing you. No pressure.'

Harry rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help feeling slightly nervous. At first, he wasn't sure if he should take her seriously, but now... Unsure what to say, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind again. 'Why didn't you tell me about that wand trading business?'

Aenor looked at him, startled before she broke out in exuberant laughter. She was laughing so hard that her chair was in danger of falling backwards. 'Well,' she snorted with laughter, 'it just was too cute, Harry. Don't worry, it doesn't count if you don't know what you're doing. I had assumed someone had talked you through that whole business with witches and wizards, but at least now you're in the know.'

'Come one, don't make me out to be some kind of innocent child!' Harry protested indignantly. 'How am I supposed to know every stupid marriage custom there is?!'

'Of course, Harry. Whatever you need to tell yourself.' She laughed again.

Harry clicked his tongue in displeasure and turned around to avoid her seeing his burning face. 'At least I could use your wand. So even if I was a bit clueless, your wand didn't seem to mind that part!'

Her laughter ebbed away, and after a moment of silence, she said, 'You're right. You're the only one except for my mentor who's ever been able to wield it, after all.' Harry turned around again and found her smiling at him rather kindly. 'So, for now, you're still my best bet, I guess,' she said, winking kittenishly at him.

'How about it?' she asked after a while, probably tired of Harry staring at her. 'We probably still have some time until the boys who just float around doing nothing catch the ball that doesn't do anything except decide the outcome of most matches while the others are needlessly preoccupied.'

'Wow, that's some enthusiasm.'

'What can I say? I'm not into men riding sticks. Ready?' She slowly lowered her glass.

'What fo-' And then, Harry's head exploded with pain.

~BLHD~

The final exams rushed by in a hurry, at least Harry thought so. Hermione was a mess, and it was all Tracey could do to somewhat soothe her nerves so that the Muggle-born could find sleep the days before. Daphne didn't seem really interested at all, except in her Potions test, which she didn't shut up about for hours. Tracey and Draco just took it in stride, and Harry really wasn't worried they'd mess up. He personally thought he'd done reasonably well. Charms and Defence was a walk in the park. Flitwick had asked him to make a pear walk around the room, and Harry had, without much thought on the matter, made it dance and sing for the tiny professor, who'd cheered and laughed like a gleeful child. After that, it had become slightly strange, with Professor Flitwick asking him increasingly difficult questions and ordering him to perform some rather advanced magic. Harry had managed to perform the Banishing and nonverbal Freezing charms easily enough but eventually had to admit defeat when Flitwick asked him to cast a charm to perpetually refill his tea cup.

Harry made a note to look that one up later.

Still, the questioning had left him rather exhausted, despite Flitwick's beaming attitude, so Harry had barely been able to stay awake through the rest of the day.

It wouldn't matter anyway. He wouldn't fail, and he knew his strengths and weaknesses without his professor's assessment.

~BLHD~

'And another year comes to a close,' began Albus Dumbledore, standing up and beaming down at every one of his students before his features settled into contemplative gravity. 'Probably never before have I so wished for a year to finally finish, and never before have I felt so helpless, ashamed even, to be the headmaster of this time-honoured school. It has been a long time indeed since a student lost his life here at Hogwarts, but-I fear-it might never be long enough. Today, we mourn the loss of Theodore Nott-'

'...not bloody likely,' whispered Draco, making Harry nearly choke on his pumpkin juice.

'Shhh!'

'...the fourth and youngest son of the House of Nott, who was taken from us and his family this year when he'd just set foot in what should have been his sanctuary for six years of learning and finding friends. I cannot find words to express how much it grieves me to stand here, knowing that I and the staff failed to uphold what should be your most basic commodity: safety.

'It saddens me that only his family and older friends here truly got to know him.

'How does one cope, you then might ask, with a loss that was never felt. How does one mourn a friendship that never blossomed? And I answer: every bond, regardless of its age, regardless of its ferocity, regardless of the love you feel, starts as a seedling, starts as strangers approaching each other.

'And we must treasure our friends, treasure these bonds that make us truly human. But tonight, I ask that you remember how you might have had another bond, another friendship, another love that was taken from us before it could truly blossom. I ask you to raise your glasses and drink to the friendship that was taken from us; drink to Theodore Nott.'

And they raised their glasses - at least, Harry thought, most of them did. Draco didn't, and a lot of other Slytherins and-ironically-Gryffindors didn't either.

Nevertheless, the feast had definitely started off rather sombrely. There was a low murmur instead of the rambunctious and elated chatter that usually wafted through the Great Hall. Harry idly wondered how many were truly sorry that Nott was gone. It was an ugly thought, he decided.

'Harry?'

Harry gave a start and turned towards the person who'd raised her voice. It was Hermione. 'Er, yes, Hermione?'

'I want to talk later tonight. And I've also decided how you can make amends.'

Harry raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Tracey, who was pointedly engrossed in her talk with Daphne. 'I see,' he said curtly. 'And what is it, if I may ask?'

'I want you to trust me with knowledge regarding yourself. I-I want to be your friend, but you have to start being a bit more open with me, too. So...so I want you to tell me about yourself. A-And about the Potters.'

Harry stared blankly at her, watching her fret as she seemed to be getting second thoughts as to her request.

'Nice one, Honey!' Tracey slapped Hermione on the back. 'Going all-in, I see. Well played!'

'Tracey...?' Harry growled in annoyance. The petite witch winced a bit before turning back to Daphne.

'Alright. Let's discuss this later,' Harry offered tersely.

'Otherwise, you just have to wait until Greengrass forgets you're there again, Granger. Has a loose mouth, that one.'

At this point, a well-aimed potato smashed into Draco's face. 'You better shut up right now, you conniving son of a...' Daphne stopped there for a moment, her gaze flickering to Harry and back to Draco again '...Malfoy!'

Harry chose to lean back at this point, lest stray vegetables hit him, too. He idly inspected the blazing red banners that celebrated Gryffindor's win of the house cup for the third time in a row and gave Hermione one last nod, silently vowing to pay Tracey back in kind at some later date.

~BLHD~

Whyever someone would choose the top of the astronomy tower to meet late at night was truly beyond Hermione. She climbed the next set of stairs, considering the possibility of Harry just wanting to get one over on her, but she quickly dismissed the idea, deciding that Harry was probably not the type to carry petty grudges. Puffing and blowing, she finally reached the top of the long and windy staircase, pushing against the heavy and ancient-looking wooden door. It gave way with a foreboding rattling noise, the rusty hinges creaking in the wind.

The platform on top of the highest of Hogwarts' towers was huge. Bigger, possibly, than it should have been able to be. It was enclosed by a beautiful old brass fence and varied slightly spooky stone statues. Hermione had always hated those things, especially since they somehow seemed to be moving whenever you weren't looking. She never spent more time up here than necessary during Astronomy for that very reason.

Harry was leaning on the fence, looking relaxed, his silken robes fluttering in the wind. The wind! Hermione thought with a shiver. Isn't he freezing? What's it with people meeting in cold places at night?

'Isn't this a little dramatic, Harry? Meeting at the top of the highest tower in the dead of the night? Common room too pedestrian for a Black?'

Harry seemed to find her comment rather amusing, going by his friendly chuckle. 'Well, at least you're not deferential, that's good,' he said over the howling of the wind. The night was as black as tar and the wind biting. Even though she stood barely twenty feet from him, the gale swallowed most of his words. Sighing, and pulling her mantle as tight as possible, she walked up to him, careful not to slip.

'This is creepy and cold, Harry. Can't we go back to the dungeons?' she asked, feeling vaguely unsure about the connection of those last two sentences.

'I'd rather not. There's always someone listening, and I really like it here. I'm not too comfortable with crowds, Hermione. And about the cold...'

He moved his right hand within his robes which, she suspected, held his wand, as they so often did. Immediately, her clothes started radiating a comfortable amount of heat from within, effectively shielding her from the harsh weather. This time, she recognised the charm, too.

I doubt he'd appreciate being compared to Miss Fawley, but it is quite amusing. They weren't too different in this regard; meeting at a lonely place in the middle of the night would have been a very Fawley-ish kind of thing to do...

'I really need to learn that charm,' she said, slightly irritated with herself that she hadn't gotten around to having Miss Fawley show it to her.

'I can show you some other time,' he offered politely, his gaze still riveted on the unseen horizon.

'I'd like that.' She paused for a bit to gather herself. There was much she needed to say, but the start was always the worst. And Harry, it seemed, had no inclination to begin the serious part either. He could at least make this easier by apolo-

'I have to apologise.' Harry's voice suddenly broke the silence and her train of thoughts. 'Looking back, I may have been a bit blinded by my desperation to remedy the situation with Fawley as soon as possible.' He was still looking out into the dark as if searching for something, his hair more unruly than ever before, long strands of his black hair dancing chaotically to the tune of the storm. 'I really did want to help you with Fawley, and I really do think you were, possibly are, a bit too trusting to really make all of this work, but I should still have been able to find a better way.'

He turned around to look at her. His face was calm, completely at odds with the raging weather, but a deep determination shone through. 'Tracey was right, too. I do need to work with my friends, instead of just using them. I'm sorry.'

She smiled at him, her own hair nearly blinding her, blowing in the wind like leaves. 'Thank you for saying that. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, could you maybe explain to me what it was that you did to...bring about the events you desired?'

'I see you're trying hard not to say "manipulate",' he said with a bit of a lopsided grin.

'I am trying,' she replied in kind.

'Well, pretty much everything since my hospitalisation. It was one of the plans I had discussed with Draco beforehand. We decided on the last few things when Draco showed me Fawley's dossier. You may remember it - you were there, after all; it was the night Draco threw up soap.'

'A fond memory.' Hermione couldn't help but giggle.

'I agree. Well, everything you and Draco did after that was according to our plan. My plan, mostly, as Draco did indeed have reservations. Tracey knew and disagreed, too, but she's always been a big old softy. We actually intended to make it all a bit more subtle, but there were...circumstances that had us hasten the plan a bit. You finding me sleeping in the grass, or Draco following you into the library were such measures. I was really worried you might see through it, too. I mean, with all the bullying happening, it was a bit strange for me to just lie down there, wasn't it?'

'I guess it was,' Hermione admitted, embarrassed. 'I-I didn't think clearly, I was just so angry, so disappointed... So, Draco being so mean and annoying to me was also a part of the plan?'

This question seemed to trouble him somehow. In the end, he said, 'I certainly told him to be off-putting. But Draco may have a certain kind of talent in that area, regardless.'

Hermione couldn't agree more. 'What was it that made you speed up the plan?'

'That is not for me to share.'

'You mean it's something that happened to Draco? Or was that why Greengrass was so gloomy and dejected?' she asked to clarify.

'I couldn't say,' he replied delicately, and she knew from his tone that he would say no more on the subject.

'That was still a very Gryffindor thing to do, Harry. If I had stopped to think a bit back then, I might have realised you were actively pushing me away.'

'I am aware of that.' He presented her with a small smile. 'And calling me Gryffindor is no insult to me. I believe Gryffindors and Slytherins are maybe the closest of all the houses in spirit. Slytherins have a goal in mind and do everything necessary to achieve it. Gryffindors sort of blunder through the world but do whatever it takes to fight for their conviction when push comes to shove. It's like two sides of a coin, really, and, in the end, it often amounts to the same thing altogether.' After a while, he added good-naturedly, 'Don't call Draco a Gryffindor, though.'

She couldn't help laughing at that. 'Don't worry.'

Suddenly, a particularly fierce gust rattled the fence, nearly deafening her. The door to the tower shut close with a loud bang, making her jump a foot. When she calmed down a bit, she realised that she was holding onto parts of Harry's sleeve. He looked down at her hand, his expression unreadable.

She smiled sheepishly and let go, though she refrained from backing off. He, however, turned away again, leaning over the fence.

'That's dangerous, Harry,' she heard herself say.

'Not particularly. A sufficiently strong gale could probably push both of us over the edge with the fence in tow anyway.'

Hermione just stared at him in horror.

'That was a joke,' he said hastily, smiling briefly to calm her down. 'The fence is quite sturdy, don't worry.'

She looked down, not wanting him to think she was being silly. Eventually, she voiced another question she'd come up with in the past month. 'Have you ever obliviated me?'

'No,' he replied simply.

'Did you consider lying in this circumstance?' she asked curiously, biting her lip and gauging his reaction.

He chuckled a bit at that. 'I believe the question is redundant, but the answer is still no.'

'Why not?'

'There's no real reason to. If I don't want to tell you something, I won't tell you. If I want to make up for my own shortcomings, then I'll do so.'

'Yes, I figured it'd be something like that. Tracey mentioned that you seldom lie, but what's the difference between a lie and misleading someone? You can't take the high ground just because you didn't lie if you still aim to deceive someone, after all.'

'It's not about that.' Harry waved her objection aside. 'Lying is mostly not worth it. You run the risk of contradicting yourself, and keeping up with several lies at the same time may be straining, especially if you have to juggle them when several people to whom you told different things are present. Also, most people don't pay enough attention to really understand what you're saying to begin with. You have to...appraise the situation. A lie should be treated as an auricular acknowledgement of defeat, that's what my grandfather always used to tell me.'

'So why wasn't it worth it to lie to me? You could still make yourself appear better by doing so.'

'Better than what? I'm not in the habit of changing myself just to appease my environment. Well, you tell me why it isn't worth it for me to lie to you regarding this.'

After a short pause to ponder his question, she said in a low tone, 'Because I might find out.'

'Exactly.' He rewarded her with another small smile, before looking back into the night.

'That's so cold, Harry. I-I know it makes a certain amount of sense, but it just seems so cold. Don't your friends mean anything to you?'

That question seemed to upset Harry, as he turned around abruptly, his brow wrinkled in annoyance. 'That's different. I will never sell out my friends, and if I didn't consider you as such, we wouldn't be having this kind of conversation. But I have a lot to lose and little to gain from personal relations. It will take time for me to trust someone, anyone. And there will never be a shortcut. The more you pressure me on this, the more I will have to consider that you have a motivation to force your friendship on me.'

She stared at him, taken aback. 'I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, Harry, really! It's just...so different from what I'm used to.'

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 'I know. I apologise for my outburst. Just...just imagine a block of ice between us. The more we spend time with each other, the more it will melt and we'll be, in turn, able to understand more of each other. But it will take time.'

'That's fine,' Hermione assuaged him immediately. 'I'm fine with that. Well, no, I'm not fine with that, but it will have to do, I guess.'

He nodded. 'It will have to do.'

'Don't you ever get tired of all this? I mean, you always have to consider everything politically, you always consider using people if you perceive them as enemies. Don't you get tired of it all?'

'It can be difficult,' he admitted. 'But I believe my perspective is a bit different from yours. Everybody, everything really fabricates preferable outcomes of events, but most people just choose to not think about it like that. When you subtly let somebody know that you approve of their action, with a kind and innocent little smile perhaps, you're still manipulating a person. Whenever you scold a child, you mould a person. Whomever you ignore, whomever you choose to pay attention to, either way, you're still a factor in what makes him the person he is. You cannot choose to not influence people. We are, to a certain extent, what we are made to be. But even still, and this is the important part, even still you have to fiercely believe that, in the end, despite the differences in upbringing, the subconscious machinations, the events in someone's life, everyone can make his own choices. Otherwise, the world stops spinning. Otherwise, a murderer might as well be the victim. Otherwise, justice is little more than a means of oppression.'

'That sounds like philosophy.'

'It is,' he acknowledged, bowing his head.

'I'm not sure philosophers approve of your applications of their theories,' Hermione remarked, grinning.

'I try to not let it bother me,' he answered wryly.

They shared a moment of silence, though this time Hermione did not mind it as much. 'So...about the Potters,' she began eventually.

'I can't tell you. I'm sorry, Hermione.' The wind blew some stray drops of rain into her eyes, making her blink a few times. 'But I can show you if you want,' Harry continued smoothly.

'Show me?' she asked sceptically.

'Do you want to know or not?' he asked, clearly amused by her hesitance.

'Of course!'

'Then give me your address. I will come over and show you what you wish to know.'

Hermione blinked. 'You want to...come over?'

He inclined his head. 'That is the only way for you to learn. But if you don't want me in your house the-'

'No! That's not it. Er, you can't conjure up some parchment, can you?'

'I'm afraid not. But I do have some parchment with me. If that will do?'

Harry produced a small bit of parchment and tapped it twice with his wand.

'What'd you do?'

'I made it waterproof. Also, you'll be able to write on it with your fingers by subtly applying pressure. It's anything but perfect, but it should do the trick here.'

'What year are those charms from this time?' she mumbled, slightly envious.

'Second and sixth, I believe,' he answered with a roguish smile, as he watched her write down her address with her index.

She held out the parchment to him, and he pocketed it without further ado. 'I will contact you so that we can arrange a time. I have some other business to take care of this summer, so I'm not entirely sure when it will be, but I promise I'll get back to you during the break. I hope that is acceptable?'

'It is,' she replied happily. 'Now let's get out of here before it begins to rain in earnest!'

'Good idea. Descending the stairs when they're wet and slippery is likely more dangerous than staying up here during a thunderstorm.'

'Harry!' She turned towards him in shock again, but he was only grinning. 'Stop doing that! Your humour is awful!'

He shrugged, still grinning.

'Harry?' she started again, after a brief contemplative silence.

'Hm?'

'Draco once told me that "everyone who approaches you has either an agenda or a death wish".'

'Overly dramatic but essentially correct,' Harry commented.

'So, what's your agenda?' she asked, biting her lip.

'I have lots of dreams that have yet to come true,' he answered immediately, slightly surprising Hermione, who hadn't expected an honest answer. 'Changing the way society views me, House Slytherin or my family might be a more achievable plan. But my real goal, my true ambition, is to dethrone the usurpers and turncoats, to undo the great injustice that we have to bear.' He stopped walking, turning towards her, and she could, for the first time, see a kind of childlike euphoria in his features. 'I do not want to regress. I do not want dead traditions to be passed on to the next generation just for their own perpetual sake. But I don't want progress for progress' sake either. And as long as the middle ground is barred, as long as those currently in power seek to oppress us, I will fight tooth and nail to break free of their bonds and shackles, and I will mercilessly crush what they call peace and I repression.'

He stared at her for a second, before beginning to walk again. Hermione just blinked a few times, before following him hastily. 'That sounds a lot like...revolution, Harry.'

'I'm still at school, Hermione. Don't worry. I will tell you once I aim to challenge our glorious leaders, so you can safely detach yourself from my criminal influence in time.'

She hit him playfully on the shoulder 'Prat!'

Hermione silently followed him down the stairs, ignoring the rising headache Harry's little oration had given her. She couldn't really approve, and she had difficulty imagining herself changing so much that this would no longer hold true. Still, she couldn't deny that, in a very crooked and depressing way, Harry's and Draco's actions made a certain amount of sense. They weren't evil. They weren't good either. They definitely weren't kind or honourable. But they were principled, as much as it annoyed her to admit it. 'I think it only now dawns on me what Draco really meant with different values and upbringing.'

'I imagine so,' said Harry quietly.

'But you know what?' She turned towards him and presented him a small smile. 'I think I'm willing to give it a shot.'

~BLHD~

Harry awoke the next morning to the sound of Draco arguing with Zabini over the proper way to fold robes. Groaning softly, he turned around in the faint hope of shutting out their pointlessly animated and heated debate.

'And I'm telling you: we're not in Italy! I don't care how you do it over there. Over here, however, we're doing it right. Stop desecrating your wardrobe!'

'I'm only mildly disturbed how interested you are in my clothes, given how much attention you seem to pay to the boys in the showers,' Zabini replied with a smirk.

'Why, you little-' Malfoy had clearly taken a leaf out of Daphne's book and thrown something at his fellow Slytherin.

'Can you two stop bickering like old laundresses, ladies?' remarked Harry acidly, popping his head out from behind the curtains. He was quite annoyed that his sleep had been so rudely interrupted, especially as he'd been talking with Hermione in the common room until late at night.

Yaxley and Shafiq laughed appreciatively, quite possibly enraging Draco even further.

'You shut up, Black!'

'Yes, shut up, Harry! And start packing already.'

'Yes, mother,' Harry replied sarcastically, grudgingly standing up.

'Hey, Black. I've always been wondering...' Yaxley suddenly asked, looking strangely serious all of a sudden. Yaxley was a lanky boy, easily distracted and equally easily entertained. Harry hadn't really interacted with him so far, same as with Shafiq and the younger Selwyn.

'Yes?' Harry asked tersely.

'I may have a bet on the outcome of the question, so I'd appreciate honesty. If you don't want to tell me, just say so.'

'Alright,' Harry agreed, deciding to humour him.

'How much pocket money do you get?'

Harry just stared at Yaxley, flabbergasted. Draco, however, began laughing shamelessly.

'This is utterly ridiculous,' commented Zabini.

'So?' The Yaxley asked curiously.

'This is the important question you bet on?' asked Harry to clarify.

'Yes!' He replied defensively. 'I bet Macmillan that it's more than fifty Galleons a month.'

'How much did you wager?' inquired Draco, straining to keep himself from bursting out again.

'On the difference between his actual allowance and my guess.'

'Dude, I can't believe how gormless Macmillan is. How the mighty have fallen! I really feel sorry for his ancestors; they must be turning in their graves, wishing they could die all over again to escape the shame,' said Draco, his expression an amalgam of pity and amusement.

'What do you mean?' Yaxley asked, likely confused because he wasn't used to Draco switching gears like that.

'What Draco means to say is that, in the worst of cases, you stand to lose fifty Galleons,' drawled Zabini, looking bored.

Yaxley gulped audibly; it couldn't have been clearer that he did not, in fact, possess the money he bet.

'On the other hand,' Harry continued with a smirk. 'Your possible winnings aren't limited, as such. I doubt you'll get him to pay you more than a few dozen Galleons, but still. Anyway, I don't really have an allowance per se. If I want something, I'll just buy it. There's no real...limit as long as I don't go around buying real estate or something.'

'Wait, what? You don't have an allowance?'

'No, you dimwit,' corrected Zabini. 'He means that he can spend as much as he wants.'

'That's not something I can work with, I can hardly expect Macmillan to give me infinite money. Say, for the sake of the bet, how much money do you have with you right now, Black?' Yaxley asked with a frown.

'I don't know,' responded Harry slightly puzzled. 'Let me check.' He rummaged in his trunk for a while, the others watching him expectantly. 'Hm,' Harry said without any excitement in his voice. 'I guess I have around 750 Galleons here.'

'YOU WHAT?' screamed Yaxley and Draco simultaneously.

'That seems a bit excessive. Even for you, Black.' Zabini shook his head in exasperation and turned around again to finish packing.

'What do you need all that for?' asked Shafiq disbelievingly. 'You expecting to buy brooms at Hogwarts or something?'

'I don't know. I didn't really think about it, to be honest,' replied Harry earnestly.

'This is nuts, Harry. That's much more than what most people need for all their years here combined.'

'I guess,' said Harry with a shrug. 'It's just money.'

Draco rolled his eyes. 'And they say I'm spoiled. Well, have fun getting those 700 Galleons, Yaxley.'

Yaxley only now seemed to realise what this meant for his bet, jumping into the air and laughing loudly. Harry, not really caring for his dorm mate's childish antics, shrugged again and began packing himself, with Draco waiting impatiently for him by the door. 'Will you hurry it up? We're going to miss the train, mate!'

'Relax,' Harry replied calmly. 'There's still loads of time.'

'If you want to skip breakfast, you mean.'

'You're annoying in the morning, Draco.'

'Less talking, more packing!'

Ten minutes later, a thoroughly irritated Harry was dragged to the Great Hall by Draco, who was clearly set on not giving up his first meal of the day.

Daphne and Tracey were already there and had, as expected, already finished.

'There you are!' exclaimed Tracey. 'Can't you fix that habit of yours, Harry?'

'I see no reason to,' he replied grumpily, sitting down and grabbing a bit of toast.

'They've handed out our results, you know? I aced Potions!' proclaimed Daphne proudly.

'Nice,' Harry replied without much enthusiasm. Daphne's face fell comically. 'I mean, well done,' he remedied immediately. 'Your mother will be proud. And so am I.'

'Thanks, Harry.' Her frown vanished in a moment to be replaced by the most dazzling of smiles Harry had ever seen.

'And here comes the number one student of the year,' announced Tracey when Hermione walked up to them. 'Where were you off to?'

'The staff room,' Hermione replied, taking a seat beside Harry and staring at him. 'Good morning,' she said, and Harry noted how her voice seemed quite hard.

'Good morning?' he replied, unsure what was wrong. They had actually managed to sort out a great deal last night, or so he'd thought, so he was understandably confused by her attitude.

'Morning, Granger,' said Draco, smiling over his cup of pumpkin juice. 'What's up with you?'

'I'll beat you next year, Harry!' Hermione declared, clearly disgruntled.

Tracey laughed loudly. 'What are talking about, Honey? You've got the top spot in our year: Seven straight O's!'

Hermione muttered something inaudible.

'What? Speak your mind, Granger! I don't want to suffer your murmuring during the entire train ride,' grizzled Draco.

'My "top spot" is not as high up there as you believe it to be, Draco,' Hermione said darkly. 'If you go by the combined points of our exams only, Harry beat me by an accumulated 170%, however he managed to do that. When I was in the staff room just now, I "overheard" Professors Flitwick and Rose rave about it on my way to our Head of House.'

Daphne, Draco and Tracey looked at Harry in shock.

'Oh, I guess that would be because I got 280% on my Charms test. Flitwick told me already,' Harry admitted absent-mindedly in a low voice, his slowly awakening mind already enjoying the prospect of his family library at home.

Silence followed this most extraordinary statement. After a few seconds, Harry's mind caught up with his mouth, and he stopped dead, his toast dangling a few inches in front of his mouth. Damn! Didn't I just tell Hermione...Oh damn!

Having suffered at least ten seconds of shameless gawping, Harry started fidgeting uncomfortably. 'Eh, I...I believe I forgot something in the library. I'll see you guys later!'

Someone grabbed his shoulder forcefully and made him take a seat again. Hermione's look reminded him of the one she had given him after his slip-up in their first ever Charms lesson. He raised his hands defensively, bracing himself for the inevitable.

'Two hundred...' Tracey repeated as if under hypnosis.

'...and eighty!' Daphne finished the sentence for her. 'I didn't even know you could get more than 100%.'

'Look, Hermione!' Harry coughed delicately. 'An O is an O. Can't we just drop it? I mean, you likely beat me in every other exam except Defence.'

Tracey snorted and very quietly muttered something to Daphne. Harry tried his best to ignore this and steer clear of that particularly dangerous water.

'It's you who got seven Outstandings; so, I think you thoroughly deserve the top spot. We all know how much effort you put into your studies,' Harry pleaded.

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'How many points did you get in your Defence test, Harry?'

Harry tried to fight down his impulse to run away. 'What does that have to do with anything, Hermione?'

Tracey pursed her lips and said in an innocent sing-song voice, 'Hey, Harry! Now that I think about it, didn't you fall asleep during your history exam?'

Another silence washed over the group while everyone (except Harry) did some quick calculating in their heads.

'Harry!' Hermione and Daphne exclaimed simultaneously.

Draco just laughed loudly. 'Another result around 200%, mate? I knew you were a glutton for books, but don't you think you're overdoing it?'

'I–I really think I should be looking for my anthology... I'll see you all later!' Harry said hastily and, standing up, hurried towards the great portal that would lead him to tranquility.

Harry ignored the cries of disbelief behind him, but the moment he heard someone making a few loud steps in an obvious effort to catch up to him, he broke into a full-out run.

Merlin, I just want some peace and quiet!

~BLHD~

The train ride was a bit awkward after that, with Daphne and Hermione both grilling him over his exams. In the end, he gave up and just recounted what exactly had happened. Tracey and Draco thought it was all good fun when he described the increasingly implausible tasks Flitwick had told him to try his hand at. Harry was only mildly surprised that Hermione had apparently worked half-way through the second-year curriculum already and was quite able to cast the Freezing Charm herself, though she lacked a deeper understanding of nonverbal spells for now.

In the end, Harry managed to calm the clearly upset Muggle-born when he insisted that she had, quite fairly, beaten him in all other subjects.

'You'll still, of course, attend my birthday party, will you, Harry?' Daphne reminded him in a suspicious voice when they'd nearly reached King's Cross.

'And you will really come visit, Harry?' Hermione asked nervously.

Daphne shot Hermione a dark look but didn't say anything. 'Yes,' Harry said without gusto. 'Yes, I will.'

'Excellent!' said Daphne, clearly happy with the outcome. 'It'll be a small party, of course. A few classmates, perhaps. Nothing too grand.'

Tracey nudged her a few times, and Harry could see Daphne scowling as a reaction to whatever the petite witch was whispering to her best friend while gesturing urgently.

'Fine!' Daphne finally snapped. 'Granger?'

'Er, yes?' Hermione asked, startled.

'You want to come, too?' Daphne asked rather insincerely.

'Er, no. I wouldn't want to intrude. Thank you for asking though.'

Daphne didn't even try to hide the relief she seemed to feel over that answer. 'Okay, then,' she said merrily, ignoring Tracey making a face at her.

They finally arrived only a few moments later, with Harry being ordered to gallantly carry Daphne's and Tracey's trunks, though he suspected Tracey was really just too lazy to do it herself. Having long since learned not to argue over something small like this, he just sighed, pointed his wand at the trunks and said, 'Locomotor trunks!'

Hermione watched him interestedly. 'No nonverbal spell this time, Harry? You're slipping,' she teased with a smile.

'Hardly,' he replied curtly, not blinking. 'It's more difficult than it looks with several trunks.'

He levitated the trunks out of the train. Hermione was the only one still sticking around at this point, but Harry didn't voice his dissatisfaction, no matter how thankless his friends could be at times. Two Aurors were watching him with leery eyes, obviously disapproving of his use of magic.

'They don't seem to like you moving them with magic, do they?' Hermione asked, looking at the pair of professional Dark wizard catchers.

'Well, it's a bit of a grey area if this is underage magic or not. But they know better than to stick their noses where they could get burned.'

'That sounded really arrogant, Harry,' Hermione responded reproachfully.

'Still true, though,' he returned with a grin.

'Oh, look! It's my parents! Let me introduce you.' Hermione grabbed his sleeve and ran towards a pair of nervous-looking Muggles, who were clearly overwhelmed with the blatant displays of magic. Harry had difficulty trying to keep up, not stumble and hold onto his Charm, but he just managed to not embarrass himself, while Hermione embraced both of her parents.

'Mum? Dad? This is Harry. I've written you about him. Harry? Meet my parents.'

'It is good to meet you, ma'am,' Harry took the woman's hand and brushed his lips against it. 'And you, too, sir,' he added, shaking the man's hand firmly.

Hermione's father looked kind of overwhelmed, while her mother seemed amused by his formal and antiquated greeting. 'It's good to meet you, too, dear,' she said. She was a friendly-looking woman with big, round eyes, and a seemingly inextinguishable smile on her lips. Hermione's father was of rather a lean stature, even if he did look visibly fit. His hair was very short, though that, Harry thought as he gave the wiry and retreating hairline a glance, might just be his way of dealing with what was apparently Hermione's bushy and untamable hair.

'So, you're the, I quote, "infuriatingly incomprehensible young man" our daughter keeps writing about?'

'Dad! Don't embarrass me, please!' Hermione whined pleadingly.

Her father smiled and squeezed his daughter again.

'How have you been, Hermione? You kind of stopped writing letters a few weeks ago,' Mr Granger asked.

'Oh,' Hermione replied with a blush. 'There was just so much on my mind, sorry.'

'She means to say that she worked very hard for the exams. Your daughter's the best in our year!' explained Harry.

Hermione beamed at him, while her parents looked at her daughter fondly.

'HARRY!' All of a sudden, a small blonde rocket slammed into him, nearly toppling him.

'Hello, Tori,' Harry said with a strained smile, patting her awkwardly on the back.

'Oh, and who is this, Hermione?' asked Mrs Granger.

'I, uh, actually don't know either,' Hermione admitted uneasily.

'Oh! Pardon my manners.' Astoria untangled herself from Harry and dropped a practised curtsey. 'Are you Miss Hermione Granger, by any chance? Daphne's told me all about you. Considering she went to great lengths to portrait you in a bad light, I think we might get along just fine.' She curtsied adorably again, smiling at the Muggle-born.

'Yes, that's me. And who might you be?' Hermione asked kindly, graciously ignoring the elder Greengrass' malicious gossip.

'I'm Harry's bride!'

Harry closed his eyes, though he felt like he could still see the accusing and judging stares of Hermione and her father. Oh, for Merlin's sake...

'We've married three times already!' Astoria added as a boast.

'Oh! That's so sweet!' Hermione's mother cooed in a motherly fashion, bringing a hand to her cheeks. 'And he's said yes all three times?'

'Eventually!' the small girl responded triumphantly, raising her chin and causing the adults to erupt in wild fits of laughter.

Oh, please, kill me now!

Daphne and Tracey rescued him from the little bundle of energy shortly afterwards, with Daphne making him promise to attend her party no matter what. 'I don't care if a dragon burns down your house or if you're deathly sick. You will attend my party, understood, Harry?'

'We can nurse you back to health. It'll be fun!' Astoria giggled, clearly on board with the thought.

Harry tried to play it cool but he was finding his patience wearing thin. Tracey, perhaps picking up on that, came to his help. 'Let's get going, Daphy! You'll see him soon enough.'

'Okay,' she replied reluctantly. She walked up to Harry and gave him a quick hug, and Harry was quite surprised that he didn't really mind her doing so. Daphne, to his dismay, seemed to pick up on that as well and, pushing her luck with a cheesy grin, gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

'Hey, no fair!' protested Astoria, stomping her foot, and looking jealously at her older sister.

'See you this summer, Harry!' Daphne turned around with her trunk, giggling at Harry's failed attempt to look like nothing happened.

'You're fairly popular,' remarked Hermione's mother with a knowing smile, watching the sisters banter as they retreated with Tracey.

'Not my choice, I assure you, ma'am,' he said honestly. 'Well, I must be off, too.'

'Wait, Harry! Mum? Dad? Can Harry come over this summer for a day?'

'Not only popular but bold as well, it seems.' But Hermione's mother was still all smiles.

'What's this about, Harry?' asked Mr Granger neutrally.

'I'll only be borrowing Hermione for a few hours. I'll return with her before it's dark.'

'Please, Dad?' Hermione shot his father a pleading look, which seemed to cause his hesitation to wither.

'Well, alright. But I expect you to be a perfect gentleman, Harry,' he said sternly.

'Of course, Mr Granger. It isn't a date, though, if that will ease your concerns.'

'Oh!' he said awkwardly, clearly surprised. 'Well, if that's... I mean – well. There shouldn't be- Well, alright.'

Miss Granger patted his shoulder affectionately. 'You can still ask our daughter on a date if you wish, Harry. It isn't his decision to decline,' she smiled gently.

'I wasn't... I mean... Well, of course, I'd be perfectly happy to-' spluttered Mr Granger.

'Relax, Dad! It's not a date, so stop making such a fuss about it!' said Hermione matter-of-factly, rolling her eyes.

'Well, it was nice to finally get to know you, Harry,' said Miss Granger, apparently taking pity on her husband. 'We'll be seeing you this summer, then.'

'Thank you for your hospitality,' replied Harry, bowing slightly. 'I'll be looking forward to meeting you again.'

'It's quite alright, dear,' she replied, smiling brightly.

'See you later, Harry! Write to me, will you?'

'I will,' he replied with a nod, watching Hermione dragging her parents through the barrier and off into the strange and alien world of the Muggles.

Looking around, he spotted Draco in conversation with his family. With nothing better to do, he wandered over.

'Harry! It is so good to see you!' Narcissa gave him a quick smile, looking him over. 'You're looking well. Did you enjoy these last few weeks?'

'As well as could be expected,' he answered. 'Hello, Lucius.'

'Harry,' the man said without inflexion and with only the most minimal of nods.

'Are you coming with us, Harry?' Draco asked confused, craning his neck, obviously looking for Arcturus.

'I don't know, to be honest,' said Harry. 'Someone was supposed to pick me up.'

'Don't worry, Harry. I'll be dropping you off, today. Your grandfather couldn't make it.' Narcissa pointed her wand at his trunk, and it shrunk until it fit into her purse, where she promptly stowed it away. 'You have everything, Sweetheart? Want to grab a snack before we're off?'

'There you go pampering Harry again, Mother.'

'Let them be, Draco. A wise man never stands between a woman and the target of her pampering.'

'Very true,' replied Narcissa Malfoy, beaming at her favourite nephew, whom, very much like her sisters, she refused to acknowledge as a second cousin. 'Let us be off, Harry. Bella will only wait for so long.'

'She's at home?' Harry asked, slightly alarmed.

'She is. With Arcturus out of the country for a bit, she has insisted that one of us should look after you.'

'Are Amy and Leo there as well?'

'No, they're with the rest of the Lestranges for now. Come now.' She gently took his hand and motioned for him to prepare himself. 'I'll be seeing you tonight, my little Dragon.'

'Yeah, alright. See you at Greengrass' party, Harry!'

'Okay. Bye, Draco. Goodbye, Lucius.'

The man nodded silently, his eyes flickering to his wife and back to him again.

And then the world blacked out, and Harry felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube. Not a second later, he appeared in front of their house in the city. 'I thought it might be better if you entered on foot this time, given what happened when you last apparated through the wards.'

'Good thinking,' remarked Harry, quite relieved that his aunt was as thoughtful as ever.

'I still don't comprehend what happened back then,' she remarked, her elegant features creased with apparent confusion. 'Nothing like that has ever happened before.'

'I don't fully understand it either,' said Harry carefully, slowly stepping over the boundary of the wards, focusing as much as he could on his Occlumency and feeling immensely relieved when nothing out of the ordinary happened.

'Well, better prepare yourself to face Bella,' said Narcissa with a wry smile. 'She's been really upset.'

Harry sighed. 'So I gathered.'

The door opened to a soft touch of his hand. 'Ah, welcome home, my boy!' cried one happy painting of a wizard that hung beside the door.

'Finally! Decent company of good repute, welcome back, indeed,' said the portrait of Walburga Black.

Harry smiled at them, especially when he saw a lot of occupants of other portraits rushing through the now empty frames in the staircase with various degrees of dignity to welcome him back.

'Harry!' a shrill voice echoed through the house. 'Did you hex the degenerates? Did you chasten those filthy heathens who besmirched our noble house by daring to lay a hand on my darling nephew? Dogs should know their place when the masters go for a stroll – and those mucky mongrels will only ever learn the hard way!'

'Hello, Auntie Bella,' Harry replied with practised ease, allowing himself to be swept up in her fierce embrace.

And later that night, when Harry was nearly asleep, he allowed his body to completely relax for the first time in nearly a year, laying his wand on the bedside cabinet and out of his immediate reach for the first time ever since he'd left home. There were things to consider, difficulties to overcome, years of Hogwarts ahead of him, but, at this very moment, his mind was finally completely at peace.

And somewhere else, in the deepest bowels of the British Ministry of Magic, half a mile underground, in a dark and nigh-forgotten hall with rows of empty lithic seats, witnessed by nobody and without leaving any evidence of it ever happening, a veil began to flutter.

Black Luminary – Houses Divided

fin

AN1: Heya! This is it; the first year is finally finished. For those who want more adventure or tension-heavy plot, be at ease; the next year will have plenty of that. Just to give you a short heads-up of what to expect: I will not dilly-dally too much, and we will be returning to Hogwarts fairly soon. In the meantime, Madame Greengrass (Daphne's grandmother and the head of her family, not to be confused with her mother), who (as you might have picked up) does not approve of Harry one bit, makes a short appearance and so do the Lestranges. Bellatrix has been a challenge to write, I don't mind admitting. That is mostly because, like Draco, she does not have any character whatsoever in the books; she's as violent and obsessed as Draco is mean and antagonistic. Still, I think you'll find my take on her mirrors these attributes in some way or another. On the other hand, I've had lots of fun actually imagining what Bellatrix' children would have been like (with her not in Azkaban and completely demented, obviously). The siblings will, I think, be rather well-received, though I don't want to foreshadow too much right now.

AN2: I'll be adding this note again because I know this is something that a lot of you are rather passionate about. There will be no harem or anything like it. I know this chapter gives the impression that every female seems to have a thing for Harry. That is not the case. Hermione has, so far, not shown any tendency to go down that route. Neither has Tracey. Amy, one of Lestrange's children, is not exactly ladylike. Now, Daphne is a bit of a special case, but I think I've made it fairly obvious by now that she and Harry share a Past that justifies the capital letter. She's dependent on him, she craves his attention, sure, but despite her playfulness, she hasn't actually expressed any genuine romantic love so far (not that most teenagers that age would be able to, anyway). Astoria, too, shares her family's past with Harry, though her affection is really totally innocent and rather along the lines of admiration and wanting to compete with her sister. Also, without spoiler, Tori will probably remain a secondary character, seeing as the number of friends Harry has at Hogwarts is already taxing my ability to do them all justice. And lastly, Aenor has proven to be extremely ruthless, cunning and calculating even if she seems to have opened up to Harry a lot.

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I do NOT want to allude that Harry will not end up with one of them. Because he will. Which one, well, I doubt you'll get it right at this point in time. But you sure are welcome to guess. Bragging rights for whoever gets it right about a hundred chapters in advance! If someone should actually guesses right and also predict correctly how it'll happen, I'll write a minor character in his (or her) honour that'll probably die a horrible death.