In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 24: Why Worry
"Uh–oh," Hermione muttered as she read The Daily Prophet as her, Ron, Gia, and Harry left Hogwarts castle Saturday morning, headed toward Hogsmeade.
"What?" Ron asked.
"Never mind," Hermione said.
"Harry," Ron said, grabbing the paper, "It's about you."
"When isn't it?" Harry replied.
Gia grabbed the paper, read it aloud.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Saturday, 26 October, 1996
The Daily Prophet
Potter in Mischief Again
by Rita Skeeter
Once again, yours truly regrets to inform you that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Should Have Died, is still wildly out of control. Last time, I informed you about the mischief Potter is causing, how a dozen people were murdered last month at his hands, how his out of control sex drive is dirtying the halls of Hogwarts, how Potter poisons the school meals, how Potter recklessly endangers himself and blames others, and how Potter is beating his fellow schoolmates. Evidence is surfacing that Potter's misbehavior is worsening.
Two years ago during the four champion debacle of the Triwizard Tournament, Potter's Potion teacher, Severus Snape was heard saying, "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here." Potter apparently continued with his rule breaking Thursday by adding an explosive surprise to the stairs of Hogwarts, injuring many students; all the while taking full advantage of the extensive liberty offered to this infamous and very spoiled wizard at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
One may ask "Where is his supervision?" They need to only look so far as Hogwarts' Headmaster Albus Dumbledore who personally intercedes on each misbehavior and pressures the complainers to rescind their charges. Potter, whose bed at Hogwarts rots unoccupied at night, is sleeping around and the smart reader would seriously doubt that Potter even knows the names of those he forces his manhood onto.
Whether or not the rumors about Potter being a more powerful successor to the late You Know Who are true, certain things are absolutely apparent. Potter is a disgrace. Potter is a disgrace to Hogwarts. Potter is a disgrace to the Wizarding community. Potter should be expelled and banished immediately, and his wand destroyed. We should not in good conscious, permit others to commit foul acts against us, nor permit Potter to continue unchecked. Any decent and self–respecting person should write to Dumbledore and Fallerschain to demand immediate action.
"Arsehole of a barmy burk!" Harry exclaimed, "Can't see the truth—"
"This is juicier," Ron said.
Harry glared at Ron. They walked past Mr. Filch at the gate, and kept on going.
"This is going to be fun," Hermione muttered.
Harry loosened his jacket as they approached The Three Broomsticks.
"They're loose?" whispered a hag to a witch, both were departing The Three Broomsticks.
Harry rolled his eyes as he opened the door and entered, his friends behind him as he collided into a tall and big fellow, a fellow that made Dudley seem short and reasonable. Harry stumbled back, his eyes moved up to the fellow looking back with crossed arms.
"You're new," Harry remarked to this new bouncer.
"Out," the bouncer said, "You're trespassing, so you either leave or I toss you out."
"Fine," Harry snapped.
Harry stepped backward, but was too slow for the bouncer who gave Harry a firm shove. Harry lost his balance and tumbled backward, Ron stumbled, Hermione tripped, and Gia pushed herself against the wall. Harry landed on his arse with his hands hitting the gravel.
"You mad bastard—" Ron drew his wand, his eyes focused upon the bouncer.
"Not the place—" Harry started back up.
"All banned for life." The bouncer pointed at the four of them before closing the door, which left them out in the cold air.
"How rude of them—" Hermione said.
"Their choice, I suppose," Harry said.
Grin wiped from his face, Harry plucked the small bits of gravel out of his palms as he walked toward Honeydukes. In several moments, they entered Honeydukes to be greeted by the glare of the lady behind the counter. She pointed toward the door.
"Out!" the lady ordered, "Can't you read?! Leave!" She gripped the hilt of her wand.
Harry backed out and read the sign posted in the window.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry James Potter
and
Ronald Bilius Weasley
are not welcome!
Harry sighed, turned. As he rotated, his eyes focused up and down the road, where Zonko's Joke Shop had a sign on display, a hint of it was visible in Gladrags window. Harry kept turning, and it became clear that every shop had this sign, from The Three Broomsticks to the Post Office and beyond.
"What'd you expect?" Hermione asked.
"A bit of reason," Harry said.
They walked to the station.
"We're not taking the train, are we?" Hermione asked.
"Seemed a bit closer than Hogwarts," Harry said.
They ducked into the empty men's lavatory, where Harry took out his Portkey. He activated it, and they all touched it.
"It was wishful thinking," Hermione said as they landed in Gia's bedroom, "After twelve were cut down—"
"We didn't!" Harry protested.
"They are not convinced," Hermione said.
"We still have the day," Gia said.
"London instead?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged.
"I'd like to go," Gia said.
"Alright," Harry said.
They went out the door, down the steps, and left 26 Oak Street.
"Hogsmeade's overrated," Ron said, "Diagon Alley's much better."
They headed for the station.
Neville Longbottom entered The Three Broomsticks ahead of Seamus Finnigan, went up the stairs. They entered the room on the first floor, lounge chairs with some end tables all around, filled with Hogwarts students and strangers alike. However, a group of chairs sat in front of the fireplace.
"Good," Finnigan said, as he went to the chairs, grabbed a drink as he sat.
"What's the big deal?" Macmillan asked as he sat down.
Justin Finch–Fletchley brought over a small tray of pints, handed them around. Others, including Dean Thomas, joined the small group.
"The first years best represent the problem we've got," Finnigan said, "So scared of Potter, so brainwashed with the hope that Potter's not gone bad, all hoping for things to change.
"Don't get me wrong. I've got hope too, that Harry's not truly lost to us, because he was fun to be around, I thought I really liked him, because I was just as blind as Ginny Weasley's hopeful in him." He drank at the pint in his hands. "Except, my eyes have been opened, I now see the ugly truths, not the fairy tale—wishful thinking. Harry did take out the Dark Lord many years ago, but that's where the fantasy ended. All the excuses, all those lies, it paints Potter for who he really is, a spoiled brat. If I could do it over again, that first year, I'd have pushed Potter into forming better friendships, even Malfoy would've been better than what happened, those who'd write him a pass with each insult."
They all sipped their drinks.
"What'd you expect us to do about it?" Thomas said, "Face it, we're stuck with Potter."
"No, we're not," Finnigan said, "We give this a try." He held up The Daily Prophet.
"You're deluded that anything would happen," Macmillan said.
"Do we give up, become scared first years?" Finnigan asked.
"No," Thomas said.
Macmillan shook his head.
"Neville?" Finnigan asked.
"I'm not positive its the right thing—" Longbottom started.
Smack!
Finnigan's fist recoiled from Longbottom's shoulder.
"My Gran would kill me," Longbottom said, "She's still admires Harry."
"Don't tell her," Finnigan said.
"She'd find out," Longbottom said.
"What are we going to do?" Justin Finch–Fletchley asked.
"Simple," Finnigan said, "We ask the teachers to kick Potter out, expel him."
"They're not going to go for it," Macmillan said.
"We have to start somewhere," Finnigan said as he grabbed a sheet of parchment, began to write, "And yes, it'll suck."
"Why do I care about lingerie?" Ron asked Harry as they followed Hermione and Gia out of the Fancy Dress shop on Charing Cross Road, "They don't need to be wearing anything!"
"Say that a bit louder in case they didn't hear you," Harry said.
"Take that stuff off!" Ron said to Hermione, "Makes you look horrible."
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
"Hey, hey," Harry said, "Lets try the bookstore."
Harry came first to the third hand used bookstore, to the faded sign above that illuminated, The Leaky Cauldron. However, his eyes came fast to the sign posted prominently on the door.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry James Potter
and
Ronald Bilius Weasley
are not welcome!
"Fancy that," Ron said, "I'm infamous."
"It's not how you want to be known," Harry said as they continued walking, "Is there a back entrance to Diagon Alley?"
"Why would there be?" Ron asked.
"Dunno," Harry said, "Thought there might be—suppose we could get some brooms—"
"They clearly didn't want you entering," Gia said.
"It didn't preclude us," Hermione said to Gia.
"Do you really want to test how well our girlfriends would go over?" Harry asked.
"I've gone before," Hermione said, "Some parchment would be useful."
"Tomorrow?" Ron said.
"I—my parents," Hermione said.
They kept walking.
A train pulled up to the platform that evening in Guildford as they traveled from Waterloo to Noigate, and they got on. Inside, it was sparsely occupied, and they found the pair of two seaters facing each other, sat. Gia sat next to the window, Harry across from her. Ron sat to her left, while Hermione sat on the other side. Harry stretched his arms, put his hands behind his head.
"That was fun," Harry said, "Better than Hogsmeade—well, it would've been nice to have shown you around a bit more."
"As soon as you sort it out, it'll be better," Gia said, "I believe in you."
Harry sighed.
"These things take time," Hermione said, "If Voldemort's plan is typical, it'll be over in June."
"June?" Gia stammered.
"Habit," Ron said.
"Is it worth it?" Harry asked.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Getting banned, with me?" Harry asked, "Is it worth it?"
The train continued taking them home to Noigate.
"What no good beggar—"
Hermione's head ached severely, it spun, and she gripped the hard floor as best as she could to avoid it tipping over Sunday morning.
"Hermione Jane Granger!"
Hermione's eyes crept open, bit blurry, she recognized her mother, standing over her. Hermione was in the kitchen, of her house, laying starkers on the tiled floor with dried egg yolk on her skin.
"What's the big idea?" Linda Granger asked.
"Mum?" Hermione asked.
"Don't Mum me," Linda said, "Your father and I managed to catch an early flight home only to come across you—this!"
"Quiet," Hermione pleaded.
"How much?" Linda asked as she held up the Scotch bottle.
Hermione slowly sat up, the egg shells scattered across the tile floor, the red spots of ketchup. Hermione didn't want to confess to the counts of her indictment, because she couldn't remember, it sort of became a blur after she and Ron came into the house the previous evening.
"Her too?" asked Charles Granger as he came into the kitchen. Ron, starkers, followed.
"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Linda said, "I thought you were at Hogwarts."
Hermione glanced past the discarded milk cartons, swept off dried rice from the bar stool, sat. Ron sat next to her. Linda sat to the other side of the kitchen island, Charles next to her. Fingers tapped on the granite surface.
"It…sorta…" Hermione started.
"Things aren't exactly going great," Ron said.
"Horrible is more like it," Hermione said, "I thought it normal, at first, you know, because rumors, they're part of being at a school, part of Hogwarts, and they can be mean at times. This year, a particularly nasty bunch focused against Harry, and that was just the start."
"It's gotten worse," Ron said, "Somebody's going around, impersonating, framing us. Such as the murders last month in Hogsmeade."
"Is that what that letter was about?" Linda asked.
Hermione and Ron explained Hogsmeade, the first time.
"This is serious," Charles said.
"Whether it spooked them or not, there hasn't been any murders since then," Hermione said, "However, Ron and Harry are banished from Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley."
"But isn't Professor Dumbledore not caving?" Linda asked.
"It's not his doing," Ron said, "It's the others."
"Assaults, a poisoned lunch, a blizzard, a booby trap or two," Hermione said, "The other students don't like it, blame us for what's happening, don't believe us when we tell em the truth, that we're not responsible. They're now ignoring us, so I go each and every school day with just Ron and Harry to talk to."
"Hey!" Ron snapped.
"I need more," Hermione said, resting her head on the granite surface. She ignored the specks of black pepper strewn about.
"We could talk to Noigate Public, they'd likely take you," Linda said.
"No, no, I intend to finish Hogwarts," Hermione said, "We've been coming here on the weekends, lets me talk to Gia, and the others."
"Harry's commute?" Linda asked.
"Yep," Hermione said.
"Can we get a partial refund if she's not at Hogwarts all the time?" Charles asked.
"We can spare a bit for our daughter," Linda said, "Though I'd like to do more."
"Wish you could," Hermione said, "It felt good using my own bed—for all the charms they do at Hogwarts, nothing compares."
"Me?" Ron asked.
"That too," Hermione said.
"If you need anything else," Linda said, "Don't hesitate to ask."
Ron and Hermione made it over to 26 Oak Street, entered.
"So, you can fly too?" Richard asked.
"Yep," Ron said, "Got a broom myself."
"I just flew yesterday, made it to France and back," Richard said, "Just go to Dover, and turn, not too difficult."
"Cool," Hermione said.
"Hey, one of the fellows at the airport had some tickets for a boxing match," Richard said, "Gia nixed Harry—"
"Good reason," Ron said.
"Either of you two interested?" Richard asked.
"Jen?" Hermione asked.
"Not interested either," Richard said.
"I'll go," Ron said.
"Good," Richard said.
Ron and Richard left the house. Hermione squatted near the fireplace, rubbed Snuffles' belly, before she went into the dining room. Textbooks were on the table.
"Hermione," Harry said.
"Richard?" Jen asked.
"Ron took him up," Hermione said as she sat, she put her hand into her hair.
"Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Tell you what," Gia said, "I'll take Jen instead."
"Where?" Hermione asked.
"Something for Richard," Gia said.
Gia and Jen stood, and left the dining room.
"Why'd I get left behind?" Hermione asked.
"Well, come then," Harry said as he stood.
Harry held out his hand, and Hermione took it. They went out the glass sliding door in the back of the dining room, walked across the grass of the back lawn. They went down the path, down the road, to the turn, and crossed over to the Noigate Commons.
"What's up?" Harry asked.
Hermione sat on the bench that overlooked the pond a few feet away. Harry stepped in between, his bottle green eyes focused on her.
"You seemed—yesterday," Hermione said.
"Won't lie," Harry said, "Fucking annoying, bloody hell, to be—unwanted."
"You're not unwanted," Hermione said.
"Signs in Hogsmeade said otherwise!" Harry stammered.
"It's not your fault," Hermione said, "Don't take it personally."
"Rather tough when the signs mention me, by name," Harry said, "It's been rough, it's been a tumble, but I thought the wizarding world was better, with a bit of help, would be better. Poof, that fairy tale's over, Hogwarts is just its always been, a castle with a school, nothing more, nothing less."
"Sad," Hermione said, "Hogwarts is your home."
"A home that despises me," Harry said.
Professor Dumbledore inspected the notary seal on this deed, the signatures were in order, Hogwart's Quidditch Pitch had a new owner, just like the castle.
"Albus," Professor McGonagall said as she entered the Headmaster's Office, "I've heard a rumor, a couple of sixth years are—is that it?"
"I am simply getting my affairs in order," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Albus, consider Poppy's suggestion," Professor McGonagall said.
"If we had the time—" Professor Dumbledore said.
"That's exactly the point," Professor McGonagall said, "With time we could cure—"
"In ordinary circumstances I would agree," Professor Dumbledore said, "I'm afraid you can't afford the distraction, none of us can. I ask that you respect my decision."
"This isn't some wager on Puddlemere United's next match," Professor McGonagall said, "We're talking about your life—"
"Which is finite," Professor Dumbledore said, "I intend to spend the time I have left, wisely. Thank you Minerva."
Professor McGonagall left. Professor Dumbledore turned back to the other envelope, the one addressed to him, from Godric Gryffindor, and read it.
Screech! Klackity Klack
"Level with me," Richard said, as him and Ron were on the underground, leaning forward as they were sitting on the seats "I know about magic, I know who Snuffles is, I know you and Harry are wizards, Hermione's a witch, and you attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"I should wipe your memory," Ron said.
"Harry forbade it," Richard said, "Besides, we talk it over during our morning runs. I just see Harry as being stressed over the events at your school."
"It's been…unkind," Ron said, "But that's Harry's life there, always has been."
"He says it's the worst its been," Richard said.
"True, every year is worse than the previous," Ron said, "It is different this year, but that's always the case."
"When will it get better?" Richard asked.
"Summer, well, typically by the summer holiday," Ron said.
"Long time," Richard said, "Your school's rather violent, assaults, and murders."
"Those murders weren't at school," Ron said, "Nearby village we're allowed to visit from time to time."
"Not good," Richard said, "All your kind like this? Harassing an average person like Harry?"
"Harry's not average," Ron said, "He likes to think so, but he's definitely not average. As Hermione likes to put it, he's extraordinary, gifted, even if he doesn't think so."
They stood and they walked off the train. They rode the escalator, taking them upward.
"So, he's famous?" Richard asked.
"Your biggest gift, is to treat him as average," Ron said, "Just be a friend, that's what he needs, not money, not fame, just friends that he can trust, and love."
They made their way to the arena, Richard handed over the tickets, and they entered. Took their seats halfway up, the ring right in front of them. Men, muscular men, stood in the ring, in their boxer shorts, queued up for a scale.
"The weigh in," Richard whispered.
"Harry couldn't watch this," Ron said, "We tried, but it reminded him—he tries to be average, ordinary, but his life hasn't been average nor ordinary."
They watched the matches.
Gia leaned in, kissed Harry as they went out the door and left 26 Oak Street that evening.
"How far should we go?" Gia asked.
"How far do you want to go?" Harry asked, his eyes surveyed her, including the curves.
"Let's find out," Gia said.
Harry admired the beauty walking beside him, the one who made him feel…normal.
"Here?" Harry asked as they approached Taeyang Yong, with a picture of a steak on a grill.
"Sure," Gia said.
They entered, were escorted to a table around a grill, and sat. Harry glanced at Gia's cleavage resting on the high wooden surface.
"I've got your attention," Gia remarked.
"So…" Harry started, "They—I had always assumed that Hogwarts was for me, the moment I heard about it. They were…a bit cold, but welcoming."
"Now you're not so sure?" Gia asked.
"I don't know, not really," Harry said.
"If you could do anything, what would it be?" Gia asked.
"Dunno," Harry said, "Adventure with Ron, come back to Hermione—and you. Maybe Quidditch?"
"So you don't know?" Gia said, "Nothing wrong with that. At school, they're trying to get us to figure out what we want to do, for a job, for a career. I don't know either."
"You swim, you act," Harry said.
"I take the class—doesn't mean I'm any good at it," Gia said, "I do have one hobby." Her eyes surveyed Harry, focused on his bottle greens betraying his interest in her.
A man came over, with a pad of paper.
"What will you have?" the waiter asked, "Steak, Chicken, Shrimp?"
"Hmmm…" Gia said, glancing at the menu, "All three—enough for the two of us to share?"
"Sure thing," the waiter said, "Drinks?"
"Yes, please," Gia said, "Um…soda."
The waiter left, Harry glared.
"We can't go ordering a pint from every establishment," Gia said.
Harry sighed.
"You're mature enough, right?" Gia asked.
"Suppose so," Harry replied.
"Hard times," Gia said as she smiled.
The chef came over, with the white paper hat on his head, the black shirt. He tossed butter onto the large grill in front of them, it melted, and he tossed on the meat; chopped it. They watched the chef cook their food. The chef finished, put the food onto their plates, and began to clean the grill.
"Eat," Gia said as she handed him a pair of chopsticks.
Harry took one small strip of steak.
"More," Gia said.
Harry ate several more. Gia ate.
Harry entered the Headmaster's Office Monday afternoon, adjusted his tie, and approached the desk.
"Good afternoon Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, his hand moved as fast as he could, albeit slowly, to cover the parchment on the desk.
Harry, however, recognized the ink, shimmering between crimson and gold, and the handwriting. He ignored the usual chair, stepped closer to the desk, where he read the words expelled immediately.
"What is it?" Harry said, "It concerns me, right?"
"It's addressed to me," Professor Dumbledore said.
"But it concerns me," Harry said, "I ought to see it."
Professor Dumbledore removed his hand. Harry took the parchment, read the letter.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
We, the undersigned, as students of Hogwarts, request that Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger be expelled immediately. Our safety is in peril so long as they remain at Hogwarts. Specifically, they have committed many acts against us, others, and themselves: Harry Potter raping Hermione Granger and others; using the Cruciatus Curse against others; setting booby traps against their house; beating up many including Ashland Hurley, Dennis Creevey, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Gia Prescott, Stewart Ackerley, Luna Lovegood, Lisa Turpin, Kevin Entwhistle, Owen Cauldwell, Kevin Whitby, Tracey Davis, Graham Pritchard, and dozens of others; murders of Trelawney, Hooch, and a dozen Hogsmeade residents; poisoning the school lunch; and sleeping with teachers. These three are disgraces to the Wizarding community and deserve immediate expulsion. We formally request this action, which must be handled in accordance to §112.69(a) of the Hogwarts' Rules and Regulations.
Sincerely,
Seamus Finnigan
Dean Thomas
Parvati Patil
Lavender Brown
…
"They…" Harry thought about it, how Hogwarts had lost its charm, and this was the proof. "I quit." Harry wasn't certain who was more surprised by those words, himself, or Professor Dumbledore.
"Old age must be playing tricks on my ears, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said.
"You heard me," Harry said, "I walk the halls of this castle and they are getting hurt for it."
"It is not you doing the attacks," Professor Dumbledore said, "Of that, I'm certain."
"But they're doing it to frame me," Harry said, "By leaving, they can't continue, not here, and it'd keep them safe."
"In the short term, yes," Professor Dumbledore replied, "What would you do? Where would you go?"
"Hang out with Gia—I can keep my wand, right?" Harry asked.
"You've passed your OWLs," Professor Dumbledore said, "You would keep it—until Mr. Riddle has his way."
"I'll grab my things…" Harry drifted off, realized the implication.
"Not immediately," Professor Dumbledore said, "You have requested, it is up to me to accept or reject it. It would be best to give you a chance to cool off and think about things, and perhaps, reconsider. I will schedule a meeting between you and Sirius, tomorrow evening? Wednesday afternoon, should you still desire to quit, repeat your statement and I will consider it final. Understood?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"This is not something to be taken lightly," Professor Dumbledore said, "Take your time and decide if its right for you. May the afternoon go better."
"Ta," Harry mumbled.
Harry held the parchment in his hand, left the Headmaster's Office. He mounted his Firebolt, flew out the window. Harry neared Gryffindor Tower and the familiar window, when he glanced at the lake. Harry pulled to the right, went down to the farther edge, landed. A beam of light, from the sun poking through the clouds, came down upon him. Harry sat on the bank, overlooked the lake.
Harry felt the heat of the sun rays, glanced up at the clouds, as if they were being forced to go around a boulder of blue sky. He bemused that it was likely the Headmaster, trying to change Harry's mind.
Harry surveyed the list of names, there wasn't a single signature missing that he could think of, not even Ginny's nor Colin's, except for himself, Ron, and Hermione. To be rejected, by those who he considered unwavering, close enough that he'd trust them. It showed how effective the campaign had been—even Colin, somebody who tried worshiping with a camera, who signed, who was convinced. It was a vicious campaign, it was threatening those unable to escape Hogwarts, and Harry understood it was likely just getting started.
"Hey," said Ash, as he approached, "They forged my signature."
Ash stood over Harry.
"All of these?" Harry asked.
"Just mine," Ash said, "Some were pressured."
"How many?" Harry asked.
"Only know of a handful," Ash said, "Sorry, most were very willing to sign up."
"Ta," Harry said.
"Don't do it," Ash said.
"It's not up to you," Harry said.
"It is up to you," Ash said, "Don't cave to them, to the bullies."
"I leave and the bullies stop," Harry said.
"For me, maybe," Ash said, "What about you?"
"I…" Harry hadn't really considered it that far, but he'd be pretending to a muggle, that'd work, wouldn't it?
"Please don't go," Ash said.
"It's not just about you," Harry said, "It's about the others too."
Ash turned around, left. Harry stood, walked down to the edge of the water, bent over, picked up a stone, and flung it across the water; he watched it skip.
Harry was still torn, he didn't want to let go of his youth, all those years spent in the castle, pretending it to be his real home; nor give in to those pressuring him to leave. However, these students, they had a right to live, to be at Hogwarts too, and his presence was endangering them.
Harry ignored the sound of muffled footsteps coming down the bank.
"No practice?" Hermione asked.
Quidditch, Harry would miss Quidditch. While he could certainly play Ron in the occasional pickup game, he'd miss the sport, the house team.
"How many students at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Three hundred, give or take," Hermione said. "Why?"
Harry pointed his finger, summoned the letter from his bookbag, handed it over to Hermione. She read it.
"This isn't legal," Hermione stammered.
"It's a petition, it's about how they feel," Harry said. He sat down on the dormant grass. His feet went over the stone dotted mud, and into a bit of the lapping water. "Dumbledore tried to hide it, but I insisted. I was naive when I showed up here five years ago, thinking magic was wonderful, would solve everything. Alas, people find ways to create even more trouble. Doubt more than a few would cheer when I leave."
"That's not true!" Hermione protested, "Many—!"
"Would forget me after I quit," Harry replied. He kicked with his heal, several small rocks tumbled, went into the water.
"You'd be admitting guilt—"
"Ta!" Harry snapped. He watched her eyes, sullen. "It's not about guilt or failure. Face it, it sucks being here and people are getting hurt, killed—"
"It's not you!" Hermione protested.
"Somebody is hurting them here because of me," Harry said, "It's not immediate—Dumbledore said I had to wait a couple of days before I could really quit."
Harry paused, his eyes on her.
"It is a serious matter and that's reason enough to consider things carefully," Hermione said, "While I would like you to stay, I won't force you to stay."
"Ta," Harry said.
Hermione took the step closer, wrapped her arms around him, hugged tightly; her hands pushed him into her. A tear flowed down her cheek, onto his shoulder.
"I'm not leaving you," Harry said, "We can still be friends."
Hermione snorted, held him tight for a couple of more moments, the heat of their pocket sunlight kept soaking inward.
"But I wouldn't see you everyday," Hermione said, "I've gotten used to that."
"Me too," Harry replied, unsure what else to say.
Harry wasn't certain what else to do, except stand there.
Hermione put a quill to the parchment a short time later, while seated at the table in the dormitory as she worked on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Ron flew into the dormitory, his Quidditch robes billowed as he landed. He slammed his boom onto the bed, his eyes on Harry's Firebolt.
"Doesn't even bother to show!" Ron said, "Only a couple times a week and he's chasing—"
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione scolded, "I was under the impression that you thought better of your friends!"
"It's bloody annoying when that so–called–friends ditches my Quidditch practice!" Ron said as he began to strip off his Quidditch robes, "Especially with a game on Saturday."
"A friend that might not be here by Saturday," Hermione said, "Nor me."
Ron's eyes focused on her.
"Wh—what?" Ron asked as he tripped over a shoe.
"A petition," Hermione said, as she described the letter. "They want us expelled. While Professor Dumbledore won't honor it, Harry might."
"He is?" Ron said, "I didn't think he'd…"
Ron stepped backward, sat on the edge of his bed.
"He's taking it seriously," Hermione said.
"I should remind him we've got a match on Saturday," Ron said, "Against Slytherin, I need him to play."
It bemused Hermione that Ron's chief concern was the game, though she wondered if it'd work.
"You're not taking this seriously—" Hermione started.
"I am," Ron said, "Can we talk him into quitting after the match?"
Ron grabbed a book from his desk, rolled onto his front side, and began to read. Hermione glanced at the bare arse, and climbed on the bed, laid next to him, her hand felt up his backside. Ron closed the book, showed her the cover with insects adorning it, Vitamin B12 and Quidditch.
"Fascinating, mind if I read it?" Hermione asked.
"Proper eating affects your performance in the game," Ron said, "Why risk losing your concentration at a critical moment, all because you didn't eat the right stuff? As much as I'd love to just hand it over, and let you write me an essay on this, it's way too important for me to just gloss over it now, right?"
"Sure," Hermione said.
"Let me know when dinner shows up," Ron said.
"Of course," Hermione said. She patted Ron's fleshy cheeks of his arse, returned to her essay on the table.
Gia followed Harry out of the pool building into the early evening. Snuffles brought his snout close to Harry's arse, sniffed, before he ran far and wide.
"What's it with my godfather trying to sniff—?" Harry asked.
"Shh!" Gia said, "Rough day?"
"You can say that," Harry stammered.
Gia worked his shoulders, put her arm around him as they walked. His bottle green eyes glanced at hers.
"Talk about it, when we get home," Gia said.
"Not sure—" Harry said.
"Talk about it," Gia said.
"I'll think about it," Harry said.
They kept walking.
They made it to 26 Oak Street, entered through the front door.
"I'll get something," Gia said, fiddling with her shirt, "Meet ya upstairs."
Harry went upstairs, into her bedroom. He quickly stripped when he felt a snout sniffing his exposed arse. He snorted.
"What's with dogs trying to sniff my arse?" Harry asked as Snuffles transformed.
Sirius closed the door, his eyes bearing down on the teenage wizard.
"What?!" Harry demanded.
"Funny enough," Sirius said, "Your scent is very useful to verify that it is you. And since you're eager for me to protect her, I'll sniff what I need to sniff. Your diet could use an improvement."
"Wonder if my father knew you liked sniffing butts" Harry asked.
"James never considered quitting Hogwarts," Sirius said.
"The entire school—Slytherins, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaws, and even Gryffindor, they all signed a petition to have me expelled," Harry said, "They're blaming me for everything, but the fact is that people are getting hurt by whatever is going on. I figure it'll stop if I left."
"James Potter would be very disappointed by you getting shoved out," Sirius said, "Not to mention the benefit a certain individual would gain from an eviction."
"Voldemort is nowhere near—" Harry said.
"He is not the only Dark Wizard," Sirius said, "He has followers, any one of whom could easily be perpetrating this. Consider this very carefully, especially as Dumbledore considers it ill–advised."
A jiggling of the door knob sounded for a moment.
"Harry!" Gia called through the door.
"Now," Sirius said, "As a responsible godfather—"
"You? Responsible?" Harry said, "Anyways, she's on birth control pills."
"It's worse than I thought." Sirius rolled his eyes. "I—"
"You need a flea bath," Harry stated.
"I encourage you to wait for marriage," Sirius said.
"To which quitting would make that easier!" Harry said, "Not that we're waiting—"
"Son of James Potter," Sirius said, "You should be waiting as I'm certain they'd want—"
"Lemme see." Harry counted on his fingers. "They were married—"
Knock!
"Hey!" Gia shouted.
"If only her father was still alive—" Sirius started.
"Just butt out!" Harry snapped.
Gia opened the door, Sirius transformed, and Snuffles ran out. Gia placed the platter of food onto the bed. She undid the buttons on her shirt and grabbed a brush, knelt in front of him, her eyes on his crotch.
"I want you to tell me about the day," Gia said, as she brought the comb to groom the hair below his belly button
Harry adjusted his tie as he entered the Headmaster's office Tuesday morning. Professor Dumbledore got up from behind his desk, slowly walked over to the armchairs by the fireplace. A flick of the wand, the fire roared, and a teapot appeared on the coffee table. Harry sat to the other side.
"I apologize if I underestimated your sensitivity Harry," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Sensitive to care about them—" Harry pointed to the door "—not getting hurt, maimed, or killed?"
"It is noble, but to a fault," Professor Dumbledore said, "Still, you must be free to make up your mind."
"You're doing that?" Harry asked.
Professor Dumbledore's hands shook, poured two cups of tea, handed one over to Harry.
"To give one the freedom to choose necessitates a bit of allowing one to make a bad choice," Professor Dumbledore said, "That's the irony of fighting the dark, one must let them hang themselves, by their own choices. To impose my desires upon you, I would do you no favors, especially given how dark the path may become, I cannot force anybody to undertake it."
"Understood," Harry said.
"Have you considered what you'll do once you leave?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"No, I haven't," Harry said, "Hermione thinks I should go after Voldemort."
"Unprepared?" Professor Dumbledore said, "Luck only goes so far, it'd be better to turn the odds first."
"What'd you suggest?" Harry asked.
"Remain in attendance at Hogwarts where I can assist," Professor Dumbledore said.
"I'm quitting, remember?" Harry stammered.
"With a bit of persuasion, you could talk to Severus into helping you with Occlumency," Professor Dumbledore said.
"No way," Harry replied.
"Well, I think you need a bit more time to consider this," Professor Dumbledore said, "Please, take your time."
Harry got up, left the office. Harry went up the stairs, up the stairs, came to the top of the Astronomy tower. He glanced out, over the hill sloping away, toward the lake, toward Hogsmeade, the village that has rejected him—Hogwarts Castle was next.
"You're serious?" Hermione asked Ron and Harry, as they worked at cleaning up their equipment at the end of Tuesday's all–afternoon Potions session.
"Yeah," Ron said, before he whispered to Harry, "If it'll matter."
"You'll be at the match, right?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Ron said, "I'll definitely wait until after then."
They finished their work, watched as Malfoy had Crabbe and Goyle slave into doing their cleaning. Harry stayed, watching, until Malfoy gathered his bag. Harry made the rush, led the way out of the Potions classroom, and slowed down on the stairs.
"Hurry up mudfuckers!" Malfoy shouted, "Move your sorry arses!"
"Show it to Ron," Harry said to Hermione.
Hermione got out a piece of white paper, waved it about carelessly, and shoved it toward Ron.
"What's this?" Ron asked, before he read, "Oh, this'll be good."
"Something you two had better memorize," Hermione said, "Could take days to master, but you'll manage if you want any—"
"It'll take practice," Ron said.
Malfoy got a glint in his eye, darted his head back and forth, trying ot glimpse the paper. Harry shoved up, looked over.
"Seems simple enough—" Harry said.
Malfoy glimpsed the title of the spell, his eyebrows raised. They crossed the threshold into the Entrance Hall.
"Good find—" Ron said.
Malfoy pushed Hermione, reached over, and grabbed the paper out of her hands. He stuffed it into his pocket and stepped back.
"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed.
Ron grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, spun them both around until Ron's face was pressed into Malfoy's. Students gathered about to watch.
"You stole—" Ron stated.
"You're imagining things Weaselbee," Malfoy said, "Vin, Greg, see anything?"
Crabbe and Goyle shook their heads.
"See?" Malfoy spat.
"We saw—" Harry said.
"Well—" Malfoy stepped back, drew his wand. "It's your incredible word against mine—"
"Suggest you return that before it gets ugly," Ron warned.
More people surrounded them, including Ginny. Ron took several steps backward, and he was flanked by Harry and Hermione.
"More murders?" Malfoy spat at Ron's feet.
"It is your wand that is drawn," Ron said.
Harry glanced at Malfoy's trousers.
"I've had it with your slander—" Malfoy sneered, before he stopped.
Gasps, snickers came, eyes fixated on Malfoy's trousers, where a rapidly growing wet spread outward. Malfoy reached for his trousers only to have the belt open and the trouser seams split open, fell apart, his wet undies out for show.
"You'll pay," Malfoy said, "Never humiliate a Malfoy."
"Then see Pomfrey about diapers for your problem," Ron said.
Everybody laughed as Malfoy modeled his yellow dyed white undies. Malfoy's wet shoes squeaked, a squeak that echoed in the hall, as he retreated down the stairs to the Slytherin dormitories. Harry started up the marble stairs, as he didn't wish to advertise their usage of their brooms; Ron and Hermione walked by his side. Ginny chased up from behind.
"What a jerk," Ginny said, following, "Did he really steal—"
"Is it stealing when we wanted him to have it?" Ron asked.
"What?" Ginny said, "You wanted—"
"Shh!" Ron said, "Let's not talk about it!"
"Yeah," Harry quipped.
"Did you manage to book the field today?" Ginny asked.
"No, Slytherin has it," Ron said, "Useless, their practicing, they don't have a chance."
"You could say the same about us without more practice!" Ginny said.
They went up the steps to the seventh floor, came to the fat lady.
"Gone," Ginny said to the portrait, it opened.
Harry ran, up the steps, into the dormitory. He stopped at the package on the bed, one made out to him in familiar loopy green handwriting, and he picked it up.
"It's a shame you decided to quit," Professor Dumbledore said, "At least it frees me of the restrictions that prohibit me from lending you those."
"Oh," Harry said.
"I need to speak with Sirius," Professor Dumbledore said, "So, let us go."
Harry got out his Portkey, activated it. Professor Dumbledore held on, and they flew toward Noigate.
"I'll go and get her—with Sirius," Harry said, "Be back shortly."
Harry went down the steps fast, the door opened before he got to the bottom, ran out, and the door closed itself. Harry did the fast pivot on his foot, turned and took the path that ran next to the house. Across the zebra crossing, right at the bus stop, Harry made his way to the Noigate Pool, entered.
"He's here," said Tracey.
Gia swam a few more laps.
"Go home," Harry said to Snuffles, "Your friend Albus is there."
Snuffles bounded out of the pool.
"Intelligent," Tracey said.
Harry squatted next to the edge of the pool.
"Come on in," said Nate, pausing between laps.
"Time to go?" Gia asked as she came to the edge of the pool.
"Not important," Harry said.
"You—of course it is," Gia said, reaching for the edge of the pool.
Harry extended a hand to Gia, pulled her up. He watched the water drip and drop from her swimsuit, before she grabbed a towel and dried off.
"Let's move," Gia said to Harry.
Harry and Gia left the pool.
"I wish they'd let you onto the swim team," Harry said.
"I could petition to join just to quit school," Gia said, "You know, instead of missing the tryouts."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked.
"What'd you think?" Gia said, "You've got the opportunity to finish your education—"
"At the cost of how many necks?" Harry said, "Sorry, it doesn't work like that, I wish it'd work out too, but it's over."
"You're letting them push you out," Gia said.
"They're getting hurt," Harry said, "I've got no right to demand they get injured for my education."
"I'm sorry, it's just—disgusting," Gia said, stopping.
"I agree," Harry said, spreading his arms wide as he gestured as he faced her. "But what must be done isn't always pretty, this is one of those times."
Gia sighed.
"Lets get back so Professor Dumbledore can try, in vain, to talk me out of this," Harry said.
"You ought to listen," Gia said.
"And get more people hurt?" Harry said, "I can stop it, by quitting."
They continued walking, making it to 26 Oak St. A voice called out as Harry opened the green front door.
"Harry," said Professor Lupin as he caught up, the tail of his suit coat came out as he followed them through the door, "I got a rather funny letter after my…I finished my monthly business. It concerned you."
"So I'd wager," Harry said.
"Remus!" said Sirius, hanging out near the door toward the dining room.
"Hello old friend," Professor Lupin said.
"Inside," Sirius said to Harry.
Harry and Gia went into the dining room, saw the names written onto slips reserving their spots around the table covered with a red and orange autumn foilage themed tablecloth. Professor Dumbledore sat at the end of the table toward the back door. Harry sat at the other end, toward the study. Gia sat to his right. Ron and Hermione sat to his left. While Sirius and Professor Lupin sat across from each other, next to Professor Dumbledore.
"I took the liberty of making sure the muggles were preoccupied," Professor Dumbledore said, "Be sure to thank them for their hospitality."
Gia nodded. Professor Dumbledore waved his wand, food appeared before them.
"Always his favorite trick," Professor Lupin said.
"Never underestimate the value of a good meal uniting the worst of enemies," Professor Dumbledore said.
Sirius took a steak, cut into it. Professor Lupin took the rare steak. Ron grabbed a fair number of the fried chicken drumsticks. Gia tried to load a ham steak onto Harry's plate, he shook his head, grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice. Harry dropped a grape in, swirled his goblet, watched the green blob move with the flow.
"I understand a petition was circulated," Professor Lupin said, "I sympathize, but I concur with the Headmaster that you're taking the wrong course of action."
"The others—my being there endangers them," Harry said.
"It's clear there are antagonizers, instigators agitating the other students," Professor Dumbledore said, his blue eyes focused on Harry. "I cannot definitely state that they merely intend to make your life more miserable, or whether the plan is more ambitious, but I am sure they are not your friends, Harry."
"I'm your godfather, but also a friend to your parents," Sirius said, "James and Lily would be appalled if you were forced out of Hogwarts."
"I know you have other considerations," Professor Lupin said, his eyes went to Gia, "But please give this much considerable thought, because once you take it, you won't be allowed back in, which is why Professor Dumbledore made you take a couple of days to properly think it over."
"You're afraid of something more?" Ron asked Professor Dumbledore.
"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, "I'm confident your antagonizers are not your friend, that quitting Hogwarts would play right into their plans, that'd it be even more damaging because it'd complicate the efforts to fight against Tom. Quitting could easily condemn us all."
"You're trying to guilt me!" Harry snapped.
"Any decision to remain must be voluntary, Harry," Professor Lupin said, "You'd have to want to stay, and…well, you can always quit at a later time."
"Given the events, the hazards," Professor Dumbledore said, "Nobody would hold ill will toward you should you decide to quit, for none of us have to endure your burden. Regardless of your decision, we will support you."
Professor Dumbledore brought his fork down to the lima beans, worked them onto the silver.
"Hermione plans to continue," Ron said.
Harry snorted.
"It's a serious decision," Professor Dumbledore said, "So, that's why I'll await your decision tomorrow. In the meanwhile, I think I will try the Shepard pie."
"I'd still like you to stick around for Saturday's Quidditch match," Ron said to Harry.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Ron—" Harry started.
"Well, it'd help Gryffindor," Ron said, "And you made me captain, so of course I'll worry about the team."
"Apart from having the Boy–Who–Lived chased out of Hogwarts," Hermione said, "Why would Harry quitting cause so much trouble?" Hermione asked.
"Is Mr. Potter capable of killing Voldemort?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
Harry dropped his cup, the pumpkin juice spilled, and the grape rolled across the tablecloth.
"You're trying to just scare me," Harry said, "He'll leave me alone if I quit."
"You're a fool if you believe that," Professor Dumbledore said, "Do you know why? Do you want them—" he glanced at the others present, Professor Lupin, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, Gia, before his eyes returned to Harry "—to know?"
Harry shrugged.
"It begins with an overheard prophecy—" Professor Dumbledore started.
"Rubbish!" Hermione said, "Prophecies are just that, rubbish, and shouldn't be believed!"
"Mind convincing Tom of that?" Professor Dumbledore said, "You'd save your friend a lot of aggravation."
"A prophecy?" Harry said, "I mean, Professor Trelawney made a couple, but they were bound to happen anyways."
"A person under Tom's supervision heard the first part," Professor Dumbledore said, "As soon as Mr. Riddle heard it, things were set into motion, so to speak, and this was her prophecy.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seven month dies." [OotP, Ch37]
"While another," Professor Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Longbottom, fits the prophecy by way of a shared birthday with you — It was Tom, in his fear, who marked Mr. Potter as his equal. In his haste to eradicate the competition, he may have created the equally powerful foe that he desperately fears."
"A paradox," Hermione said.
"And whether or not you believe Harry is an equal," Professor Dumbledore said, "Tom will continue going after Harry here, until one or the other is killed. Regardless of what the current plan is, the eventual conclusion will be the death of Harry, unless we manage to stop him."
"That was a lot to lay on his shoulders," Professor Lupin said.
"So, the only certainty is that Harry will cross You–Know–who's path again," Ron said, "Right?"
"Yes," Professor Dumbledore said, "Harry cannot live in life until Tom is eradicated."
"Our best chance is teaching you, at Hogwarts," Professor Lupin said, "I mean, I suppose you could try other schools, but you're not eleven, you're sixteen, so your odds considering your reputation would be…less than favorable, because they'd inquire to Hogwarts and the Headmaster would be compelled to be honest with the current troubles."
"We agreed," Sirius said, "No threats."
"It's their reality," Professor Lupin replied.
"Sorry, but I must return to Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore said, as he stood slowly, his hand shook on his cane. "If you'll excuse me. Mr. Potter, see me tomorrow."
Professor Dumbledore disapparated.
"I too, must leave," Professor Lupin said as he stood, "Students are clamoring for their marks, so I have some catching up to do."
"Yeah," Harry said.
Professor Lupin stopped next to Harry, "Lily would be disappointed."
Professor Lupin walked, Sirius followed.
"A round?" Sirius asked.
"Not like that," Professor Lupin said, as they went out the front door.
"Well?" Ron asked Harry.
"You're looking at me!" Harry stammered.
"You're the one quitting," Ron said.
"Lets visit your folks," Gia said to Hermione.
"I—" Hermione started.
"Your folks, an hour or two," Gia said, her blue eyes on Hermione's brown.
Hermione stood up. She and Gia left the house.
"And now it's just you and me," Harry said to Ron.
"Well," Ron said, "You quit—what next? They're right, they can teach you stuff."
"Not the important stuff," Harry said, "I mean, how many ways to poison Voldemort with a blood potion?"
"No," Ron said, "What's more important?"
"Even Professor Dumbledore suggested it, but he's not allowed to teach me because I'm a student," Harry said, "I could ask Professor Snape for help."
"What?" Ron asked.
Harry stood, Ron followed, as Harry went up the steps, into Gia's bedroom. Harry took the package from earlier, opened the note.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry
Decent book, study it.
Professor Dumbledore
Harry showed Ron the book, Practical Legilimency and Occlumency.
"It's Hermione that likes books—" Ron said.
"And she'd have it memorized, cross indexed, and write a crib sheet," Harry said, "That's not what I need—regardless of Hogwarts, I need to learn this and I figured you'd like to learn it too. It gets intimate so it's either you or Professor Snape to practice on. You are the one I trust to learn this with."
"Then you get to explain to her when she finds out," Ron said, "They're not allowed to teach you?"
"No, it's forbidden," Harry said.
"Cool," Ron said, "You can still learn this without quitting."
"Foe or not," Harry said, "They're attacking because of me, being there. How soon until they get Ginny?"
"I…" Ron stopped.
"Finnigan hates me, but he's right," Harry said, "Leaving Hogwarts takes the pressure away from them, we'll figure the next step out, we always have."
"I sincerely hope you're right," Ron said.
Harry entered the Headmaster's Office Wednesday morning. The desk was empty, Fawkes studied Harry.
"Something wrong Potter?" asked the Sorting Hat.
"Yeah, loads of it," Harry said.
"Mind?" the Sorting Hat asked.
Harry picked it up, placed it on his head.
"Hogwarts no longer living up to your standards?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"It's become…hollow coming here," Harry said, "No longer wanted here."
"There is more to Hogwarts than just students," the Sorting Hat said, "You have more allies here than you realize."
"Not every teacher supports me either," Harry said.
"Beyond the living," the Sorting Hat said, "Ask a painting, or a ghost. The walls of Hogwarts are strong and are willing to help too."
Harry sighed.
"And you are more talented than you realize," the Sorting Hat said, "Young, strong."
"True," Harry said, "There's more, isn't there?"
"Yes," the Sorting Hat said, "Detail that would…never mind. The Headmaster is clear, your decision to stay must remain voluntary. You must choose to stay, if you so desire."
"I've already made up my mind," Harry said.
"Are you calling me wrong?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"No," Harry said.
"You've already invested five years here," the Sorting Hat said, "Continue, and you have two short years. I wouldn't turn my back on what those years can give you—it's tough to grasp at your young age, but it's an advantage that you'd carry with you for the rest of your life. Your friendships, your pursuits, would go a lot smoother with it than without. I suggest you spend the day seeking out your friends, talking with them, ask them if they're willing to risk you being around them."
"It's the others," Harry said.
"So, you intend to lie down and make things easy on your attackers?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"No," Harry said.
"Ask your friends," the Sorting Hat said, "Come back after you've done so, and we can talk further. Start with Oliver Wood."
Harry removed the Sorting Hat, left the office, Firebolt in hand. Harry went down to the ground floor, entered the office. Oliver Wood, who stood in the corner, leaned against the stone wall, as he examined essays.
"I was advised—" Oliver Wood said, his eyes flickered up to Harry, "Never mind. So, I understand things are a bit tough."
"Yeah," Harry said.
Oliver Wood came closer.
"Remember the horror of having that broom stripped down to check for jinxes?" Oliver Wood asked.
"Yep," Harry said.
"The ridiculous thought of it being from Sirius Black," Oliver Wood said, "Fortunately, it's in working order now, right?"
"Yes," Harry said.
"So, have you given any more consideration to going professional Quidditch?" Oliver Wood asked.
"No," Harry asked, "Why?"
"I hear you're about to be a free agent," Oliver Wood said, "Though quitting doesn't look good on the resume."
"You heard?" Harry stammered.
"A particular first year seemed rather upset at the notion," Oliver Wood said.
"Ash…" Harry muttered.
"Remember your Nimbus 2000?" Oliver Wood said, "Destroyed by the Whomping Willow?"
"It was the demeantors—" Harry protested.
"I know," Oliver Wood said, "And you know what I did? I kept playing, even though we were down a Seeker, we didn't quit, and it was the worst loss in ages."
"That's not making me feel good to remember," Harry said.
"Of all the lessons I thought we'd taught you in Quidditch," Oliver Wood said, "Don't quit, don't surrender victory to your opponent—make them earn it."
"Battles—muggle battles, they'll surrender if it's the best chance at life," Harry said.
"Does it look like a battle yet?" Oliver Wood said as he leaned over the wooden desk, "There may come a time, but I doubt it's today."
"Many killed last month," Harry said, "People are going to die if I remain."
"Do you see a knife? Today?" Oliver Wood asked, as he stood back up, hands outstretched.
"No," Harry replied.
"Tell you what," Oliver Wood said, "I'm planning a little…outing for you tomorrow."
"What?" Harry stammered.
"I'm not telling you," Oliver Wood said, "You may quit, and quitters can't come."
"Did Dumbledore put you up to this?" Harry asked.
"No," Oliver Wood said, "A nameless First Year asked for help, so that's my deal. Stay, and you can come, with Ron and your girls—it'll be fun, I swear."
"I've heard that before," Harry said, "Like Aunt Petunia telling me that I find it fun to mop the floors—no, just kept them from screaming at me."
"One hint, bring your Firebolts," Oliver Wood said, "And casually dressed is fine."
"This isn't going to change my vote," Harry said.
"A shame," Oliver Wood said, "Don't begrudge me a chance to bribe, okay?" Oliver gave a smile.
"I guess," Harry said.
"Well, I do have essays to finish," Oliver Wood said, "Let me know by tonight so I can cancel the reservations."
Harry wondered as he left the office, Firebolt still in hand. He came to the courtyard, swung his leg over it, and took off. Harry took several laps around the Quidditch Pitch, weaved between tall boxed seating, before he went into the field. He dropped his shoes, let them fall to the grass below, felt the breeze against his toes. He bundled himself up, flew through one of the hoops.
"A Quaffle is ten points, how much for a Seeker?"
Harry landed in the stands, on one of the benches. He recognized the blond haired girl, sitting in her Ravenclaw jumper, gray skirt with purple triangle tails, and bare feet, having seen her from time to time. Luna's silver gray eyes moved up to his face.
"I hear you make me seem sane," Luna said.
"How so?" Harry asked.
Her eyes, though, drifted downward, to his toes.
"You go through life, told that shoes are important," Luna said, "Yet, after forced to by your housemates, you realize they fail to give you the support you need, that you can stand very well on your own two feet. Eventually, you understand the shoes held you back, it's better to go around and stub your toes."
Harry snorted.
"Your toes look better than leather," Luna said, "Not everybody believes you should honor that stupid letter we all signed."
"If you didn't mean it, why sign it?" Harry asked.
"Because the staff seem too lazy to do anything else," Luna said.
"They're busy," Harry said.
"Too busy to protect the students?" Luna asked.
"I—" Harry stopped, it was reasonable to expect the staff to do more. What, he wasn't certain, only that Professor Dumbledore obviously didn't want Harry to leave, because quitting would be easier than actually expelling.
"I figure You–Know–Who is behind the attacks," Luna said, "After all, death didn't stop him before, did it?"
Harry was startled, Luna made sense.
"I thought I knew who you were, now, I'm not so sure," Luna said, "Perhaps we are right, you ought to leave."
Harry arched his eyebrows.
"It's clear the Death Eaters want you gone too," Luna said, "Though I don't think Seamus is one of them, just a fool who's let strings be attached to him. What is clear is that you intend to roll up and do their dirty work for them. I don't know who you really are."
"They might kill you," Harry said.
"I might be able stop them," Luna said.
"Oh," Harry said.
"How many have asked for you to go?" Luna asked.
"A lot," Harry said.
"How many have said it's a mistake to go?" Luna asked.
"A lot," Harry replied.
"It seems to me that the jury's still out on this one," Luna said, "Whose opinion is more valuable?"
"Ta," Harry said, as he turned and mounted the Firebolt.
Harry pushed off, flew. Harry went around the Whomping Willow, over the lake. He flew to the second floor, approached the Stone Gargoyle.
"Galaxy Minstrels!" Harry said.
The gargoyle came to life, yielded, and Harry got on to the ascending staircase. Up at the top, he entered the Headmaster's Office.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, "Have you made up your mind?"
Professor McGonagall stood there next to the desk, her eyes on Harry.
"Tell him the full truth," the Sorting Hat said.
"If I know you Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "You've told Severus more than you've told Mr. Potter, and I view Mr. Potter as being more reliable."
"Thank you," Harry said to Professor McGonagall.
"As you are aware, I've been afflicted, my time is nearing an end," Professor Dumbledore said, "While I have been offered a chance at longer life, by being petrified until a cure can be found, I have elected to skip that choice. Instead, I am getting my affairs into order so that I can best serve you, Harry, in preparing for the confrontation that is inevitable."
"I know," Harry said, "I appreciate that all, I do."
"While I believe I could render assistance if you were to follow through, and quit," Professor Dumbledore said, "It would be more effective for you to remain."
"I figure that," Harry said, "It's just, that I can best protect the students by leaving."
"Are you sure?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"What do you mean?" Harry replied.
"An assumption that you are making, Potter," the Sorting Hat said, "That the assaults here would cease if you left. If the assumption is correct, then the outcome is sound. Because if it's not, what will you do then?"
"I…" Harry hadn't considered that.
"As Headmaster, if I were confident in the result, your removal could be in the best interests of the students," Professor Dumbledore said, "I am not convinced. In the short term, it might work, but not in the long term."
"What do you know?" Harry asked.
"I know that you are being driven out of Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore said, "And yet, I fear the campaign would continue."
"But I'd have left," Harry said.
"Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, "You'd be leaving Hogwarts. What about the rest of the world?"
"I…" Harry hadn't thought that far.
"You commute into the muggle world on a daily basis," Professor McGonagall said, "But we've kept that a secret—the students may as well think you're residing in the Shrieking Shack. Once you leave, they know to start looking for you, and start up all over again. How far will you run? Can you ever stop running until you're trapped in a corner and smothered?"
"You're underestimating the ambitions of your enemies," the Sorting Hat said.
"I can think of a couple other reasons I think you leaving would be a bad idea," Professor McGonagall said, "Namely, the honor you've generally bestowed on the house of Gryffindor."
"Seamus Finnigan started the petition to expel me," Harry said.
"He is free to draft such a petition," Professor McGonagall said, "He has as much right to do that as you do for drafting up a petition to expel him."
"How soon until you find Death Eaters down that muggle street?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"As a student of Hogwarts, you're authorized to call upon the resources of this school," Professor McGonagall said, "It gives us cover, reason in the eyes of others, to come to your aid. Whereas, if you quit, it'd expose us."
"Do you need a moment alone with the Sorting Hat?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left the office. Harry put on the hat.
"Well, well," the Sorting Hat, "The Headmaster can be intimidating."
"Yes," Harry said.
"Question is, will you quit?" the Sorting Hat asked.
A puff of flame, Fawkes flew out of a spiral of flame beneath his perch, dropped a letter at Harry's feet. Harry bent over, opened it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry James Potter, son of Lily Evans Potter and James Potter, Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts.
I've been informed that you are doubting your role at Hogwarts. A sage bit of advice, do not succumb to the temptation. For Hogwarts will never give up on you, so long as you do not give up on Hogwarts.
Godric Gryffindor
"Dumbledore…" Harry muttered.
"The Headmaster is but one soldier in an army mobilized against your foes," the Sorting Hat said, "As Headmaster, he can shield you in ways that he otherwise cannot, and the rumor is, you will need it."
"He really knows how to put on the pressure," Harry said.
"Only because he believes you are about to make a terrible mistake," the Sorting Hat said, "He has known your family since before even your father was born, he owes them a debt, one that he's repaying through you."
"Oh," Harry said.
"To leave would be irrevocable, you could never be readmitted," the Sorting Hat said, "However, if you stay, you can always change your mind tomorrow."
"I suppose so," Harry replied.
"Shall you tell him, or should I?" the Sorting Hat asked.
"Tomorrow," Harry replied.
"Oi, Harry!" said Oliver Wood, entering the Headmaster's Office, "I was told you'd be here. About tomorrow?"
"I'll be here," Harry said, making his way for the door.
"Good," Oliver Wood said, "Seven o'clock, by the gargoyle, alright?"
"Yeah," Harry said, before he put the Sorting Hat onto Oliver Wood's head, "Enjoy."
Harry left the Headmaster's office.
"You succeeded," Professor McGonagall said late that evening in the Headmaster's Office.
"It took a lot of convincing," Professor Dumbledore said, "I'm still not sure about Harry."
"I cannot say that I wouldn't choose the same if I were in his shoes," Professor McGonagall said.
"He must remain, because to leave would merely embolden our adversary," Professor Dumbledore said, "So much is at stake. However, to stay true to our principles, it must always remain a choice. If I told him everything, he would feel compelled to have no choice."
"When will we tell him about the other prophecy?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Never," Professor Dumbledore said, "You must never tell him."
"The stakes have never been higher," Professor McGonagall said.
"Exactly," Professor Dumbledore said, "If we fail, if Harry fails, the cost is everything. Harry must not fail."
Professor Dumbledore banished the letter in his hands into the fireplace, it began to burn.
Date: Thu Jan 4 09:53:35 2024