In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 33: Ward
No sooner than Hermione sat down sideways on the sofa in the living room with her feet to the cushion, did Richard come through the front door, Sunday morning. He loosened the gray jumper, the zipper already open.
"Brr, starting to get cold outside," Richard said, "Harry still asleep?"
"Last I checked on him, yes," Gia said as she came in from the kitchen, carried a mug of hot chocolate. She sat down on the sofa next to Hermione's feet.
Richard's eyes glanced at The Daily Prophet spread between Hermione's thighs.
"That's the paper with the funny pictures, isn't it?" Richard said, "Has Harry's picture—like he's…famous?"
"He's mentioned it," Gia said, "But everytime I think I've understood, it's a bit more than I thought, like yesterday."
Hermione's eyes went to the paper in her lap. Richard's eyes twitched, hinting that he was reading the article beneath the picture of Harry grabbing the Golden Snitch.
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The Daily Prophet
Puddlemere United Ropes Potter, Wins
by Halvorsen
In a surprise move, Puddlemere United enlisted Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and his sidekick Ronald Weasley into playing the Saturday Quidditch Match versus Falmouth Falcons. Potter, a Seeker on his Gryffindor House team at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Weasley, a Keeper for the Gryffindor House team at Hogwarts, filled in for Puddlemere United who was short five players for yesterday's match, leading Puddlemere United to win, breaking their losing streak. Expected to lose, Puddlemere United gambled brilliantly on these two rising stars, a gamble which paid off. Potter proved to be very formidable against the Falmouth Seeker, Hill, and Hill is now in care at St Mungo's. Details and analysis of their moves are on pages two and three. Potter's damning statements and the post game interview are on page four. Potter's and Weasley's biographical profiles (and girlfriends) are on pages five and six.
"All these pictures," Richard said, "Harry really is famous."
"Don't make a fuss over it," Gia said, "That's why he likes it here."
"He wants to be Just Harry," Hermione said, "Let him be."
Richard went upstairs.
"Hey!" came Richard's voice upstairs.
A minute later, Harry and Richard came down the stairs.
"Hermione, Gia," Harry said as he walked over to the girls, "Richard's done the research, a week for skiing?"
"Um…" Hermione stuttered.
"Sure," Gia replied.
"We're not going to select the resort right now," Harry said.
"That's going to make planning a tad more difficult," Richard said, "No reservations?"
"Can't," Harry said, "This'll work better if we don't have a destination to leak until the last minute."
"I need to reserve the plane," Richard said, "Middle of next week to the week after, right?"
"Yeah, something like that," Harry said.
"At least, lemme show you the list of options," Richard said.
"Later," Harry said.
"Need to, or let Ron—" Hermione started.
"No," Harry said, "I mean, we'll let him in on the trip, but you know how he'll be."
Hermione sighed.
"I'll have to scrounge out some ski gear," Richard said, "Jen too."
"Good idea," Gia said to Hermione, "Harry, care to come along?"
"Can't," Harry said, "Me and Ron—studying."
Hermione belted out a laugh.
"I don't think she believes you," Gia siad.
"Think he means he recognizes a girls' trip out," Richard said.
"Outdoor shop should have this, right?" Gia asked.
"Think so," Richard said, "Try Highland's in Croydon."
Gia and Hermione left the house.
Ron moaned, held his aching head as he woke up on Gia's queen sized bed.
"My head," Ron groaned.
Harry came into the bedroom, his right hand curled before he dropped a pair of red gel capsules onto Ron's stomach.
"Muggle stuff," Harry said, "It helps."
Ron grabbed the capsules, swallowed, frowned.
"Never said it tasted good," Harry said, "Just that it helps."
"Can you be a bit—QUIETER!" Ron snapped before he sat up.
"It happens," Harry muttered as he went over to the bookshelf. Harry sat cross–legged on the bed, laid the book between them. Above, Harry's Puddlemere United robe was stretched across the wall. Ron glanced at Practical Legilimency and Occlumency that was between them along with both of their wands.
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"She and Gia—out, you know, girls," Harry said, "Doubt we're going back to Flaming Blue."
Ron was grateful that Harry didn't go into it, the blur that was the previous night.
"And this—well…" Harry opened the book. "Snape'll be in for a surprise."
Ron glanced at the bookshelf, with its assortment of Muggle and magical books, where Origins of the Dagger and Bow stood next to Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5.
"You've got muggles—" Ron started.
"Like anybody looks," Harry said, his torso briefly twisted as he turned to glance at the bookshelf.
"Still, carelessness ain't good," Ron said as he picked up his long walnut wand.
Harry's bottle green eyes focused on Ron's.
"Now, we've dabbled with essays…" Harry paused as Ron rolled his eyes. "I want you to help, willing?" Harry's right hand went for his Holly wand. "Should I start or—"
Harry didn't finish as Ron decided to react faster.
"Legilimens!" Ron snapped, his wand aimed at Harry.
Blackness came to Ron, muffles that filled his mind, until a blur of color came to it. Ron saw himself stripping for the shower in the Puddlemere United locker room, just after their victory the previous day, when Hermione and Gia appeared.
"Hi," Harry said as he walked past, Gia followed him.
Harry blushed, felt the bashfulness, the awkwardness, as Gia pinned him against the tiled wall, and expertly relieved him of his seed while the others watched. Harry's eyes turned toward Katie's cleavage.
Harry's eyelids had closed, before they opened back up, those bottle green eyes focused on the red–head sitting on the bed.
"Gotta admit," Ron said, "Katie's got a nice rack." He motioned with his hands to his chest.
"Legilimens!" Harry had his wand aimed at the freckled face.
Ron felt the sharp tug on his mind, various nipples flashed past, when his mind locked on.
An undeveloped pair, mostly shrouded behind a pyramid of thick bubbles in a bathtub on a startled eight year old girl; her eyes glared back.
"You twit!" Ginny scowled at Ron with his head partially through the cracked door.
"I need to use—" Ron replied as he pointed at the toilet.
"Out!" Ginny threw a hard brush at the door.
Ron closed the door. A half hour, Mrs. Molly Weasley showed herself at the base of the stairs in the living room, Ginny to the side. Arms arched to her sides, hands on her hips, Mrs. Weasley's eyes bore down on the boy playing with miniture brooms painted in Chudley Canons orange and black.
"Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley hollered, "How dare you do this to your sister!"
"I'm sorry," Ron pleaded, uncertain why there was so much trouble, but wanting to get out of it.
"You should be more than sorry," Mrs. Weasley continued, "Do you know how hard your Dad and I work to put food on the table or a roof over your head? And this is how you repay us? You are grounded! Understood?"
Ron nodded.
"Good." Mrs. Weasley left.
Only at that moment did Ron see it, as Ginny, in her bathrobe, held a decapitated unicorn doll. Ginny waited for a moment, took in Ron's glare, before she bolted down as Ron chased. He grabbed her right hand just outside of her bedroom.
"You and Luna did that last week—" Ron growled.
"Never interrupt my bath again," Ginny said, "Now let go of me before Mum discovers that towel you ruined—"
"I never—" Ron said.
"Not yet," Ginny stated.
Green eyes twittered beneath Harry's arched eyebrows.
"How do you put up with such a brat?" Harry asked.
"Harry," Ron said, "She's my sister, of course I still hate her."
"But she's being so mean," Harry said, "I just don't get it—"
"I'm sorry you got stuck with such awful relatives—I did get her back," Ron said, "Legilimens!"
Tiny Harry ran, kept checking the wet pavement beneath him, the reflection showed Dudley and Piers losing ground, unable to keep up. Harry collided, fell backwards, and simply blinked upwards at a lady.
"Don't run in the rain—you'll slip," the Lady said.
"Yes." Harry got back up and walked along.
Dudley caught up and tackled Harry. Piers joined in the punching of Harry. Blow after blow, Dudley and Piers did not let up while Harry's blood got onto their hands dribbled out from the nose. Dudley snatched the round rimmed cheap glasses and snapped them. Harry blacked out before it changed.
"What do you think you're up to?" Uncle Vernon demanded just after Harry and Dudley returned home, "Picking a fight with Dudley? After all we provide to you out of the goodness of our hearts, you repay us with this insubordination? Cupboard!"
As Harry entered the cupboard, Ginny's bedroom came into sight. Ron was hiding beneath the bed when Ginny came into her bedroom. A previously all pink room was now solid blue.
"How—?" Ron asked Harry.
"Dunno—" Harry said, "Tired or should we do some more—?"
Ron grinned as he said, "Legilimens!"
Harry's voice was heard, their wits battled it out.
Ron on the auditorium stage, on top of Hermione, yesterday. A smell of rich chocolate permeated the nostrils, to become Harry watching Ron enjoying chocolate frog on their first trip on the Hogwarts Express.
"You're doing that," Ron said, "Changing the topic."
"Suppose I'm doing that, skipping ahead?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, something like that," Ron said, "Lets keep going."
Ron understood Harry's reasoning here, that practicing Legilimency and Occlumency meant sharing your mind, something that was infinitely more intimate than anything they had done with their girlfriends.
…
Later, as Harry took a light nap, Ron grabbed his book–bag, left the bedroom, and went down the stairs.
"Thought you were at work looking for Andy," Ron said.
"Mandatory breaks—I hate them," Kristen said, "Daughter's missing—take a break!"
Ron walked into the dining room, sat, and pulled out his journal along with his quill and inkjar.
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Sunday, 10 November, 1996
I've got to be careful, Harry was right, but I didn't realize how intrusive Legilimency would get. I worry he'll discover my research, fortunately, getting his thoughts on my stiffy saved us from that, so I don't need to learn how irate he'd get—at least not today. Need to learn to put it out of my mind when we practice.
I'm understanding why it's regulated, because in the wrong hands, it'd be a assault worse than rape, it can be baring and stealing of the soul. To think, Dumbledore wants Harry to learn this from Snape—ridiculous, and I think it'd do unjustifiable harm to Harry, no, I'll keep volunteering because You–Know–Who is undoubtedly skilled in this. At some point, Snape might be reasonable to practice against—not today, not now.
While I trust Dumbledore's ulterior motives, he doesn't know everything, he doesn't really know Harry, not as well as he thinks he does. A good Quidditch match does some good, I mean, I did get Harry to fully eat last night, but doesn't Dumbledore realize that more is needed? Mum had the right idea when she prodded me that first year to seek that boy out; one whose family did not come to see him off at King's Cross, before I realized his name is Harry.
Hermione and Gia returned to 26 Oak Street late that afternoon, entered the bedroom where Harry and Ron had resumed practicing.
"Care to stand up?" Hermione asked.
"Why?" Ron asked.
"Do it," Hermione said.
Ron stood up, feet to the floor. Hermione brought a tape measure around his waist.
"What's up?" Harry asked.
"We just need measurements," Gia said.
"For what?" Ron asked.
"Unless you're looking to ski starkers—" Hermione started.
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"The cold," Gia stated.
"There is that," Ron said to Harry.
"Richard's printed up quite a list," Gia said.
"Yeah, figure it out later," Harry said.
"Now," Gia said, tugging at Harry's hand.
Harry yielded, left with her.
"You seem—" Ron started.
"We promised sizes, a deposit was required," Hermione said.
"Money?" Ron stammered.
"I agreed to miss a week of school!" Hermione snapped.
"A week?" Ron asked.
"Pay attention!" Hermione seethed.
"Fine, fine," Ron muttered, while she measured his leg.
"It'll work out, it has to," Hermione said, softly, "Then we can get back to being students."
Ron glanced at her brown eyes beneath her bushy hair, Legilimency merely confirmed his hunch, the anxiety seeped within her. He tugged at her hand.
"Come," Ron stated.
Hermione followed, through Kristen's bedroom, out the other door, onto the roof deck. Clouds above reflected the town lights trying to ward off the deepening cool evening. They stepped into the hot tub and sat.
"We'll get through this, I promise," Ron said as he held her.
Harry's warm breath turned to steam Monday morning. Heart pumping, his hot blood coursed through his veins as he ran next to Richard, as the night was starting to be chipped away by the morning light.
"Make up your mind yet?" Richard asked.
"Nope," Harry said, "That's the point."
They stopped at the corner, streak went into the eyesight as the bright headlights of the motorists passed them. Richard put his hands to his knees as he bent over for a moment.
"I need to know how much gas we'll be using," Richard said, "When I ask Mum about it."
"You haven't told her?" Harry asked.
"Mum works best if I know every detail, first," Richard said, "Otherwise she…you don't want to go there."
Harry continued running; Richard followed.
"So, you're not going to make up your mind?" Richard asked.
"I'd like to—but best to keep me in the dark," Harry said, "One loose tongue—"
"Thought you needed an alibis," Richard said.
"I do," Harry said, "Professor…" Harry didn't want to state the name.
"Should they know?" Richard asked.
"Um…I guess," Harry said, "Yes."
"Then, it's alright if I choose?" Richard said, "Send a letter to your…professor, right?"
"Um…sure," Harry replied. Harry didn't really care about where, so long as it'd be enjoyable.
"Show you a couple when we get back," Richard said, "Help weed it down."
They returned and went up the stairs. Harry felt semi–obligated to follow Richard into his bedroom.
"Over a thousand resorts to choose from," Richard said, as he picked at reams of printed paper.
"We're supposed to have witnesses," Harry said, "And tell my Headmaster—"
"Harry!" Hermione said, loudly.
"Means she wants to get back to school," Ron said.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, "Richard, make a selection, good skiing, fun, that sort."
Harry went into Gia's bedroom and grabbed his bookbag, slung its strap over his shoulder, and activated his Portkey; Ron and Hermione held on. Hermione's nose was the first to curdle as they landed in the sixth year boy's dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, between Harry's and Ron's four poster beds. Hermione plugged her nose.
"It reeks!" she stammered.
"So I noticed!" Neville exclaimed.
Harry's nostrils weren't far behind, not particularly caring for the smell of skunk covering up severe rotting fish.
"I guess we put off the laundry a little too long," Harry said as he slowed his breath and adjusted his tie.
Hermione flicked her wand. "Aperi Omnes!" One window opened, let in fresh and cold air.
"House Elfs do laundry," Neville said as he came over, "You couldn't notice the smell last night? And when did you show—?"
"You're obviously blind if you didn't see us just walk in," Ron said.
"Aperi Omnes!" Harry exclaimed, wand aimed.
Every window opened, ice crystals started to spread across the water pitcher.
"A bit too much," Ron said as he moved to close several of them.
Harry sniffed, turned toward his four poster. He ripped open the curtain cloth.
"Blimey!" Ron said, as the first window refused to close to his hand, "What are you keeping in there? Dragon shit?"
"Bet ya, you just noticed!" Neville exclaimed.
"Sinus infection," Hermione stated.
Harry grabbed a cup from his desk stand, pressed down on the bed covers. Ron turned, ignored all of the open windows, joined in the gaze of Harry's bed.
Sizzle! Crackle!
Harry pulled back fast, only the top half inch of the glass came with him, the remainder sank as the cloth quickly engulfed itself in green flame. A spontaneous combustion, the entire bed covers vanished, revealed a mattress sized sponge oozing out the green liquid. Ron tossed on a chamber pot, the cloth of the curtain flew inward, restrained the chamber pot as it disintegrated.
"A death trap?" Hermione asked.
"Who'd want to kill you?" Neville squeezed in between Ron and Harry. "I mean you've gone professional—"
"Somebody obviously does," Harry said, "Seamus or Dean—?"
"They wouldn't stoop to this," Neville said.
"Somebody else?" Ron asked.
"Maybe," Neville said, "But they've mellowed—"
"Not everybody worships professional Quidditch players," Hermione said as she shoved The Daily Prophet at Harry.
Neville left the dormitory.
Harry read the front page article.
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Harry Potter Needs Supervision
Submitted by Victor Fallerschain
Harry Potter willfully and repeatedly demonstrates an arrogance throughout the Wizarding World, an arrogance that, coupled with his fame, he routinely abuses to illicitly extort dubious favors from others.
How was Potter even permitted to circumvent the procedures and rules enacted to protect the welfare of every student at Hogwarts? A young wizard sneaking out of Hogwarts, while committing a serious truancy offense, to play out a immature fantasy of professional Quidditch—a childish fantasy of many—yet there is no evidence of either the Headmaster or another teacher doing anything to keep Potter safely at Hogwarts. The rules of Hogwarts clearly state that a student in attendance must remain on the premises, unless a bona fide emergency exists or are granted a visit to Hogsmeade by parental permission. Quidditch is not an emergency, even if you dismiss the ridiculous notion that Potter somehow instigated the absences so there would be room for him to step up and save the team.
Were the Quidditch excursion the only recent incident, a childish indiscretion, we would all be sorely tempted to banish the affair, to sweep it underneath the carpet. Fact—Potter destroyed his neighborhood in Surrey that lead to the tragic demise of his caring guardians, which means that Potter committed manslaughter. Fact—Potter has been repeatedly assaulting other students at Hogwarts, well documented by the pile of medical incident reports. Fact—Potter's hands were red with blood in Hogsmeade.
Rita Skeeter clearly has a better grasp on the troubled Harry Potter. Whether Potter knows he is lying is uncertain, perhaps he is merely deluded. As evidenced by his ludicrous claims about You–Know–Who or Peter Pettigrew—both deceased—concerns about his mental state are well justified.
In prior cases, a troubled teenage wizard would have been ignored and abandoned, to wither in his footsteps; but today we have an opportunity for change, to help our wayward charge. I have ordered the drafting of a Broad Lowerstone Unstable Delayed Growth Einsicht Report so that we may get a better understanding by which we can help steer Harry Potter onto a better path.
Until that report is completed, we should strive to reign in his boundaries to encourage him to act responsibly. Everybody should reach out to Harry Potter and educate him on how a Wizard should behave; he should cease mingling that Muggle animal and instead date a proper Witch deserving of him; he should pick proper friends, such as the model Hogwarts student Draco Malfoy, and disassociate himself from the corrupting influences of the blood traitor Weasleys.
After all, we are doing this for Harry Potter's own self interests.
"Malfoy a model student?" Harry spat, "And he thinks he knows—?"
"Well, you were right," Hermione pointed to an article at the bottom of the front page. Harry realized she was distracting him, likely a good thing.
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Goblins Confirm Wager
Gringotts Goblins, while acknowledging a 125,000 Galleon wager on the Puddlemere United vs Falmouth Falcons match, have refused to investigate citing that any claims are moot. How Harry Potter became aware of this wager being associated with You–Know–Who should be investigated.
"Of course he's right!" Ron flinched from Hermione's elbow to his left ribs.
Harry unfolded the letter addressed to him, the stammer came out fast.
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Dear Mr. Potter,
It has come to my attention that with the death of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, you are without living relatives or legal guardians. Therefore. Severus Snape has been appointed as your guardian, the adoption paperwork will be finalized shortly. You will be expected to spend your holidays with him.
Victor Fallerschain, Minister of Magic
"Bollocks!" Harry exclaimed.
"Weren't you emancipated?" Ron asked.
"I believe that the Minster is permitted to act," Hermione said.
"Whose side are you on?" Ron asked Hermione.
"Extenuating circumstances—" Hermione started.
"I'm telling Snape," Harry said, a mild grin on his face. He could envision that greasy face's abhorrent repulsion.
"And just what do you think that'll get you?" Ron demanded.
Harry waved the letter in Ron's face. "Grease R' Us—do you think he will want me hanging around? Who'd have a more miserable time?"
"Don't challenge him," Ron said with a dry voice, "He already puts up with you in Potions."
"True." Harry went for his desk and rummaged for a quill. He sat at his desk, wrote.
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Victor Fallerschain, Minister of Magic
This matter was resolved in August, after their deaths. I had filed for emancipation and it was approved; the adoption to Severus Snape is moot. A Muggle copy of the paperwork is enclosed.
Harry Potter
"That'll work," Hermione said, reading over Harry's shoulder.
"Except the paperwork is at home," Harry said, "I'll be right back—"
"It's time for class," Hermione said.
"Lunch then," Harry replied.
They left the dormitory.
"We opened ours for the smell, but why'd they open every other window?" Hermione asked as they went down the steps. "Was the stench that bad?" Hermione shivered a bit.
"Dunno," Ron said, "Excessive heat?"
"Keep moving," Harry said.
"It's not like Hogwarts is warm in the winter to begin with," Hermione said.
"Close them?" Harry asked as they went through the super–well–chilled Gryffindor Common Room.
"And be late for Professor Snape's class?" Hermione asked.
"Skip it," Ron said.
"No, don't be stupid," Hermione replied.
A light breeze accompanied them in the corridors, adding to the chill. Hermione shivered a bit, cinched up her cloak.
"Every, bloody, window?" Ron asked.
"Yes," Hermione replied.
Harry hurried up the pace, even the heat of a cauldron seemed better. On the third floor, Harry caught a glimpse of Professor Snape heading for Professor Tonks' office.
"What?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Harry replied.
Harry kept a fast pace, was two paces ahead of Ron as they queued up outside the Potions dungeon. Distinct footsteps in the distance hinted that Professor Snape's errand was short, but still a ways behind. Draco Malfoy, already leaning back against the brick of the corridor, glared at Ron.
"Earned your first scrap of food Weaselbee?" Malfoy sneered, steam of his breath flew out in the cold air, "Or did they just tie a Knut to a string?"
"Belt it!" Seamus Finnigan snapped at Malfoy, his eyes steadied onto the gray, steam from his nostrils.
Harry didn't need Legilimency to understand that Finnigan hated Draco Malfoy worse than he despised Ron; to back a Gryffindor against a Slytherin was still in vogue.
"If I had known Quidditch players could come and go—I'd have offered Hogwarts' greatest Quidditch team—" Malfoy said.
"Gryffindor vs Slytherin," Ron remarked.
Snorting and snickering came from beneath the breaths of the other sixth years.
"Flying bricks—" Thomas said.
"You're all gullible…" Malfoy abruptly stopped.
Harry tracked the glint of Malfoy's gray eyes, to the greasy black hair walking fast along to the billowing dark black robes of Professor Snape.
"This is a classroom," Professor Snape said, dryly, as he walked past them, "Keep your unchecked aggression out of the classroom, Potter." He opened the door.
Everybody entered the dungeon classroom, whose windows were also open. Professor Snape flicked his wand, the windows closed halfway before they bucked and returned back to open.
"Lets get these cauldrons melting," Neville said.
Professor Snape glared for a moment, before directing them to the back. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their usual table in the back, in easy reach of the back cupboard where they removed their cauldron and ingredients.
"Mind if we shut the windows?" Draco Malfoy asked, loudly.
Draco Malfoy crossed over, tried to shut the window, only to have the latch bite the hand.
"What's wrong with the windows?" asked Dean Thomas.
"Focus on your work," Professor Snape said.
"He's being pleasant," Ron whispered, "What's up."
"His strings are being pulled," Harry replied, he had a hunch as to why. Harry knew Professor Snape wasn't being charitable without reason, as out of place as Uncle Vernon giving Harry a twenty pound note.
Professor Snape gave another aim of the wand, the windows momentarily shut before they sprang back open.
"I think you're right," Hermione whispered to Ron, "Every window."
"Harry," Ron whispered as quietly as he could, "You didn't by chance, over do your charm?"
"Dunno," Harry said, "Thanks a million for your vote of confidence."
"Been known to happen," Hermione said.
Professor Severus Snape felt it, the reminder that he was tardy, as the bell rang. Immediately, the sixth year students began to scurry away their experiments, so Professor Snape walked fast with deliberate haste, out of the potions classroom, his office was simply at the other end of the corridor, when the footsteps came up fast from behind him.
"Snape—!" Harry barked as he passed, turned around, and faced him.
Professor Snape ground to a halt, waited for the raven haired boy's eyes to move upward.
"Twenty points for your disrespect—" Professor Snape growled.
"Read this." Harry shove the wrinkled letter into his hand. Professor Snape read the Minister's letter, about Harry's situation.
"You would clearly benefit—" Professor Snape started.
"And watch you explain this adoption to Voldemort?" Harry asked.
Black eyes fixated and studied those bottle green eyes, ones that reminded Snape of Lily Evans so many years earlier. "Never mention him by—" Those green eyes twinkled and twittered, the opportunity to perform the simple deed he was tasked with. "Just how you came to know of the bet?"
"I know he asked you to find out," Harry said, "Otherwise, she'll be lost forever."
Professor Snape immediately broke his eye contact with those green eyes, climbed the stairs fast and deliberately, to the second floor, took the ascending stairs, and entered the Headmaster's office, where the windows were closed.
"Welcome," Professor Dumbledore said as Snape crossed over to the Headmaster's desk, untarnished by the etchings of wayward students, "Professor Lupin has the counter–curse for the windows, they will all be able to be closed momentarily."
Professor Snape glanced down at the open glossy pamphlet that was piled on several more. Underneath "Visit Barbados" was a sandy beach with a young light skinned woman in a bikini on a water lounger floating in the surf.
"But… but… that… that WOMAN… she… I…" Professor Snape sputtered.
"Pish–tosh, Severus," Professor Dumbledore returned with a twinkle, "That is normal beach–going attire these days… decidedly less than in my day, I must admit. Are you reacting on moral grounds?"
"And you should," the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black said, "Decidedly inappropriate."
"Moral grounds…? No, that hussy can wear whatever she likes; it's obviously a free country, wherever it is," Professor Snape replied, tried to understand why the Headmaster was interested, "It's hard for me to imagine… would you clothe yourself in such a fashion on a beach?"
Professor Dumbledore took a sidelong glance at the brochure. "I should think not," he said. "I have no need for the top half, certainly."
"Moral turpitude corrupts," Phineas Black said.
"But… but… I…" Professor Snape gibbered; he was decidedly more green than before.
"Cease your fretting, Severus. I'm far too old to wear such beach clothing; a cotton top and Bermuda shorts would suit me, I believe," Professor Dumbledore assured him.
Professor Snape gathered himself until he could resume his customary silky tone. "I admit to some relief at that disclosure, Headmaster."
Professor Dumbledore pulled a roll of blank parchment over the pamphlet. "Now to the matter at hand. I need you to brew vecturaveneficum."
"I did not believe suicide was in your talents, Headmaster," Professor Snape said, "This potion is incompatible with any firmare—"
"It is intended for another, three doses and the antidote," Professor Dumbledore said, "I know you are capable—"
"You knew I had orders to brew apiumvitium," Professor Snape said, "and you know—"
"Blame does not lie in you nor do I bear any malice," Professor Dumbledore said, "Instead, you have done me a service and I thank you for it. However, this is not what brought you here."
"It concerns Potter," Professor Snape said, "I have reason to believe the Dark Lord is either close to discovering Potter's little secret eavesdropping, or has already learned to exploit it."
"Are you sure?" Professor Dumbledore said.
"As sure as I can be without asking the Dark Lord himself," Professor Snape said, "Potter must be trained."
"He's made it clear that he is unwilling to," Professor Dumbledore said, "As it's against the laws to teach outside of several Ministry positions, and the nature of that training, I cannot compel him to. Cross our fingers that Harry Potter has more time than we fear."
"It's a risk," Professor Snape replied.
"Life is also about the rewards," Professor Dumbledore said, lifting the parchment to reveal the pamphlet.
Professor Snape left.
"Meet ya' up there," Harry said as he left Charms, last class of the morning. He hurried into the third floor boys lavatory, activated his Portkey. Harry landed a moment later.
Hoot!
Harry stroked several of Hedwig's feathers, before he opened up The Romantic Wizard. He grabbed one of the copies of his emancipation papers, ones he was grateful Hermione insisted on him copying. Added them with his letter into an envelope, addressed it to the Minister, and attached it to Hedwig's leg.
"Good girl," Harry said as Hedwig took to flight.
Harry activated the Portkey, was pulled back. No sooner than he set down his bookbag and was halfway across the dormitory, did the door open, the other students invaded this sanctum, including the Gryffindor Quidditch team, others of Gryffindor house, and a few other students.
"Hiya, Harry," Colin said.
The others crowded around Harry.
"Cool," said Josh Brenner, "Keep him from escaping."
"I—" Harry started.
"Having lunch," Neville said, "Dobby!"
"Dobby pleased to help Harry Potter!" said the House–Elf, Dobby, as he appeared.
"Bigger table," Hermione said, her wand aimed.
Their usual small table expanded to make a long one in the room.
"We've been a bit—cold," Dean Thomas said, "I mean, can you blame us—?"
"Blame is a tricky thing," said Luna, a Quibbler in her hands, next to Neville. "Easy to dispense, easy to get wrong, difficult to fix later."
"I was talked into this," Susan Bones said.
"Sit," came the plea. Hands showed him, to kneel at the end of the table.
"We figured we'd try to make amends," Josh Brenner said, "Obviously not everybody's in attendance."
"Seamus is…" Neville started.
"Not convinced," Thomas said, "Nor am I…not really, but some pleas were made on your behalf to give it a try."
Harry glanced at Ginny, grinning.
"Speech!" came Colin's shout.
"Speech!"
Harry poured a small shot of Firewhiskey.
"Thanks," Harry said, before he sipped it.
Harry was grateful, realized he'd have a chance, the students simply needed the proof. For proof, he'd need Professor Dumbledore's plan to work.
"Dunno about you, food's getting cold," Ron said as he helped himself with some fried chicken legs.
Silence took over, Harry watched the others work their food. Harry suddenly felt better at Hogwarts than he had in over a month. He grabbed one chicken leg himself, sank his teeth in, before washed it down with pumpkin juice.
"I heard—I must have a word," Professor McGonagall said, as she entered the Headmaster's office right after lessons had ended for the day, "Severus is not doing you a service by brewing more—poison! His first poison's doing enough damage and you're intent—"
"I do cherish my life, Minerva, so don't get me wrong," Professor Dumbledore said as he leaned back in his chair, "It has forced me examine my life and get my other affairs in order. Unknowingly, Tom has made us, and Harry, more dangerous, for I now have the clarity to remain focused on getting Harry ready."
"Albus, Mr. Potter is just a boy," Professor McGonagall protested, "It would be unreasonable even for a mature and adult wizard to bear the burdens—"
"Unfair? Unjust? Certainly." Professor Dumbledore paused for a moment. "You know as well as I do that life is rarely fair. Fate has dealt Mr. Potter a lousy hand, compelling him to become the wizard faster than any other has been asked to do. To be a care free youthful boy is a luxury for Harry, I intend to give him that time where we can afford to."
Harry felt the cool air breeze by as he flew in the near darkness over the Quidditch Pitch. A glint of gold and he pursued it, ascending as the breeze tried to toss him around on his Firebolt. Harry paid more attention to the Snitch he was attempting to chase.
"BRENNER!" Ron shouted, seemingly out of the dark, "AGAIN!"
A gust pushed Harry to the side and he took a moment to search again, having lost sight of the Snitch. Ginny flew past.
"I can help," Ginny quickly stated.
"No thanks," Harry retorted.
Harry had some trouble focusing on the snitch. He couldn't figure the other students out, from the attempted disfigurement this morning to the show of camaraderie over lunch. He flew above the tops of the stands.
"Hoot!" came the whistle as Oliver Wood stepped out on the Quidditch Pitch. "It's dinner time!"
"Fifteen more minutes!" Ron protested.
"I can't see my hands—NOW!" Oliver Wood shouted.
Harry began to sink, when he heard it, the whizzing of the Bludger fast approaching. A dark spot grew fast, Harry began to roll, but not fast enough.
Whump!
A reverberating soft pitch hummed as the Bludger split, ricocheted on his thigh, before it landed in his lap and he grabbed it. As if the Bludger died, it stopped moving. Harry's eyes caught the glint of a sliver that stretched across his vision.
"Wood!" Harry bellowed "Up here!"
Harry heard the grunt, of an irritated Oliver Wood, however, Harry figured it best to not attract attention.
"Potter—" Oliver Wood started, a very shorted distance away.
"STOP!" Harry said, "Careful—get below me and rise, slowly."
Oliver Wood rose.
"What's this—" Oliver Wood said, next to Harry.
"That," Harry pointed, "Killed this." He handed the broken Bludger over.
"It'd help if you carried your wand with you!" Oliver Wood said, "Lumos!"
Oliver's wand showed the thin wire in front of them in the weak light, stretched across the Quidditch Pitch from the top of two top boxes.
"That's what," Harry stated.
"Hey!" Ron started to say as he came up.
"STAY!" Harry barked.
"Second that," Oliver Wood added.
Hoot!
A brown owl, flew up from behind them, a school brown owl carrying a letter in its claws, oblivious, crossed with the line reaching the neck. The owl fell toward the ground, dead.
"Down," Harry suggested.
Oliver shone his wand light and they flew back down to the grass.
"Get inside," Oliver Wood said, "I'll summon the Headmaster."
Harry nodded.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked.
"Don't worry about it," Harry lied.
Harry and Ron landed in Gia's bedroom; Gia was on her bed, reading. Harry glanced at her with her lace panties nearly not covering between her spread legs; felt the tightness in his pants as his todger was enticed.
"Hermione?" Ron asked.
"Her parents," Gia replied.
Ron left.
Harry rapidly stripped before he climbed onto the bed. His wedding tackle dangled as he crawled over her; she leaned back onto the bed, book went to the side. Harry studied those blue eyes before he kissed her. His fingers worked her ears, his grin became contagious and was reflected on her face. Her hands worked his rump as they continued to kiss.
"You're feisty," Gia remarked.
"Today…admit I couldn't make heads nor tails out of it," Harry said, "Overall, good though."
Harry's hands massaged her chest. He lowered himself a bit, let his arousal touch. Her fingers teased him there.
"You'll tell me about it?" Gia asked.
"Yes, after this very important message," Harry said, grin wide.
Harry pushed inward and his anxieties for the day began to melt. It was a day that had begun with his bed converted into an acid bath, likely an attempt on his life. A day that has the Minister for Magic attempting to draw Professor Snape further into Harry's life as a guardian, a role Harry certainly didn't need. A day that had that wire, a possible lethal trap, likely intended for Harry. However, it was also a day that had many of the other students attempting to be nice, to bury the hatchet, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team had become downright civil to him.
Gia seemed to notice, her fingers moved, worked his ear lobes, and he relaxed enough to focus on the task at hand. In a few short moments, he was becoming one with her, his flesh began to respond.
"Harry!" came Richard's voice as the brown haired boy entered Gia's bedroom, "Oh, give ya a moment."
Harry knew the damage had already been done, like a punctured balloon, the interruption was sufficient to bring the moment to a premature end; he pulled back and got up on his knees, glared at Richard for the moment. Richard had his own stiffness loitering out of a pair of boxers.
"Sorry," Richard said, as he started back for the door.
"It's alright," Gia said as she moved onto her knees, held Harry from behind.
"I swore Mum was still at—she walked in on me and Jen—" Richard said, motioning, "Didn't help in my request for a week off school, especially when she thinks she could help you sort out your school affairs."
"Wish it was that simple," Harry said, "Dunno—remind her of Ant's disappearance and you're having issues?"
Richard sighed.
"He doesn't want to end up at a shrink's office," Jen said as she slipped into the bedroom, starkers, stood next to a blushing Richard.
Harry's eyes drifted onto Jen's bare chest. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed Gia's focused on Richard.
"You tell her that you're helping a friend in the only way you know how," Gia said, "Or, Ant's behavior is so disturbing that you need a week away from here."
Richard snorted.
"Time off for good behavior?" Harry said.
Richard groaned.
"After she just caught me and Jen?" Richard said.
"Alright," Harry said, as he moved to get off the bed, "I'll help."
Hoot!
"Neat, an owl!" Jen stepped over to the snow white bird.
Harry and Richard left the bedroom.
"She thinks it's just an excuse to go and bang for a week," Richard said.
"Playing it by ear," Harry said as they went down the stairs.
"Winging it?" Richard replied.
They came to the bottom of the stairs. Kristen, rested her elbow against the fireplace, in her police issued sweats, her sock covered foot rubbed at Snuffles' belly. Her eyes bore directly at the two teenage boys in her living room, Harry's chest had more ribs showing than Richard's, above their underwear.
"I'd be a bit more sympathetic to a trip during the holidays," Kristen said, "Such an excursion sounds like a wonderful idea, in fact. So, why next week when school is clearly in session? Yours is too, right?"
Harry had to think on this fast.
"My Headmaster suggested it," Harry said, "Witnesses for an alibis."
"Why do you need witnesses?" Kristen asked.
It took Harry a moment, with her studying his demeanor, to think of the reply.
"We've…a couple of troublemakers have been stalking me at school," Harry said, "Using a very good disguise, they've taken to impersonating me and Ron, causing mischief; for instance, beating up another student, loitering just long enough get others to vouch for me being there, when in fact I wasn't, but leaving the scene fast enough to avoid getting their true identities caught."
"Why would somebody want to frame you of anything?" Kristen asked, "Apart from being in heat?"
Harry blushed.
"Simply understand that they do," Harry said, "My Headmaster understands, so he believes me, but he's definitely not everybody, because most everybody else is buying the job that's being perpetrated to tarnish me. The other students, most of the teachers, even the Minister for…" Harry cut himself off. "It is frustrating to arrive at school to find out that my doppelganger has been busy, that others are wanting me expelled for stuff I wasn't even around to do. It is frustrating to have everybody else want to throw me behind bars for things—I'd have to be in two places at the same time to even do what I've been accused of doing."
"What's the jurisdiction?" Kristen said, "I can put in a word to start a proper investigation—"
"I'd love to tell you that, but I'm prohibited from divulging!" Harry said, "The perpetrators have connections, they've been sabotaging the shoddy investigations so the result is, I appear guilty. It's quality work, their efforts. My Headmaster and I hope, that by having this holiday, that we can lure out and expose these impostors, that is why we need a holiday, for me to be a thousand miles away from school on Saturday the twenty third, with plenty of witnesses, to be an ironclad alibis."
"So you're not just after a week–long holiday?" Kristen asked.
"No," Harry said, "Though the holiday's the nice way of doing it, and bringing along the girls so nobody could accuse us of even desiring to leave the holiday would be even better."
"No offense," Richard said, "Having him spend the day at the police station isn't his idea of fun."
"Not enough witnesses either," Harry said, "Not to mention, you don't want my name attached to that station."
"Why not?" Kristen asked.
It took Harry another moment to consider his response, for this woman had the full measure of the police force at her back, she could be useful, but it'd also endanger her to know the details.
"It is a boarding school, my school," Harry said, "My Headmaster knows that I'm commuting—the others don't. Part of this arrangement requires me keeping it quiet, a low profile, so to tie you in, officially, would expose it. A holiday, with my friends, skiing, gives me the witnesses, the alibis, and you have to admit, a nice way to accomplish this."
"I've already asked my teachers," Richard chimed in, "I'll be getting my assignments and can turn them in when I return—I won't miss a thing, and I'll even get in some flying hours!"
"And I know how you intend to spend this week," Kristen said, her hand aimed toward Richard, his flesh still dangling out of his boxers, "With her."
"Rather I go out and solicit on the street like Ant?" Richard said, "I love Jen! As you saw, I wasn't going to get her pregnant—"
"What were you up to?" Harry asked.
"Blow–job," Richard said, "Look, I was stuck trying to come up with a topic for that essay, I needed to relax before I could concentrate."
Harry read Kristen's eyes, enough to understand her reluctance.
"Aside from the alibis, we need the break, we need the holiday, and the winter break is too far away," Harry said, "We are responsible enough to plan this, to do it, safely. Richard, here, is responsible—just keep his sister away from him."
Some snorting came from Kristen.
"Richard courts a girl, falls in love," Harry said, continuing, "And he's responsible enough to express that love while mindful of the consequences of that love. He's sixteen, there's no denying he's becoming mature—" Harry deliberately pointed to the boxers with the aroused flesh showing. "He even uses condoms when needed—that's being responsible, right?"
Harry couldn't quite read Kristen's eyes, but it felt reasonably good.
"Richard deserves this, too," Harry said, "He studies hard, gets good grades—"
"Mostly," Richard replied.
"We all have a weak subject," Harry said, "Still, he's doing good, right? I mean, a little bit of a reward for good behavior?"
"Ta," Richard whispered to Harry.
"Have you considered a career as a solicitor?" Kristen asked Harry.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"Who all is going?" Kristen asked.
"Myself…Gia, of course," Harry said, "Ron and Hermione."
"And Jen," Richard stated.
"Enough to keep an eye on Richard and keep him out of trouble," Harry said.
"Did you ever listen to them talk about their summer trip?" Richard said, "They traveled to Romania and back, so they know their stuff."
Kristen sighed, exhaled.
"I need to think this over," Kristen said.
Harry focused on her eyes.
"It's the best I can do," Kristen said.
"Ron's looking forward to the airplane ride," Harry said, "He's never flown like that before, neither have I, come to think about it."
"When I say I need to think it over, I mean it," Kristen said, "Either that, or a fast no."
"We'll take the thinking," Harry said, "Come on Richard."
Harry and Richard went back up the stairs, Snuffles followed. They glanced at Gia and Jen on Gia's bed.
"Your boy's definitely interesting," Jen said, "That's his dress?"
"Sports Jersey," Gia said, "For a sport of theirs."
Richard and Harry, though, walked through Richard's bedroom, onto the roof deck. A bit of a breeze, the street lamps shed away the darkness of the clouds above in the cool weather. Richard opened the lid, they stepped in, sat on the edge while their legs and feet were immersed in the hot water.
"She's likely doing research," Richard said, "She'll uncover that school's name."
"It's deliberately concealed, by magic," Harry said, "Unless she's a witch, she won't learn of it."
"That'll make her suspicious," Richard said, "Thanks for defending me, by the way."
Snuffles transformed.
"Holiday?" Sirius asked, his eyes focused on Harry's face.
"At Dumbledore's suggestion, you heard why," Harry replied, his eyes moved toward his godfather, "With Minister Fallerschain denouncing what I said at that press conference and trying to force an adoption between me and Snape—"
"That greasy fool?" Sirius asked.
"Yes, him," Harry said, his fingers plied at his skin, "I think he's more disgusted at the thought than I am, so having his self–interest might be more useful than the copy of my emancipation papers I sent in."
"Cunning," Sirius said, "This holiday?"
"I'm guessing it'll be a no, because Mum is Mum," Richard said, his eyes moved back to Harry, "She'll have this as well researched as she can by morning, and if it's totally concealed, as you state, she'll veto it."
"Don't count on that," Sirius said, as he started to move.
"Do not use magic on her," Harry said, finger now aimed at Sirius.
"Change her mind?" Richard asked, his eyes now on Harry's, which caught Harry's eyes returning the glimpse.
Harry could sense Richard's apprehension.
"Do it the right way, convince her," Harry said, returning his eyes back to Sirius, "Not sure who'd be better at it though."
"Don't ask questions," Sirius said, as he transformed back. Snuffles left.
Harry studied Richard.
"Sex really helps you with your essays?" Harry asked.
"I tend to overthink it," Richard said, "Jen—it calms me down, to think like the unquestioning teachable idiot you're supposed to be. And, well, it's fun."
"True," Harry stated.
Harry slipped into the water. Heat against his jewels filled him with a sense of optimism and joy, that his problems at school would be resolved—eventually. Unconditional friendship was the answer, he just didn't know how to use it, not yet.