In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 61: Study
Harry woke to two owls Wednesday morning, enough of the street light came into the room to see by. One owl dropped The Daily Prophet and the other dropped a letter. Harry untangled himself, his limbs slid along Gia, Ron, and Hermione still asleep on the wet bed; Harry knew who the bedwetter was by now, it was himself, and Harry stood up. He grabbed the two items, set them next to another letter on the desk, a letter Harry suspected was in emerald green ink. Harry left the bedroom.
"Ready?" Richard asked.
They both went down the stairs, and Harry issued the warming charms as they left the house. Light of the street lamps showed their way beneath the mostly cloudy sky. Harry redoubled the warming charms.
"Your trip?" Richard asked as they ran.
"Fucking fun," Harry said, "Some skiing, but way more about hot tub, the sauna, and the banging."
"Did you ever not bang?" Richard asked.
"Maybe…once or twice," Harry said, "Enough of that, Ron knocked you out?"
"Lets not talk about it," Richard said, "But yes, he did—not proud of it."
They ran across the zebra crossing, their breath billowed up in the headlights of the cars, and they continued.
"I trust it was justified," Harry said.
"It was," Richard said.
Harry glanced at those hazel eyes enough to pick up on the shame, disappointment, that Richard had; agreed changing topics was the best.
"I won't explain it, why things are worse," Harry said.
"So I noticed," Richard said.
"She knows—I'm not hiding it from her," Harry said, "I'm trying to address the reason, the root cause of it, but until that happens, don't be surprised if I…"
Richard sighed, and Harry wanted to change the topic, again.
"Almost a new moon, new lunar month," Harry said.
"Maybe things will go better?" Richard asked.
"Hopefully," Harry said, hoping Dumbledore had a clever plan, one to catch the impostors, instead of squandering resources on himself.
Ron woke, his feet dangled over the edge of the bed. Hermione was already up, standing with The Daily Prophet spread between her hands, the fifth page article showed.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Potter, Insane Dark Wizard
by Rita Skeeter
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is quite obviously an insane Dark Wizard, as thoroughly discovered by the guidance committee during an exhaustive psychiatric evaluation. Potter exhibits numerous traits commonly found in Dark Wizards, such as being prone to extreme fits of anger, usage of the Imperious Curse to obtain sexual favors, and frequently hearing disembodied voices. The sensible reader is strongly advised to avoid this brooding Dark Wizard at all costs.
"Take it his appointment didn't go well," Ron said.
"Think Professor Dumbledore was amused that Harry walked out on it," Hermione said.
"Too bad I didn't see that," Ron said, "Would've been good."
"So, Harry skipped his appointment?" Gia said.
"Stupid committee," Hermione said.
Hermione handed the letter over to Ron; and he opened it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Ron
How dare you leave without at least letting me know you're okay! Here's the full scoop.
Ginny
Ron moved to the cutting from the Hogwarts Corpse and read it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Wednesday, 8 January, 1997
Potter Strangled Weasley
by Ernie Macmillan
All of Hogwarts is ablaze by the latest confirmation of no loyalty between Dark Wizards, a common trait. In a brutal attempt on Weasley's life, Dark Potter tried to strangle Dark Weasley, unfortunately, the attempt was unsuccessful. Numerous reasons abound, however, it is clear that Dark Potter's action was in retaliation to either Dark Weasley's behavior toward Dark Granger or an attempt at deviant sexual behavior. Fortunately, our gracious school administration has seen fit to remedy the situation, a suspension is certain to protect us all…NOT!
"Need to get ready for school," Gia said as she started to squirm out from the bed.
"Of course he'll help," Hermione said as Ron followed Gia.
Ron entered the bathroom, stood away as Gia showered
"I like how you and Harry are good friends," Gia said.
"Harry and I—we share things, ever since we first met on the train," Ron said.
"What about me?" Hermione asked as she entered the bathroom.
"We're friends…good friends," Ron said.
"Strange way of showing it," Hermione snapped.
"I don't mind," Harry said as he entered the bathroom. "Wanna guess Dumbledore's letter?"
"They don't want you to quit," Gia said.
"About sums it up," Harry said.
"How much of the rulebook did they scour?" Ron asked.
"All of it," Harry said, "I think."
"Should listen to them," Hermione said.
"At what cost? Ron's neck? Others?" Harry said, "It ain't safe for us or others for us to remain attending Hogwarts."
Gia got out and Harry slid into the shower.
"Think these two want some time to themselves," Gia said, pulled Hermione along as the girls left the bedroom.
Ron turned to glance at those bottle green eyes.
"You're…it's getting worse?" Ron asked.
"Yes," Harry said, "Don't care what essay you're working on, I need to stop this! Now!"
"You're blocking it, right?" Ron asked.
"By becoming a monster!" Harry said.
"You enjoyed your skiing," Ron stated, trying changing the topic.
"How'd you tell?" Harry replied.
"Ain't kidding," Ron whispered.
"I'm serious about this," Harry said.
"Obviously," Ron said as Harry quickly washed himself beneath the water.
"We'll work when I get back," Harry said as he rinsed.
"And not let her onto it?" Ron asked.
"Maybe not right away," Harry said, sighed.
A towel flew from the stack into Harry's hand as he stepped out, dried. Ron slipped beneath the water.
"I don't regret my friends," Harry said before he left.
Ron finished his shower and left the bathroom. Bedroom empty, so he went down the steps, glanced at the clock above the fireplace, one that was after eight, and crossed into the dining room. Hermione's parchment and quill on the table, but not her, when he heard the voice clear. Ron glanced right into the small study, where Hermione was on the sofa, reading.
"Took you long enough," Hermione said.
Ron walked around, sat against the armrest. Ron glanced at her, sitting mostly proper but with crossed legs, back against the cushion, to the other end.
"You're always—" Hermione said.
"You're beautiful," Ron said.
"You've given this some thought, haven't you?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah, I am," Ron said, "It's Harry—"
"What about me?" Harry asked, now behind the sofa.
"Your scar—may as well tell her about it," Ron said.
"It's…acting up?" Hermione asked.
Harry walked around the sofa, The Daily Prophet curled his hand, and sat next to Hermione.
"Been doing so, ever since—you know," Harry said, "My only choice is to fight back, or, let him win." Harry's bottle green eyes drifted. "I need to be passionate, actively passionate's the best, but fresh memories work too."
"Dreadful," Ron said.
Harry snorted, laughed.
"Should talk to Dumbledore," Hermione said.
"We've burned that bridge," Harry said.
"People are painting you as a Dark Wizard!" Hermione said.
"Like this didn't explain it?" Harry said as he shook and threw The Daily Prophet onto the shelf.
"People celebrate when Dark Wizards are killed," Ron said, eyes on his friend.
"Doubt it," Harry said, "They seem to like them."
"And once they figure out their mistake," Hermione said, her eyes glared at Harry, "It'll be too late!"
"It would be easier for everybody to simply allow yourselves to die," Professor Snape said as he entered the study.
Harry jumped as he bolted upward, spun around to glare at the greasy git wearing the black robes.
"Get lost," Harry said, bottle green eyes upon the Potions Master.
"Where'd I send you last time?" Ron asked, as he finished standing, his butt against the bookcase below the window, "Was it a beauty contest?"
Hermione glared at Ron, as she too, stood, to face the man still in the open sliding door.
"Potter family tradition of wayward sex has failed to die out," Snape sneered.
"At least Harry can have a bang," Ron said, picking up on guarded jealousy behind those dark eyes.
"Ron, don't tease the virgin," Harry whispered to Ron.
"Only if you discount the students," Ron said, leaving his eyes open to Snape's gaze to pick up on Ron's imagination, "Some have the opportunity to stiffen up their marks—" when the horrific thought of Pansy Parkinson crossed his mind "—especially—"
"Enough!" Professor Snape snapped, "Being disrespectful to a teacher—"
"Funny hiding behind that," Harry said, "This must be Hogwarts."
Ron snickered, though he also caught Hermione's glance, her wondering if there was more going on.
"Remarkably interesting given that Hogwarts is a boarding school," Professor Snape said, "Where famous wizards are exempted—"
"Can it," Ron said, "Presume you're here for some obnoxious reason besides seeing our knickers."
"Might be it," Harry said.
"Uninteresting," Professor Snape said, "At the Headmaster's request, I need to impress upon Potter the need to take a certain lesson—"
"From somebody," Harry said, "From somebody who fails to recognize the Dark Lord fooling him into thinking the entire British Isle is being searched for me!"
Ron caught Hermione's brown eyes that moved between Harry and Professor Snape.
"How—?" Professor Snape started.
"You can't even fathom the concept of rogue doubles, can you?" Ron said, "Like there's nobody who'd like to get Harry expelled?"
"Slimy Snake is unaware—" Harry started.
"Insubordinate liars!" Professor Snape said, "The Headmaster erroneously thought you'd turn over a new—!"
"Can't figure anything out unless it's in print?" Harry threw a tightly, but opened, roll of the Daily Telegraph at him, "Read all about it."
"A lesson in manners—" Professor Snape started as he drew his wand.
Harry's bottle green glanced at Ron's blues, and they agreed; their wands out before Professor Snape's had finished his fast draw. Professor Snape's wand flew into Ron's hand while the Hogwarts Pin flew to Harry. Harry tapped the pin three times, banished it back to Professor Snape, and Professor Snape vanished. Ron twirled Professor Snape's wand in his fingers.
"You two—" Hermione started, as both Harry and Ron banished their own wands into their holsters.
"You wanted him around?" Ron asked.
"No," Hermione said as she grinned.
"Wanna watch my stiffy while we study?" Ron asked her.
Harry and Ron moved the sofa a bit closer to the door, and sat on the cushion. They pulled the coffee table a bit closer. Hermione moved the armchair from the corner to the other side.
"You two—" Hermione said.
"It's fine," Harry said as he pulled out a book, set it on the coffee table.
Ron knew as Harry and Hermione both knew; they were friends. Ron summoned his book–bag, brought out parchment and a quill, began to work.
Snape landed in the Headmaster's Office.
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
Snape unrolled the newspaper—it was open to the Engagements section.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Harry James Potter and Gia Marie Prescott, engaged on 9 December 1996. Wedding to likely occur in July 1998 due to educational restrictions.
"I see Remus Lupin's hunch validated," Dumbledore said.
"They lied—" Snape started.
"I am still disappointed that they felt that they could not entrust me with this information," Dumbledore said, "That committee will not be pleased."
"Hear that?" Harry asked in the middle of the afternoon.
Whir! Whir!
"Coming from outside," Ron said as the noise filled the room.
Harry jumped off the sofa. Ron grabbed Hermione, and they went out of the study, turned left, made it to the upper landing for the stairs to the basement, the short space between the dining room and the living room, when the house shook violently. Crunching timber, shattering glass, and screeching breaks momentarily deafened their hearing as dust filled the air. They coughed and coughed, went for the front door.
"ANDREA OSBORN, GET OUT OF THE CAR! ALL OF YOU!"
Harry twisted the door knob, but the door refused to budge, to open. Ron gripped the knob with Harry, they both pulled, yet the door stayed in place.
"Subtraxerim Utilium!" Hermione exclaimed, her wand out.
All three of their wands were out for the brief moment, issued the warming charms as Harry opened the door. Cold air of the cloudy afternoon, a freezing breeze that reminded them of their knickers as his eyes sized up the tire ruts across the iced grass of the lawn.
"Are you alright?" Kristen asked, toward them, her eyes clearly spotted Harry, Hermione, and Ron similarly underdressed in the sub–freezing temperatures, however, she overlooked it.
"Think so," Ron said.
Harry checked the tire ruts, that ran from the street, into the hole in the front wall of a house, a green sedan attempting to lounge in the study, car roof torn to shreds. Inside, Andy in the driver seat, two guys in the back seat. On the street, two police cruisers were parked with their lights flashing while a third approached to join in. Flustered and irritated, Kristen was already running for the house, another officer with her.
Andy jumped out and bolted through the house; Kristen and her side officer ran around the sides of the house. The other two blokes climbed off the back, and attempted to run. Harry glanced at Ron's blues, they didn't need to say more, and jumped. Harry tackled one bloke to the ground, Ron tackled the other, at the same time that Kristen dragged along a screaming Andy back.
"They made me!" Andy protested, "It's their faults."
Harry felt the swipe against his crotch, the bloke beneath him struggled, managed to turn over between Harry's legs, before Harry silently cast a jelly legs jinx, and spotted the eyes.
"Stephen?" Harry asked.
"You fucking son of a bitch!" Stephen snapped.
"Her fault?" asked the other guy.
"We'll take them," said a pair of male officers as they came over to Harry and Ron. Harry stepped off, as the man took Stephen.
"What?" Stephen said, "I can't walk properly!"
"This way to the ambulance," the man said.
Ron surrendered his, came over to Harry, Hermione caught back up with them. They watched as Kristen shuffled Andy into the back of her patrol car, and she came over to Harry and Ron.
"Busy Day?" Ron asked.
Harry caught the annoyance behind the glaring eyes.
"If it weren't their fault, why couldn't they simply open the car doors?" Hermione asked.
"At ninety in a stolen car?" Kristen said, "Hope you three aren't too shaken—"
"Your sirens—else we would've been under the car," Harry said, "We didn't get far, but far enough to avoid that."
"Lets get back inside," Hermione said to Harry and Ron, a shiver to her voice.
"Only for something warmer to wear," Kristen said, "Car needs to be removed first and a structural engineer—never mind, later."
"Ta," Harry said.
"Excuse me while I get her and her accomplices back to the station," Kristen said.
Kristen went to her patrol car, entered, and drove away; the other two patrol cars left, while two officers remained to guard the house.
"We need to—" Hermione started.
"I'm going to her," Harry said, "Not quite time, but what other option is there?"
Harry closed his eyes, tried to concentrate on Gia.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked.
"Nothing," Harry lied as he opened his eyes back up.
"Yeah, right," Ron said.
"Be back—later," Harry said as he began to walk. He took the footpath next to the house, felt the cold beneath his toes, and reissued his warming charm.
Pfffpt!
Harry glanced back, at Ron and Hermione following him.
"It's a muggle school," Harry said, "They know me, not you."
Harry felt a bit of the breeze as he shrugged.
"We could go back, study," Hermione said.
"Sure," Ron said "Pull out the car, fix up the house, and think muggles will be daft enough not to notice?"
"Thought you warded it," Hermione said.
"Small stuff," Ron said, "You're talking having to memory charm how many muggles—a dozen?"
"They'll get it fixed fast," Harry said.
They walked along the streets and footpaths.
Darkness turned to light as the curtains drew across the screen of the theater later that evening. Harry stretched his arms, pulled his legs of the back of the seats.
"Think the house is—ready?" Gia asked.
"One way to find out," Harry said as he stood.
"What did happen?" Gia asked.
"You'll find out," Ron said as they walked out.
They walked.
"You know," Ron said, "When will the muggles get suspicious?"
"Nothing to get suspicious about," Hermione said, "We all know you're nutters."
Harry chuckled.
"Not funny," Ron said.
Harry held Gia's hand as they walked. .
"Yes it is," Hermione said as they turned onto Oak Street.
"Harry?" Ron asked.
"I'm staying out of this," Harry said.
"Oh," Gia said as they came to number twenty six.
Though dark, the street light was enough to make out the damage, the lumber and plywood propping up the front. They came to a yellow sheet of paper taped to the front green door, a paper advising caution.
"Hot tub?" Gia asked.
Hermione and Ron nodded as Harry twisted the knob; they entered.
"See the damage?" Richard asked, his bare legs on the sofa he was sitting, the fireplace roaring, the clock on the mantel reading a bit past nine. A book on his lap. "Ant's in deep now, guess where she's residing?"
"No offense," Harry said as he paused, the grin on the face, the thrill to not have her around in those hazel eyes.
"We'll be…" Gia and Hermione went up the plywood covered steps.
"You might regret…" Harry said, "Given what Ant'd been doing, it ain't a stretch to say she's headed for even deeper and meaner stuff. You might want to help her."
"You weren't here a week ago, Harry," Ron said, "You didn't see what Ant did."
"I know she's being a jerk," Harry said, "Still, try to help Ant, she's a sister and worth the try, isn't she?"
Harry watched the grin fade from Richard's face.
"Even your mother's having trouble with Ant," Harry said, "Be a brother, a good brother to Ant, maybe it'll help everybody?"
Richard's grin did not return.
"Careful on the stairs," Richard said, coolly.
Harry stepped on the plywood covering the first several steps of the unlit stairwell, felt the flex and sag. Thoughts of Gia in the hot tub motivated him.
"Her bedroom," Ron said.
Harry entered Gia's dark bedroom.
Hoot!
Harry went over to her, stroked a couple of feathers, gave her an owl treat.
"Light?" Ron asked, finger to the switch.
"Leave it off," Harry replied, "You wanted—"
"Ahem!" A dark figure in the corner cleared their throat.
Harry's wand leapt out, the bright light of it swung to the corner, to the face of Professor McGonagall sitting on a chair, Crookshanks in her lap. Harry relaxed as he swung, the light above went on, and they stowed their wands. Her eyes on Harry. Harry's eyes were on her.
"Sorry," Harry said, "You startled us."
"I was here when you entered," Professor McGonagall said, her hand petting Crookshanks, "If I was a Death Eater—"
"You can't be one," Harry stated.
"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "I came to speak with you."
"How can we be of help?" Ron asked, as he stood next to Harry, a few inches taller.
"Rather than state that," Professor McGonagall said, "I would like to hear your thoughts first."
"You mean our resignation?" Harry said, his eyes focused upon hers, ones that still bore memories of Ron and Harry showing up late to their first Transfiguration class.
"That could be a start," Professor McGonagall said.
Harry crossed his legs as he sat on the bed, glanced down before he returned them toward those eyes.
"It's annoying—more than annoying," Harry said, "Assaults, injuries, deaths—Hogwarts would be safer without me. And now that Dumbledore thinks me a liar—"
"Albus knows when somebody is not being forthcoming," Professor McGonagall said, "First, congratulations on the engagement. Second, few students have really managed to provoke his ire and you are now in that not–so–proud minority."
"What he demanded is that I be confined to a cell in the dungeons!" Harry said.
"Professor Dumbledore's concern is whether you can be trusted with the privileges that he grants," McGonagall said, "As of late, he feels you no longer respect him."
"How can we respect him," Ron asked, "When he keeps blindly shoving his pawns around?"
Professor McGonagall paused for a moment.
"Tempers have flared and words have been exchanged, more than anybody has intended," Professor McGonagall said, "Do not misread my intent, my focus is on reconciliation before we finish tearing ourselves apart. I shall be speaking to Professor Dumbledore to see if we can reach a mutual understanding. Is there anything else that we need to discuss?"
Professor McGonagall moved Crookshanks to the bed before she stood up. Ron handed over Snape's wand.
"Oh," Professor McGonagall said, "Wood informed me that the tryouts for reserve members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team went smoothly. May we win the cup this year."
Professor McGonagall tapped the pin in her hand and vanished.
"You gave the wand back?" Harry asked as he turned on the bed to face his red headed friend.
"Did you want to hold onto Snape's wand?" Ron retorted.
"Good point," Harry said.
"Speaking of Snape…" Ron said as he bent over to search his trunk.
"Can you keep mooning me?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his butt, backed up until he stepped onto the bed, squatted over Harry.
Pfffpt!
"Better?" Ron asked.
"Loads," Harry grumbled.
Ron turned around, sat on his knees. Ron handed over a package, wrapped in green Christmas gift paper with moving white snowflakes on it, "For you, my Christmas gift."
"I didn't think to get you—" Harry said.
"You came back," Ron said, "Here."
Harry felt the heft and weight of the package, had a hunch.
"You're sure this wasn't meant for Hermione?" Harry asked.
"I'm sure," Ron said.
Harry tore the gift paper off to reveal a leather bound book.
"Open it," Ron said, moving Harry's hands to the lap.
Harry opened the book, flipped through each of the blank pages.
"Um…." Harry said, "Hermione's with these enchantments—"
"Journal, for you," Ron said, Harry unsure about those blue eyes.
"Why would I want to keep a diary?" Harry said, "That's a girl thing."
"You can burn the pages later, if you want," Ron said, "Jotting down your thoughts and feelings, it's something the sorting hat suggested to help with Occlumency, something you've admitted you need more skill in, unless you're secretly gay."
"Dunno about this," Harry said, "If Rita Skeeter got a hold of this—"
"She won't," Ron said, "We can enchant the thing to keep it secure."
Ron reached, summoned over a quill and ink–jar.
"Here," Ron said as he grabbed the journal from Harry, "Get it started for you."
Ron wrote in big letters at the top of the first page.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Severus Snape's Guide to Love, Dating, and Romance
"Keep the rest of it blank," Harry said as he belted out laughter.
"See," Ron said as he handed the quill to Harry, "You can have fun with this."
"You seem comfortable with this," Harry said as he turned the journal back around.
Harry doodled for a minute, waited for Ron to reply.
"Have one of my own," Ron said.
Harry's eyes fixed themselves on Ron's blue eyes, ones that went wide, ones that tried to deflect from Ron's journal. Harry's focused on the journal, and Ron yielded with a description of that first train ride years earlier.
"You what?" Harry demanded, "How much on me?!"
"That journal is about me," Ron said, "Has been since before I started Hogwarts, but you're a part of my life—"
"You're journaling my life?" Harry demanded.
"I won't publish until we're both dead," Ron said, "Besides, you think Rita Skeeter's holding off writing about you in The Daily Prophet?"
Harry shook his head.
"Fact you're learning about this now shows how I've kept it secret for years," Ron said, "Don't go reading mine."
Harry grabbed the quill, scribbled a big, mean, face in his journal.
"Harry," Ron said as he grabbed a comb, "Only change is you know about mine."
Harry let the comb distract his anger, as the black teeth sank down into Ron's hair.
Thursday morning, Harry's foot slipped on the patch of ice, he stumbled, recovered.
"Careful," Richard said, steam billowed out with his breath under the light of the street lamp.
"Could've been worse," Harry said.
Harry renewed his silent warming charm under the cold cloudy night sky of the morning.
"We're insane," Richard said as they continued their run.
"Plenty of wizards and witches would agree with you," Harry said as they returned to 26 Oak Street. The plywood still covered the front of the house, tire ruts still in the yard.
"Ant's insane," Richard said as they climbed the stairs.
"She's your sister," Harry said, at the top landing.
"Don't remind me," Richard said as he crossed into the bathroom.
Hoot!
Harry went into his bedroom, crossed over to Hedwig, stroked her feathers. A familiar package, and a letter were there.
Purr!
Harry grabbed the letter from Hedwig, but turned to watch Crookshanks laying on Hermione's stomach. Ron, sat cross–legged, watching. Hermione's hands petted Crookshanks, while Ron rubbed the belly.
"Figured we'd wait," Ron said, "Like we actually need to read it."
Harry opened the letter, the loopy green handwriting clued him, however, he still read it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger,
Stephen Cornfoot, a Ravenclaw, was found beaten this morning. He claims it was Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley who ganged up on him. While I am certain these are the impostors, I am still bound by the whims of the Board of Governors.
You are suspended and may return no earlier than Monday, 13 January.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster
"Need a shower?" Ron asked.
"Not particularly," Harry said.
"Good," Ron said as he straightened out his legs.
Harry got up, stepped off the bed. Ron grabbed the sorting hat, and the Practical Legilimens and Occlumency.
"Guess we're studying," Harry said.
Ron went for the upper landing, pulled the string, and climbed the ladder. Harry followed, and closed the ladder. They sat down on the pair of gym mats.
"You—" Harry started.
"Better than the plywood," Ron said, sitting cross–legged, "Sit."
Harry sat cross–legged across from Ron, both only armed due to their self–concealing wand holsters on their wrists, ones they'd never feel unless desired.
"Can you even count the number of times You–Know–Who's attempted to possess you?" Ron asked.
"He succeeds and I'm a puppet!" Harry quipped.
"Well…" Ron said as he opened the book, his blue eyes fixated onto Harry's.
Harry felt the twinkling, the urge.
"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Harry stated, the words not his own.
"See?" Ron said as he broke off the gaze, "Much work to do—"
"You possessed me!" Harry exclaimed.
"Want Snape?" Ron asked.
Harry remained silent, glared at his freckled friend.
"Thought so," Ron said, "We're working on this, the hat agrees."
"Leave me out of the debate," the sorting hat said.
Harry laughed.
"Mind, need to focus it," Ron said.
"Disorganized minds are easy to conquer," the hat said.
"You focus on sex," Ron said, "It helps, of course, you've merely found something to persuade him to leave. Once he overcomes his aversion—what next?"
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"There's a charm that can help," Ron said, "Still, you're going to figure this out, alright?"
Ron shifted through the pages.
"You've paid attention?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Ron said, "Your life, my life, the girls' is on the line on this."
"You're—" Harry started.
"Focusing your mind," Ron said, "Wanna try…"
Harry caught those twinkling blue eyes, ones that soothed into Harry, calmed Harry. Harry reached, gripped the elastic band to Ron's white underwear. Harry's fingers slipped beneath, into the strands of pubic hair beneath.
"You're not even fighting it!" Ron grumbled.
"That was…" Harry muttered as he removed his hand.
"Pay ATTENTION!" Ron said, "Suggesting—you're only making it easier."
Ron flipped the pages to the book.
"Rather have Hermione?" Ron asked.
"No, no," Harry said, "We'd have to teach—"
"Then learn before you're eating my next turd," Ron said, "We'll start with the curse."
Ron's wand was already out, Harry's came out.
"You're—" Harry started.
"Covering my arse," Ron said, "And yours."
"Focus, Potter," the sorting hat said.
Harry and Ron stood, together, they took steps apart, faced each other.
"Habito Imperio!" Ron yelled.
Harry felt the brunt of it, the strings that controlled, the senses that were invaded by another. His friend, Ron Weasley, was doing this to him, an Unforgivable cast upon him.
"To list this," Harry said, though his words were Ron's, "They'd have to admit the magic exists."
"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said, "It's fun magic, useful for knowing if Hermione's consenting or not."
Harry snorted, uncertain who initiated it.
"Shake it, Mate," Ron said.
Harry spun around, wagged his butt at Ron.
"You ain't ashamed," Ron said, "Go on, you know the counter curse."
Pfffpt!
Harry's wand touched his own todger below the cloth, before he forced it upward.
"Valedixit!" Harry exclaimed.
Ron fell backward, his butt struck the floor.
"Ron!" Harry shouted as he knelt over Ron.
"Knew it'd come," Ron said as he stood back up, "Try it again?"
"Guess so," Harry said.
"Habito Imperio!" Ron exclaimed.
This time, Harry focused.
"Valedixit!" Harry exclaimed, "Expelliarmus!"
Harry gripped Ron's wand next to his own.
"That works too," Ron said, "But you–know–who isn't using his wand, is he?"
"No," Harry said as he handed it back to Ron.
"I'm not as good as him," Ron said, "But defeating me is a step in the right direction."
"Let's go," Harry said, wand aimed.
"All day, if we have to," Ron said.
Ron and Harry kept practicing.
Ron watched Harry, Harry was on his knees on the floor of the attic that evening, the floating board had the journal, those bottle green eyes on Ron. Ron, on his left knee, had his right foot planted, the right leg angled above horizontal, the mostly side profile toward Harry. Harry's quill sketched.
"You're not like that first year," Ron said, "Even with the sketch charm."
"So?" Harry said, "Gotta understand, love, and use it to push Voldemort back out."
"Remember the charm work and you won't have to," Ron said.
"Against him, I need every advantage I can get," Harry said.
They heard the chime from the clock below.
"Guess Hermione's wondering," Ron said, "Though you'll confess this all to her in—Habito Imperio!"
Ron's wand came out and went back in under the blink of the eye. Harry began to get up, head over to the trap door, before he managed.
"Valedixit!" Harry exclaimed.
"Won't announce it, again," Ron said as he stood.
"You wouldn't," Harry quipped.
"Like you–know–who announces it," Ron said, "Next time, you'll give me a blow, and she won't suspect a thing."
Harry knelt, cracked the trap door open, and listened. Harry stepped onto it, the door moved down, and he jumped. Harry extended the ladder, and Ron went down. Harry closed the door as Ron headed down the steps first.
"Need to piss," Ron quipped.
Into the living room, the clock was late enough, and he turned into the dining room. Hermione and Gia were at the table, both nipples above the wood.
"Where have you been?" Hermione asked.
"Studying—Quidditch," Ron said.
"All day long?" Hermione asked, "Why?"
"To help cure Harry's sex drive," Ron said.
"I can do that with a knife," Hermione snapped.
"Ouch," Harry grumbled, his hands covered his bulge, "Don't you ever suggest that!"
Hermione snickered.
"Don't do that," Gia said, "Boys and their balls shouldn't ever be separated."
"Thank you," Harry said to her.
"Let's go get a bite," Ron said.
After changing into their sweats, the left the house. Gia opened the door to the fish and chips shop, they entered.
An arm came around Harry's neck, from behind. He moved his chin down, punched the man behind him in the groin. Faster than Harry could process, he was behind the man, and the sock covered foot pushed against the buttocks covered in the polyester and cotton athletic wear. Garrett Tremble followed through with the tumble, stood back up.
"Blimey!" Garrett said, "Must be getting ancient."
Some laughter as a bell chimed out.
"We're already over time," Kristen said, "Thank you all for coming, see you Tuesday."
Harry returned to Ron.
"Wonder why," Ron whispered.
"Meaning?" Harry snapped.
"Nothing," Ron stated.
Gia stretched her arms as she yawned.
"Best be going," Kristen said.
Harry cast his warming charm as he greeted the cold air outside, supplementing his sweats; he did one for Gia, who smiled.
"Interesting moves," Kristen said as they walked along Fredrick Court.
"Interesting," Hermione said.
Harry picked up on the feigned curiosity, like she already knew the answer. Harry stuck his tongue out at her.
"Boys!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Can't figure that out if I'm a boy," Ron said.
"Heard you were suspended, again," Kristen said.
"Unfair," Harry said, taking the change in topic, "Another attack by my impostor, before I even got to school. The Headmaster admits it's unfair."
They turned down a darkened dirt path among the trees, the leaves rustled by the wind. Trickling of water came from the brook nearby.
"Any investigation?" Kristen asked, lighting up her flashlight.
"Unlikely," Harry said.
"Doesn't matter," Ron said, "Board of Governors gave him a zero–tolerance order, and so we're suspended regardless of truth."
"Absolutely barmy…" Kristen shone her light toward the thicket of vines. "A moment."
Harry walked with her toward the vines, the flashlight moved around. Harry spotted it, the sudden reflection from a pair of lifeless eyes. Under the thorny bare briers, a stench of decay swept out from the pale white skin of the naked mass, freeze dried blood on the ribs surrounding a gaping hole in the chest. Maggots managed to crawl around the exposed lungs.
"Who?" Gia asked.
Harry dropped to his knees as he spotted the face, the brown hair, and he recognized the victim.
"Justin Finch–Fletchley."