Harry's first morning back
This is a nightmare.
Reading the notebook his father had commandeered to use as a journal, Harry wrapped his head in his arms and wished devoutly that it was, in fact, one of his nightmares—even one of the bad ones.
He tried to look on the bright side. Harry's talent and training was in fitting in, hiding, blending into the background. James' was standing out. A girl like Hermione would realise it wasn't him inside without much effort.
Harry thought about the first dream he'd had wearing the amulet. He'd - hadn't he? - sort of promised himself he'd give Hermione his attention first, and only look at other girls if that didn't pan out. He'd bother her about Dumbledore, Ron and the two of them, too. He shuddered even contemplating that second part.
He'd done so before talking with his father - if you could call it that - while flying with him. He would make a point of telling Hermione that.
The good part of not wearing the necklace was that he could stay in his own time and shore up his shaky life somewhat. In addition to missing his parents and Sirius, the bad part was flying blind. Whatever strange information transfer the dreams offered, it had predicted some of what was happening in the day ahead, if you could suss it out, and Harry missed that far more than he would have guessed.
Intricate plans weren't his sort of thing, but he did make a cursory list:
1. Call Hermione and meet up
2. Tell her everything
3. Begin investigating Dumbles and the Weasleys at a minimum. Start with Prophet for Dumbles, ask Luna about Weasleys. You have to meet up with her, anyway.
4. If you have convinced her 100%, not 99%, let her try the amulet once.
5. How the _ did Dad do my chores? Not a list item, sorry.
6. Start systematically planning how to use amulet. What's my endgame? What are the limits?
Okay, six items was probably three more than he could keep in mind for very long. He resolved to reduce it to five by starting with the first, most important one.
Harry didn't meet any Dursley's eyes that morning, nor did he make the slightest sound or acknowledgement. He made breakfast silently, and served it without a word. When Petunia gave him her usual scolding instructions, he noticed she was far more hesitant than usual. My father must have put a bit of caution into her, he mused, happily.
After Vernon and Dudley left for work and to be let out by the park, Petunia decided to visit her least disliked neighbour for coffee and gossip. However, while the old Harry would have snuck around, Harry decided honesty was the best policy - he didn't want James' momentum to die out.
"If I don't regularly contact someone connected with the group watching the house," he told his aunt as she was preparing to go out the door, "there'll be hell to pay. I've chosen my best friend, whose parents are both normal, magicless medical people. If you would prefer I change that to the drunken thief, the werewolf, or the wizard that left me with you, that's fine with me, but I hazarded a guess that ..."
"If it's the girl you met up with yesterday, that's fine," Petunia interrupted. "She was at least quiet and mannerly. Shows what not being raised by freaks will do."
That was as good as an "of course, dear" coming from a normal aunt, so Harry smiled - but not grinned - and thanked her. He was going to stand up for himself, but he was also going to be the better man as far as manners went.
"I'm phoning her now, something came up the magical people need to know, and I have to tell her in person," Harry volunteered. Suddenly, it occurred to him that she looked much wearier, and even a bit greyer than she had when he was in his early childhood. Regardless of his status as a Cinderella, the mere presence of someone who could do unknown things with magic must be a terrific strain on her. If he didn't dislike her so much, he'd almost have a twinge of unwanted sympathy. Instead, he displaced it into his voice, giving them a false impression of respect.
She simply waved her hand as if a bad odour were wafting her way, then left in a hurry. She shut the door firmly, which for Petunia Dursley was as if a normal person had slammed it shut.
All Mr Granger said when Harry reached their house was, "I see we've come to this age at last. I'll go get her, she's probably impatient. You probably are, too."
Harry merely told Hermione after a polite greeting that something even stranger and more urgent had come up, he was going to manage to get away and would like to meet here wherever she wanted, and as soon as possible.
"Harry, you know what you're making my parents think. 'He needs to see her each and every day, it seems.' That was my mother this morning."
"Well," said Harry, "we can talk about that as well. I'm really not kidding about either the strangeness or the urgency. I just lied to my aunt and said if I didn't contact the wizards, there'd be hell to pay. With Dumbles running the show, out of sight, out of mind is the only goal, in reality. If the Ministry manages to kill us all with the next wave of Dementors they send to visit, he'll be content, because I obeyed him and his minions obeyed him."
Hermione could barely make out Harry's mumbling, "He's actually more of a tyrant than Uncle Vernon, just sneakier."
"But the upshot is," he continued, "on her end, it's fine however much I wish to communicate with you - I pointed out my other choices were the wizard who left me on the doorstep like a bottle of milk, a drunken thief, or a werewolf. All apologies to Remus, but it's sort of true, and it's exactly what she most fears."
"I feel so honoured, Harry," Hermione said, drily.
"Well, may I ask when you can meet up with me?" Harry asked.
"You really do sound impatient. My Daddy is right, curse him." But Harry heard her giggle. There was a very long pause. Was she talking to her parents? Pondering? Had she hung up? "Fine," he heard. "We can meet after I eat and make myself ready for the day. Same place as before, if you haven't forgotten it."
Harry told her he was making detailed notes every day in the event he did forget something like that. Her response was to pause for a while, then finally say, "See you in two hours, then, I suppose," in a voice lacking all enthusiasm.
This time, Hermione noticed, there was no cocoa.
Something that had been present at their meeting yesterday had vanished. His posture, his attitude were more familiar than his confident and assertive demeanour had been. Is he coming back to his senses? she thought, hopefully. She waved at Harry, and he went over to the bench and sat facing her.
"I have so much information to give you, and so much I can't give you," he said, surprising her. She must have looked affronted, because he hastened to continue, "We told the Order we were going to the ministry almost an hour before we left, and many hours before we arrived. Thestral is not exactly the fastest means of locomotion. True or False?"
She probably looked bewildered. To avoid confusion, she finally nodded. It was true, but why bring it up?
"We were at the Ministry, mostly in the Department of Mysteries, for at least an hour before anyone from the Order showed up. Again, True or False?"
"T-true, but I don't - you aren't giving me time enough to go over it ..." She hated her stuttering.
"Is it at least close to True?" he fired back.
"Yes, I guess it is," she admitted.
"You can check with the Order, Dumbledore, anyone. The reason we reached Snape is that it was his duty to relay information. It was his shift. Again, we reached Snape. True?"
"Well, true, but ..."
Harry pushed on, "The Order all have any number of means of getting to the Ministry much faster than we did - the Floo Network, Apparition, even normal brooms. True or False?"
She knew she was getting huffy, but couldn't control herself. "Does this line of questioning go anywhere?" she spat out.
"It does," said Harry. Again, as she had when he left the Knight Bus, she didn't notice the calm, assertive, confident manner of yesterday's meeting. This was the Harry she was used to. A stray thought entered her mind. The one that we can guilt or intimidate into going along. The one that's been beaten down by life and is desperate for affection and approval. But I don't do that! was her next guilty, uncertain thought. Ronald does, of course, but then again, he does it to me, too. We're simply nice. It's a good thing.
"My claim," Harry continued, "is that either Snape did his job, and reported what we were up to to the Order and Dumbledore, and they, for whatever reason, sat on their arses for hours before deigning to respond. That, or he did his more likely duty and only reported to Dumbles, who sat on his arse, etc. Or Snape kept the information back as long as he could to please Voldemort without pushing the Order over the line to where someone just gets exasperated and ends all our troubles with a quick cutting curse - or his own personal Dark Magic version, which he calls Sectumsempra - to his treacherous throat. Are you guessing which option seems the most realistic to me?"
Her hand inadvertently went to her injured front.
Harry noticed and smiled, sadly. "I have my share of the guilt for that, I admit," he said, ruefully. "But one thing I will not budge on. What Snape did, in reality, was deliberately shred any Occlumency I might have achieved by what was, in fact, a lot of work studying on my part, along with fishing out things to hurt me with, and probably information to give Voldemort. I was reckless that day, I panicked, but I hadn't been lazy."
Hermione realised he was simultaneously apologetic to her about the Ministry debacle, and a bit resentful that people had assumed he was at fault when they knew full well that Snape hated him and had harmed him on multiple occasions. They were full circle, back to a conundrum where you either assumed Snape was fooling Dumbledore, Dumbledore approved his behaviour, or you couldn't trust your own eyes and ears. Or even, she mused, our own torsos.
"So, regardless of what you think of Dumbles, as long as Snape is allowed to read all our minds at will, each and every day, there will be things I can't talk to you about. Snape may have done a desultory - yes, desultory - job of countering bloody Voldemort, Dumbles' hire as DADA professor, from outright killing me, at the extreme cost of waving his wand and muttering a counter-charm in first year, but can you think of anything else he's done that benefitted me? On the contrary, he destroyed my Potions education and smeared me and arranged for Sirius and Remus to be removed from protecting me. Snape's unreliability at best is established, Hermione. It's an established fact, and nothing you can say changes that, ever."
"But Harry!" Hermione's head jolted up. "Just yesterday, you gave me a necklace the goblins and you said would prevent him or anyone from doing that to me."
She swore Harry looked puzzled for a second, then it came to him. The memory thing must be worse than I thought.
"True as that is, I think you can discuss some things with your parents, as people aren't bothering with them. But in general, if I tell you something I wouldn't tell you if your mind was readable, you cannot pass that on to someone who either is unprotected, or worse, will spill to someone like Dumbledore. Do you agree, so far?"
He was definitely not as charming as he'd been yesterday, even if, objectively, his statements were less objectionable than yesterday's. A bit.
"Yes, I do." She realised a simple nod would not hit the mark this time.
Harry scanned her intently, then relaxed somewhat.
"First, weirdest, probably most urgent thing first."
Hermione felt herself sit up a bit.
"The person you met yesterday was not, in fact, me."
"He wasn't you? Oh my God!" Hermione was horrified. Was this yet another Polyjuice incident? Heck, even a simple glamour would work on her. It was a depressing thought after several years at the finest academy of magic there was. Allegedly, came the disloyal thought.
"it was this body, but a different personality and soul were in it."
"Dare I ask what you mean, or who it was, or some trivial information such as that? Even some twaddle like, how on Earth is that even possible?" she asked him.
"It's possible through the Black family amulet, it's my father, James Potter, just now starting his Fifth Year at Hogwarts. And how it works is deeply mysterious. My best guess is it's somewhat to do with a father and son wearing it for the first time. I mean, obviously not the same time, but the first time I used it, I'd switch with him at the same time he first used it, and the second time would be the switch next, and so on."
"Oh, Harry." Even if it was just a dream, like the Mirror of Erised, at least Harry got to meet his parents. Or, well, parent, if the dream was consistent enough.
"James and I are writing in each other's journals, and we can talk, in a very dreamlike, hard-to-control way, at night."
"If I believed you, and I don't as yet, I would hope you're being responsible and just observing. You wouldn't want to ... to tamper, even inadvertently, you know."
"I've learned some things, Hermione. At least with this sort of time travel, you can safely change things. And as for stable time loops? They're all stable. Time heals any wounds isn't just an old saying. When my dad visits, he can see almost a day ahead for me, too. It's another thing the amulet does."
"So to sum up, you're using an unknown artefact from a famously dangerous and Dark family. You're using it to meddle with time and let yourself be possessed by what claims to be your father. Has it occurred to you that this is the sort of thing Dumbledore worries about?"
"It does have its dangers, but they're well in hand," Harry said, not disturbed in the least. "It seems to have a failsafe where if either of us takes it off, we switch back. And the one still wearing it feels an urge to take it off, as well. But if either of us is still wearing it, we can communicate in our dreams."
The likeliest thing was that the thing had stolen his sanity.
Harry waited for her to say something, giving her a respectable pause.
"The time between my father's era and ours is like a rickety rope and plank bridge over a chasm. Both ends are rotted, and so are the ropes. It spills most of the people who traverse it into the void."
"I don't understand that, really," she said, more meekly than she'd imagined herself being.
"What we plan to do is shore up the posts at each end, and rebuild the bridge, correctly. It's no snap - I've forced him to swallow some of that pride he has, and he's forced me to get off the stick."
"You do realise that changing what happens makes your information invalid, don't you?"
"Only in the crudest possible way. Yeah, if a friend or something was killed by, say, a firearm accidentally, because the neighbour collects them and he was irate over being cheated on by his wife, and if you had only warned them to jump right instead of left? That won't work. Too complex. But no matter how many things you change, you did learn that the wife was cheating on him. And that information hasn't changed: you can use it to get something done. It's a poor-sounding example, but hopefully it makes a point."
The conversation was so tense, she quickly agreed to head to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, then over to Florean's.
Hermione seemed surprised he'd want to talk in such a public place, but in Diagon Alley, you could do magic without being warned, or even noticed, and he cast a few charms, including a Muffliato, whispering and keeping his wand under the table, after they sat down in the Cauldron. After that, he explained, being out with Hermione in a public place was far less suspicious than meeting in a deserted warehouse or something.
"Before he travelled here, you know what, Hermione?"
She indicated that, of course, she couldn't 'know what.'
"My father sort of trusted Dumbledore. I mean, his parents both said he was completely untrustworthy, and James told them, sure he's dodgy but why turn down help if you can get it from a very powerful and clever wizard? They were both completely against him joining the Order of their day. Rightly so, in my opinion. Dumbledore was handicapping them, he and Snape would periodically pick people to sacrifice to keep Snape's cover and keep Voldemort guessing, etc."
"So, what happened?" Hermione wondered. Harry had learned how to signal Tom, and she looked surprised to suddenly notice her empty Butter-beer glass had been replaced with a new, full one.
"When he got here, and figured out it wasn't all a dream, he noticed Dumbledore had thwarted his and Lily's wills at every turn, and his reasons for it amounted to 'shut up, I'm Dumbledore.' There wasn't one good thing about my life, not one, except maybe my relationship with you. He told me to make getting Dobby's warning off my record a top priority, by the way."
"Oh, and also by the way," he said, with something almost like the confidence and pride he'd lost overnight, "you'd be very proud of me. In order to save a soul and take a piece off the board - Good Lord, I sound like Dumbledore - I apologised to him, publicly, in the Great Hall. Unsolicited."
"I am shocked James wouldn't take the amulet off after hearing that and never use it again!" was the response.
"Who knows, he may well do so," Harry said, not really meaning it. "When we talk in dreams, it's dream talk. Very, very hard to make yourself understood. But I think - I think - we agreed to work with each other's plans.
"And speaking of that," he said. He noticed she'd finished her glass. He approached her and helped her out of her chair. When they were in the thick of the crowd on Diagon Alley, he spoke in a moderate tone and said, "I'd like it if you considered our visit to Fortescue's as a date."
"As a date?" she could still be surprised, it seems.
"Yes. I told you I'd tell you everything I could. Before I went back to the past, when I was first dreaming, I was sort of able to see my not-quite-aware thoughts. I thought about you, and Ron, and Ginny, and even Parvati, who I was wondering if I owed a good date. But it was mostly you. I think people like Molly Weasley and Dumbledore are trying to keep us apart and push us towards Ron and Ginny. A couple of things, first, before you answer. How is Ron as a prefect?"
Hermione seemed eager to interrupt him, but controlled herself and answered. "If I'm being honest, he's simply dreadful. He abuses his authority, he skives off as much as he can and a bit more. He talks you down when we're patrolling together, as if you weren't prefect material, but we all know that Dumbledore overruled McGonagall, even I will admit that."
Harry was gratified, but went on: "And have you noticed that Ron and Ginny guilt us a lot? I mean, in 4th year, he treated you like dirt, and yet he gave all the boys to know that he was interested in you and to stay away."
Hermione looked offended at first.
Harry had developed patience, so he just waited.
"I was just thinking about that when you came off the Knight Bus, if we're still being honest. But what's this about a dream?"
"Well, I was kind of thinking I need to do things for myself, not just follow orders and die on schedule. That led, naturally, to thinking about the girls in my life. Some I don't know well, like Parvati. Others, like Ginny, behaved no better last summer than you or Ron did. But the more I thought about you, the more I decided, bugger Ron - he has absolutely no more right to tell me what to do than his patron has. And so, here we are. Ron's in very bad odour with me in general, he's only a few steps away from being a Cormac McLaggen, and a few more from being a Draco Malfoy. He feels like he was cheated out of his pureblood entitlement, so anything he can guilt me into is only what he's owed."
"He refuses to take things from you, though, Harry," Hermione objected. "Remember the omnioculars and Leprechaun gold at the Quidditch Cup?"
"Yes, his father brought him up that way, I honestly believe his mother might be scheming with Dumbledore to go quite the other way with my money, though. But what Ron does is try to deprive me of the intangibles. If he can't prevent me from getting something I want, he guilts me into not enjoying it. And he's always got this air of 'I know what's going on' when he's talking down to me. In his own way, he's also a kind of Percy, just manoeuvring in different waters."
"All of this is new, Harry, and it seems like you're more unforgiving and ... well, it's worrisome you seem even more alienated."
"Well, there's an easy fix for that. Branching out beyond just two friends. Refusing to be guilted or intimidated. When someone lies to my face, calling them out on it. If I had done that long ago ... Okay, I'll stop right there. My father is better at this. I wanted to figure out if he had done my chores adequately. I couldn't ask the Dursleys about meals, but he did trim the hedges ... acceptably. Probably. Petunia's a perfectionist, but I think he intimidated her a bit."
Harry paused, but not in a way that gave Hermione an opening. "I had an idea for you, and I was really ... dithering and deciding it wasn't a good idea, then I had another idea. My father is more the risk taker than I am. I'm going to let them do it at their end. Sorry to be so mysterious. I was going to suggest you use the necklace, so you'd know what I'm talking about but, first, it might be dangerous, you're not a Black, for one thing. Though then again, maybe you'd run into a Dagworth-Granger or something. But I'm rambling. Anyway, I think my father is going to give it to Lily to use soon. That way they can be the guinea pigs. Also, if time fixes itself like we think it does, the risks for Lily have a known limit."
"I ... I don't think I would have done that. Maybe if you wrote up your experiences, not really private stuff like you would in a journal, but ..." Hermione started to say.
"I'll do that," Harry promised. "Hey, I'm researching Dumbledore's history. I'm starting out now with the Prophet, and I know they aren't accurate, just say whatever the latest ministry stooge or Death Eater supporter that holds their leash tells them to say, but it's broad information. If you wouldn't mind working with me a bit later when I'm organising that, I could get a second set of eyes."
From her expression it seemed dubious to Hermione. However, it was also research. So, Harry had some hope.
"I'd also like your help investigating the amulet safely. Brainstorming. It would give you more input into what I do with it." That sold her, he could see.
"I'm going to visit Luna after we leave here," Harry said, "there are some things about her neighbours I want to learn. From her father, too, if he's at home. I made a note to tell you everything, but it turns out my way of doing that is to not stop talking. Let's spend some time here not talking about serious things. I think I mean unsettling things, because I want you to talk about you and you're very serious."
Remarkably, that worked out. During the rest of their time at the ice cream parlour, Harry found out many things he'd never bothered to ask about Hermione before. As he listened, Harry realised she was torn between her sense of belonging with the Order, the Weasleys, even some progress she'd made in their House, and losing one or more of her couple of friends. They really needed to branch out. But that was too dismal a thought for what was, after all, a very nice day for Scotland. He'd gotten the strangest ice cream he could find on the menu, and in truth, it wasn't great, but the experience was a novelty and amused him a lot.
As Hermione was leaving the Knight Bus, she told him, "We can disagree, we can argue. We can start to come together without being a yes-man or woman. We know each other well enough by now to be more comfortable than we have been lately, just make that adjustment, and I'll do the same."
"This is where I ask if we can go out on another date," Harry ventured.
"You mean another of our outings but we call it one?" she wondered.
"Well, I will set a goal of more than half our time out being an outing for courting purposes, not 'multi-tasking' unless there's an apocalypse on the horizon," he responded. Then he took a risk. After all, it was no more than she'd done in their fourth year. He pointed over her left shoulder, and as she turned, kissed her on the cheek. She reddened, but couldn't say anything. As he waved goodbye, he was heading to the Lovegood home with a much more optimistic attitude than he'd had when he met Hermione at first that day.
"You look like you have questions, Harry Potter."
Luna Lovegood was out by the front gate of the Lovegood estate when Harry arrived on the Knight Bus. Harry followed her inside, with a little trepidation. You never knew how much Luna knew, but it was usually a surprising amount, and with no way of knowing how she knew.
"That is, assuming you are Harry, which it sort of feels like you are. But your father's definitely leaving a mark. What did you come here to ask about?"
"To put it bluntly, I'm investigating Dumbledore, and Hermione's helping with that, but I'm also investigating the Weasleys, and I was hoping you'd tell me what you know about them. I'm also going to talk to the Diggorys if they'll hear me out. And Professor Lupin."
"What brought that on? Oh, the whole Ron is jealous and Ginny thinks she's been promised your hand in marriage thing? Or the Molly Prewett used love potions at Hogwarts thing? Anyway, Ginny was my friend once, and is starting to be again, so there's only a little bit I will tell you about her behind her back, and she'd be very angry if I didn't extend that to her family somewhat."
"Just tell her I've been an even better friend, and I made you feel guilty."
Luna laughed, and asked, "Why would I say that?"
"Luna, I've protected you and stood up for you more than she has. And don't you feel a little guilty if some of the Weasleys have been in cahoots with Dumbledore and all the grief he's given the Potter family?"
"Thank you, Harry. I mean, I will still not tell you anything private about Ginny, but otherwise, that should cover it."
"To start with, Dumbledore is my foe, and Molly Weasley is one of his most devoted followers. Probably only Elphias Doge or Daedelus Diggle are more dedicated, and he and Doge used to be an item, back when homes were lit with whale oil.
"When I got to King's Cross station, Hagrid had probably been forbidden to tell me how to find the platform - I can't imagine him conspiring, but I can see him following orders and not asking questions. Lo and behold, Molly Weasley in the loud voice she usually reserves for scolding her young yells out "Packed with Muggles, of course!" and I noticed a few heads turn and stare at her. Then, not fazed a bit, she asks, almost as loudly, "What was the platform number again?" and little Ginny is excited, so she yells out "Platform 9 and 3/4s!" by which point more than a few heads have turned to witness this little dialogue.
"The upshot is that I get on board with the help of the helpful Weasleys. Only the twins' help with the trunks being at all necessary without Dumbledore's ballocks.
"Then the next part of the drama unfolds. Despite the fact that Hogwarts now has far fewer students than it had in my parents' day, mysteriously, the compartments are 'all full.' Or so Ronald Weasley would have me believe. It's a marker of how low Dumbledore had the Dursleys beat me down that I jumped at the chance to befriend a boy who demanded I show him my scar, insulted Hermione and Neville, told me which House to go to at Hogwarts, and ate all the candy I bought from the trolley lady, even though his mother sent him with a basket holding four large sandwiches.
"Re-evaluating my past, I've become so suspicious that I even wonder about the chess game we played in our first year. I've read up on chess, and if you want to be safest, you make one of us, me, I guess, if you intend me to be among the last to go on, the king. Then you make the other two Rook's pawns, and don't play one of the openings that sacrifice them, which aren't that great anyway. Those two pieces have the best survival rate in all of chess. Obviously, Ron played with natural talent, and there may be no, or only poor, books on chess in the wizarding world. I only ever saw him reading about Quidditch, in point of fact. But that's where I'm at now."
To his surprise, the dreamy-eyed Ravenclaw girl just looked vaguely amused.
"You know, I got to know you only this year, and it coincided with your most abused, most harrowing year yet at Hogwarts. I ingratiated myself into your inner circle pretty quickly, alongside people like Neville, Ginny, even Ron and Hermione, that you've known for years. I know a lot about you, which I don't explain, and, like Professor Trelawney, I mostly have a few "hits" that make me look perceptive and knowledgable, and my generally otherworldly reputation, to validate myself. Any spy could come along and hide behind a spacey look and a bunch of made-up animals. And Dumbledore would readily assume you'd tell sweet, innocent, completely honest little waif-ly - is waifly a word? It should be - Luna things you wouldn't tell all-suspicious-acting people like Snape or Mundungus Fletcher or, apparently, even Ronald."
Harry didn't know how to respond to that.
"What I'm saying, Harry Potter, is you should draw some lines, for the sake of practicality and your own peace of mind. The business with the platform is deeply suspicious, even to a non-suspicious person like me. As for the stuff with Ronald? On the one hand, he wouldn't hesitate to scheme if he was told it wouldn't harm you "too much" and there was a huge reward for him. He's transactional in that way. But honestly, I think you're right and chess education is practically nil in the wizarding world, and he's far too lazy to have sought out any rare tomes on openings, let alone statistics of piece survival. As for the train compartments being full? Which is more likely? Ronald Weasley, operating under instructions for Dumbledore, delivers his prepared statement that the compartments are full - with no contingencies made for the fact that you chose a car towards the back, and therefore both you and he passed numerous compartments with a single person in them. Which makes him look like a dunderhead, and ruins the ploy for whoever is giving him his orders? OR, Ronald Weasley learns that, by an amazing coincidence, it's his year that is going to have the beyond-famous Boy-Who-Lived, wicked-looking scar and all. And both his parents, like Ronald's, were in Gryffindor, so they'll probably live together. Unless he really falls down, he's going to be friends with Harry Potter. Maybe even keep other people from being as close, so he's Harry's best friend! And that's going to happen, come hell or high water. So, on the spur of the moment, when he finally locates the BWL in the flesh, he pops out the first pleading statement that comes into his head, not even bothering to ponder whether it's believable, and lo and behold, it works, and his dreams come true? I'm just asking."
"He could have just asked to sit there, he didn't need to lie."
"And you have already seen his many weak points, but stayed friends with him, anyway. Clearly, you're branching out in your social life - years later than you should have, but I'm in no position to say that. And if you want to demote him, that's understandable."
Now, she had a characteristic spacey look. Harry was beginning to realise they weren't all the same. This one probably meant she was thinking hard or remembering.
"I think at the ministry - and that, really, is the best test your friends have had - Ronald was the worst at fighting, and the least helpful. The best fighters were you, me, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Ronald, in that order. And, since Ginny is a year younger, athletic, and has less training, she might have more potential for fighting than Hermione. Not that that means you shouldn't have asked Hermione out - your father was probably right about that. But, I mean, backing you up in a fight was sort of Ron's strong point, so if it's less strong - that might influence you to unconsciously - subunconsciously? - whatever - not cut him so much slack for his bad behaviour. If so, you should train him like you would a dog or a wyvern - well, or a Krup, maybe that's better. That is, right away when Ronald does something that oversteps your lines, withdraw until he makes the connection. Meanwhile, he's probably no more inherently a better friend choice than Dean or even Seamus, though still a million times better than Zacharias Smith or Cormac McLaggen, but I'm digressing or babbling or babblegressing."
"But how did you know my father was involved now?" Harry asked about the Erumpent in the room.
"I want you to figure that out, Harry. Right now, and you only get one guess."
Harry had no idea what she was talking about, and that was obviously ludicrous and impossible. Yet Luna seemed serenely certain he could do it.
How would she know James Potter was in my dreams? 'My aura?' wouldn't work here as a general wave away the problem answer. Then again, how do I know ... How do I know what's in James Potter's dreams?
"Did you see it in a dream?"
Luna had a radiant smile. "Yes!" she said. Then followed it up with "well, no, not precisely, but that was the key part. When I actually saw you, your aura and manner and how you talked firmed up a lot of things I saw in my dream that made absolutely no sense at all. I used a general sense of what's going on, a lot of fast thinking, and a very good memory of my dream, and decided it was likely you'd asked Hermione out, and that your late father was somehow mysteriously involved, probably visiting you in a dream. That made me feel funny, because now I don't know if my mother was really there in those dreams where - it seemed like she was really there."
"Okay," she then shifted her tone. "I will say some of the Weasleys, and by some of the Weasleys, I mean Molly Prewett Weasley, wouldn't be above giving you and Hermione potions or casting charms on you to push you toward the correct choice of romantic partner. Nor would the Headmaster object. He would, in fact, be very likely to help out. Hermione's a poor choice for you from his viewpoint. She's like a sleeping volcano. Right now, she's still mostly in awe of authority figures, but when her illusions are finally stripped, which is coming soon, no more than a year or so, the volcano goes and she'll hate, hate, hate people like Dumbledore, the Minister, Snape, and so on and so on and be the leading voice demanding you wash your hands of them all."
Both the Prewett and Weasley families are past a point of decline and yearning for past wealth and glory. Just like Ronald - and she raised him to be that way, please keep in mind - she won't scruple to do anything to you she needs to, as long as it doesn't unduly harm you and there's a rich enough reward. Of course, the problem with both her and Ronald is that they never put themselves in your shoes - the number one target of the Death Eaters, and he'd have to deal with potions and compulsions, all of which confuse him and slow him down. Nope, it's simply he gets a family, and in return, he gives them back their own, and no one's harmed."
Giving in to a stray thought, Harry asked, bemused, "You call Trelawney 'Profesor Trelawney,' but you call Snape - well, Snape?"
"Sybil Trelawney really does have the Sight, Harry. What makes her a fraud is that she doesn't usually like what she sees. So she lies to herself because she thinks that's comforting. Then she passes that on to the students. Even there, she's always teaching correct, time-tested techniques. None of that is true of Snape. He is a good Potions master, though not a patch on a Horace Slughorn. About as good as your mother was, is what my mother said, and Lily Evans was better at Charms than she was at Potions. Snape got his Mastery so young partly with pressure from Death Eater-friendly rich families, or so my father claims. And he mocked me in class. He said he hoped me and my equally loony father found a Snorcack so he could cut one up for ingredients!"
That would do it, Harry thought. They spent a pleasant hour after that with Luna telling the history of the Weasleys as she knew it, in the context of the families in Ottery St Catchpole, her speculations as to why Molly started discouraging Ginny from playing with her, and many other things. After Harry told Luna about the amulet, she agreed with the Healer from the 1970s Hogwarts that Harry should actually use the necklace until its function for him was fulfilled, though naturally taking a break from it at least once a week would enable him and his father to keep their mundane lives going.
Harry told her that he had already planned to wear it again, because he felt his father might be trying something new, and he didn't want to be unavailable and miss it.
"It'll work, and be everything you'd hoped for, but little you'd suspected, is my guess," was her enigmatic reply.
