Chapter 19 – A mysterious dog
The first week of summer at Hogwarts was like experiencing an entirely different castle. Harry wandered through the familiar, towering stone corridors, now eerily silent without the rambunctious laughter and constant chatter of his peers. The ghostly echoes of his own footsteps echoed back at him from the archaic stone walls, amplifying his sense of solitude. Underneath his feet, centuries-old stone was cold and unyielding, lending a strangely comforting constancy to his solitude.
The castle, once teeming with life and activity, now felt vast and unnervingly quiet. The hallways, usually bustling with students darting from one class to another, lay empty and forlorn. The Great Hall, the heart of the castle's daily activity, was devoid of the boisterous chatter and clinking dinnerware. Even the enchanted ceiling, usually a beacon of changing weather and magical skies, seemed to dim, mirroring the silence that had fallen over the castle. He could walk for hours, aimlessly winding his way through the grandeur of Hogwarts without encountering a single soul. It was an odd sensation - being alone, yet surrounded by the echoing remnants of a usually vibrant life.
Despite being the solitary student in residence, Harry was not entirely alone. The professors and staff maintained their presence within the castle's imposing stone walls. Their soft murmurs, the rustle of robes, and the occasional clearing of a throat would drift through the otherwise silent corridors, the only indication of their presence. The castle was like a watchful guardian, its staff the quiet, unobtrusive keepers maintaining the magic within its walls.
Recognising the uniqueness of his situation, Harry decided to utilise his time wisely, honouring Daphne's counsel. He spent hours nestled in the corner of the extensive Hogwarts library, the scent of old parchment and centuries of knowledge filling his senses. The usually vibrant atmosphere of eager learning was now replaced by a quiet, almost reverent tranquillity. Voluminous tomes sprawled open in front of him, dense with text and diagrams. The muted rustle of turning pages and the scratch of quill on parchment became a comforting background noise as he delved into complex magical theories.
In between these cerebral pursuits, he slipped into the Room of Requirement, the echo of his incantations filling the void as he trained in practical magic. He could hear the powerful thrum of his spells, feel their energy as it radiated from his wand, his senses acutely aware of every nuance without the usual cacophony of fellow students.
However, this tranquil solitude was shattered as the week concluded. The arrival of the Aurors, escorting the dread-inducing dementors, cast a pall over the hitherto peaceful Hogwarts. Their cloaked figures, eerie and ghost-like, floated on the fringes of the castle grounds, their malevolent presence seeping into the air. Harry could feel their unsettling aura as a cold sensation creeping up his spine, a tangible darkness casting long, chilling shadows over the sunlit stones of Hogwarts.
Upon their arrival at Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall immediately requested Harry's presence for a quick meeting. The wrinkles on her stern face appeared deeper today, shadowed with an unusual worry. The silence of her stone office was pierced only by her stern voice, ringing with severity.
"Harry," she began, her gaze full of intensity. "Dementors are not entities to be trifled with; they represent the utmost danger. You must keep your distance at all times." Her voice echoed in the room, bouncing off the cold stones, and laying heavy in the air.
"And one more thing," she added, a hint of regret softening her severe tone. "For your own protection, you are forbidden from flying until the summer is over."
Her words hung heavy in the air. Flying had been Harry's sanctuary, his freedom. Now even that was being taken away. Harry nodded his understanding, his heart dropping in his chest as he acknowledged the gravity of the situation.
~~~o~~~
While the days had a certain consistency to them, one afternoon brought a break in the monotony that made Harry's heart leap with surprise. On his way back from a visit to Hagrid's hut, he spotted an unfamiliar sight: a dog. It was an odd sight at Hogwarts, a place more accustomed to owls, cats, and magical creatures.
The dog was a large creature, quite different from the smaller, homely dogs Harry had occasionally seen around muggle London. This one was the size of a small bear, its hulking form noticeable even from a distance. Its shaggy, ragged coat was a mixture of black and grey, lending it an imposing air. It looked like it could be intimidating, a guard dog even, but its gleaming eyes were filled with a gentleness that softened its stern appearance. Harry could spot the dog's ribs through the thick coat, a clear indication of undernourishment.
Curiosity overtaking him, Harry approached the dog with caution. Upon spotting him, the canine's tail began to wag, its body quivering in anticipation. The dog's eyes gleamed in friendliness as it lumbered towards Harry, its manner more akin to an excitable puppy than a fierce guardian.
As Harry reached out to pet the dog, his fingers grazed the wiry fur. The dog leaned into his touch, a soft whine escaping its throat. The stark feeling of ribs under the coarse coat made Harry wince. He muttered promises of a good meal to the dog, surprisingly, it seemed to understand him.
"I'll bring you some food, alright?" he said, trying to keep his voice soothing. The dog's response was an enthusiastic wag of its tail and a soft, approving bark.
Rushing back to the castle, he asked the house elves for a spread of dog-friendly food. The elves obliged, their small hands expertly preparing a robust stew of beef chunks, juicy roasted chicken, wholesome rice, and sweet-smelling biscuits.
Harry retraced his steps, anxiety knotting his stomach as he feared the dog might have wandered off. To his relief, the dog was still there, waiting patiently. Seeing Harry approach with a tray full of food, the dog's tail began a rhythmic thump against the ground.
The dog's enthusiasm was infectious as it heartily consumed the food, tail wagging and ears flapping with every bite. Harry watched the dog, a sense of warmth spreading in his chest as it cleaned off every morsel. The dog looked up at him after finishing, gratitude shining in its eyes. Harry knew then that he had made a new friend.
As the dog contentedly laid down after its meal, Harry found himself drawn into the tranquillity of the moment. He settled himself next to the dog, stroking its coarse fur while chatting amicably. His conversation was punctuated by the dog's enthusiastic woofs and soft whines, almost as if it were participating in the discussion.
"What a surprise you were today, mate," Harry began, sharing his astonishment at seeing a dog at Hogwarts. "I'm here all alone, just for the summer. It's nice to have a friend like you around." The dog's head moved to rest on Harry's lap, soft sighs resonating with Harry's words. He went on, sharing anecdotes about his friends and his adventures, the dog's steady breathing a comforting accompaniment.
As the shadows lengthened and the sun began to dip behind the distant mountains, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, a sense of urgency crept into Harry's heart. He knew the professors would be wondering about his whereabouts soon, and he definitely didn't want a squadron of Aurors dispatched for him.
With a heavy heart, he bid goodbye to his newfound friend. "I have to go now, mate," he said, scratching behind the dog's ears, eliciting a pleased rumble from it. "I hope to see you again."
The walk back to the castle seemed longer than usual, his thoughts preoccupied with the day's unusual encounter. Reaching his dormitory, Harry grabbed parchment and quill, the excitement of sharing his day making his fingers tremble. He penned down everything, from his initial surprise, the dog's friendly demeanour, their bonding time, and the promise of a possible new friend.
"I hope you all meet him when you come to visit," he wrote, signing off the letter with a feeling of contentment. His summer at Hogwarts suddenly didn't seem so lonely anymore.
~~~o~~~
The days leading up to his friends' visit were marked by a few more encounters with the dog, each meeting adding a new layer to their unlikely friendship. The creature's warm company provided Harry with a sense of peace amid the grand but lonely halls of Hogwarts.
The day that he'd been anxiously waiting for finally arrived. Hogwarts, typically a fortress of solitude during the summer, was set to open its doors under stringent security measures. This special privilege was reserved only for those given explicit permission, such as his friends.
Harry found himself pacing back and forth in Professor McGonagall's office, the anticipation of seeing his friends again causing a flurry of butterflies in his stomach. Suddenly, there was a low rumble, followed by the sight of emerald flames dancing in the fireplace. The flames subsided to reveal Hermione, her face flushed from the abrupt travel.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, stretching her arms out as Harry enveloped her in a warm hug. "I've missed this place," she confessed, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Next, a similarly enthusiastic Tracey appeared, followed closely by Daphne, who held Jingles protectively in her arms. Harry embraced them, too, relief washing over him as the familiar smell of parchment and ink that clung to Hermione, the faint scent of roses from Tracey, and the crisp scent of lavender from Daphne filled his senses.
As the initial burst of excitement dwindled, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing their attention. Her stern gaze swept over them as she informed, "Your visit must conclude by dinner time at the latest."
With a nod of acknowledgement, they left the office, eager to traverse the hauntingly silent, yet familiar corridors of Hogwarts. As they ventured deeper into the castle, Hermione and Daphne flanked Harry, their curiosity piqued. "Harry," Daphne began, her blue eyes piercing into his, "Tell us, have you actually been revising your theory as promised?"
"Yeah, Harry," Hermione chimed in, her own inquisitive gaze on him, "Have you?"
Their surprise was evident when Harry nodded, confirming that he had indeed been dedicating a significant portion of his time to revision. Tracey, barely containing her excitement at this point, clapped her hands together. "Now can we please meet this dog you've been raving about?" she pleaded, her eyes wide and hopeful.
Harry chuckled, leading them towards the usual spot. Despite the absence of students, Hogwarts still resonated with an air of magic that was uniquely comforting. Their footsteps echoed in rhythm, bouncing off the ancient stone walls as they traversed through a series of corridors, stairs, and a couple of secret passages that Harry had discovered over the past week.
But when they reached the spot – a grassy patch dappled in warm afternoon sunlight – it was empty. Harry scanned the vicinity, but the dog was nowhere to be found. He turned back to his friends, his smile faltering, their faces echoing his disappointment.
"I mean, it's a stray, right?" Tracey piped up, her light-hearted tone attempting to soothe the disappointment that hung over them. "They don't have a fixed place, Harry. Maybe he's just out and about... or maybe he found somewhere else to go."
As Harry shrugged, still scanning the grounds hopefully, Hermione chimed in, shifting the topic. "So, how's your summer been so far, Harry?" she asked, wrapping her arm through his as they started their walk back to the castle.
"It's been... alright, I guess," he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. "Rather quiet without you lot around. And the Dementors... they were a bit of a shock."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them, a chill running through their spines as they remembered the icy dread associated with the creatures. It took a moment before Harry shook himself, his green eyes meeting their expectant gazes. "What about you lot? How've your summers been?"
Tracey and Hermione exchanged glances before divulging their summer experiences, which had mostly been relaxing and peaceful. Daphne, however, painted a slightly different picture. Her expression hardened a fraction as she talked about her parents and their continued neglect.
"It's... better than I expected," she admitted, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on Jingles' fur. "Tori has been sneaking me some food, and Jingles... Well, he's become quite the hunter. He just stuns his prey, so we're managing. Still, I can't wait for summer to end."
Harry nodded, understanding the unspoken depth of her words, while a frown tugged at Hermione and Tracey's faces. But before the mood could turn sombre, they transitioned into lighter topics, their laughter and chatter echoing through the grounds.
As they wandered back towards the castle, unbeknownst to them, a pair of keen dog-eyes watched from the concealment of the bushes. The dog remained still, its tail giving a slight wag as it observed them disappear into the castle.
Once inside, they were greeted by a spread that had been prepared by the Hogwarts house elves. Daphne and Jingles, in particular, devoured their meals with a voracity that spoke volumes about their limited food access at home.
Following the meal, they retreated to the library, the familiar scent of old parchment offering a comforting embrace. They spread out on one of the tables, thick volumes opened before them, as they discussed the upcoming curriculum. Hogwarts, though unusually silent, echoed with the soft hum of their voices, a promise of the lively year that awaited them.
As the conversation meandered through their summer readings, Harry decided to steer it towards a topic that had been haunting him. "Daphne," he began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "I'd like to ask you for some help... in understanding politics."
Her brows shot up in surprise, her blue eyes darting to meet his. "Politics, Harry?" she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.
He nodded, drawing a deep breath as he decided to open up. "It's just... well, I've had a lot of time to reflect recently," he confessed. "I've realised that I can't ignore the fact that I'm, well... I'm a Potter, and now, a public hero. Twice over, actually. And I've also realised how nice it is to be away from the Dursleys."
Harry swallowed hard before adding, "The Sorting Hat... it suggested I might need to use my political power, and well, I think it might be right."
Daphne chuckled at the mention of the Sorting Hat, her face softening. "That old thing does have a habit of giving rather pointed advice," she remarked. "It told me something similar."
Leaning back, Daphne began explaining the Wizengamot, the legislative body of the magical world, and how, due to his family's lineage, Harry held a seat there. "Your first step," she suggested, "should be to find out what's happening with your seat. It might be dormant, or perhaps a regent has been appointed for you until you come of age."
Harry absorbed this information with a furrowed brow, thinking it over. "How do I find out about that?" he asked.
"Well," Daphne considered, "you could get in touch with the goblins. They tend to be well informed about such matters. For a small fee, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to get you the information."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I'll write a letter as soon as we're done here."
"And," Daphne added, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes, "I'll try to bring a book or two about wizarding politics during my next visit. It'll be a bit tricky, since my parents think I'm visiting Tracey, but I'll manage something."
Harry gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Daphne. I really appreciate it." The sincere gratitude in his voice made Daphne return his smile, their shared understanding creating a bond beyond their usual camaraderie.
~~~o~~~
A few days later, an envelope arrived for Harry, noticeably different from the rest of the post. The heavy, cream-coloured parchment bore the official seal of the Ministry of Magic. It was an unexpected correspondence and piqued Harry's curiosity. He carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the document inside, revealing an invitation to an award ceremony where he was to receive his Order of Merlin, First Class.
The parchment hummed with importance as it detailed the arrangements. An Auror escort would arrive at Hogwarts on the day of the event to escort him to the ceremony and return him promptly afterwards. Overwhelmed by the formality of the occasion, Harry decided it would be prudent to seek Professor McGonagall's advice.
Carrying the letter, Harry hurried to find McGonagall, finally locating her in her office. Seeing Harry's anxious expression, she invited him to sit, her sharp gaze softening with concern.
"Professor, I've received this letter from the Ministry," Harry began, extending the parchment towards her.
McGonagall accepted the document, adjusting her spectacles as she read over the information. Her expression remained calm, but Harry noticed the lines on her forehead deepen as she finished reading.
"This is indeed a very prestigious occasion, Harry," she started, her voice taking on a formal tone. "However, it also necessitates appropriate attire. Your current robes, I'm afraid, won't be suitable for such an event."
Harry blinked, realising for the first time the formalities this event would entail. He nodded at McGonagall's words, his mind racing to come up with a solution.
"Professor, I don't have formal robes," he confessed, a hint of embarrassment colouring his voice.
"I anticipated as much," McGonagall replied with a sympathetic smile. "I suggest you write to Madam Malkin. Her shop, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, provides custom tailored formal robes. She should be able to help you."
Grateful for McGonagall's guidance, Harry set about penning a letter to Madam Malkin as soon as he left her office. He detailed his predicament and requested expedited delivery for a set of formal robes, hoping they would arrive in time for the ceremony.
Feeling an odd mix of excitement and apprehension, Harry wrote to his friends, inviting them to the ceremony. He extended his invitation to Tracey, Hermione, Neville, and the Weasley family, hoping they would be able to attend.
The new robes arrived just a day before the ceremony. Madam Malkin sent him a beautiful set of formal dress robes. They were a rich, dark emerald that would highlight his eyes, the material thick and soft to touch, falling in elegant lines when held up. The robe was double-breasted, with jet black buttons down the front, and the collar was fashioned into an aristocratic, high-necked design, lined with a subtle silver thread that gleamed softly. The entire ensemble spoke of understated elegance and class, making Harry feel rather awestruck holding them. Harry tried them on immediately, finding they fit him perfectly. A small, satisfied smile graced his lips as he admired himself in the mirror.
One by one, replies trickled in. Tracey, Hermione, Neville, and the Weasleys all promised to attend, their letters filled with excitement and pride for their friend. Daphne's response came indirectly, passed through Tracey, explaining that her parents would not allow her to attend. A small twinge of disappointment hit him, but Harry understood. He knew her situation was complicated.
Harry awoke on the day of the award ceremony, his stomach twisted into anxious knots. In a flurry of anticipation and nerves, he dressed in his newly-arrived formal robes. They were meticulously tailored, hugging his shoulders comfortably and falling in soft folds around his legs. He felt different, more grown up.
He arrived in Dumbledore's office, where the headmaster and Professor McGonagall were waiting. Both donned their finest robes, their usual stern demeanours softened by the occasion. Dumbledore's robes were a rich, deep purple, covered in a pattern of twinkling stars, while McGonagall wore emerald green with silver tartan accents, her hat adorned with a sparkling phoenix feather.
A sudden rush of emerald flames erupted from the fireplace, interrupting the tranquil silence of the room. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, drawn immediately to the spectacle. The sight that greeted him was none other than a peculiarly grim-looking man, stepping out of the green inferno with a confident stride. His gnarled face, partially obscured by the shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat, gave off an air of mystery and hardened resolve. Following closely on his heels was a vibrant burst of bubblegum-pink hair, belonging to a woman whose vivacious aura was in stark contrast to the man's stern demeanour.
The woman was Nymphadora Tonks, her trademark multi-coloured hair and bright mismatched eyes as recognizable as ever. Her smile stretched wide across her face as she caught sight of Harry, an enthusiastic wave accompanying her cheery, "Wotcher, Harry!" The lively sparkles dancing in her eyes betrayed her excitement, a far cry from the guarded expression worn by the man beside her.
A silent exchange occurred between the man and Headmaster Dumbledore. A few words were muttered under their breath, too low for Harry to discern. Dumbledore's gaze softened as he gently nudged the man towards Harry. His response was a non-committal grunt, his rigid posture barely shifting.
Harry watched as the man turned towards him, extending a rough, scarred hand. The electric-blue eye set into his weathered face was striking, and it scrutinised Harry with intense curiosity, as if seeking to uncover hidden truths. "Alastor Moody," the man introduced himself in a voice as gruff as his appearance. With a brief nod of his head towards the pink-haired woman next to him, he added, "This here's Nymphadora Tonks. You'd remember her from your first year. I've taken her on as my apprentice, thought it'd be good for you to see a familiar face." The glimmer of a knowing grin appeared on his otherwise stern face, implying that his decision to bring Tonks along had been for Harry's benefit.
Tonks, who had been watching their interaction with an amused smile, let out a mock gasp of indignation. She lightly punched Moody on his arm, her eyes narrowed in playful annoyance. "It's just Tonks, remember?" she corrected him, her tone tinged with exasperation and amusement.
With a playful roll of his good eye, Moody allowed a hint of mirth to bleed into his gruff exterior, an action that coaxed a melodic laugh from Tonks. The hardened auror's gaze turned back to Harry, the hard lines on his face softening just enough to foster a sense of trust. "You know, Potter," Moody began, his voice gravelly yet oddly reassuring, "we aren't the only ones who'll be watching over you."
Moody leaned on his staff, his gaze unwavering. "There's more of us – hidden, unseen. Some might be under disguise, others under disillusionment charms. They're here to form an invisible ring around you, a protective layer." The assurance in his voice was as steady as his gaze, projecting an unspoken promise of safety.
Just as Harry was processing this, Tonks sidled up to him. Her arm brushed against his as she leaned in, her infectious grin bright under the warm light of the room. "What Moody's trying to say, Harry," she began, her tone light and conversational, "is that we've got you covered, you won't be alone."
Her friendly demeanour, like a soothing balm, counteracted Moody's gruff exterior. Tonks filled the silence with lively chatter, her voice a comforting hum in the background. "I'm actually still an Auror-in-training," she admitted, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "Passed my exams at the top of my class though." She said it with such casual pride that Harry couldn't help but be impressed.
Moody, however, was not as appreciative of Tonks' lively chatter. With a curt grunt, he interrupted her, "Tonks, we're on a schedule." His voice, though rough, carried a sense of urgency that swiftly brought Tonks' monologue to an end. His stern gaze, as piercing as ever, flicked to the still glowing fireplace, a silent direction that was hard to ignore.
Caught between the contrasting personalities of his new protectors, Harry could only nod in understanding. He followed their lead, stepping towards the fireplace, the warmth from the emerald flames against his face, as he hoped for the best in the uncertain days to come.
Once at the Ministry, they emerged into a bustling Atrium. A stage was erected right in the centre of the space, beautifully lit, ready for the ceremony. Harry felt his heart quicken as Moody confirmed his guess, leading him to the backstage area.
Here, away from the prying eyes, Harry was met with the familiar faces of Madam Bones and Minister Fudge. He swallowed nervously, his throat feeling dry. The sight of them brought the gravity of the situation crashing down on him. The applause, the ceremony, the recognition—it was all for him.
Madam Bones approached him first, her face stern but kind. "You're looking quite dashing, Mr. Potter," she praised, her eyes examining his new robes.
Minister Fudge added, "Quite an important day, Harry. We're all very proud of you," his smile not quite reaching his eyes, the insincerity thinly veiled.
Feeling the weight of their words and the magnitude of the ceremony, Harry couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. But he squared his shoulders, met their gaze, and prepared himself for the impending event. He was Harry Potter, after all. He could handle this.
As the moment arrived, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, stepped onto the grand stage. His brand new robes of rich velvet rustled slightly, mirroring the turmoil of his inner thoughts. His heart pounded against his ribs in a rhythm that was far from tranquil. The sheer gravity of the moment sent waves of trepidation through him, but he pushed it down, standing tall and straight, trying to muster every shred of confidence he possessed.
His green eyes were wide as they swept over the sea of faces turned towards him. They were faces of expectancy, faces brimming with curiosity, faces glowing with unrestrained enthusiasm. His gaze was eager as he sought familiarity in the crowd.
The first one to catch his eye was Hermione Granger, her bushy hair as recognizable as ever. Her usually calm and composed demeanour seemed to have taken the day off, replaced instead by a wildly clapping woman, her cheeks a warm pink with feverish excitement.
Next to her was Tracey Davis. Her infectious grin stretched across her face, the excitement in her sparkling eyes unfettered and unhidden.
A bit further stood Neville Longbottom, the normally reserved boy giving Harry an exaggerated thumbs-up, his face split into a wide grin that exuded a sense of contagious joy.
And then there were the Weasleys, their flaming red hair standing out like beacons in the crowd. Each face was alight with genuine happiness, their smiles wide, their cheers loud, and their collective energy was so palpable that Harry could nearly taste it.
The ceremony officially commenced with the entry of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself. His stout figure seemed to swell with importance as he stepped onto the stage. His voice, normally genial, took on a resonant, commanding tone that echoed through the large hall.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, his hands spread wide in a grand gesture as if embracing the entire audience. His words, each meticulously chosen, spun an epic tale of unparalleled heroism and unparalleled bravery, painting a portrait of Harry that simultaneously filled him with pride and a sense of awkward humility.
Fudge's speech, as grandiose as it was, eventually came to a close. His attention, along with the crowd's, turned to Harry. "And now," he declared with a dramatic pause, producing a small velvet box from his robes, "I present to Harry James Potter the Order of Merlin, First Class."
Harry's hand, slightly trembling, reached out to accept the box. It felt surprisingly heavy, the weight a tangible testament to the honour it represented. The gold medal nestled inside shone brilliantly under the stage lights, adding to the surrealism of the moment.
"Thank you, Minister Fudge," Harry managed to say. His voice, despite his best efforts to steady it, betrayed a hint of his emotions. He held the medal aloft, the symbol of his bravery glistening for the entire crowd to see. He cleared his throat, a subtle attempt at gathering his thoughts, and turned his attention back to the audience. "I...I just did what I believe anyone else would've done." The raw sincerity that weaved through his words struck a chord with the crowd, and the hall reverberated with a thunderous applause that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building.
While the applause continued, the ever-observant Fudge spotted the Weasley family, their vivacious cheering making them an undeniable centre of attention. Sensing an opportunity to further charm the crowd, Fudge beckoned Ginny Weasley to the stage. Ginny, her cheeks a soft pink with the sudden attention, moved with hesitant steps, ascending the stage to stand next to Harry. A shy smile danced on her lips as she turned to Harry. She leaned in, her voice barely audible as she whispered a quiet 'thanks', the soft sound barely carrying over to the first few rows.
Deciding to stretch this moment even further, Fudge called out for Astoria Greengrass. However, the expectant silence that followed his call made it abundantly clear that the Greengrass family was not present. The Minister's face took on a pinkish hue as he chuckled nervously, hastily wrapping up the ceremony.
As the final applause echoed through the atrium, Moody and Tonks were quickly by Harry's side. Tonks gave him an encouraging grin, while Moody nodded appreciatively. The crowd was still buzzing as they navigated Harry backstage and towards the Floo network. A moment later, he stepped out of the green flames and into the Headmaster's office, the sounds of applause still echoing in his ears. Harry allowed himself a small smile, his nerves finally starting to settle.
As the last traces of the green fire died away, the office was filled with an anticipatory silence. Tonks was the first to break it, turning to Harry with a playful grin on her face. "You were quite the hero out there, Harry," she said, winking at him. "And standing on stage with Ginny... well, let's just say it was an adorable sight."
Harry could feel his cheeks warming at her teasing. He hadn't expected such casual banter from the usually professional Auror. Moody shot her a look of mild disapproval. "Tonks," he grumbled, his voice grating. "Our job is to protect Potter, not embarrass him."
Despite his stern words, a ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Moody's mouth. "You did good, Potter," he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "We'll take our leave now. You're safe here with the professors and the..." He hesitated for a moment, and Harry could see something flash across his face, something resembling discomfort. "...Dementors."
The mere mention of the Dementors sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He could still remember their cold, oppressive aura and the sense of despair they carried. But before he could dwell on it, Tonks and Moody were stepping into the green flames, their forms disappearing within seconds.
Dumbledore and McGonagall were left, their eyes warm with pride. "Harry," began McGonagall, her usual sternness replaced by softness, "that was a very modest speech. You truly are an exemplar of humility and bravery."
"Indeed," Dumbledore chimed in, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "Not many would have been as self-effacing, especially not at your age."
Feeling a bit overwhelmed by their praises, Harry nodded and mumbled a humble, "Thank you." He then admitted, "I could really use a relaxing bath right now. Today's been...quite nerve-wracking."
Dumbledore chuckled heartily, a twinkle in his eyes as he said, "One day, my dear boy, you'll get used to standing on a stage."
Harry returned the chuckle, the thought of ever being comfortable in front of a crowd seeming absurd. He bid them goodnight and left the office, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors.
Back in his dormitory, he shed the new robes, leaving them carefully on his bed. The bathroom was empty, the silence comforting after the day's excitement. He filled the tub with hot water, watching the steam rise and swirl in the air. For the first time in a while, he had the luxury of taking as much time as he needed. The usual hustle and bustle of shared dormitory life was absent, leaving him with a feeling of peaceful solitude. As he sank into the water, his muscles relaxed and he let out a sigh of relief. The memory of the ceremony and the Dementors felt miles away.
~~~o~~~
The Great Hall, typically echoing with the loud banter of hundreds of students, was eerily silent. The only occupant was Harry Potter, seated alone at the Gryffindor table.
Harry was gradually becoming accustomed to the much quieter morning routine of the summer. The usual hustle for the morning Prophet, the lively chatter, and the light-hearted disputes over the last piece of toast were missing. However, he wasn't enveloped in a shroud of loneliness as one might expect. Although he certainly missed the company of his friends, the serenity of the quieter mornings provided a welcome respite in the wake of the turmoil of recent events.
This quiet was shattered, however, by the arrival of the day's Daily Prophet. The delivery owl swooped in, the quiet flapping of its wings echoing in the cavernous Hall, dropping the newspaper right in front of Harry. The headline caught his eye immediately; his own name, emblazoned in bold across the front page.
The article was accompanied by a series of photographs. The first captured him beside Minister Fudge, his new Order of Merlin dangling around his neck, his face betraying a hint of proud surprise. Another showed the handshake between him and the Minister, a gesture solidifying the honour bestowed upon him.
And then, the picture that made his heart skip a beat - he and Ginny. The picture, though innocent in nature, held a different connotation with the context of the headline beneath it. Penned by Rita Skeeter, the insinuating headline read, "Young Love or Sly Manipulation?".
As Harry read the article, his breakfast forgotten, his hands unconsciously tightened around the edges of the paper. Rita had twisted his act of bravery into something underhanded, suggesting that his intentions were less than honourable - that he had saved Ginny and Astoria purely because of their attractiveness.
A rush of anger consumed him, the audacity of Rita Skeeter's implications hitting him like a bludger to the chest. In a sudden burst of emotion, he pushed back from the table, the force causing his half-eaten breakfast to clatter loudly against the silence of the Hall.
Needing a reprieve from the coiled anger within him, Harry headed for the one place he knew could bring him solace. The familiar spot in the castle grounds where he had previously encountered the mysterious dog.
As he approached, the large, black dog came trotting out from behind a tree, tail wagging in what could only be interpreted as a warm welcome. Harry let out a sigh of relief, sinking onto the soft grass beside the dog.
He began to recount the events of the ceremony, his voice echoing in the stillness of the summer morning. His frustration about Skeeter's vile article, his anger at how his heroic act had been twisted, poured out of him in a flurry of words.
The dog listened, its brown eyes appearing to hold understanding beyond its canine comprehension. Its head nestled into Harry's hand, a silent, comforting gesture. Harry's breath hitched, his hand instinctively stroking through the dog's coarse fur. His anger began to simmer down, the knot of frustration uncoiling slightly.
In the quiet companionship of the dog, Harry felt a connection, a comforting presence that made the unfairness of the world a little more bearable. It was a reminder that he was not alone, and sometimes, that was enough.
~~~o~~~
As the sun traced its predictable path across the vast expanse of the summer sky, the passage of time became less like a tick-tock of a clock and more of a soothing lullaby that lulled the castle of Hogwarts into a sleepy stupor. Each day melted into the next, but for Harry, it was the moments spent in the quiet companionship of the mysterious dog that truly marked the progression of his summer.
Each morning, after the solitary repast that the Great Hall offered, Harry would make his way to their meeting spot - a gentle incline on the castle grounds, overlooking the tranquil surface of the Great Lake. The dog would already be there, its tail wagging in eager anticipation, the soft glow of the morning sun illuminating its form. As Harry settled down, the lush carpet of grass under him, his back resting against the aged bark of a sturdy tree, he found himself looking forward to the quiet moments of companionship that the day offered.
He shared with the dog his life's story - a narrative laden with the bitterness of a childhood spent in neglect, the indifference meted out by the Dursleys, the loneliness of a cupboard that had been his only refuge. But not all tales were tainted with sorrow. He spoke of the sheer joy of discovering magic, of finding friends in Hermione, Tracey and Daphne, the heady thrill of a Quidditch game, and the enigmatic Jingles, a feline friend who was an enigma wrapped in a riddle.
However, the dog seemed to vanish into thin air every time Hermione, Daphne, or Tracey came to visit him. Their reactions to Harry's invisible companion ranged from Hermione's politely veiled scepticism, Daphne's smoky-eyed amusement, to Tracey's overt teasing. The disbelief finally drove Harry to show them a memory of the dog in the Pensieve. Their faces - a picture of surprise and relief - had made him chuckle.
One such visit was made memorable by Daphne, her green eyes shining with excitement as she presented him with a worn-out tome, its pages filled with the wisdom of generations. It was an intricate treatise on the undercurrents of power within the Wizengamot, penned by her own grandfather. As Harry ran his fingers over the faded ink, Daphne had teased, "Lose this, Harry, and I'll have a family scandal to clean up. So, before the end of summer, this better be back in its rightful place."
Just as the contents of the book were starting to sink in, another surprise came Harry's way. A letter arrived from Gringotts, its contents both enlightening and perturbing. According to the goblins, Albus Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock himself, was the regent for the Potter seat in the Wizengamot until Harry turned seventeen. This revelation gave Harry pause, his green eyes narrowing in suspicion. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dumbledore, but the fact that the Headmaster had never mentioned it left him with an uneasy feeling. He decided then and there that he would need to bring this matter up with his friends, to decipher the best approach to confront Dumbledore.
The letter also held another surprise - he was the owner of not one, but two properties: Potter Cottage and Potter Manor. However, both were in a dilapidated state due to the ravages of war. If Harry wanted to make the manor liveable, he would need to start the renovation work soon. The cottage, on the other hand, was caught in a legal struggle, with the Ministry treating it as a war memorial.
As the sun set and Harry was left alone with his thoughts, he felt the weight of the information he had received. Despite being physically alone within the vast Hogwarts castle, he wasn't devoid of support. Hermione, with her impressive intellect, Daphne with her cunning mind and connection to politics, and Tracey with her boundless enthusiasm - they were his cornerstones. Each day brought a new revelation about his heritage, and he wasn't navigating this journey alone. His friends were with him, even if it was in spirit during their absences, and in these quiet moments with the dog, he felt an unspoken bond of understanding.
For the first time in his life, Harry felt the sense of ownership over his own destiny. The revelations about his family, their estate, and his potential role in the Wizengamot were daunting, yes, but they also made him feel powerful. His path was riddled with uncertainties, but there was also the thrill of shaping his future, the invigorating prospect of making choices that could potentially steer the course of the magical world.
But as the evening drew its inky veil over the landscape, the sense of empowerment was quickly replaced by a deep-rooted suspicion towards the seemingly ever-benevolent Headmaster. Dumbledore's position as the regent of his family seat was not something to be overlooked, and Harry knew he would have to tread carefully, bringing this up with his friends, and eventually, the Headmaster himself. Unravelling the mystery behind Dumbledore's decisions and his role in Harry's life was becoming an immediate necessity.
The soft snuffling of the dog brought him back to the present. Harry stroked its back absentmindedly, his gaze transfixed on the last vestiges of the sun as it painted the sky with hues of pink and orange. The summer was coming to an end, and with it, the calm before the storm. There was a long way to go, but Harry felt a certain readiness, a resolve to face whatever came his way. As the first stars began to twinkle in the twilight sky, Harry made a silent vow to himself - to unravel his past, navigate his present, and shape his future, one decision at a time.
~~~o~~~
The day was saturated with the vibrancy of summer, enveloping Hogwarts in a warmth that seemed to instil an added dose of magic into the ancient institution. The Black Lake stretched out languidly, shimmering beneath the high-noon sun as it calmly kissed its rippling surface. Today was a particularly special day, not only because of the perfect weather, but because it was a day of shared celebration: although it was Daphne's birthday, the group had decided to celebrate both hers and Harry's birthdays together.
From the castle's main gate, a quartet of friends emerged, creating a vibrant contrast against the backdrop of the ancient stone structure. Hermione, with her bushy hair bouncing with each step, Tracey, a picture of summer elegance, Daphne, her blonde hair catching the sunlight, and Jingles, the enigmatic black cat with startling blue eyes. The four of them made their way across the lawn towards a picnic blanket, where Harry was already waiting, his green eyes glinting in anticipation.
The joyous clamour of greetings filled the air, a cheerful chorus of "Happy Birthday" echoing across the landscape. The group was alight with the thrill of shared merriment, their laughter floating across the grounds, lending an infectious cheer to the peaceful surroundings.
Once the initial excitement abated, Harry found himself addressing Hermione. "You'll be happy to know I'm nearly done with revising for our second year," he stated, a mix of pride and relief in his voice. Hermione's response was a beaming smile, her brown eyes lighting up in a way that made Harry feel a sense of accomplishment.
"That's brilliant, Harry!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with genuine joy. "I knew you would be able to keep up, even over the summer!"
Daphne, not one to sit idle in the conversation, offered an idea, a playful glint in her blue eyes. "Why don't we get a head start on third year during our next meeting? It would be exciting to be ahead of the curve," she suggested, to which the group responded with enthusiasm.
"I'm in!" Tracey declared, her voice full of zest. The prospect of studying ahead, along with the camaraderie it would involve, seemed to add an extra spark to the celebration.
However, not everyone was wholly consumed by the joyous atmosphere. Jingles, who had been unusually quiet, had caught Daphne's attention. "What's the matter, Jingles?" she asked, her gaze softening as she reached out to stroke his glossy fur.
"I... I think we're being watched," Jingles communicated to Daphne.
Daphne chuckled lightly, dismissing his suspicion as a residual effect of the scrutinising environment they lived in at her home. "Jingles, you're just paranoid. We're safe here at Hogwarts. There's nothing to worry about," she reassured him.
Jingles looked at her, his eyes conveying uncertainty, but he chose not to contest her dismissal. "Maybe..." he responded reluctantly, still keeping his senses alert.
Despite Daphne's reassurance, hidden in the undergrowth nearby, a large dog observed the group quietly. Its eyes keenly tracking their movements, it stood unnoticed, adding an undetected hint of intrigue to the celebratory gathering.
~~~o~~~
As summer's oppressive heat was replaced by the tender cool of the approaching autumn, Harry's ennui escalated to previously unknown heights. Trapped within the stone encasement of Hogwarts castle, each day seemed to mimic the last, a constant procession of monotonous solitude. His brain was teeming with the meticulously revised theories from his second year, and the third-year curriculum he had ambitiously read ahead. The countless hours of spellcasting practice had honed his skills, but also sapped him of much of his energy.
Daphne's book on politics, a priceless relic from her family library, had also proven a welcome distraction. Its pages, filled with her grandfather's wisdom about the complex workings of the Wizengamot and the noble families that held sway over it, held Harry in their thrall. He had read the book over multiple times, fascinated by its contents. Daphne, on returning the book, had promised to delve further into these lessons once the new term began. The anticipation of it all was a small comfort, yet the weight of boredom was relentless.
An idea, sparked by desperation for a change, glinted in Harry's mind - a forbidden flight. It was a rule he had promised Professor McGonagall to follow - no flying during summer. But the appeal of the boundless sky, the feeling of air rushing against his skin, and the thrill of breaking a rule was too great a lure. Decision made, he fetched his trusty Nimbus 2000, taking a moment to appreciate the sleek lines of the broomstick that had seen him through many a daring adventure.
As he took off from the castle grounds, the exhilaration of flight once again took his breath away. He flew towards the Quidditch pitch, gliding low above the lush tree canopy of the Forbidden Forest. The freedom was intoxicating, the open sky a stark contrast to his summer of confined monotony.
And then, it happened. The balmy summer air transformed, chilling down to an icy draft. It was a coldness that seeped into his bones, a frigid fear that congealed his blood. He recognized the horrifying sensation - Dementors were near. Panic surged in him, causing his heart to hammer wildly against his ribcage. He tried to veer low, hoping to lose the Dementors amidst the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest.
But his hopes were shattered when a Dementor managed to reach him, knocking him off his broom with an unerring strike of its skeletal hand. His world spun as he fell, the echoes of a woman's frantic scream ringing in his ears, her call of his name seemingly coming from far away. Then, there was darkness.
When Harry came to, he found himself lying in the damp darkness of a cave. His body ached from the fall, his head felt heavy and throbbing, and his Nimbus 2000 lay discarded nearby. The sight of his canine companion from the summer brought a flicker of comfort. "Did you save me?" he asked, and the dog responded with what Harry took to be an affirmative bark.
After managing to get to his feet, Harry was led by the dog back to the castle. As they approached the entrance, the dog vanished just as they came into view of Professor McGonagall. The usually stern professor looked stricken with worry upon seeing him, Nimbus 2000 in hand, clothes muddied and face bruised.
"Harry, I was moments away from calling an Auror search party!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side. He then narrated his ordeal, including the part about the helpful dog. Instead of the reprimand he expected, there was a strange look on McGonagall's face, a mix of fear and confusion, especially when he mentioned the black dog. "Harry, you mustn't interact with stray animals," she warned him, her tone conveying an uncharacteristic urgency.
Harry reassured her that he would remember her advice, although he didn't quite understand her concerns. His encounter with the Dementors seemed to take precedence over anything else in his mind. He bid McGonagall a good evening, wincing slightly from his aches as he turned to leave.
The journey back to his dorm room seemed longer than ever. His body ached from the fall, and the adrenaline that had kept him going was starting to ebb away, replaced by fatigue. His mind, however, was far from quiet. His thoughts were buzzing, not only with the terrifying encounter with the Dementors but also the perplexing advice of Professor McGonagall.
The strange connection between the deputy headmistress and the black dog was something Harry couldn't put his finger on. It was as though she knew the dog, knew something about it that made her worried for Harry's safety. But what could that be? The dog had shown nothing but benign, even protective, intentions towards him. Could there be more to this creature than met the eye?
~~~o~~~
As the last glimmers of summer dwindled, Harry found himself in the throes of restless anticipation. His summer had been steeped in a loneliness that permeated the very halls of Hogwarts. With the approaching school term, however, the castle's quiet serenity was soon to be replaced with the vibrant energy of bustling students. It would be an end to Harry's solitary summer and the start of another year at the magical castle that had become his home.
Throughout the day, Harry found himself pacing, his gaze constantly drawn to the setting sun, counting down the hours until his friends' arrival. The solitude he had been entrenched in was about to break, and he was more than ready for the company of his friends. The castle, his refuge during the summer, was soon to be filled with the life and laughter he so dearly missed.
The first sight of the Thestral-drawn carriages, and the Hogwarts Express, puffing its way across the horizon, filled Harry with an uncontainable sense of joy. A sense of relief washed over him as he spotted Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione, their faces lighting up at the sight of the castle. He couldn't keep the wide grin off his face, meeting them halfway, sharing warm hugs that were a testament to their camaraderie, while his affectionate petting of Jingles, the black cat with striking blue eyes, brought purrs of delight from the intelligent feline.
Once the joyful reunion subsided, they all entered the Great Hall, buzzing with a blend of anxious first-years and returning students. The annual sorting ceremony, a Hogwarts tradition, commenced. The sorting hat, with its peculiar rhymes and dramatic pauses, assigned houses to the newcomers. With the last of the applause for the sorted first-years dying down, the beloved and venerable Headmaster Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet for his annual address.
Dumbledore's eyes, usually twinkling with warmth and wisdom, seemed a touch subdued. The festive air in the Great Hall took on a more solemn tone as he began discussing Sirius Black's breakout from the formidable Azkaban prison. A wave of unease spread through the Hall as he detailed the dangers posed by Dementors, now stationed at the entrances of Hogwarts. The students were warned of the terrible effects these dark creatures could inflict, their inability to distinguish between friend or foe only adding to their dreadfulness.
Harry felt a shiver run down his spine, the memory of his own encounter with the Dementors still fresh and terrifying. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white, as he made a mental note to share his experiences with his friends. The impending danger wasn't his to face alone, and he trusted his friends to stand by him.
As Dumbledore moved on to lighter announcements, the atmosphere lightened considerably. The introduction of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, was met with varying degrees of surprise and curiosity. Lupin, an old friend of his father's and one of the notorious Marauders, was a figure that Harry found himself feeling a strange mix of emotions towards. Why had Lupin been absent all these years when Harry needed someone to guide him, to share stories of his parents? It was a question he decided would need answering, a conversation he would have with Lupin.
Just when the whispers started to subside, Dumbledore dropped another bombshell – the announcement of Hagrid as the new Professor for Care of Magical Creatures. A wave of applause and cheer surged through the hall, a euphoria that was mirrored on Harry's face. His heart bloomed with joy for Hagrid, the amiable half-giant who had been a friend and a guardian to him from his earliest days at Hogwarts.
The announcements sparked a ripple of excitement, culminating in an enthusiastic response from the Weasley twins. The twosome practically vibrated with excitement, their eyes gleaming at the prospect of learning under one of their idols. The look of mischief on their faces was an unmistakable precursor to the whirlwind of antics they were likely to unleash over the course of the school year. Harry, despite the tumult of his thoughts, couldn't help but smile at their infectious enthusiasm. It was impossible not to be swept up in the twins' exuberance, and it served as a welcome distraction from his own apprehensions.
Harry watched as Fred and George huddled together, already whispering and chortling, their expressions making it clear that Professor Lupin's tenure would be anything but boring. Their shared mirth, along with the excited chatter filling the Great Hall, brought Harry a measure of comfort. Whatever the year had in store for him, he took solace in knowing that he would be facing it alongside his friends. Their shared trials and tribulations from the past years had formed an unbreakable bond that Harry valued deeply.