Chapter 18 – A gift of freedom
The soft morning light trickled through the gaps in the hospital wing's window curtains, casting a warm glow on the rows of neatly made beds. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the mustiness of old stone walls. There was a gentle hush that came with dawn in the hospital wing, a calming silence that was only occasionally interrupted by the soft rustle of Madam Pomfrey tending to her potions in the adjoining room.
In one of the beds, Harry Potter lay in a deep sleep, the previous night's ordeal having left him drained. His hair was even more tousled than usual, sticking out in every direction as if electrified. His glasses were resting on the bedside table, leaving his eyes unguarded. Behind his closed eyelids, his eyes flickered rapidly, a sign of the dreams playing out in his mind.
Suddenly, a small figure popped into the room, his large eyes round and full of worry. It was Dobby, the house-elf, his pillowcase-like clothing hanging off his tiny frame. He carefully approached Harry's bed, moving with an agility and quietness that was unusual for his kind.
"Dobby must wake Harry Potter," he whispered, his high-pitched voice barely audible. He gently prodded Harry, who grumbled in his sleep before his green eyes fluttered open. Seeing Dobby's face hovering over him, Harry sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Dobby?" Harry's voice was hoarse from sleep. "What's wrong?"
"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter again," the elf whispered urgently. "Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts. It's not safe."
Harry gave the elf a tired smile. "We've dealt with it, Dobby. Slytherin's monster is dead. The diary has been destroyed. We're safe now."
Dobby looked at him, his huge eyes widening even further. "Harry Potter killed the monster?" he asked, his voice trembling. "And destroyed the diary?"
Harry nodded, and Dobby seemed to deflate on the spot. He started to sob quietly, his frail shoulders shaking. "Dobby never agreed with master's plan," he managed to say through his sobs. "Dobby always knew it was evil."
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Harry asked gently, "Who is your master, Dobby?"
"Dobby's master is a bad man," Dobby said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Master only cares for money and power. Dobby gets death threats every day."
Suddenly, a look of horror crossed Dobby's face. "Dobby spoke ill of his master," he wailed, raising his hand to strike himself as a form of punishment. But before he could harm himself, the door to the hospital wing burst open, startling them both.
Standing in the doorway were two strikingly different figures. The tall, imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy, clad in immaculate black robes, contrasted sharply with the twinkling-eyed Albus Dumbledore, whose colourful attire seemed to have an extra spark in the early morning light.
Lucius's face was a mask of barely controlled anger as he argued with Dumbledore. His voice, usually smooth and refined, was harsh with irritation. "It's unacceptable, Dumbledore! Your reinstatement as Headmaster was abrupt, to say the least!"
Dumbledore's response was calm, his tone steady, though his eyes had a glint of sternness. "The board has reinstated me, Lucius. It's beyond your control."
Lucius's eyes then fell on Dobby, standing terrified at the side of Harry's bed. "Dobby!" he spat, his voice echoing ominously around the room. "What are you doing here? Get over here this instant!"
Once Dobby had scurried to his side, Lucius leaned over and muttered something into the house-elf's ear, a thinly veiled threat that caused Dobby to tremble.
The commotion stirred the other occupants of the hospital wing. Daphne's blue eyes flickered open, confusion clouding her features as she looked from Harry to the arguing men at the doorway. Nearby, Astoria and Ginny woke up as well, their sleepy faces quickly morphing into expressions of shock. Jingles, the black cat with blue eyes, jumped up from his spot at the foot of Daphne's bed, his tail puffing up in alarm.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, her usually calm face twisted in annoyance. "Mr. Malfoy, this is a hospital wing! My patients need rest. If you wish to debate, do it elsewhere."
Harry, however, was less than sympathetic to Lucius's plight. He studied the man standing by the door, the sheer arrogance that radiated off him, his blatant disregard for anyone's comfort but his own. He saw Draco in him, and it didn't take much to connect the dots.
Ignoring the ongoing debate, Lucius announced with an icy calm, "I am here on behalf of the board of governors to ascertain the school's safety, and I would like a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley."
That was it for Harry. He had had enough. Stealthily, he removed his sock and threw it at Lucius, the fabric hitting the older man squarely in the face. "A gift," he announced loudly.
Lucius Malfoy's face twisted in revulsion as the fabric of Harry's sock touched his skin. His ice-cold eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing into dangerous slits as he took in the sight of the offensive object. "What is the meaning of this?" he growled, his fingers curling around the sock as though it was something vile.
His grip tightened, the knuckles on his hand whitening, before he angrily tossed the sock aside like it was a piece of trash.
Lucius straightened himself, his stormy eyes meeting Harry's defiant ones. His lips thinned into a harsh line, and his voice, though low, reverberated through the silence of the room. "You will pay for this insolence, Potter," he promised, the icy menace in his voice causing a shiver to run down the spines of everyone present. "You have no idea who you are trifling with."
His gaze bore into Harry's, a silent, unspoken threat that he fully intended to carry out. Harry met the gaze without flinching, his green eyes unwavering. The room was so quiet that you could almost hear the tension crackling in the air.
Then Dobby's voice rang out, full of awe and disbelief. "Master gave Dobby a sock," he said, holding up the discarded item. "Dobby is free!"
Lucius turned to Dobby, rage painting his face a deep red. He looked back at Harry, his eyes promising retribution. "You have cost me my servant, Potter!"
Before things could escalate further, Dumbledore stepped in, his voice filled with authority. "Lucius, I suggest you wait for the official Auror report rather than confront children. It appears you aren't equipped for such a task at the moment."
Furious and defeated, Lucius stormed out of the hospital wing, leaving behind a scene of shocked faces and a newly freed house-elf.
Dobby advanced hesitantly towards Harry, his eyes shining with an intensity that was both thankful and bewildered. He held the sock close to his chest as if it were the most precious treasure. "Harry Potter, sir," he began, his voice trembling. "Dobby cannot express his gratitude..."
Harry looked at him, completely taken aback. "Wait... what did I do?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Dumbledore, standing nearby, gave a warm, knowing smile. "In the world of house-elves, clothes represent freedom, Harry. By giving Dobby a piece of clothing, even unintentionally, Lucius Malfoy has freed him from servitude," he explained, his twinkling eyes observing the whole situation with a strange sense of satisfaction.
Harry's confusion cleared as understanding dawned on him. He turned back to the elf, who was now beaming at him. "Well, Dobby, I suppose we're even then. But if you try to save me in the future, make sure it doesn't involve dangerous things like Bludgers alright?"
Dobby nodded vigorously, his eyes filled with an earnest promise. With a final bow to Harry, he popped out of sight, leaving behind the echo of his gratitude.
Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey had descended upon Ginny, who was blinking in the brightness of the hospital wing. The matron was fussing around her, checking vitals and trying to keep her comfortable.
Quietly, Dumbledore moved closer to the newly awakened girl. "Miss Weasley," he began gently, "do you remember where you found that diary?"
Ginny furrowed her brow in concentration. "I... I just found it in my cauldron," she said softly. "I guess I picked it up somewhere in Diagon Alley but... I don't remember exactly when or where."
Dumbledore simply nodded, his expression grave. "The Aurors will need a statement from you. But for now, you must rest and recover your strength."
Turning to address the room, he announced, "In approximately two weeks' time, the Mandrakes will be ready, and we will be able to restore those who have been petrified. In the meantime, I urge all of you to rest and recover." He paused, looking around the room, making eye contact with each of them, then added softly, "Goodbye," before leaving the hospital wing.
The moment Madam Pomfrey disappeared into her office, Ginny's gaze shifted around the room, taking in Harry, Daphne, Jingles, and finally Astoria. The edges of her vision blurred, the walls of the sterile ward seemed to close in around her, and she was fighting back a tidal wave of emotions. The dam burst all at once. Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks, her lips parting to let out choked sobs, her apologies spilling out as though they had been waiting for just this release.
"I'm so sorry... I-I didn't mean for any of this to... I just..." she choked out between racking sobs, her small frame trembling like a leaf in a storm. Her wide brown eyes were glossy with unshed tears, a stark contrast against her pale, freckled skin.
Her revelation left everyone in a state of confusion. Her confession was a jumble of words strung together by her unsteady breathing and breaking voice. "The diary... it was Voldemort... He... He controlled me... Forced me... I saw everything... Couldn't... Couldn't stop... He threatened my family... He was too strong..."
Astoria, ever the empathetic one, didn't miss a beat. She was on her feet, rushing over to Ginny's bed, and pulling her friend into a warm, protective embrace. Ginny buried her face into Astoria's shoulder, her tears seeping into the fabric of Astoria's hospital gown, her sobs muffled by the soft material.
Meanwhile, Harry and Daphne shared a loaded glance before they, too, gravitated towards Ginny. Daphne's usually aloof demeanour softened as she gently placed Jingles onto the bed, the black cat instantly snuggling into Ginny's side. Harry took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck before turning his green gaze towards Ginny, an earnest look on his face.
"Ginny," he began, his voice steady and warm, "you can't blame yourself for any of this. You didn't know what the diary would do, no one could've predicted that. And Voldemort...he's...he's the most powerful dark wizard in history. Anyone could've fallen under his control."
His words hung in the air for a moment, allowing Ginny to process them. She pulled away from Astoria, her teary eyes locking onto Harry's, a small, almost hopeful smile playing at her lips. She ran a trembling hand over Jingles' soft fur, the cat purring gently in response. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "But it felt so real," she whispered, "His hatred, his disdain for you, for Jingles... His willingness to sacrifice Astoria... it felt like my own feelings."
Daphne was quick to intervene, her voice clear and assertive. "No," she asserted, reaching out to rest her hand on Ginny's shaking shoulder. Her gaze bore into Ginny's, fierce and unwavering. "You are not responsible, Ginny. Voldemort...he's the one to blame. He's a monster. And what we should be focusing on is the fact that we stood up to him. We saved the school, Ginny. That's what truly matters. Don't let the horrific things he did consume you." The room fell silent, all of them hanging onto Daphne's words, their eyes filled with a newfound determination.
As if on cue, the heavy wooden doors of the Hospital Wing swung open to admit the Weasley clan. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, their faces lined with worry and fatigue, were leading the way with Fred, George, and Percy trailing behind. The relief that washed over them at the sight of Ginny awake and talking was palpable; it swept through the room like a gentle breeze.
"Oh, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice a tremulous whisper as she rushed to her daughter's side, pulling her into a tight hug. Mr. Weasley's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, his hand gently stroking Ginny's hair, while the brothers hovered nearby, their faces etched with relief.
Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to emerge from her office, her gaze taking in the Weasley family reunion before landing on Harry, Daphne, and Astoria. With a brisk nod, she approached them, pulling out her wand to give them one final check-up.
"All clear," she declared, tucking her wand back into her apron pocket. "You may go now, but remember to take it easy for the next few days."
The trio bid a final farewell to Ginny, their smiles warm and encouraging, before they exited the Hospital Wing, their bodies still weary but spirits lifted. The Great Hall was buzzing with activity as they entered, students chatting animatedly as they dug into their breakfasts.
They split off to their respective house tables, Daphne and Astoria sliding into an empty spot at the Slytherin table. Jingles made himself comfortable between them, his blue eyes gleaming with contentment. Across the hall, Harry found a spot next to Neville at the Gryffindor table, the pair of them immediately falling into a light-hearted conversation.
Suddenly, Dumbledore's voice filled the Great Hall. The students fell silent, all eyes turning towards the headmaster standing at the dais. "As some of you may have noticed," he began, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "Professor Lockhart is no longer with us. He appears to have left the school grounds and has not been located."
Whispers echoed around the hall, a flurry of hushed questions and speculations filling the air. Dumbledore raised a hand for silence, waiting for the noise to die down before he continued.
"Therefore, until the end of this school year, I shall be taking over the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes." His announcement dropped like a bomb, causing a cacophony of shocked gasps, excited chattering, and even a few cheers to ripple through the hall. This year at Hogwarts was proving to be one full of surprises, indeed.
~~~o~~~
The following fortnight proved to be a whirlwind of nerve-racking events for Harry. It seemed as though his life had turned into an endless series of meetings with Aurors. They questioned him, prodded him for information, and yet, Harry stayed resolute, refusing to provide them with the memory of the event to protect Daphne's involvement.
Soon enough, he found himself standing at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets once again, this time with an entourage that included Madam Bones, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and a handful of Aurors. They delved into the vast, serpentine hallways, their wands throwing dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls. Upon finding the gigantic, stone-like carcass of the Basilisk, Madam Bones informed Harry that, as its slayer, the Basilisk corpse was technically his – a treasure of significant monetary worth.
Harry, however, was not particularly interested in the monetary value of the Basilisk. He'd never been driven by the lust for gold or the appeal of wealth. After a brief consideration, he made the decision to donate the carcass to the school.
Just when Harry thought he could finally breathe a sigh of relief, a new wave of intrusions on his privacy hit him. The press descended upon him like a flock of hungry birds, their quills furiously scribbling down his words, their eyes filled with a predatory hunger for sensational stories. Days later, Harry was aghast to see himself headlining countless articles, his feats exaggerated, his heroism lauded. Voldemort, however, was strangely absent from these articles.
Slowly but surely, the school began to regain its former liveliness. The stringent restrictions that had once clouded the atmosphere had dissipated, and the students were gradually finding their way back to normalcy, although some residual anxiety still lingered.
Finally, the long-awaited day arrived. The day when their petrified friends would be revived. The day when Hermione, Tracey, and all the others would finally be able to join them once again. The Hospital Wing was closed off for the ceremony, with Madam Pomfrey permitting only the closest friend of each victim to be present, believing it would be comforting for them to see a friendly face upon awakening.
The Hospital Wing was filled with anticipation and apprehension as those chosen to welcome back their friends assembled. Harry stood vigil by Hermione's bedside, his heart pounding as he anxiously awaited her awakening. Daphne held a similar post beside Tracey, her face reflecting a mix of concern and excitement. Meanwhile, Mr. Filch was there for Mrs. Norris, his eyes softening for perhaps the first time Harry had ever seen, and Ernie McMillan stood strong for Justin Finch-Fletchley. An unfamiliar young Gryffindor waited anxiously for Colin Creevey, and much to everyone's surprise, Percy was there for Penelope Clearwater.
Upon noting the surprised looks, Percy sheepishly admitted that he and Penelope had started dating this year. His ears reddened considerably as he confessed, but he held his head high, making no move to retract his words.
Madam Pomfrey began administering the Mandrake Draught to each of them, her movements precise and efficient. The still faces of their friends gradually regained their colour, their stiff forms slowly becoming more supple. Hermione was the first to stir, her brown eyes lighting up the instant she saw Harry, and she pulled him into a hug that nearly crushed his ribs.
Tracey was the next to regain mobility, and she nearly catapulted herself at Daphne. Their reunion was a heartfelt sight to behold, their joy seeming to infuse the room with a temporary warmth. Upon catching sight of Harry, she didn't waste a moment, springing from the hospital bed, her bare feet barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. In mere seconds, she had crossed the distance, wrapping Harry in a tight, jubilant hug that threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs.
Close by, the usually uptight Percy was standing beside Penelope's bed, waiting anxiously for the moment her eyes fluttered open. When they did, he was met with the familiar twinkling gaze that always seemed to stir something within him. Unable to resist the pull, he found himself leaning towards her, their lips meeting in a fiery kiss that had the power to ignite sparks even in the sterile hospital room.
Tracey, never one to let such an opportunity pass, let out a teasing wolf whistle, causing several heads to turn their way. The noise cut through the room like a hot knife through butter, leaving no doubt as to its origin or its target. She threw Percy and Penelope a cheeky grin, her hands cupping around her mouth to amplify the sound. The pair broke their kiss, faces flushing a brilliant shade of red that rivalled Percy's hair.
A muffled snort of laughter erupted from Daphne's direction, who was trying to keep a serious face, but failing miserably. "Really, Tracey?" she said between her laughter, gently elbowing her friend in the side. "Must you always be such a minx?" Her tone, though reproachful, was laced with fond amusement.
In the midst of the joyful uproar, a soft purr could be heard from the corner. Filch's eyes were welled up with tears of joy as he watched Mrs. Norris move with her usual grace, her recovery a soothing balm to his worried heart. The sight of the old caretaker smiling, a rarity in the castle, served as the perfect endnote to a day filled with relief and happiness.
The harmonious atmosphere broke momentarily when Mrs. Norris, perhaps disoriented from her sudden revival, hissed at Jingles. Sensing the tension, the black feline with brilliant blue eyes slinked away gracefully.
After a comprehensive checkup, Madam Pomfrey deemed all the patients fit. With a few words of advice and a strict instruction to take it easy, she allowed them to leave. As soon as they had exited the Hospital Wing, Jingles, having been anxiously waiting outside, rejoined them, his tail flicking back and forth in a display of joy.
Harry and Daphne wasted no time in filling Tracey and Hermione in on everything they had missed. Their tale unfolded, piece by piece, with the revelation that Voldemort had been behind the attacks causing more than a few gasps. However, the departure of Professor Lockhart appeared to have hit the girls even harder than the Voldemort revelation, eliciting disappointed sighs and expressions of disbelief.
Rolling their eyes at the theatrics, Harry and Daphne managed to suppress their laughter, leading the group towards the Great Hall for a much-needed meal. Despite the chaos and unexpected twists of the day, they couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and joy at the sight of their friends safe, sound and their usual selves again.
~~~o~~~
In the aftermath of the harrowing event that had occurred within the Chamber of Secrets, Hogwarts, the castle of learning and magic, once again found itself enveloped by a sense of normalcy. The hustle and bustle of the hallways, the enthusiastic whispers in the classrooms, the laughter and chatters in the Great Hall, everything echoed a semblance of peace. However, for Harry Potter and his close-knit group of friends, Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger, and Tracey Davis, the life of a Hogwarts student was anything but ordinary.
Alongside their regular lessons and intense study periods, they had added an arduous regimen of duelling practice to their daily routine. At the helm of their training was the most unlikely of mentors – Jingles. Possessing knowledge far superior to any of them, Jingles took on the role of a stern instructor, transforming their sessions into gruelling episodes of learning.
Jingles, however, had been subtly transformed by the ordeal of the Chamber of Secrets. His usually cheerful nature had receded into a serious, contemplative shell. The formerly talkative cat grew quieter with each passing day, and his training sessions evolved into vigorous trials. He often disappeared at night, presumably pushing himself to the edge, his determination to enhance his capabilities becoming a palpable aura around him.
Daphne, ever observant, couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry every time she noticed these changes. She could see Jingles battling his inner demons, his guilt over his perceived weakness in the face of danger. The cat, who was more of a family to her, was torturing himself over his inability to protect her and their friends. She wanted to talk to him, comfort him, but the words escaped her, replaced by an overwhelming fear of causing further distress. Eventually, she chose to confide in her friends, sharing her observations with Harry, Hermione, and Tracey. They all shared the same concerns, the same helplessness, but no one knew how to navigate this unfamiliar territory.
On a lighter note, the relationship between the Greengrass sisters, which had been strained in the past, had taken a turn for the better. Daphne and Astoria spent much of their free time together, their shared laughter and stories reverberating in the Slytherin common room. Their sisterhood, once marred by misunderstandings, was now flourishing with newfound understanding and love.
Unfortunately, their peace was short-lived. A gloomy cloud soon shrouded the castle when the news of Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban spread like wildfire. The news of the first ever successful escape from the wizarding world's most secure prison was nothing short of alarming. Whispers filled the halls, speculations ran rampant, and the general consensus pointed towards one alarming theory - Sirius Black, the man who had betrayed the Potters, was out to finish what he had started.
For Harry's friends, this was a major source of concern. Daphne, Hermione, and Tracey, alongside Jingles, were plagued with worry about Harry's safety. The thought of him being a target of such a dangerous wizard was horrifying.
However, Harry's reaction was strikingly different. Instead of fear, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of anger. The man who had been the cause of his parents' death, his own miserable childhood, was now roaming free instead of suffering in Azkaban as he deserved. This kindled a spark in Harry, a furious determination that shone brightly in his emerald green eyes. His already intense training sessions took on a new level of focus, his every move reflecting his resolve. His aim was clear to all who observed him - if Sirius Black dared to hunt him down, Harry Potter would be ready to face him head-on.
~~~o~~~
The sudden disappearance of Professor Lockhart had certainly thrown the school into a minor chaos for a time. However, the gap was quickly filled by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.
When the students filed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, they found Dumbledore standing at the head of the room. He was clad not in his usually flamboyant robes but in simpler ones. His trademark half-moon spectacles rested on his crooked nose, and his blue eyes sparkled with a genial warmth that seemed to envelop the room, casting a tranquil feeling over the excited students.
"Good morning, everyone," Dumbledore greeted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. His eyes twinkled with a friendly, welcoming light, a stark contrast to Lockhart's self-serving gaze. "I hope you're all ready to delve a bit deeper into the intricacies of our subject matter."
There was a notable shift in the atmosphere when the class began. Where Lockhart's lessons had been filled with embellished tales of his so-called 'heroic deeds', Dumbledore's approach was markedly different. His voice was calm and patient as he explained complex concepts, breaking them down into easily digestible bits. He encouraged students to think critically, challenging their understanding and fostering a sense of curiosity. He also integrated practical sessions, ensuring that the students could apply the theories they learned in real-world scenarios.
The maturity of the teaching was evident. No longer was Defence Against the Dark Arts an egotistical performance. It had become a subject of tangible worth, filled with practical lessons and thoughtful discussions. The students found themselves not just listening but actively participating, their minds alight with new knowledge.
Harry couldn't help but appreciate the change. The lessons were intellectually stimulating and Harry felt himself being drawn deeper into the complexities of the subject. Tracey, sitting beside him, had a similar spark in her eyes. The air around her practically hummed with her enthusiasm. Hermione, ever the model student, was almost glowing with her joy. The feeling was mutual for most of the class.
Jingles, who accompanied Daphne to classes, was coiled comfortably at the corner of her desk. His usually disinterested gaze had now softened, a strange sense of contentment reflected in his blue eyes.
Indeed, the change was glaringly obvious. It was almost as if a layer of superficiality had been peeled away, leaving in its wake a depth of knowledge that was refreshing. Defence Against the Dark Arts, under the guidance of Dumbledore, had transformed from a one-man show to a collaborative, thought-provoking, and engaging learning experience.
With only a week remaining until the end of year exams, Hogwarts was imbued with a buzzing energy, its stone walls echoing with the studious rustling of parchment and fervent whispers of revision topics. The looming weight of these tests transformed the castle into a sprawling study hall, every corner occupied by diligent students attempting to imbibe a year's worth of knowledge.
Even the tight-knit group of Daphne, Hermione, Tracey, Harry and Jingles had been drawn into this academic whirlwind. Daphne, Hermione and Tracey had rearranged their daily routines to prioritise studying. They crammed hours of poring over dusty textbooks and hastily scribbled notes into their days, which used to be dominated by duelling sessions and magical training.
Yet, amidst this frenzy, Harry and Jingles were conspicuous outliers. They seemed unwavering in their dedication to training, their time spent sparring and practising spells only intensifying. Each had their personal reasons - Harry's focused determination fuelled by the recent news about Sirius Black, and Jingles propelled by an intrinsic sense of duty and self-improvement.
On a particular Wednesday, the air inside the Great Hall was abuzz with the chatter of students eagerly tucking into their lunch. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were huddled at one end of the Gryffindor table, animatedly discussing their revision strategies over their meal.
In the midst of their conversation, a ripple in the crowd caught Harry's eye. Emerging from the throng of students was the formidable figure of Professor McGonagall, her usual stern countenance softened by what looked like concern. She moved with purpose, her gaze firmly fixed on Harry. As she came to a halt beside their table, the background murmur of conversation and clattering cutlery seemed to quieten.
"Mr. Potter," she addressed him, her voice laced with urgency that immediately snapped him to attention.
Harry looked up, dropping the piece of roast chicken from his fork, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. "Professor McGonagall? Is something the matter?"
"Once you've completed your lunch," she continued, heedless of his surprise, "I need you to report to Professor Dumbledore in his office."
Taken aback by her sudden directive, Harry could only gape at her for a moment. "Did I do something wrong, Professor?" he finally managed to ask, his tone betraying his surprise and a hint of anxiety.
With a slight shake of her head, she dismissed his concern. "No, Mr. Potter. You're not in trouble," she reassured him. "This, however, is an urgent matter, and it's inappropriate for us to discuss it in the open."
Harry nodded, silently understanding. "Alright, Professor," he conceded, picking up his fork again, though his appetite seemed to have deserted him.
After a final curt nod, Professor McGonagall turned around and began to move away, her figure receding into the hubbub of students. As the whispers and clatter of the Great Hall resumed, Harry was left staring after her, his mind whirling with a thousand possibilities.
A beat of silence passed before Hermione turned to him, her worry manifesting in the crease between her brows. "Harry," she said, her voice low, "do you have any inkling of what this might be about?"
Harry shook his head, attempting to push away the worry etched on his face with a nonchalant shrug. "No idea, Hermione," he replied, forcing a light-hearted chuckle, but his heart pounded relentlessly against his chest, echoing the silent question: 'What could this be about?'
When the last scraps of their lunch had been picked over and their conversation had wound down, Harry bid Neville and Hermione a quiet goodbye. His mind still swarmed with questions, but he attempted to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to worry his friends any further.
Leaving the Great Hall behind, Harry traversed the familiar stone corridors, each step taking him closer to Dumbledore's office. The usually lively walls felt unnervingly cold and austere in the midday sun, their usual charm replaced by a stifling sense of anticipation.
Soon, he found himself standing before the stoic stone gargoyle, the guardian of the headmaster's office. However, he found himself in a quandary, as he didn't know the password.
Before he could grapple further with this predicament, the sound of brisk footsteps echoed in the corridor. Turning around, Harry was met with the sight of Professor McGonagall, her stern face softening slightly upon seeing him. "Mr. Potter," she greeted him with a curt nod.
Without any further ado, she turned to the gargoyle and uttered a peculiar word, "Sherbet Lemon." At her voice, the stone gargoyle sprung to life, stepping aside to reveal a hidden spiralling staircase. With a gentle nudge from the professor, Harry stepped onto the moving stairs, McGonagall following suit.
Ascending the winding staircase felt like a journey in itself. With every step, Harry's heart pounded a rhythm of anxiety and curiosity. Once they reached the door at the top, McGonagall gave a quick tap, and it swung open, ushering them into the headmaster's office.
The office was as peculiar and interesting as Harry remembered it. Shelves filled with peculiar instruments and books lined the room, and the portraits of past headmasters adorned the walls. However, the usually tranquil air of the office was disrupted by the presence of two unfamiliar figures standing with Dumbledore.
One of them was a woman Harry had seen only a few times - Madam Bones, the head of Magical Law Enforcement. The other was a portly man whom Harry had never met. Upon seeing Harry, the man's face split into a wide, enthusiastic grin. He rushed forward, pumping Harry's hand vigorously. "Well done, lad!" he exclaimed, patting Harry on the back in a friendly, albeit slightly overwhelming, manner. "You did an excellent job with that Basilisk!"
Dumbledore, who had been silently observing from behind his desk, rose from his seat, his blue eyes twinkling. "Cornelius," he prompted gently, "why don't you introduce yourself?"
At Dumbledore's words, the man blushed slightly, releasing Harry's hand and straightening his tie. "Ah, yes," he chuckled sheepishly, extending his hand once again. "I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. My apologies for not introducing myself earlier."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. The Minister of Magic, in Hogwarts, in Dumbledore's office, extending his hand to him? He shook Fudge's hand almost automatically, his mind racing to comprehend the situation. The surprise rendered him momentarily speechless, his mind buzzing with even more questions than before.
Madam Amelia Bones was the first to break the silence. Her stern voice cut through the room like a blade. "Mr. Potter," she began, her eyes locked onto Harry, "we are here to discuss a rather serious matter, one that pertains to your personal safety."
Her gaze was penetrating, unyielding. It was a gaze that had undoubtedly dealt with some of the most dangerous wizards and witches, a gaze that was now fixed on Harry. A pause followed, as if to lend weight to her next words. "Are you aware of Sirius Black and his... misdeeds?"
At the mention of the traitor's name, Harry felt his stomach tighten. The barest hint of anger stirred within him, causing his jaw to clench and his fingers to curl into fists. The room seemed to close in around him, and for a moment, he thought he could feel the cold stone walls pressing against him. Still, he managed to keep his emotions in check, nodding curtly in response.
Without missing a beat, Madam Bones carried on, her words landing like hammer blows. "Given Black's recent escape from Azkaban, we have reasons to believe that you, Mr. Potter, could potentially be his next target."
As if on cue, Minister Fudge stepped into the conversation. His normally jovial demeanour had shifted to a more sombre tone, his brows furrowing as he added, "Harry, you are not just another Hogwarts student. You have shown exceptional courage, not once but twice, which makes you an important figure in our magical world. Therefore, sending you back to the care of your muggle relatives for the summer, given the current circumstances, seems... insufficient."
Harry's mind reeled at the implication of Fudge's words. A flutter of hope ignited within his chest, spreading warmth through his veins. Could it be that he wouldn't have to return to the Dursleys? His green eyes sparkled with anticipation.
However, Madam Bones was quick to dampen his enthusiasm, her stern voice cutting through the silence. "Let me clarify, Mr. Potter. We value the lives of all our citizens, whether they are 'heroes' or not," she said, casting a sharp glance at Fudge.
Fudge's eyes widened slightly, his demeanour faltering. He cleared his throat, his jovial chuckle sounding more nervous than before. "Ah, of course, quite right," he muttered.
Undeterred by Fudge's discomfort, Madam Bones turned her attention back to Harry, revealing the security plan they had been discussing. "Our consensus is that Hogwarts, with its powerful protective wards and experienced staff, would provide the safest sanctuary for you over the summer."
The offer hung in the air, but Harry didn't need time to consider it. "I accept," he declared without hesitation. The prospect of spending a summer free from the Dursleys was too tantalising to refuse.
Madam Bones blinked, taken aback by his instantaneous acceptance. "Very well," she conceded, before adding, "In addition to the school's defences, we'll station Dementors at the entrances to the grounds. They are a... convincing deterrent and should keep Sirius Black at bay."
Beneath the cascade of information, a new term surfaced that Harry didn't recognise. "What are Dementors?" He asked, his voice ringing out in the otherwise silent room.
Madam Bones blinked behind her square glasses before explaining, "Dementors are the guards of Azkaban prison, Harry. They are creatures who feed off human happiness, leaving nothing but despair and sadness in their wake. Their presence alone can drain a wizard of their will to live."
Her words sent chills down Harry's spine, but his curiosity wasn't sated yet. "How did Sirius Black escape then?" He asked, his green eyes piercing into Madam Bones.
Madam Bones sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair. "That's what we're still trying to figure out," she admitted. "No one has ever escaped from Azkaban before."
Harry's thoughts quickly veered to his friends. "What about my friends?" He blurted out, causing all adults in the room to blink in surprise.
"Excuse me?" Fudge asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
Harry elaborated, "Sirius Black could try to hurt them to get to me. They are my friends after all."
Fudge cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We...uh...we lack the capacity to provide security for additional students, Mr. Potter. And it would raise questions if we were to offer them sanctuary at Hogwarts."
Before Harry could voice his indignation, Madam Bones cut in, her stern voice reigning over the room. "Most people outside Hogwarts don't even know who your friends are, Mr. Potter," she stated, her gaze steady on him. "I, for example, know only because of my niece, Susan."
Harry blinked in surprise. He knew Susan, a fellow student in his year, but he had never really spoken to her. Realisation dawned on him that his fame as the boy who lived – a title he loathed – was the likely cause of this awareness.
Continuing, Madam Bones added, "The only one who could potentially be in danger is Miss Granger, due to her Muggle-born status. Miss Greengrass and Miss Davis, however, should be safe under the wards of their family manors."
A surprised gasp escaped Fudge's lips. "You're friends with Daphne Greengrass?" He asked, bewilderment seeping into his voice. "Given her family's history..."
Before Fudge could finish his sentence, Dumbledore intervened with a calm but firm tone, "We are not here to discuss Mr. Potter's choice of friends, Cornelius."
Looking mildly abashed, Fudge muttered an apology, and the room fell silent once again, leaving Harry to ponder his friends' safety amid the looming threat of Sirius Black.
Harry's mind was in tumult, each question and answer stirring more turbulent thoughts. His eyes flickered from one person to the other, landing finally on Dumbledore. "So... can my friends visit me here during the summer?" The words tumbled from him, filled with uncertainty and trepidation.
"Or, can I perhaps visit them?" he added hastily, his fingers worrying the edge of his robes.
Dumbledore, looking at him over the rims of his half-moon glasses, considered the question. The silence in the room seemed to stretch, leaving a quiet emptiness that was filled by the occasional crackle from the fireplace. "Indeed, Harry," Dumbledore finally spoke, his words spreading a comforting warmth, akin to a soft blanket on a cold day. "Your friends will be permitted to visit you here at Hogwarts. We can make that exception."
Yet, before the relief could fully settle in, Madam Bones, a stern statue against the backdrop of Dumbledore's plush office, interjected. Her voice sliced through the soft ambience, sharp and precise, "However, you, Mr. Potter, will not be allowed to leave the school grounds during the summer. That is non-negotiable."
Harry nodded slowly, a mixture of disappointment and relief crossing his face. He traced the edge of the chair armrest, his mind spinning, "But, what about my school supplies? I usually get them from Diagon Alley. How would I..."
"An Auror will handle your shopping," Madam Bones answered before Harry could finish, her eyes unwavering from his. "Your needs will be adequately met."
As the room fell into a thoughtful silence, Fudge, sporting a slightly strained smile, cleared his throat. His plump fingers fidgeted with a gold pocket watch as he tried to draw the room's attention back to him. "Well, I believe it's time for a slightly more upbeat topic," he announced, his voice a bit too hearty, "We have decided to award you an Order of Merlin, First Class, for your unparalleled bravery and quick thinking in defeating the Basilisk."
Harry was blindsided, the surprise clear on his face. His heart throbbed in his chest, beating a nervous rhythm against his ribs. "What about Jingles?" He found himself asking, "He was with me, helped me. Will he be recognised too?"
Fudge blinked, his round face a picture of confusion, "Jingles?" He echoed, a chuckle escaping his lips.
With a slight roll of her eyes, Madam Bones elucidated, "Jingles is the magical feline who assisted Mr. Potter."
Fudge laughed outright this time, his belly shaking, "Well, I'm afraid we can't exactly give awards to animals, however intelligent they might be."
A wave of guilt washed over Harry, leaving him feeling somewhat hollow. Daphne and Jingles had been instrumental in defeating the Basilisk. It seemed fundamentally unfair that he was the only one being recognised.
Brushing past the tense moment, Fudge continued, "As for the awarding ceremony, the date isn't set yet," he waved a hand dismissively, "But you will be informed once we have it."
Harry was utterly bewildered. One moment they were discussing him being in hiding, and now they were planning a public ceremony?
As if sensing his bewilderment, Madam Bones stepped in, her voice steady and calming, "Harry, the ceremony will only be conducted when we can ensure your absolute safety."
With the last of her words hanging in the air, the adults began to shuffle around, indicating the end of the meeting. Harry, seizing the opportunity, quickly stood up from his chair. Offering a final nod of acknowledgment to the adults, he turned towards the door.
~~~o~~~
Shaking off the formal tone of the meeting, Harry pushed open the heavy doors of the Hogwarts library, letting the familiar scent of well-aged parchment and binding glue greet him. Nestled between rows of towering bookshelves, bathed in the soft yellow glow of magical lanterns, sat his friends. Their faces were fixed in concentration as they leafed through thick volumes, their fingers trailing lines of text, occasionally jotting down notes.
Hermione's brown curls were caught up in a loose bun, the glow of the lanterns catching stray wisps that framed her face. Her eyes were narrowed slightly, focused on the tome before her. Daphne and Tracey sat together at another table, their blond heads bowed over a shared parchment. The faint furrow between Daphne's brows softened as she looked up at Harry's approach, her eyes lighting up with a hint of curiosity. At her side, Jingles lay sprawled out, lazily flipping his tail, eyes half-closed, enjoying the calm atmosphere of the library.
"Daphne, Hermione, Tracey," Harry said, his voice just above a whisper, "I've something to share with you."
Their heads perked up at his words, quills paused mid-sentence, and books momentarily forgotten. Tracey and Hermione exchanged a glance, their brows arching in silent question. Harry beckoned them towards the door, urgency tinging his voice, "Follow me to the Room of Requirement."
Without further explanation, he turned and led the way, leaving the labyrinthine library with its silent whisperings of wisdom behind. The girls exchanged puzzled glances before setting their quills aside and trailing after Harry, curiosity piqued. Jingles gave an intrigued meow and followed suit, his tail flicking with anticipation.
Once they were all in the Room of Requirement, Harry gestured towards a Pensieve that had appeared on a nearby table. The stone basin was filled with the shimmering, silvery substance of his stored memory, its surface rippling with the echo of past events. His friends watched in anticipation as Harry reached out and gently touched the Pensieve with his wand tip.
As they dived into the memory, Harry watched his friends' faces shift and morph with a plethora of emotions - surprise, concern, relief. The news of Harry's new living arrangements, the potential threat of Sirius Black, and the surprise mention of an Order of Merlin left them visibly startled.
Once they surfaced back into the present, the gravity of what they had witnessed weighed heavily in the air. Daphne's gaze lingered on Harry, a faint shadow of envy clouding her expression. Harry was quick to reassure her. "Next summer will be better, Daph," he stated with conviction, "You and Astoria are getting along better now, aren't you?"
Before Daphne could respond, a series of images and emotions fluttered through her mind. Jingles, using their unique mental bond, expressed his excitement for the upcoming summer, painting pictures of adventurous hunts and lazy afternoons. Daphne chuckled at the feline's eager anticipation, translating his thoughts to the others.
The shared amusement filled the room, lifting the previously tense atmosphere. Their laughter echoed against the stone walls, bringing a sense of normalcy back. Despite the challenges that awaited them, they knew they were not alone. They had each other, and that made all the difference.
~~~o~~~
The end of the academic year had finally arrived, marking the last leg of the gruelling exam season. Sunlight streamed in through the towering stained-glass windows, illuminating the Great Hall in a dazzling array of colours. A mild breeze seeped in from the open windows, stirring the worn pages of parchments and the discarded quills left in the wake of the completed tests. The otherwise buzzing hall was now filled with a hushed sense of relief, as the final echo of the invigilator's voice died down. "Time's up," she had announced, leaving the students in a state of exhausted triumph. Harry and his friends traded heavy-lidded, drained looks, the weariness of days of continuous studying clearly evident in their posture. Despite the exhaustion, there was a palpable air of anticipation. The ordeal was over, at least for now.
A few days later, the familiar, dreaded parchments bearing the results were handed out. As Harry unfurled his, the heavy Hogwarts crest, embossed on top, glinted under the sunlight. He quickly scanned the marks, his heart sinking with each line. His name was nowhere near the top, he had plummeted to the ninth place. Despite his near-perfect marks in all the practical examinations, save for potions, the theoretical aspects of his academic performance had been abysmal.
In stark contrast to his own performance, Hermione and Daphne were the stars of their year. Their beaming faces were mirrored in the other's as they discovered they had tied for the top spot. Hermione's eyes sparkled with delight, her lips curving into an unrestrained smile. Daphne, typically composed and somewhat aloof, also wore an uncharacteristically warm grin. Tracey too, had reasons to celebrate, her hard work earning her a respectable fifth place. Her eyes, a warm shade of brown, were alight with satisfaction as she held up her parchment in a quiet victory.
The contrast between their results was glaring, and Hermione didn't hesitate to confront the issue. She pivoted towards Harry, her bushy eyebrows knitting together in a grave expression. Her typically kind brown eyes transformed, now bearing an intense, unwavering gaze as she admonished him. "Harry, this simply isn't acceptable," she chided, her voice rich with both concern and disappointment. "You have far greater potential than this. Next year, you must apply yourself more diligently."
"But Hermione," Harry protested weakly, his hand absentmindedly stroking Jingles, "training is more important, isn't it?" His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide and pleading.
To Harry's surprise, it was Jingles who responded. The cat opened its mouth and to anyone watching, it would appear as if it were just a simple hiss. However, to Harry, who could understand Parseltongue, it translated to, "No, Harry. Knowledge is crucial too. You can't neglect it for training. It's all interconnected."
The unexpected admonition from the feline left him flabbergasted, his heart sinking further as the words echoed in his mind. Hermione shot him a triumphant glance while he looked helplessly at Jingles, who only flicked his tail in what seemed to be disapproval.
As the final days of the term flew by, the castle was filled with a sense of melancholy. The time for goodbyes was nearing and the air was heavy with farewells. As his friends prepared to depart for the summer, Harry found himself enveloped in warm embraces, hugging each one of them one by one. Hermione, Tracey, Daphne, even Jingles, in his own feline way, snuggling against Harry's leg, offered their silent promises to visit.
Just as they were about to board the carriage, Daphne turned to him, her gaze unwavering. She was no longer the aloof girl the school knew. Here, with her friends, she was warm and caring. "Don't waste this time, Harry," she said, her tone stern yet caring. "Revise the theory too, alright?" Harry managed a weak nod, promising her he would.
Watching his friends climb aboard the carriage, Harry's heart was heavy. He waved them off, their cheerful promises of return echoing in his ears. The carriage began to pull away, but just then, Astoria, Ginny, and Luna hurriedly claimed the last few open slots on the carriage. Their faces appeared at the carriage window, and seeing their friendly smiles, Harry's spirits lifted a bit. As the carriage rolled away, he waved them goodbye, their promises of visits ringing in his ears.