Part 7
A/N
Thank you to those of you sticking with this story. It's more verbal diarrhea than I've ever put into one fic. This chapter probably could really use a beta, as I'm delving into McGonagall and her brogue. But whatever. Too lazy.
Sorry it's so long between updates, but I have to get back into the characters when I'm away, and that's tough. But like I said before, the whole thing is roughed, with several scenes written. I'll get there. Someday.
~~ scene ~~
Strangely, Harry felt a little better, a little less hopeless after venting on Hermione. Just talking it out, having someone else listen, had let him get back some of the balance he'd found in the HC that summer.
Though it had been less than a month, Hogwarts and its environs had almost taken the experience out of Harry's psyche. And he needed to get that balance back, or he'd end up punching someone.
He needed to remind himself that Hogwarts wasn't the whole world, that it was even more temporary than the Dursleys had been. He'd made it through two years (barely), he could do five more. Please, God.
At least he knew he wouldn't – ever – be going back to the Dursleys. And he was getting to know Sirius, through letters. Maybe Sirius would give him a home, at least for a few summers?
Dear Sirius,
I'm glad that you're feeling a bit better. You gained a whole stone! That's a lot of hospital food. Say the word and I'll have Dobby sneak you some fish and chips or something good.
I'm glad that Mr. Stenwick is dealing with those gits at the ministry. They owe you more than an apology. I still don't understand how they could put you in prison without a real trial. Do you think he could do something about those stupid Boy Who Lived books and stuff? Someone is making a lot of money off of that, and it isn't me, but I get all the stupid fans and enemies and all I did was crap my nappy.
School is pretty good. I have a lot of work, but I expected it. Runes is pretty cool, but I think DADA is still my best subject. It's nice that the class is good this year, too. Your friend Professor Lupin is a really good teacher.
Quidditch is still the best part of school. Don't tell Hermione I said that. We have our first match against Hufflepuff this year. Do you think you can come? It's just after Guy Fawkes. The 6th November. If you can't, I understand.
Harry
Dear Harry,
If the wretched healers allow it, I will be out of here in mid-October. I will still have to check in with the healers weekly, but I can be at home. Well, my cousin's home. I'll be staying with Andi (Tonks) until I get a place for us – you and me – set up. That's assuming you want to stay with this old dog next summer hols. Do let me know.
I will be at your match with Hufflepuff, come hell or high water. I've heard some rather strange tales of your prowess on the pitch. Did you know that all Hogwarts matches are broadcast on the wireless? And that there are ominocular memories of your plays that can be purchased? You are well on your way to being a legend for more than crapping your nappies.
Hell or high water. Never understood that saying, but I get it, if you know what I mean. I heard Lily's dad say that once. He, apparently, picked it up from some of the Yanks when they were fighting together over in Germany. Did you know that your Grandfather Evans was a soldier in what that side calls the second world war? He was a great man, Henry Evans. I think that you're named for him.
He and your dad got on like a house on fire. Your grandmother, Rose, was not as open in her welcome, but she loved your mum, and Lily loved James. That was good enough for Rose.
Once, they were all at dinner with your grandparents (both sets) at a muggle restaurant. Uncle Flea (that was James's dad) and Aunt Phe (James's mom – Euphemia James was her name) …
Harry loved reading the letters that he got from Sirius. They were full of the good parts of Harry's past that Sirius knew of.
He'd had a cat. And he'd ridden a tiny broom when he was just a year old. And his mom sang off key, and loudly, when she was in a good mood or two sheets – whatever that meant.
The smile on his face was strong enough to get him through the mid-day meal, with all the PotterSpotters and the head douchebag smiling down like he was the reason Harry would be happy. Harry wasn't going to let the tosser ruin another meal and pointedly ignored the head table.
Albus thought over his quandary as the staff discussed the progress and problems amongst the students. The first faculty meeting of the autumn term was tense; he could expect nothing else putting Remus and Severus in the same room. But overall, he felt less animosity betwixt the two childhood enemies than he felt from Mr. Potter the few times he could catch the lad's attention.
It seemed that Mr. Potter fully blamed Albus for the unfortunate events of the summer. Never mind that Albus had put Harry in the safest place he could come up with. Those blood wards… well, they were gone. And the Potter child had no awe, no respect even, for the headmaster of his school once all had been revealed.
If he were a normal student, it would have been water under the bridge and chalked in Albus's personal loss column.
That column was absurdly long for someone who only ever wanted to study the intricacies of magic, and who had never pretended to understand people.
If Harry were a normal student, Albus would have let it go. But Harry wasn't a normal student. Albus had alienated the child of prophecy. And there was the rub. Harry was a keystone in the arch to the future. As Albus knew he was the rudder in magical Britain's uncharted course through Riddle-infested waters, the headmaster felt he needed insight into that foundation.
"Well, then. If there are no further points? I suggest we adjourn. Thank you for your time. Minerva? Please stay."
The rest of the faculty filed out of the staff room.
Albus walked to the window and looked out over the grounds. Once the door was closed and the privacy ward re-engaged, he turned to his deputy and smiled.
"How goes the term for you, Minerva?"
She shook her head and smiled. "More of the same, always. I dinnae ken how ya still do it. Now, what do ya need?"
He lost the small smile he carried and sat again in his head chair. Taking off his glasses, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Tell me how Mr. Potter is faring this term."
Minerva looked quizzically at her employer, then shrugged slightly, sitting back. "Had a bit of a dust up with the youngest Weasley at the beginning, but they're back to bein' thick as thieves. Mostly. Longbottom's joined that little trio, and Potter is the better for it. Changed his rota, putting the two hardest electives in place of that rubbish disguised as divination." She sniffed. "He seems to be handling it. His summer work was top notch – unusual for him – but obviously his own. Very different from Grangers, or any other, really. Why?"
Albus paused. How much to reveal?
"There were… issues this summer."
"The whole thing with Sirius Black… I still cannae believe my boy was in that Azkaban, that tribunal never even took evidence. Sassenach wankers."
"No, it wasn't that. Before Sirius's escape, Harry had problems at the Dursleys. He ended up leaving the protection of the wards and running to London."
"Those muggles," Minerva huffed. "Well, who can blame the laddie?"
"I wish to ensure that he is settling well after what happened." Minerva guessed there was more than just problems, but Albus was never one to give away more detail than he felt one needed.
She nodded. "I'll see what I can find out."
Minerva began to notice then just how stand-offish Potter was. He completed assignments and did them well. But he didn't interact with her, at all. When called on in class, he answered the question, respectfully, but did not make eye contact. A smile never crossed his face at her awarded points. At mealtimes, he didn't acknowledge the staff table often. And when he did, it was a cold eye and stone face that studied them.
She'd not catch any flies with that vinegar. No, she needed to approach from another direction.
"For homework, eighteen inches on the differences and similarities between transfiguration of natural substances to stone versus metal. Class dismissed. Granger, please stay."
Hermione looked a bit confused, but stayed, waiting patiently.
Minerva smiled briefly at her prize Gryffindor, who didn't smile back. "Dinna worry, lass. It's not a problem. Your school work continues to exceed all expectations, in all classes, from what I gather."
"Thank you, professor." Hermione stayed silent then, waiting for an indication of what this was about.
"Are ye havin' any issues with the item?" McGonagall asked as she straightened the assignments on her desk.
Ah, the time-turner. That explained it. "No, professor. I'm very carefully following the directions."
Minerva granted Hermione a small smile. "I would expect no less. Please remember to ask if you are having any difficulties, whatsoever, yes? Now, my second inquiry: what's wrong with Potter?"
Hermione paused. She should have known. Harry wasn't talking to any of the staff, so they though his swot friend would grass on him.
Not in this lifetime.
"I'm sorry, Professor. That's Harry's business." She remained polite but stalwart. She was in Gryffindor for a reason, but in that moment, Helga Hufflepuff would have fought for her.
"The headmaster is concerned." She noted Hermione's back stiffened at that statement. "I'm concerned.'
Hermione's reticence must have shown. She'd done a lot of soul-searching since listening to Harry: her idols had proved to have clay feet. McGongall was a fantastic teacher, but she was really a terrible head of house and – if possible – a worse deputy head. She had no faith that McGonagall would help Harry at all.
"You can tell me what ails him," the deputy headmistress cajoled.
Then you can tell the headmaster? Hermione thought, but was wise enough to stay silent
"I cannot help him if I don't know the situation." McGonagall was beginning to lose patience, not ever thinking that this child, of all children, would hold out on her.
The silence held for a moment before Hermione decided she had to justify her reticence.
"Last year, you knew the Heir of Slytherin situation. Everyone did. You didn't stop the Gryffindors as head of house. You didn't stop the other houses as deputy headmistress. He was berated and bullied and hectored."
Minerva's mouth pinched. She didn't like being questioned by a child, but she could see the confusion her own actions had caused.
"I understand that it was a difficult time for him, and for you as his friend. The headmaster had told us all to stay out of it, that it would resolve itself and our interference could be seen as favoritism on the part of staff to The Boy Who Lived."
Hermione tilted her head and rebutted calmly, "You mean like the special award to the school? The massive points reversals at the end of the last two years?"
"The headmaster is the leader of this school and understands things none of us could." Minerva was stalwart in defense of her own friend/mentor.
"How do you justify making Harry an outcast first year?" Hermione asked.
"How, exactly, did I do that?" McGonagall demanded, wondering just how much mistrust she'd uncover with this impromptu meeting.
"You took massive points from Harry, Neville, and me – more than you took off Malfoy for the same supposed crime. And did you even ask why we were out, after curfew?" Hermione's temper – which was usually held under excellent regulation – was off its leash.
"Ye were my Gryffindors. Ye knew better! I took..." The fact that she'd started speaking with her heavy brogue showed how angry McGonagall was also becoming.
"More than twice the recommended maximum penalty for being out of bounds, according to the Hogwarts handbook," Hermione finished heatedly, though her eyes were hard as stone. "And you still haven't asked why we were out."
McGonagall wanted to punish the child. And she would, for speaking out of turn. But she needed to understand what was driving this rebellion. "Why were ye out, then?" she asked in a furious but quiet voice.
"Because we had to get Hagrid's dragon out of the country before it burned down his house and he got arrested." The professor's jaw dropped. The Malfoy boy's story about the dragon had been true? "It's illegal to raise dragons in Britain," Hermione went on almost conversationally. "Hagrid won the egg at a poker game – really, Quirrell baited a trap to find out how to get past the Cerberus." McGonagall's face got paler as she remembered that Quirrell had been bitten at Halloween, trying to get past that Cerberus, and that Mr. Weasley had been in the hospital wing for a strange bite… if that dragon had the pox… then she heard Hermione's closing statement and her Scottish temper rose again. "Hagrid was selfish – or silly – enough to fall into that trap."
"Selfish? Rubeus Hagrid is not at all selfish!" The staunch Gryffindor defended her fellow professor.
"Why else would he bring a dragon onto school property? Besides the fact that they are top carnivores, they carry pox. It bit Ron. You know that." The professor shook her head. Hermione needed to convince McGonagall. She couldn't just let it go. She had this boiling vitriol in her gut since Harry confided in her. McGonagall had made herself a target. "Why is there an entire colony of acromantula, next to the castle? Wizard eaters live next to us because Hagrid wants pets. A hippogriff is going to be put down because Hagrid used it with the first care class and didn't properly monitor the students. So maybe he's not selfish, just silly. But he does what he wants without regard to the safety of the students. And no administrator ever stops him. We should never have been in the forbidden forest for detention – especially after you docked fifty points for a twenty-point offense. Hagrid should never have sent Harry and Malfoy off without anyone guarding them. Harry was attacked and almost killed. But Hagrid wanted to see what was wrong with the unicorns and you and the headmaster don't reign him in."
"Hagrid has the headmaster's complete trust." Where had this boil of resentment come from? Hermione was well known for her worship of authority. She should never have questioned the actions of the McGonagall let alone those of Dumbledore.
"You are deputy headmistress. You're supposed to monitor the rest of the faculty. You know that Professor Snape is regularly horrid to students. He bullies and encourages bad behavior." Hermione had been taking notes on all the faculty since her conversation with Harry. Her conclusions honestly horrified the girl.
"Professor Snape is the youngest potions master on record. He's brilliant." Minerva defended, though not as rigorously as she defended Hagrid. Severus was, as his name indicated, quite unpleasant and indefensible at times.
"And he's Neville's boggart. Not his uncle, who tried to kill him at least twice to make sure Neville was magical. Not the death eaters that attacked Neville's family. Professor Snape. Seriously. Do you know how vile one has to be to become a boggart? Of course, you're mine, so there's that." That it was McGonagall failing her was beside the point.
McGonagall sat down, hard at that.
Hermione felt the conversation had vented her spleen, and she saw that she had, at last, reached her professor. It wouldn't change anything, but at least there would be no false expectations on the professor's part for Hermione's trust.
"So, no, Professor McGonagall. I'm not going to tell you Harry's personal business. I can't imagine how you'd use his personal weaknesses against him. Not on purpose, of course, but you'd tell Professor Snape, who'd rub it in during class. May I go now?"
"Twenty points for your lip, Miss Granger."
"Of course… professor." The delay in the title showed just how little respect Granger had left for her head of house.
McGonagall had burned that bridge, it seemed, and for what? Because the Headmaster wanted information on Harry Potter and couldn't ask himself.
Why couldn't he ask himself?
Harry and Neville were sharing a bench in potions lab. Neville had started to come out of his shell more, after their summer correspondence. They both had taboo subjects that the other respected, and empathized, with.
"Ready for this, mate?" Harry asked under his breath.
Potions was one area that they were totally sympatico on. Harry had been training with Neville on the side, quizzing him on how the plant-based ingredients should work and getting Neville to understand that animal and mineral based ingredients had the same sets of rules. Once Neville began to piece that together, potions became much easier.
Better? Not so much. Once again that year, they were paired with the snakes under the gimlet eye of the head snake himself. Snape watched as Harry and Neville produced acceptable, even superior potions. The two ignored the rest of the class and got on with the business, discussing nothing but the work at hand. They picked their work space in such a way that they were surrounded by fellow Gryffindors. And no amount of glaring from Professor Snape himself could alter their concentration.
Neville glanced around, noting that somehow Malfoy and Nott had scored Hermione's and Ron's usual bench next to Harry and him. He sighed and shook his head. "As ready as I can be." His voice held more humor than terror, though, and he smiled a little as Harry nudged him.
When the year started, Neville had once again wavered under the comments, the glares from Snape and his acolytes. But after the incident with the boggart in defense, when all had seen Snape in Augusta Longbottom's outfit… well. All Harry had to do was refer to the vulture hat and Neville would chill.
That day, when the good professor was scowling in their general direction, Harry hummed a song he remembered from a movie he'd seen at school. Jungle Book. He'd loved the vultures in that movie and had spent weeks trying to get birds around him to be his "friends to the bitter end." It wasn't until Hed that he got his wish. He'd told Neville about the song and promised to find a way for them to see the movie over the next hols. And it was one way to bring the vulture-hat Snape to the mind's eye.
"You will cease that infernal racket and begin brewing." Snape intoned. "Instructions are on the board. Homework should be turned in to the front desk as you gather the necessary materials from the supply cabinet. You will need a dram of aerified sea water. For Circe's sake, Longbottom, make sure your collector is clean. We have no need for your special brand of pyrotechnics in the laboratory this day."
Harry nudged his mate as Neville stiffened at being singled out. Harry knew that aerified sea water was a magical version of strong peroxide. He'd spent a lot of time with Master Fezziwig comparing and contrasting magical and nonmagical reagents. "I'll get the ingredients, Nev. Pass me your homework, yeah? Then triple read the instructions and clean up the area?"
Neville nodded. He handed Harry his parchment while Harry went through his kit for the tools needed to gather the restricted materials from the cabinet. He waited patiently for his turn after submitting his and Neville's homework – placing them randomly in the middle of the homework pile as was his new normal. Crabbe had ruined his homework only once that year, and it had been a thing of beauty to watch the git's triumphant grin turn to anger/disappointment when Harry produced a second copy and shuffled it randomly into the pile of assignments. The snakes couldn't ruin his homework without endangering their own.
Harry turned to go back to the table where Neville had cleaned up, set up their cutting station and cauldron, and begun to set out the ingredients from the student kit. Watching for enemy fire (it was a favorite thing of the snakes to throw random crap into unstable materials and watch the fireworks from a safe distance), Harry used his seeker skills to move just enough that Goyle's projectile actually hit Daphne Greengrass in the face.
It left a mark.
The shiny pebble – which would have catalyzed the water into a small explosion – had been quite sharp. And it had cut the Greengrass heir's previously pristine skin.
"What on Earth…" the Slytherin girl raised a hand to her marred cheek, her hand coming away with a speck of blood. If she scarred… "Goyle…" she whispered, and the venom in that single word froze everyone around them.
"Potter's fault, Greengrass. Potter's fault." Goyle was panicked. The Greengrass family could ruin his without a sideways glance.
Greengrass's partner, Tracey Davis, glared at her fellow snake. "No one is so stupid to think that Potter can throw a platinate chip with both his hands full. And I saw you, idiot. Everyone saw you. Professor, I'm taking Daphne to healer Panakos. If she scars…"
Snape was seriously displeased. Goyle had tried to initiate an explosion that could have had horrific consequences. And the only thing that stopped it was Potter's actions. At the same time, Potter's skill at evasion had caused one of Snape's charges physical harm.
"Potter, get back to your station. You will all get to work, or you will all receive a T for this lesson. There will be no further frolic." Heads went down to their desks quickly as students avoided the ire of their professor.
Harry, however, calmly proceeded to his desk and engaged Neville in conversation about the potion, "So we need to put the water in as the base before the heat. I wonder what effect the fire-salamander bile has on this?"
"It looks like an elemental potion, with equal portions of the four elements in the two bases. The water covers water and air; the bile earth and fire." Neville stated as he weighed out the crystal that would work as a binder.
The two boys continued working on the potion, taking notes, writing questions for further research, and completely irritating Severus Snape, who wanted nothing more than for those two dunderheads to fail in everything they attempted. The class fell to silent work with only Draco Malfoy looking like he would be attempting to revisit the earlier issues. (As he was betrothed to one of the Greengrass girls and was allied with the Goyle clan, his confused anger was easy to explain.)
As the potions were turned in and the students filed out to get ready for the evening meal, Snape's mood turned – if possible – more sour.
Snape knew he should have reined in his snakes long before now. But it had been such a delicious reward to watch years of Gryffindors lose interest in potion making. Now, he would have the head of the Greengrass family on him, and Malfoy would get involved because Goyle was allied with Malfoy. Not to mention what an explosion in the lab could have done. Snape was between a rock and a hard place, and it was all Potter's fault. He stormed to the great hall, his mood filling the air around him with doom and gloom.
He couldn't even drink at dinner as he was the faculty on duty that evening. Odin help any of the students he caught out of bounds that e'en.
"Twenty points from Hufflepuff for public display of affection. This is a school, not a brothel. Get to your table." Snape growled as he found two Hufflepuff students hugging each other just outside the hall. That they were siblings who had just heard the news of their mother being injured in a floo accident was of no matter to Snape.
He finally had targets for his ire.
"Ten points from Ravenclaw for reading at the dinner table." There was no food at the tables and no rule against books at the tables – but this meant nothing. Snape was on a roll.
He continued to take points from all houses – except Slytherin, of course – and the rest of the faculty and staff began to take notice that he was being worse than usual. That was saying something.
Professor McGonagall, alerted to the fact that she hasn't been doing her job as deputy, quietly reversed the points deductions. "Professor Snape, please come to the ante-chamber with me." She stood and her face brooked no argument.
The students noticed, of course, and watched with bated breath to see Snape get reprimanded. It had never happened before in any of their memories.
As his deputy and potions master exited the main dining room, Dumbledore followed. Severus had been a bit over the line with his punishments that evening. Albus wondered what was bothering the boy and hoped Minerva would be able to get to the heart of the matter.
After Albus arrived (Minerva knew the old meddler couldn't help but join in), McGonagall put up a privacy ward. But she was more than a bit miffed. "What is the bee in yer bonnet, Severus? Yer scarin the first years and putting them off their dinners."
"Potions class today. Your Gryffindors. They caused terrible distractions in class and one student was injured. Injured because of your precious Potter."
Minerva's face grew colder. "Ye will nae be lyin' to me, Severus Snape. I've had Greengrass and Goyle elders on the floo. Potter had nae to do wit' it. Nothin' about these happenings warrants the tantrum ye been throwin. Out with it, then." She treated petulant children all the same, and Dumbledore bit the inside of his cheek to see his deputy treating a renowned potions master like a wayward student.
Snape finally gave voice to the real issue behind his ire. "Potter is a cheat. He has to be. Either that, or he had illegal lessons over the term break. He has improved with no source of the improvement. He is too much of an arrogant imbecile to improve on his own." It was the heart of all the problems. Potter was always the root of all the problems.
"Severus, if ye cannae remain professional in your speech, haud yer wheesht."
"Continue to dote on the spoiled brat." Venom laced his reply.
"Silence." The cold, quiet voice of the headmaster got the attention of the two others. Dumbledore had finally heard enough. "Severus, Harry has glowing reports from the rest of staff. You are the sole outlier, and I think you continue to confuse him with a father he's never known. As to your characterization of 'spoiled,' the child's home life and upbringing makes your own seem positively sublime. I do not exaggerate. I expect you to treat him how your own potions professor treated you. Understand?" Dumbledore had spoken in a harsh and completely unadorned manner, and his words removed the scales from both other professors' eyes.
"Perfectly," Snape whispered, and turned to leave, cloak swirling. He might have displayed frustrated anger, but he was beginning to feel ill. The idea that Potter was actually abused reared its ugly head in his mind. All of the evidence he'd put aside in the past came roaring to the forefront and he almost felt shame. Not having anything else to contribute to the discussion he strode away, breaking the privacy ward as he did.
"I have a bone to pick with ye, Albus. What exactly was the situation that happened with Potter and the muggles."
"They hurt him."
"Exactly how did they hurt him, and why dinnae ye stop it? I'll wager it wisnae the first time."
"I expected it to be hard for him. You had warned me." Dumbledore turned away from McGonagall, unable to meet her fiery gaze.
"The worst muggles," she nodded shortly
"Yes. I expected them to belittle him. To work him, hard. To deny him happiness. I did not expect them to beat and starve him."
"Oh, Merlin. They didn't."
"They are currently guests of the crown. Though it isn't Azkaban, they will be paying the price for their actions for the next ten years. But you see why…"
"Why he blames you? Blames us?"
"I have made mistakes."
She stared stonily. She could forgive his mistakes, if he hadn't compounded them through her. She had made her own mistakes, of course. But she wouldn't be following his lead anymore.
The change in Snape was not at all apparent to anyone save Harry. The ire that used to be directed at the Potter heir solely was now spread out to all of the Gryffindors evenly. The class was as miserable as all of Snapes other classes; there was no excess vitriol anymore.
It was still fairly awful for the Gryffindors, though.
Harry went through his days, writing to Sirius, studying, playing quidditch or football, hanging out with his friends.
Halloween was there before he knew it, and for once, he acknowledged it. He chose that day to begin reading his mother's journal and decided that he would not be attending the feast. But he knew if he simply didn't go, he'd be questioned and maybe (probably) vilified. After all, they'd been on his side most of the fall; it was time for the tides to change, right?
Knocking on his head of house's office door, he waited. "Enter." Her voice was cool and steady.
"Professor McGonagall, ma'am."
"Mr. Potter, come." He went in to sit in the chair opposite her desk, and she put down her quill, ignoring her pile of grading. Sitting back, she studied her young lion. "What can I do for you this day?"
"Ma'am, it's about the feast tonight. I don't want to go."
Feasts were compulsory. But Potter never asked for anything. "Can you explain why?"
"My parents', ma'am. It seems wrong to celebrate when…" he stopped as he saw her nod shortly in agreement.
"You are excused, then. I know it seems wrong to you, but we really do try to honor their sacrifice. Lily… James… they were the best of us." Her voice was sad but still steady. Her eyes watered a bit, lost in the past. "And I have to say something to you, child. I should have said this long ago. Not as your professor, not as your head of house. As a witch. I am sorry."
His head jerked as his brow formed a scowl, but he said nothing.
"I was at the house… those awful muggles. I saw how the bairn and his mother were. I saw. I warned Albus. I told him not to leave you there. I shoulda tried harder… Potter. I am so sorry. I dinnae ken how to make up for it."
Through her rambling, which became more Scots as she got more agitated, Harry realized that McGonagall was really upset with herself. That she had tried to stop his placement with the Dursleys. She had seen Dumbledore put him there. Abandon him there. "I need to think. I… I can't."
She nodded, calming herself. "If you need to talk to me about it, I understand. If you don't wish to speak of it, I also understand."
"I have to go."
He needed to think about her apology, as it seemed sincere, but is an apology enough? He decided to walk the halls, as he didn't want to bring his friends into his problems, again. While he was out, he found Luna, who also seemed to be avoiding the great hall and its denizens.
"Hi. Luna, right? How are things? Are the… umm…" he couldn't remember what she called bullies.
"The Nargles are being confounded by Dobby. But wrackspurts make my housemates hard to be around, especially at feasts."
Harry shook his head. Luna was a sweet kid, if a bit strange. But having been the kid that everyone else deemed the problem, Harry knew her situation intimately and empathized. "I'm sorry."
She smiled, her eyes not quite focused. "You didn't do anything, Harry Potter. But your Dobby has been a friend, and now I think you are, too?"
"I'd like to be your friend, Luna Lovegood." He hadn't thought he could smile that day, but there it was. A smile.
"Done then. Shall we walk to the kitchens? Dobby's friends will give us a good meal without having to face the madding crowds."
"I'd like that. You know how to get to the kitchens, then?"
"Of course! You just tickle the pear. It's a hard day for you, isn't it?" They had begun walking, Harry following Luna's lead, and she simply changed the subject. "You never knew your parents. I knew my mother, and I don't know if that makes it better or worse."
"I… I didn't realize." Harry wasn't sure what to say, and Luna's hand came and patted his shoulder awkwardly.
"Many of us have lost here. Magic is beautiful and terrible."
"Sometimes I have a hard time finding the beauty." His voice was soft and slightly bitter.
She smiled then. "Oh, there's always beauty. Come, we'll have our own feast, with Dobby's friends, and tomorrow you can visit the thestrals with me."