Harry Potter: The Rise Chapter 40: Turning Over a New Leaf, a harry potter fanfic

Chapter 40 : Turning Over a New Leaf

I do not own Harry Potter

Author's Notes :

1) I worked quite hard on this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I want you to.

2) Harry is conflicted and vulnerable, meaning he isn't always going to react in the ideal way. That's just how people are sometimes, they need time and a particular kind of attention.

3) Enjoy!

Harry and Neville sat on the floor near the fireplace. It was late at night, and only a few students lingered in the Common Room.

"Gran was actually pretty happy about it all" Neville said matter-of-factly as he levitated a crumpled piece of paper into the fire "Said she was glad I was finally living up to my parents"

"Seriously," scoffed Harry, shaking his head against the armchair he was leaning on. "We could have died, and she was 'glad'?"

"I really wanted to just... yell at her, y'know," confessed Neville, his voice heavy with frustration. "I wanted to tell her she could at least pretend to be worried that I might've gotten hurt. But no, she just stood there, politely implying she'd feel better if I'd contributed more to the fight. I couldn't believe her!"

"So, did you?"

"No," Neville sighed, looking down. "The thing is, I've never seen her happier. She hasn't been this proud of me since the day we found out I was magical. I... didn't want to ruin that. For once, she seemed genuinely proud of me... and I couldn't bear to shatter that moment."

"She's finally off my back a little. I can spend time in the Greenhouse without hearing how useless Herbology is. I don't have to put up with those snide remarks about how my parents would've expected more from me. It's... peaceful, in a way. Just the other day, she taught me a few dueling moves; she's never done that before. I'm finally starting to connect with her, and I can't bring myself to say anything that might wreck it."

"At least it's better than before, I suppose."

"It is, no doubt," Neville affirmed. "So much better. And I have you to thank for that." His gaze was steady, a rare firmness in his eyes as he looked directly at Harry.

"Standing up to Malfoy in first year, getting my own wand behind Gran's back, learning how to duel, facing those mercenaries... I feel brave when I'm with you."

"You were always brave," Harry insisted. "Remember when you tried to stop Ron, Hermione, and me from sneaking out? Blimey, that won us the House Cup!"

Neville smiled at the memory, his limbs fidgeting awkwardly as he took in Harry's words. "I-I dunno... m-maybe. But one thing's for sure—my life would have been so different if it weren't for you.

"You mean normal?" chuckled the raven-haired boy "I think you'd have preferred it to be that way"

Neville disagreed. The boy explained he'd had years of being 'normal', and was glad he was leading an eventful life, rather than regretting not doing anything 'worthwhile'.

The contrast between them was stark. One was the Boy-Who-Lived, a symbol of destiny and survival; the other, the Boy-Who-Could-Have-Been, a shadow of lost potential.

One had grown weary of the burden of being 'special,' yearning for normalcy, while the other was stifled by the monotony of the ordinary and craved significance. One had navigated life with the absence of guiding figures, forging his path largely in solitude, while the other was nearly smothered by an overabundance of control and direction.

Yet despite their differences, they shared a deep, unspoken understanding. Both were shaped by heavy expectations and trapped in a life they didn't choose: one weighed down by his fate, the other by their supposed ordinariness. And neither could escape. Their paths were different, but they both longed for something else, connected by the shared struggle of navigating a life shaped by forces beyond their control.

And perhaps it was this that brought them together.

So, when Neville asked Harry for a favour, the Seeker agreed in a flash.

"They're putting my father down, around the Summer probably," Neville informed his friend quietly. "They decided to wait a little bit more, just in case, but... yeah. It's... it's the right thing to do. He's suffered enough."

Harry felt a pang of discomfort at the thought, but he quickly masked it, focusing on the strength he needed to show for Neville. "I'll be there for you, Neville," he said softly, sincerity in his voice. "And for whatever it's worth... I'm sorry."

Neville nodded, his expression resolute yet pained. "Can't miss what I never knew, can I?" Harry could see the immense strength it took for him to hold himself together. He reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder.

"You know, Neville," Harry began, his voice firm but gentle, "Never let anyone call you weak or cowardly again."

Neville's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but he managed a grateful smile. "Thanks, Harry. That means a lot, especially coming from you."

"We're in this together, mate. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm here."

Neville had followed Harry into a suicide mission, and now it was the seeker's turn to repay that faith.

Inside the Chamber of Secrets, repeated day

Stalemate.

The elections had lead to a stalemate.

Riding a wave of momentum starting from last summer, built up by anti-incumbency, the Neutrals looked set to make substantial gains.

And gains did come, but they were not enough.

With the entirety of the late Anna Fawley's allies, bar one, joining the Conservatives, any gains made by the Neutrals were set-off against the loss of votes they incurred right before the election, while simultaneously off-setting any subsequent losses for the Traditionalists, the single-largest party going into the vote. Pre-election, the votes stood as follows - the 'Progressives' as they fancied themselves, commanded 38 votes, the 'Traditionalists' had claim to 44, while, the Neutrals held the remaining 31.

Now, owing to their boost before the election, and a well-managed PR campaign to minimalize the fallout from the Malfoy Scandal, the Traditionalists were down to 41, the Neutrals became the new single-largest party with 42, while the Progressives came down to 32.

"So what does this mean?" asked Harry

Unless they reached some sort of compromise, not much.

The Minister for Magic was elected once every 6 years via a public vote, and together with the Ministry undertook budgetary allocation, deputations, and a wide variety of the State's functions. Some decisions, such as deputization of a bureaucrat, or elevation of one to a Department Head required conformation from the Wizengamot, achievable via a simple majority, i.e., 58 votes.

The Wizengamot could, hence, hold up a bill if it was not agreeable as such.

Other bigger decisions, such as impeachment of an official, including the Minister, required a two-thirds majority.

The Oversight Committees for the respective Departments could put forth recommendations, such as increase in budget, which could then be tabled before the Wizengamot for approval. Hence, even the Wizengamot was entitled to send bills the other way. In case the Minister disagreed, the Wizengamot could override him, but again, that required a two-thirds majority, or the Minister could not be forced to act.

Even if their faction, which still wasn't fully unified, managed to get some Traditionalists to cooperate, they would need the support of almost all of Progressives. If they somehow managed to broker a deal with the two major Progressive alliances, they would still need at least two Traditionalists to cooperate, which was, given the circumstances, a tall ask.

Given the differences between the two sides, asking them to come to any sort of compromise was a tall ask, and a tri-partite agreement hinging on too many variables.

"So Fudge will complete his term, most likely." surmised Sirius

"Still, that's two years, or howsoever long we have getting wasted while we could be preparing for war" said the specter of James, stroking his chin

"No matter" Salazar spoke up "Things didn't go as planned, but we must continue working on things still in our control"

With Harry entering the Dueling Tournament, focus during their repeat-days had been moved almost entirely to dueling techniques.

"Are you unhappy?" the Gryffindor had asked Salazar one afternoon.

"It doesn't matter" the ancient wizard shrugged. He explained he would give his opinion when asked, but he would leave the decision-making to his pupil, since Harry needed to get used to, and better at decision making. It was 'part of the training' felt Slytherin, as good or bad choices were both strong parables, and more so when they were one's own.

Harry went along, settling into a familiar routine, and as January gave way to February. By March, the first tentative signs of change began to appear—snowdrops peeking through the frost, a hint of warmth in the breeze.

April arrived with a burst of color, as nature unfurled its palette in blooming flowers and vibrant green shoots. The days grew steadily longer, and the promise of summer started to shimmer on the horizon. May carried with it a sense of anticipation, each day a step closer to the fullness of summer's embrace.

By June, the transition was complete: the days were long and warm, the world bathed in the golden glow of early summer.

June also brought with it the end of term.

Following their duel back in January, Malfoy had been sulky for weeks, his crude remarks and snide insults swapped for a consistent look of disdain. He built his swagger back up as the term went on, and towards the end, it was as if the encounter had never happened.

Snape had been loathsome as ever, though Harry's steadier hand in the subject meant he found fewer opportunities to deduct points from his former nemesis' son. Beyond that, however, the two tiptoed around one another with frowns and sneers, although their simmering tensions were always on the verge of confrontation.

Speaking of simmering tensions, Ron and Hermione had made a tentative peace and unity had been restored in the golden trio as the three friends worked to adapt to their newfound differences. 'Puberty', Sirius had helpfully thrown in his two cents when Lily explained that change was natural for both him and his friends as they grew older.

He saw lesser and lesser of Daphne, however. Their group dueling practice had ended, he had gotten occupied with Quidditch and his lessons with Flitwick while she was off doing... whatever she did. They sat near each other sometimes, when him and Hermione shared electives with her and Tracey, or some other Slytherin for Care for Magical Creatures.

He always felt they didn't talk enough. Many times during their shared classes he considered sitting next to her, only to think 'I'll go next time.' "Let's catch up later," or "Let's talk a bit longer." he'd almost said sometimes. Once or twice he even considered leaving the Chamber of Secrets to see her, but in the end he never did.

The persistent question on his mind was whether she even wanted to talk, but, to him, there hadn't been a time where he could find the answer.

Harry's gaze was fixed on her from across the Great Hall. She was laughing with her friends, but he saw none of the others; all his attention was consumed by her, her smile, and the way she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. It was as though she was in a world of her own, separate from the bustling scene around her.

And finally, her eyes found his. She gave him a sweet smile, one he returned involuntarily.

Could today -

Suddenly, Hermione slid into the seat across from him, blocking his view of her entirely.

"Harry, have you heard?" she asked.

Harry blinked, pulled abruptly from his thoughts.

"Heard what?" His voice carried a hint of impatience.

Hermione leaned in, her face filled with concern. "Snape outed Lupin as a werewolf."

He'd heard more than that, in fact. Lupin was resigning before Dumbledore would be forced to fire him.

"Yeah, I heard."

Hermione's eyes flicked over him, gauging his reaction, before she continued cautiously, "So... are you going to see him?"

The raven-haired boy stiffened slightly, preparing for what he anticipated would be coming. "I wasn't planning to."

"Harry, you have to," Hermione pressed, her eyes fixed on him. "You can't just let him leave without saying anything. It's—"

"I'm not 'letting' anything happen," he interrupted. His tone was clipped, and he forced himself to meet her gaze. "He's sadly resigning, yes, but he's not been asked to leave the country. If he leaves, that's because he wants to."

"But that's exactly why you need to talk to him now!" Her voice rose slightly, as if trying to break through the wall he was building. "This might be your last chance."

"And what if I don't want to? What if I'm fine with him leaving?"

Hermione frowned, leaning closer. "You don't mean that. I get that you're upset, but you'll regret this if you don't talk to him. You can't just walk away."

Harry's hands clenched into fists. "I'm not walking away. He is."

"He's not doing it on purpose," Hermione said, almost defensively. "It's not that simple. He's been through so much—he's always hated himself because of what he is. He thinks he's protecting you by leaving."

Harry scoffed, his temper flaring. "Oh, that's rubbish, Hermione. If he wanted to protect me, he wouldn't have left in the first place. Now he's leaving again, and I'm supposed to feel sorry for him? He's running away from his responsibilities, from everything."

"You're being unfair," Hermione's expression tightened. "He's not running away from responsibility. He came back to Hogwarts for you, Harry. To be here for you."

Harry's voice hardened. "He came back for a job, Hermione. He didn't bother speaking to me until we ran into each other. He didn't 'come back for me.'"

Hermione frowned. "He was trying, in his own way—"

"That's not trying. That's… avoiding," Harry interrupted, the bitterness creeping into his voice. "And now he's leaving again. Running away. It's what he does."

"He's not running away, he's—"

"He is!" Harry snapped, louder now, his temper flaring up. "He's always finding an excuse to leave, to avoid things. What kind of person does that? It's like he can't handle being responsible for anything or anyone for too long."

Hermione shook her head, her tone turning more defensive, but missing the empathy. "It's not about responsibility, Harry, he's just… scared of hurting people. It's a lot more complicated than you're making it. You have to understand him—" Hermione started, but Harry's anger flared hotter.

"Why do I have to understand him?" Harry snapped. "What about understanding me? How about he understands me, for once?"

"You're being unfair!" Hermione's voice was rising now, her frustration turning into exasperation. "You're not thinking straight because you're angry"

"Maybe because I'm allowed to be angry!" Harry shouted, turning back. "He walked out on me once before, and now he's doing it again. And you expect me to just talk to him like everything's fine?"

"It's not about everything being fine!" Hermione snapped. "It's about understanding him. He's not the bad guy here, Harry. He's not leaving because he wants to hurt you—he's terrified that he will if he stays."

"And what about me?" Harry shot back, his anger boiling over. "I'm the one who's being left behind, again!"

"It's not the same, Harry!" Hermione pressed, her voice rising defensively. "You think it's easy for him? He's been judged and hated his entire life for something he can't control. You have no idea how hard it is for him."

"Like hell I don't!" Harry burst out at once "What, because I wasn't born a werewolf, I haven't had it bad enough? I spent ten years with the Dursleys, Hermione. You think I have no idea what it's like to be judged?"

Hermione blinked, clearly taken aback by the force of his words. For a moment, her frustration faltered, replaced by a flash of regret in her eyes.

"Harry, I... I didn't mean—" she began, her tone softer now, apologetic, but the seeker didn't wait. He turned on his heel and stormed out, not stopping until he found the empty classroom they had used for dueling practice.

The Gryffindor slammed open the door, his steps heavy and aimless as frustration boiled over inside him. His hand shot out, knocking over a lamp on the table. The impact sent shards of glass flying, and Harry barely registered the sharp sting on his hand until the pain followed. A line of blood welled up from a cut across his palm, a small shard embedded in the cut.

He stared at the mess for a moment, breathing heavily. But the sound of a small gasp broke through the haze of his emotions.

He spun around, his eyes locking onto Daphne standing quietly at the door, her expressive eyes, wide with worry.

The blonde didn't say anything at first. Her gaze flickered to his hand, and without hesitation, she crossed the room towards him.

"You're bleeding," she said gently, reaching for his injured hand.

"It's nothing," he muttered, though his voice lacked the heat it had carried moments ago. Harry didn't pull away, but his voice was still tight when he finally spoke. "I'm not going to talk to Lupin."

"I didn't come here to ask you to," came a soft reply. "I just... followed you when you stormed out."

She didn't say a word, just looked at him, her eyes softly inviting him to speak. There was no pressure, only patience.

For a moment, Harry stared at the floor, his jaw tight.

Then, the words tumbled out.

"He was gone for years!" he snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "All that time I spent in the Muggle world, away from who I was, away from who my parents were... all that time I-" he paused, heaving slightly

"I spent so long thinking something was wrong with me... and this guy, who claims he owes his life to my father just couldn't be bothered?" Harry sighed "And now, Lupin's back for what? A year? Less than a year, and he's already leaving again. And now I'm supposed what, chase after him, beg him to stay and… what, pretend like everything's fine?! Why is it up to me to make things right?"

Daphne didn't flinch or rush to calm him. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, soft. "Because Lupin can't."

Her response caught him off guard, and as he deflated slightly, she continued. "He's a coward, Harry," she admitted, her eyes searching his. "But that doesn't mean he's not a good person. Look at Neville. People used to think he was a coward too, remember? And yet, because of you, he changed. Maybe Lupin too hasn't woken up yet—but maybe he could."

Harry frowned, the edge of his frustration still clinging to him. "Why should I have to fix him? I don't owe him anything,"

"No," Daphne agreed, her voice calm, deliberate. "You don't owe him anything. But maybe it's not about what you owe him."

Harry frowned again, though there was no anger this time—just confusion. "What do you mean?"

The Slytherin paused, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes, it's not about what we owe others, but what we owe ourselves. You're angry, and you have every right to be. But are you going to let that anger decide for you? To close off a part of your life that might mean something?"

Harry blinked. The sharpness of his earlier bitterness wavered in the face of her gentle reasoning. She wasn't dismissing his pain, wasn't pushing him to forgive, but she was asking him to think beyond it—to consider something more.

"You don't have to give him anything, Harry," she said quietly. "But maybe you owe it to yourself to try. To see if there's something worth holding on to. You've spent so much time feeling like you've missed out on. Maybe knowing Lupin could help you make peace with that. Maybe it's something you owe yourself, not him."

Harry faltered, his fists unclenching as the weight of her words started to sink in. "He barely even mentioned my dad the first time we talked," he admitted, his voice raw with hurt. "He just talked about my mum, like my dad didn't matter. Like he wasn't worth remembering."

Daphne nodded, understanding softening her gaze. "Maybe that's because remembering your father is too painful for him. Lupin's spent his whole life running from the people he's lost. It's easier for him to talk about your mum, because it doesn't hurt as much. But that doesn't mean he didn't care about your father. Sometimes people hide from their feelings because they're afraid of them."

Harry met her gaze, feeling the weight of her words settle over him.

She was right, of course, but that didn't make it any easier. The old bitterness still lingered, that familiar feeling of abandonment gnawing at him. But beneath it all was something else—something quieter, softer.

"You don't have to forgive him," she said gently again "And you don't have to trust him right away. But maybe… maybe you owe it to yourself to try. If not for his sake, then for yours."

"And if it doesn't work out?" Harry asked, his voice softer now, less defensive.

"Then it doesn't," Daphne said simply. "But you won't be left with regret. You'll know you did what you could, and that's worth something, isn't it?"

Worth something.

A friend, a mentor, a someone whose loss was the same as his, and if none of those... then perhaps a peace?

Whatever the end result... it was most definitely worth something.

And perhaps that something is enough.

Lupin's office was nearly bare, the few belongings he had scattered around now packed into a small, worn suitcase. Harry knocked lightly on the open door, catching Lupin's attention.

Lupin turned, surprise flickering across his tired features. For a brief moment, his former student thought he saw something like relief—maybe even joy—flash in his expression. But the room stayed quiet, still, as they simply stood there. Remus had stopped packing, his hands resting at his sides, and neither of them spoke.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything unspoken between them, a thousand unsaid words stuck in their throats. But Lupin wasn't going to speak first. Harry knew that much.

With an internal sigh, he took the step.

"Professor—"

"Remus," Lupin cut in, his voice rushing out. "I'm not your professor anymore. Call me Remus." There was almost a pleading note at the end, like saying his name might somehow close the gap between them.

Harry nodded slightly. "Remus."

A faint smile tugged at Lupin's lips.

"I know we haven't really reconnected the way… either of us would've wanted," Harry began, his voice steady despite the knots in his stomach. "But I'd like to get to know you. If you'd like that too."

Lupin's expression softened, and for the first time, a genuine smile broke across his face. "I'd like that very much," he said, his voice full of gratitude and earnest.

Harry nodded again, feeling the weight between them start to shift, if only slightly. "You should stay at Grimmauld Place for a while," he offered. "Sirius will be there too. It'd be… good."

Lupin hesitated for a brief second, thinking. Then he smiled again, warmer this time. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot. I'll… I'll take you up on that."

They shared a short, understanding nod, the kind of exchange that needed no more words. Harry turned to leave, but before he could take more than a step, Lupin's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Harry. For everything."

Harry paused, his hand still on the doorframe. He looked back at Lupin, seeing the man not as his former professor, but as someone who, just like him, had lost everything the night Voldemort took his parents.

In Lupin's weary eyes, Harry saw the weight of that loss reflected back at him.

"Me too," he said quietly, the words carrying more understanding than anything else.

They shared another nod—this one deeper, more meaningful—before Harry finally stepped out of the room. As he walked down the corridor, an unexpected sense of relief washed over him, settling in his chest.

He was turning over a new leaf.

He had made the right choice.

Later that day

Scores for Final Examinations for the Term 1992-93.

Pass Grades – Outstanding, Exceeds Expectations, Acceptable

Fail Grades – Poor, Dreadful, Troll

Harry James Potter has secured

Defence Against the Dark Arts – O

Transfiguration - O

Charms - O

Potions - EE

Ancient Runes - O

Arithmancy - EE

Care for Magical Creatures - O

Astronomy - EE

Herbology - O

History of Magic – A

"I see you endeavoured to pass in History of Magic as well" smiled McGonagall

"I'd have joined Professor Binns in the afterlife if I spent another second reading about Goblin Rebellions, Professor"

"And I applaud you for your effort" the stern witch replied in a surprisingly light tone "No complaints at all from my side, Mr. Potter. I was initially afraid if you'd be able to handle the coursework given the electives you chose, but its as if you have an extra day in the week!"

'Or an extra day, period' Harry laughed to himself.

After chatting with his Head of House for a few more minutes, he headed back to his dormitory eager to get started on packing. After a chaotic start to the year, he was looking forward to ending it as quietly as it had been progressing since.

But fate had other plans.

'Urgent. Meet me you know where.

P.S. - Don't worry about your stuff,

Padfoot'

Given the time of the year, and if history was any indication, he had a sinking feeling what Sirius' note was about.

'It was good while it lasted, I suppose'.

There, nice little teaser for what the next chapter holds. Any guesses what its about?

Expect the next chapter to be up before the end of the month if all goes to plan.

That's all for now, see you next time!