Chapter 17- Two Aurors In-Training
When Harry and Ron awoke the next morning they found their dormitory deserted apart from themselves. Down in the Great Hall they met up with Hermione. Harry took a seat next to her and proceeded to pile food on his plate.
"What's wrong with you Ron?" Hermione asked.
Harry glanced up to see Ron was still standing with a deep scowl on his face.
"It's nothing," he replied, taking a seat.
Following Ron's eyes, Harry looked around behind him to find Malfoy making slash marks across his neck with his finger and then pointing to Hermione. Harry cast him the ugliest look he could muster and then turned back around again, not wanting Hermione to notice.
Near the end of breakfast a sea of owls swarmed in from the ceiling and began delivering mail. Harry had to move his plate out of the way as a large barn owl landed ungracefully and stuck out his leg. Hermione dropped a coin into the pouch and the owl took flight again, sprinkling feathers over the table below.
Hermione immediately buried her face in the paper and she didn't reemerge until Harry and Ron stood to leave.
"Anything?" Harry asked as they left the Great Hall.
"Not really."
"What do you mean, not really?" Ron asked.
"There weren't any attacks, but…"
"But what?"
"It looks like the Daily Prophet gave Rita Skeeter her job back."
"Let me see that!" Harry exclaimed.
Hermione fished the paper out of her bag and Harry snatched it from her. Sure enough, right on the front page, there was Rita's name in bold print directly under the Headline: "Hogwarts Is No Longer Safe."
Harry read the article aloud for Ron to hear.
"On a gloomy September morning students boarded the Hogwarts Express, eager to return to school. It never occurred to them that their trip would turn into disaster and their lives would all be put in danger.
About half of an hour away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the train lurched to a halt in the freezing rain and the students were told to evacuate by two people who appeared to be their professors. Of course, the students exited willingly, trusting they were in safe hands with their own professors. However, when they entered the forest they encountered numerous Dementors (recently escaping the Ministry's control) who attacked them, forcing them to struggle for their lives as one by one they fell to the Dementors' chilling powers.
As it turns out, the two people who were seemingly professors at Hogwarts were in fact two Death Eaters who had consumed Polyjuice Potion in order to take the professors' forms. It remains to be determined how the Death Eaters acquired the hairs necessary for the complicated potion and the identities of the culprits.
You might be wondering why Death Eaters chose to attack these students. It was really one amongst them who they were targeting. None other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, as people closest to him call him, was present on the train that day. One wonders why current Headmaster Albus Dumbledore did nothing to prevent this scene from taking place as it is obvious that it was a perfect opportunity for the Death Eaters to strike. Why didn't Dumbledore take some precautionary measures to ensure that Harry Potter was not in a situation that compromised the safety of his fellow classmates?
Although we were not able to receive any direct interviews with anyone present at the scene, we did manage to contact a school prefect via the floo: Draco Malfoy.
"Yes, it was certainly lucky that I was there and was able to fight the Dementors and tell Potter to hide. He, being the attention-loving hero that he is, was trying to fight them all off by himself, but I knew he couldn't and he'd end up hurt, so I stepped in for him and protected him- you know, basically made sure no harm came to him."
Certainly lucky indeed. As a result of the incident, many students were knocked unconscious and one new student was killed. This only leaves us to wonder: What was Dumbledore thinking, drawing Death Eaters near with the exposed presence of Mr. Potter? It's a good thing there are still people like Mr. Malfoy there to look out for him."
Harry ripped the paper in half. He was seething.
"So Malfoy's chosen to befriend me now, has he? I hadn't noticed."
"Don't let him bother you; you know that's what he wants," Hermione contributed. "What's Rita Skeeter playing at, insulting Dumbledore like that? Of course he couldn't have suspected it was going to happen! How could he?"
"They barely even mentioned the dead girl… maybe the Ministry stepped in, trying to hush it all up," Ron said as they continued up the stairs.
"Hey, Potty! Did you happen to see the little interview I gave?"
Harry went rigid and turned to face Malfoy who was a level below them on the stairs, waving the paper in his hand.
"You wish you had enough talent to be able to cast a spell like the Patronus, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled back. "Maybe if you paid more attention to defense against the dark arts, rather than the dark arts you would know how to by now."
Malfoy's smirk disappeared from his face and was replaced with a frown. "Shut up, Mudblood. I didn't ask for your opinion."
Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him. Ron reached for his wand but Harry held out his hand in front of him, warning him to stop.
"You can say anything you'd like about me Draco," Harry said coldly. "Before long your precious daddy will be back in prison and his master will be dead. Then what are you going to call me? Oh, that's right… you won't even be able to afford to come here anymore, if you aren't in jail with him."
"Watch your mouth Potter," Draco spat, yanking out his wand and pointing it at Harry.
"Kindly put that wand away, Mr. Malfoy!" Dumbledore was heading up the stairs below them. Malfoy shot one last look at Harry, then motioned to Crabbe and Goyle and they stomped off into the Second Floor corridor.
Dumbledore climbed the stairs toward them. "I certainly hope that you weren't provoking Mr. Malfoy," he said austerely as he passed them by. "Do try to learn to ignore others' inapposite comments, Harry," he added in an undertone.
The way he said it led Harry to believe he was addressing the newspaper in addition to Malfoy. Well, he was going to find it awfully difficult to do that, when he had thought his name as a harmful liar had finally been wiped clear. He never did like Rita much, and this was a good example of why. Only a couple months ago she was the one writing his honest account of Voldemort's return and Cedric's murder. Then again, he couldn't have really been expecting anything else. `Write from the angle the readers want, even if it's completely inaccurate' was the motto she lived by.
There was a tug on his sleeve. "Come on," Hermione said, "We'll be late for class."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want that," Ron said.
"Where are you two off to?" Harry asked them as they traveled up the stairs.
"Charms."
"Who d'you have your lesson with today?" Ron asked.
"McGonagall," Harry replied. "I'll see you later." Ron and Hermione cast him smiles before they turned down into the third floor corridor. Harry continued on to the fifth floor and walked down the hall, lined with moving portraits of famous witches and wizards and various statues. He passed the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, under which now rested a tiny roped-off patch of swamp; Harry smiled to himself at the sight of the miniature memorial to Fred and George. He reached the Transfiguration classroom and knocked once before letting himself in.
Professor McGonagall was sitting at her desk at the front of the room. She looked up from the parchment she was writing on when he entered.
"Ah, Potter. You're late." She nodded her head at the clock on the wall.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry replied, though he couldn't help but think she was being a little hypersensitive.
The near-empty room made Harry feel out-of-place. His every footstep echoed, bouncing off the cold stone floor and walls. He sat across from her and dropped his bag to the floor. She had resumed writing and Harry waited patiently for her to address him. After a few minutes, Harry cleared his throat and she set down her quill.
"Right," she said briskly. "First, let us discuss the general procedures that will be followed during our lessons. You are to arrive on time," she raised an eyebrow at him before continuing, "and will be given a short written examination on your reading from the previous night. This is to assure me you have at least a vague idea of what you are doing. Then we'll jump right into learning and practicing the spell. With luck, we can skim through the first few chapters fairly easily. Although I expect the later chapters will require more than one day each before you have the spells mastered.
"Let us begin with a little quiz on the reading you were assigned."
She placed a sheet of parchment in front of him with three short-answer questions on it.
"You have ten minutes, Potter. You may begin…now."
Harry dipped his quill into his vial of ink and looked down at the first question. What wand movement is required for transfiguring a human hand into a claw? He searched his memory and began writing.
Precisely ten minutes later McGonagall said, "Time," and took the parchment from him. Harry feebly tried to scribble a few last words down as she dragged it away, until she yanked it completely from his grasp.
Harry slouched back in his seat as he waited for her to look over the answers.
"Very well Potter, you passed," McGonagall informed him. "However, you failed to mention that if you transfigure a human foot into a brick that you need to use a jabbing motion with your wand. Otherwise the foot will be smashed by a brick instead, which would not be good. So, let's try it out, shall we?"
Harry withdrew his wand and stood opposite Professor McGonagall. He felt his heart skip a beat when he realized that he was going to have to practice the spell on her.
"Er, Professor. I'm not so sure that I can do this perfectly."
"Nonsense, Potter. I know you know how. Now stop fussing over nothing and start off by transfiguring my finger into a stick."
Harry cleared his throat, aimed his wand at her finger and then hesitated. "What's the first word?"
"Transmutare, Potter, transmutare. Carry on," she said impatiently.
"Okay. Transmutare penke-donec talea."
In a flash her index finger disappeared and was replaced with a knobby brown twig.
Harry smiled in relief.
"Very good," she said approvingly, examining her own deformity with ironic pleasure. "Now set it right."
Harry nodded, refocusing his energy on the spell he was now repeating over and over in his head.
"Restituo!"
To Harry's immense satisfaction, the stick shrunk away and her finger grew back in its state.
"Potter, if I ever hear you complain that you're worried you won't do well again, then I'll have to place a silencing charm over you," Professor McGongall said, corners of her mouth twitching into a quick smile. "That was very well done. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, let's move on to the entire hand…"
And hour and a half later, Harry had managed to successfully transfigure both of Professor McGonagall's hands and feet into various objects many times over. By the end of the lesson, he grew so that he only had to think the restoring spell in his mind for it to work properly.
She dismissed him with the next chapter's reading assignment and another complement on his accomplishments. He felt his spirits soar as he traveled down to lunch. Ron and Hermione were already seated at the table and when Ron questioned why he was so happy, Harry explained that he had done well in his lesson.
"Well, of course you did," Hermione said plainly.
"Let's see then," Ron said. "We don't start practicing the spells for a few classes yet."
Harry pointed his wand carelessly at Ron, who soon had two claws for hands.
"Wicked," Ron said as he snapped his claws together.
"Ron, did you screw up another potion?" Ginny slid onto the bench next to him.
The comment was lost on Ron, who was too busy trying to pick up his fork with one of the claws. "No. Harry learned some minor transfiguration spells this morning."
"Ugh. I don't want to hear the word `transfiguration' again," Ginny whined.
"Why not?" Ron asked, fork clanking back on his plate again.
"McGonagall set us a 3-foot essay yesterday. Can you believe that? It was our first class!"
"That's O.W.L. year for you," Ron replied.
Ginny huffed and crossed her arms in front of herself as she stood. "I'm going to go find Luna. Oh, and Harry? Do me a favor and don't transfigure him back."
"Fine by me," Ron said. "I could do some damage with these babies…"
Ginny rolled her eyes and walked off toward the Ravenclaw table.
As soon as she was out of ear-shot, Ron leaned across the table to Harry.
"You aren't really going to leave me like this, are you?" he said, a note of slight panic in his voice.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "All depends."
"On what?"
"On whether or not you'll join me out at the pitch tonight and bring some new play ideas with you."
Ron grinned. "I can do that. Hermione, are you in?"
"As much as I love sitting around and watching you two fly, no."
"If you don't like watching then why don't you hop on a broom?" Ron asked.
"Because I don't care to, that's why."
"Don't know why you're complaining then…"
"I just don't like heights, okay?" Hermione said. "You two go. I have work to do. I'll see you at dinner." She grabbed her bag and left the Great Hall.
Ron shrugged. "Her loss."
"Yeah," Harry said distractedly, watching Hermione leave. He didn't know she had a fear of heights. In fact, he had never really noticed how little Hermione flew before. He always figured it was just something to do with the fact that she didn't have the natural talent for it, not a fear of it.
"…so if you'll twirl your wand and give me my hands back again, I might be able to start drawing up some plans."
"Oh, sure," Harry said hastily, restoring Ron's hands.
"I'll work on them during History of Magic," Ron said. "Hopefully Lavender will let me borrow her notes."
"Why don't you just scribble something down?" Harry said, as they walked out of the Great Hall together.
"Did you forget everything from our last years?" Ron questioned. "You know it's impossible to keep your eyes open in that class. I swear there's a sleeping drought being filtered through the air in there." They began climbing the stairs. "Where are you headed to?"
"Oh, I think I'm going to head to the library… I have some books to check out, you know."
"Right. If I don't show up for dinner, come and make sure I'm not still sleeping in the History of Magic classroom. Now that you aren't there, I'm not sure anyone's going to bother waking me up when class ends!"
Harry and Ron parted and Harry entered the library, handing his pass over to Madam Pince before searching the shelves for a heavy book on ancient potions. Harry dusted off the cover as he headed back over to the exit. Before he left, he heard someone call his name from behind him.
"Pssst! Harry!"
"Shhhh," Madam Pince scolded.
"Sorry," came the raspy response.
Harry turned around and, sure enough, found Hermione seated a table tucked into a corner, books and parchment spread across the entire surface. She moved some items out of the way, leaving room for him to sit across from her.
"I keep forgetting you'll be in here," Harry whispered.
"I know what you mean. I suppose it's going to take a while to get used to these new schedules."
"Yeah. So, what are you working on?" Harry peered at the text of the book nearest him.
"Potions," Hermione said. "I have no idea what our new professor is going to be like, so I figured it would be a good idea to get a bit of a head-start, just to refresh my memory."
"You call this a little refresher?" Harry said, gesturing at the spread of yellowed paper. "Hermione, you have practically an entire shelve worth of books here."
Hermione raised a shoulder and dipped her quill into her ink. "It's better to be prepared than to fall behind right away. If we thought O.W.L.s were bad, we're in for a rude awakening. N.E.W.T. years are known to be the hardest years of your entire learning career, even harder than post-graduation courses."
"Speaking of that, what do you plan on doing when we get out of here?"
"Well, I considered taking S.P.E.W. further, but I realized that's never going to happen. Still, I wanted to do something that benefits the community. So then I thought of perhaps becoming a Hogwarts professor-"
"Really? That sounds brilliant, Hermione," Harry encouraged. He had never really pictured her as a professor before, but now that she mentioned it, he thought it was rather perfect. There was nothing Hermione loved more than school, after all.
"But…" she continued, suddenly growing self-conscience and casting her eyes feebly at her paper. "Then I realized that there's something more important than school, something much more worth-while."
Something more worth-while to Hermione than school?
"Yes, there's something more worth-while to me than school," she reiterated, as if she read his thoughts. "The War is, Harry. Fighting Voldemort and bringing about the end of evil in our world is more important. Ridding ourselves of the Death-Eaters and making the wizarding world that much safer for and muggle-borns is more important." She tucked her chin into her chest and her voice grew so soft Harry could hardly hear it. "Helping you fight Voldemort is more important."
Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Hermione was giving up one of her favorite things in the world- Hogwarts, learning- in order to help him battle Voldemort?
"Are you telling me that you're planning on becoming an Auror?" Harry asked.
She raised her chin proudly at these words, all humility vanishing from her, and looked him directly in the eye.
"Yes. I know you're planning on becoming an Auror too; we can help each other train."
Harry looked at her in deep amazement. She was going to help him become an Auror. She was giving up any of her other life's ambitions to help him fight Voldemort.
Remembering something, Harry's mood darkened.
"What makes you so sure I'm even going to fight Voldemort?"
"Harry, I just know. Maybe you don't want to face the truth, but we both know that's how it's going to happen. It's always been you who has fought him, ever since you came here. I mean, have you ever even considered why he tried to kill you in the first place? You're somehow special, Harry; you have a great destiny. Otherwise, why would Dumbledore be placing you in a special training program this year? Why would he have given me all these extra privileges…"
"Wait a minute. He altered your schedule so you could help me?"
"Well, yes, that is one reason. Of course, he couldn't allow me to skip classes if he knew I would do poorly either."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing his bangs to fall back lightly on his forehead. He was having difficulties absorbing everything that was being thrown at him and determining what he thought of it. Sure, he was happy Hermione was going to be able to help him out this year, and he was ecstatic that she'd chosen to become an Auror; he had always thought she would make an excellent one, with all the spells she knew. However, he didn't want her to compromise what she really wanted to do for his sake, especially on a hunch.
He shivered in the warm air as he thought how close she had been to hitting on the Prophecy. He wasn't ready to tell Ron or her yet. Not yet.
"...so, what d'you think?" Hermione looked at him expectantly.
Harry pushed his troublesome thoughts out of his head and smiled at her. "Thank you, for doing this with me."
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