Chapter Twenty Six.
There was a murmur of delight around the common room. Even those who Harry would have thought had no chance of getting selected were excited. The students had been warned at the beginning of the year that the usual work placement for sixth year students was in danger of being cancelled, due to the dangerous times. It seemed, however, that Dumbledore was allowing it to go ahead, under very limited circumstances. Of course, the usual placement restriction applied - it was usually a privilege reserved for the best students, the ones who would reflect well on Hogwarts. (It was why Harry didn't remember Fred or George having gone. Intelligent as they were, even a Headmaster as lax as Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted them representing Hogwarts in any sort of official capacity, as the best of studenthood. And he had never paid much attention to Percy, although he assumed he had gone, and Ron confirmed it for him.)
"Dad got him a place at the Ministry for a few weeks, pushing paper," Ron whispered scornfully, trying to keep out of the way of McGonagall's beady eye, though Harry didn't know why. She had obviously realised that there was no hope of strict attention from anyone other than Hermione, who was looking both excited at the news and annoyed at the surrounding distraction. Harry and Ron couldn't help but exchange an amused glance as they noticed her very visibly restrain herself from rolling her eyes at Lavender Brown's excited squeak:
"Ooh, could I go to Witch Weekly, Professor McGonagall? They've got an astrology column which is just fantastic, and I've been working really hard this year with Professor Trelawney…"
The exchanged glance became two smothered chuckles when McGonagall didn't restrain herself at all, her reaction nearly identical to Hermione's, and the younger witch suddenly looked supremely smug.
"Of all the stupid places to want to go," she whispered to Harry and Ron scornfully, temporarily abandoning her pose of respectful attention. "She's probably more interested in getting free shampoo samples…"
"She'll probably get them," said Ron. "You know what Trelawney's like. Any sign of interest and she's all over you, poor old bat. She'll sign Lavender's form like a shot." For a moment he looked a little envious, clearly wondering which teacher would sponsor him. McGonagall had told them that they anyone wishing to take advantage of this opportunity would have to get a recommendation from their most relevant teacher, and that their behaviour had better be good, because the recommendations weren't going to be given out lightly.
"Many sixth years won't get them at all," she advised. "It happens each year, so try not to be disappointed if it happens to you."
At this Hermione did roll her eyes. "Honestly!" she said. "How could we not be?" Like Ron, she was looking a trifle jealous of Lavender, proof positive that she also believed that Trelawney would sponsor the other girl. Considering Hermione's opinion of the Divination teacher, though, Harry thought, she wouldn't put anything past her - even if Lavender was clearly the silliest girl in the whole of Gryffindor Tower.
"Don't look so worried," he said, nudging her. "There isn't a teacher in the whole of Hogwarts who wouldn't sign off on you."
"Except Trelawney," prompted Ron cheerfully. "And probably Snape."
"Thank-you, Ronald," said Hermione, a trifle frostily, and Ron, noticing the danger signals, hurried to change the subject.
"So where are you going to try for?" he asked.
"Auror Headquarters," said Harry promptly, then abruptly kicked himself when he saw the look on Ron's face.
There was a small moment of silence, before the other boy said heroically, in a voice that was somehow too off-hand, "That'd suit you down to the ground, it would, and Lupin will help you. I bet you'll do a really great job."
"Thanks, mate," said Harry, touched, and saw Ron's ears go pink - although he suspected that Ron was reacting more to the sudden beam that Hermione sent his way more than anything else. "What about you two?" he asked.
"I don't know yet," said Hermione, looking slightly crestfallen. "It's so important, after all. You do realise that it's like choosing a career path, don't you? A good placement will give us all an advantage when we're interviewing for positions after our NEWTS."
"Bloody hell," Hermione," Ron said, his face returning to its normal colour. "You're not going to start on that again, are you? It's a temporary placement, only for a bit, not a lifetime commitment." The look he shot Harry clearly indicated that he was afraid of being lectured on the importance of study and future plans. Harry, remembering a certain gift of Christmas past, specifically the most annoying homework planner on the face of the planet (he had yet to let Hermione know that he had eventually torn it up to use as litter for Hedwig's cage, and that Ron had long ago amused himself making spit balls from its pages to fire at Ginny) was inclined to agree.
"Besides," he said, trying to be helpful, "You might decide you hate it, whatever it is. At least then you'll know soon enough to change your mind."
It didn't garner the reaction he was hoping for, however. Hermione looked simply horrified. "But what a waste of an opportunity!" and ran off to talk to Professor McGonagall.
"That went well," Ron commented, and Harry shot him a look. "At least she's not bothering us with
it," the other boy continued philosophically. "If you're not careful we'll both end up holding lists
so she can compare. "The advantages and disadvantages of being a scientific experiment for the Department of
Magical Medical Testing. Pro: multiple colour changes and all the pain killers you can swallow. Con: possible painful
and permanent death." Oh Harry, Harry, which shall I choose?" he mimicked.
"Shut up, Ron," said Harry but he was grinning (and very grateful that she couldn't hear him, being enmeshed in what looked like a three-way conversation between her, McGonagall, and Neville Longbottom). "I bet she's got some ideas, and that's more than what I've heard from you."
"Don't have anything yet," said Ron gloomily, but then his face lit up. "D'you suppose the Cannons need any help?"
Harry didn't like to say, but having seen the latest results of their away game in the most recent edition of The Daily Prophet, he thought that the Chudley Cannons could use all the help they could get.
* * *
After Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry stayed behind to try to get Lupin to sign his form. He hoped that his teacher wasn't going to refuse on the grounds that it was too dangerous for Harry to be off the school grounds, but he had to try, at least. For a moment, it looked pretty hopeless, as when Lupin saw him hanging behind, clutching his form, he rolled his eyes and sank back heavily into his chair.
"I've got a feeling that I know what this is about," he said neutrally, holding out his hand. Harry passed him the piece of parchment and shifted from foot to foot while Lupin read it, trying to dredge up a good enough argument to convince him to sign it. He was fairly certain that McGonagall would have done it for him, as the only good thing Umbridge had ever done, to Harry's mind, was to motivate the Gryffindor Head to give him all the help he needed to become an Auror, but McGonagall taught Transfiguration. He might as well apply for an internship to train security trolls with a stunningly good recommendation of his ability to prune a fanged geranium.
Given Harry's belief that no teacher would willingly let him out of their sight - let alone off school grounds on anything like a regular basis - he was surprised to see Lupin sign the parchment without a murmur.
`Oh! Um… thanks…" he said, a trifle sceptically, and Lupin quirked an eyebrow at him. Harry could have sworn that his teacher was smothering a grin.
"Didn't expect that, did you?" said Lupin, rather sensibly.
"Not really," said Harry, deciding to be perfectly honest. "I thought you'd tell me that it was a mistake. You know, too dangerous…"
"You considered that before asking, though, I take it?" said Lupin.
"Of course!" said Harry, a trifle indignantly. It still made him feel stupid, admitting that he was in the position to be the great wizarding hero of his generation, but whether he liked it or not (and he didn't) it seemed he was condemned that way anyway, so he wasn't about to start taking idiotic risks that would end up leaving the way open for Voldemort. "I spoke to McGonagall, and she said that I'd be transporting by Floo directly from Hogwarts to the Ministry, and with the Aurors watching over that, it's not something that could be easily tampered with, considering that the Floo Board is at the Ministry, and…" he tapered off, feeling stupid again.
"And Kingsley Shacklebolt would be standing over them making sure that they didn't dare put a foot wrong when it came to the Boy Who Lived," Lupin finished. There was still a tiny smirk on his face, one that grew momentarily broader at the mention of Shacklebolt, and it made Harry feel a bit uneasy. He had the sinking feeling that Lupin knew something that he didn't.
"Well, yes," he admitted. "And I'd be with them all the time anyway, even when we left the Ministry, so the risks…" he tailed off, seeing Lupin give a sudden grin. "What?" he said, a trifle grumpily.
Lupin laughed to himself for a moment. "I'm sorry, Harry," he said, "but didn't you think it was a bit too easy?" He waved him to a chair, and, after briefly digging through his desk drawers, excavated a jar of biscuits. Harry took a Ginger Newt, and leaned back comfortably. He tended to enjoy his sessions with Lupin, as uncomfortable and as plain annoying as they often were. It was rather odd, really.
"I think you may have an exaggerated view of what you'll get to be doing at the Auror Headquarters," said Lupin kindly. "I would suggest you talk to Kingsley Shacklebolt if you want more information - he did his placement there as well when he was your age. Complained a lot, as I recall. They didn't let him go out in the field at all - no student is taken out, it's just too risky. They haven't been trained, and are more likely to get themselves into trouble than not."
"I've got a lot more experience than your average student," Harry argued, but he felt his stomach sink slightly.
"Yes, and you've never gotten into trouble because of it," said Lupin, straight-faced, and Harry was forced to laugh grudgingly, and concede the point.
"It sounds romantic, I know," Lupin continued, "and really your biggest perk will be the effect it has on the girls at Hogwarts. But really, Harry - if they take you, you'll be spending your placement in the office, fetching tea for anyone who asks for it and doing an awful lot of filing. And research."
"Research," said Harry gloomily. His visions of escorting captured prisoners to trial and Azkaban were disintegrating in front of his face. Belatedly, he realised that with the defection of the Dementors from Azkaban, there wouldn't be any guards at the wizard prison, and thus no point escorting captured Death Eaters there. He had to admit to himself that as pleasant as his fantasies were, they weren't very well though-out.
Lupin smiled at him. "Yes, research," he said. "It won't kill you. It's not as if it will be the sort of thing you're expected to do at Hogwarts. It will be things that every Auror candidate needs to know - legal procedures, the rights of the accused, what can and can't be done when building a case against them. The sort of stuff you'll have to pass before you graduate from Auror training. Oh, it's not all of it, of course," he continued, waving his hand at Harry, whom he had noticed looking a little disillusioned. "There's lots of physical stuff in training too - defensive spells, and that sort of thing. But you've got to have a thorough knowledge of the way the legal system works as well. Still, if you do still want to go - and it's not too late to change your mind and apply for another placement - you'll get a leg-up if you still want to go to Auror training later on. Be ahead of the rest of the competition, as it were."
"I guess," said Harry, but he still felt a little disappointed. "Then there'd be no chance of me-"
"None whatsoever," Lupin interrupted firmly. "You'll get treated the same as every other student on placement, and if Kingsley thinks you've got other ideas he'll soon disabuse you."
Harry thought for a few moments. One the one hand, it wasn't nearly as exciting as he had hoped, and remembering what Tonks had said about Bates, the fussy overseer of the Aurors, he was fairly certain that it was going to be even more dull and irritating than he was picturing even now. On the other hand, he'd spent an awful lot of time wanting to be treated like everyone else - first with the Dursleys, and then with all the baggage relating to being the Boy Who Lived. And it was undeniable that he'd have to learn the stuff anyway, so he might as well get it over with.
Besides, a little voice chimed in his head, if you tell Hermione how organised and responsible you're being (and rub in the fact that special treatment is Wrong and you don't want any) then you might get a snog out of it.
The thought made him feel immeasurably cheered.
"I'd have to do it anyway, right?" he said to Lupin. "Might as well start now."
Lupin beamed, handing him over the signed parchment. "I'm really impressed with how well you're taking this, Harry," he said. "It shows real maturity, and I'm proud of you."
"Er, yeah," said Harry, flushing both with the pleasure of being praised by one of the people he most admire (one of his father's oldest friends, to boot), and with the realisation that he really didn't want said oldest friend to know what it was that had really influenced him.
He barely restrained himself from snatching the parchment away and doing a runner, certain that it would make him look guilty of something or other. Still, his exit was a little faster than usual. "Thanks," he called back, before accelerating down the corridor.
* * *
That night, Harry was woken by a scratching at his window. Fumbling for his glasses, he reached over and managed to get the window catch open. Even well into January, the snows from Christmas were still about, and it was too cold to leave the windows open all night. Even with Seamus Finnegan's shoes stinking up the room (apparently even the House Elves didn't have magic enough to fix that).
A barn owl that looked suspiciously like one of the school owls (and thus available for anyone to use) was sitting on the window-sill, giving him a foul look. Harry expected that he had taken rather longer than usual to wake up. Blearily, he untied what looked like a short note from the owl's leg, and wondered, somewhat dimly, if he was expected to give it an owl treat. If someone had sent it from the owlery at Hogwarts, it would only have needed to fly for about thirty seconds before arriving at Gryffindor Tower - and Harry's supply of owl treats were somewhere at the bottom of his trunk. But the owl continued to glare at him, and heaving a sigh, he began to fumble for them.
"Here," said Ron's voice, sounding very sleepy. An owl treat was shoved into his hand, and Harry hastily gave it to the messenger, feeling very grateful that he had Hedwig, who was a lot more personable than that one.
"Thanks," he said to Ron quietly. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"I think I was sort of half-awake anyway," muttered Ron, through an enormous yawn. "What's that, then? Fan-mail from some poor deluded third year?"
"Your sense of humour doesn't get any better, you know," said Harry, trying not to shudder at the thought. At least this time he could be sure it wasn't Ginny. The memory of her Valentine's Day song was one of his most embarrassing at Hogwarts. He opened the letter, and scanning through it, suddenly felt much more awake.
"It's Hagrid," he said, remembering to keep his voice down so as not to wake the other boys. "He wants us to come out to the Forest." Ron blanched, and Harry shot him a sympathetic look. "Apparently there's some sort of meeting between the other magical creatures on tonight…"
"Couldn't they have picked a nicer location?" Ron complained, but he was already reaching for some clothes.
"It probably is nice, for them," said Harry. "The Centaurs live there, after all." He yanked his newest Weasley jumper over his head. "I wonder why Hagrid didn't come get me himself, though?"
Ron snorted. "Hagrid? Through the portrait hole? That's something I'd like to see." They sneaked out of the dormitory and down the stairs, still pulling on clothes, Harry remembering at the last minute to take his Invisibility Cloak. "You might want to let Hermione know," Ron continued. "She'll murder us if we don't let her in on it."
"Right. I'll get her," said Harry, as he finished tying his shoe. Hoping that none of the steps would creak, he began to sneak his way up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. He hadn't gotten more than a few feet when there was a quiet shriek, and the steps turned into a steep slide. He lost his footing, and was bowled back to the bottom of the stairs.
"Not having a particularly good day, are you?" said Ron, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin.
"Shut up," Harry grumbled at him. He felt a bit silly. Still, he reasoned, considering his decidedly inelegant prat-fall, at least it wasn't in front of anybody but Ron. Belatedly, he remembered when the other boy had tried the same thing, and had also been dumped on his arse. "This is just stupid," he said, getting to his feet, and was about to complain again when the door to the Gryffindor common room swung open.
He and Ron froze, and for a short, horrifying moment, Harry had a vision of Professor McGonagall marching in and demanding why he was trying to sneak into the girls' dormitories. He didn't think that she would believe that he wanted to take Hermione for a nice walk.
But it seemed that no-one was coming through. Harry had relaxed momentarily before wondering just why the door was opening for no good reason (surely he had the only Invisibility Cloak in Gryffindor?) when the answer came at him, full-bore.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" the Fat Lady snapped at him, hands on her hips, pink lace bulk wobbling gently like an enormous jelly. "Don't think that I didn't hear that! Boys aren't allowed up there!"
"Oh, he knows," said Ron, trying to hide a grin and look innocent at the same time. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. "I've tried to tell him, but what can you do? It's the Boy Who Lived, and all that. Thinks the rules aren't for him."
"I don't!" stuttered Harry, glaring at Ron and trying to devise a decent excuse and a tactic for revenge at the same time, and failing at both. The Fat Lady was looking at him sceptically. "I don't!" he repeated more frantically, we aware that he was looking guilty and thus feeling even guiltier.
"Then what did you think you were doing?" the Fat Lady demanded again. One foot was tapping, and she looked as if she was about to run out of patience.
"I just… I needed to talk to Hermione," he said.
"There you go, then," said Ron, in satisfaction. His grin widened, and Harry was suddenly reminded inescapably of the twins. "It's only Hermione. Not as if he was going up to ravish `em all in their beds or something."
"Ron," Harry hissed, turning scarlet at both the implication and the picture it put into his head, "Shut up."
The Fat Lady looked half-convinced, and it didn't bode well for him. "Do I need to call Professor McGonagall?" she asked.
"No!" yelped Ron and Harry together, and Ron looked suddenly shame-faced. "I didn't mean it," he said to the Fat Lady. "Sorry. It's just… we really do need to see Hermione. We've got a Transfiguration paper due in tomorrow, and we're not actually done yet…"
Surprise me, said the look on the Fat Lady's face.
"…and so we need a bit of help," finished Ron. "And Hermione finished hers weeks ago, and we really, really don't need McGonagall finding out that we're not finished."
Harry silently prayed that the Fat Lady was unaware of the fact that Ron didn't study Transfiguration.
"You should have studied harder," sniffed the Fat Lady, apparently oblivious. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait until morning. Just because you don't need your sleep doesn't mean that other people don't!"
"Yeah, I um… didn't think of that," said Harry, trying to look abashed and kick Ron at the same time without the Fat Lady noticing. "You're right, I should be more considerate." The Fat Lady gaped at him slightly, before a look of obvious approval came over her face.
"You're a nice boy really, aren't you," she said. "I knew that you'd see it that way if you just stopped to think." She glared at Ron. "It's that other one. A bad influence if ever I saw one!"
"Me!" said Ron, looking surprised, and Harry had to bite back a smirk.
"Yes, you," said the Fat Lady. "Don't think I don't remember your brothers…" her door began to swing close. "Go ahead, give him a kick, don't mind on my account" her voice floated back to Harry, and she dissolved into giggles. "Ravishing them in their beds..." they heard float quietly out, as the portrait hole closed.
Ron looked slightly put out. "It's not fair always being compared to Fred and George," he complained, but there was amusement on his face, and Harry took the opportunity to take the Fat Lady's advice. "It's not fair having to fight with a girl," Ron sighed heavily.
"It's not fair being dropped in it by your best mate," said Harry, trying not to laugh, although inside he felt as put out as Ron had looked before. It was bad enough for the Hogwarts teachers to think he was sneaking into the girls' dormitories for, well, that, but it was worse to have them laugh about it. And alright, the Fat Lady wasn't actually a teacher, but she was on staff, Harry thought. Sort of. But did she think he couldn't if he wanted to?
"What are you going to do, then?" said Ron. "Can't leave her out of this, she'd never forgive you."
"Too right," said Harry. That wasn't a fate he was willing to put up with - he'd never be kissed again. He didn't tell Ron that, though. Instead he took a deep breath and remembered kissing, and the happy memory sent his Patronus galloping up the stairs towards the dormitories.
"Nice," said Ron approvingly, watching it turn the corner with no loss of speed.
"Should have thought to do that in the first place."
"You don't think she'll scream, do you?" Ron commented happily. "That girl's got a pair of lungs on her…"
"Bollocks," said Harry bitterly. "I didn't think of that." He squinted up the stairs, but couldn't hear a sound. He didn't want the whole tower waking up.
Ron shrugged philosophically. "There'll be other times," he said. "Fred and George have got a new Bellowing Biscuit - we could try it out on her."
"Are you sure it's safe?" Harry demanded. "I'm not having them testing stuff on the students again."
"Oh, don't worry about it," said Ron. "They actually tested it on Mum, just before Christmas. It was a bit hard to tell the difference, really." He grinned at Harry. "Well, to be fair, you try organising five kids and Dad and getting them to the other side of the country on Christmas Eve. It's not easy, you know!"
"You didn't make it easy, you mean," said Harry, laughing. "There are times I really feel sorry for your Mum."
"Fred and George were rather difficult children, it's true," Ron commented sagely.
"Good thing the rest of you were such angels, then, wasn't it?" Harry commented, managing to keep a straight face.
Ten minutes later the three of them (Hermione still trying to lace up one of her shoes) were wedged in underneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak.
"This is getting more difficult every year," Hermione wheezed, after being accidentally socked in the stomach by one of Ron's elbows. Unfortunately, she knew as well as the rest of them that it was the only way of escaping Gryffindor Tower without the Fat Lady alerting the staff to the fact that students were absconding (and it wasn't just the Fat Lady - Peeves was certain to take great pleasure in doing the same, should he catch them out of bed after hours).
"You better make Head Girl next year, then," Ron grunted. "That way you can wander about whenever you want, and we don't have to try and fit under here with a midget."
Hermione promptly stepped hard on one of his foot. "Oops, sorry," she said sweetly. "Accident."
Clumsily, shushing each other (and making more noise than they would have had they just shut up, Harry thought), the three of them managed to sneak out of the Castle. Once in the shadow of the greenhouses, they were able to get out from under the Cloak, which was a great relief.
"I think I've put my back out," groaned Ron. The tallest of the three, he had to walk hunched over so that the Cloak would still cover them all. Harry showed no sympathy, but hustled both his friends away from the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. Privately, he thought Ron's groans were as much for their direction as his back, and he couldn't blame him. Whenever Harry was forced to go into the Forest it had never ended well. Aragog, Dementors, Voldemort - and that wasn't even considering the Centaurs, who Harry felt were fast losing patience with any human interference. Once more he cursed Umbridge. It seemed she had a habit of doing things that made his life as difficult as possible. But it's not just your life, he thought to himself. The Centaurs have it worse than you do. He flinched as a trailing branch hit him in the face, gouging at his eye. Probably. Behind him, Ron whimpered slightly.
A giant shape loomed out at them, and Harry back-pedalled quickly, slipping and fumbling for his wand. He kicked himself for not having it out in the first place. In the resulting light, however, and in the warm tongue slobbering over his fingers, he felt himself relax.
"Bloody hell, Hagrid," squeaked Ron, "can you not do that?"
"Do wha'?" said Hagrid, oblivious. "Glad to see you all got down here alright. Get out of it, Fang! This way, Harry."
"Do what?" Ron mimicked under his breath. "Just jump out at us in the middle of the bloody night in the middle of the bloody Forest, that's what…" He would have chuntered on, but Hermione hushed him and Harry couldn't help but smile, tense as he was. Having the two of them there with him made him feel a lot better about what he was going to have to face. And at least with Hagrid with them, their chances of surviving an encounter with a horde of man-eating spiders had gone right up. He
hoped.
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