Harry Potter and the Perseus Castle

Harry Potter and the Perseus Castle

By Ahn Na Blue

Standard Disclaimer: We all know who owns Harry Potter. And we all know it isn’t me.

Chapter Four: Draco and Buckbeak?

When the three of them returned to Hogwarts, Harry was quickly summoned by Dumbledore. He didn’t even have time to talk to Hermione, who turned down Hagrid’s offer of tea with Buckbeak and ran to Gryffindor Tower before anyone could say another word. Ron however, accepted the offer, and walked with the hippogriff down to Hagrid’s hut.

Once Harry was inside Dumbledore’s office, with the mirror tucked under his arm, he plopped down into a chair without being asked and grabbed the plate of Professor McGonagall’s cookies off of the desk. Dumbledore watched him swallow nearly a dozen before he finally spoke.

“Judging from the mirror beneath your arm, I take it the mission was a success?”

Harry swallowed hard. Very hard. The cookies really weren’t all that good, but he tried to smile, because Professor McGonagall had just entered the room, looking pleased to see him eating. “I’m not sure Professor. I don’t think we found the right mirror. When I took it off the cave wall, the whole place exploded, started quaking and tried to seal us in.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed. “May I see the mirror, Harry?”

“Of course.”

The white bearded wizard studied its depths for several tense seconds before smiling. “This is Medusa’s Mirror.” Behind him, Harry could hear McGonagall’s sigh of relief.

“It is?” Harry asked excitedly, wondering what Dumbledore had seen to make him so sure.

“Wouldn’t you say so, Minerva? The shape is precisely as described in all of the texts…the reflection is true…you can feel a low force emanating from it…” Dumbledore set the mirror face down on his desk. “Excellent Harry. And your companions, are they well?”

“Yes,” Harry said, thinking of them. “I think so. Professor Dumbledore, how am I supposed to use that against Voldemort?”

“Medusa’s Mirror has many uses. Most having to do with true reflections…but also with true projections. In the right hands, a witch or wizard’s true power can be projected through the mirror, and thus magnified a thousand fold.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

Dumbledore smiled. “You will Harry. However, it is somewhat of an awkward shape. Difficult to wield. Professor McGonagall? Would you be so kind?” He handed the mirror to her, and she drew her wand.

Harry watched quietly as Professor McGonagall ran the tip of her wand around all sides of the mirror, leaving behind a glowing, green trail. Then she tossed the mirror into the air, spinning it end over end.

“Refinitum!” she cried, and as the mirror spun it glowed greener and sparkled, transfiguring itself from a mere plane of glass into a fancy shield-shaped dressing mirror, complete with handle, by which she caught it. “Here you are, Potter.”

“Perhaps you would like to try projecting your Patronus,” Dumbledore suggested. “That would be an impressive sight.”

Harry glanced down at Medusa’s Mirror, which was angled slightly away from him. The surface was shimmering with energy. For some reason, he didn’t feel like he could do it. “But, Professors,” he asked them both, “if this is the mirror, why did the cave seal up?” He saw them exchange looks.

“I don’t know Harry,” Dumbledore answered. “But that is without a doubt, Medusa’s Mirror, and the weapon you will need to face Voldemort.”

********************************

Harry was getting very tired of leaving Dumbledore’s office so confused. He wanted to talk to Hermione about it, but he couldn’t seem to find her anywhere. Although admittedly, he did not check the Owlery, because finding her there would have been a bit too painful, and it might have been enough to make them both go back on their decision.

She’s probably asleep, he thought. They had each slept in shifts on the journey home, the others holding the sleeper up with the help of a binding charm, but it was still exhausting, all the searching and running and bitter, bitter cold. He had just made up his mind to return to Gryffindor Tower himself when out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape dart into the shadows.

“Ron? Hey, Ron!” Harry waved his arm. “Wait a second.”

Ron stopped hesitantly. “Look I just wanted to find out about the mirror. Did we get it? Is it the right one?”

“Yeah,” Harry paused. “At least Dumbledore’s pretty convinced. Listen, about the reflection-”

“Where is it then?”

“It’s in Dumbledore’s office. Listen, Ron-”

“Right. Fine. See you in the Common Room.”

Harry lost his patience and grabbed Ron’s arm, spinning him around. “Look, if you’d just stop being such a bloody awful git you’d be able to hear an apology!”

Ron was shaking his head and looking at the ground grudgingly. “Harry, I don’t want an apology from you.”

“Well you’re going to get one. After what we saw in the mirror, Hermione and I agree. The three of us…Our friendship…That’s what defines us. It’s like…” Harry struggled with his words. “It’s like the whole point. And it’s more important than any one or two of us alone.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that me and Hermione…That’s over,” he felt his stomach jolt painfully. “I guess it was never much to begin with. Stress you know? About Voldemort and the war and…and it wasn’t as though I could kiss you for comfort, now was it?” Harry forced a smile and hoped it was convincing. He wished he had put a cheering charm on himself before he had attempted this speech.

Ron gave a hollow, embarrassed laugh, but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. Harry was starting to get angry. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Why wasn’t he cracking a joke already?

“So, things are back to normal then? The three of us, just like always?” Ron asked doubtfully.

“Yes. Definitely. Just like always.” Harry thought of Hermione, of the way she rolled her eyes and then grinned right after. Then he pushed the thought away as Ron feebly suggested that they go get a bite in the Great Hall. “Just like always,” Harry muttered.

**************************************

But it wasn’t just like always. Not for any of them. The three of them were rarely together except in classes, when Harry and Hermione would sit on either side of Ron not speaking. In the common room it was always one or the other of them with Ron, and soon enough, Hermione started drawing away from Ron as well, burying herself in books and disappearing into a dusty corner of library, or so Harry supposed. He didn’t dare go looking for her.

Things weren’t the same between Harry and Ron either. There was a tenseness that wouldn’t quite let go, and Harry was constantly wondering if such an uncomfortable bond was worth losing Hermione. But they were Quidditch pals again, and there were jokes enough to ease their minds.

For weeks he didn’t see Hermione alone. Sometimes he suspected that she had somehow gotten hold of a Marauder’s Map and was using it to avoid him. But then, on one of his solitary walks through the castle after hours (the Prefects had stopped bothering him on account of the war, and Neville would only stammer ‘Hello, Harry, nice night for walking’ and then scurry away) when he bumped right into the Head Girl.

“What are you doing wandering the castle-” she started, and then, recognizing him, fell silent.

“Hermione,” he said, trying to sound happy and failing miserably. “We never see you. They must be working their Head Girls too hard these days.”

“Well, no,” she said quietly. “I’ve been helping Madam Pomfrey. She’s helping me study field medicine.” She bit her lip. “Just in case.”

Harry thought she looked dreadfully tired. And sad. Her hair was loose and almost as unruly as his, like it was trying to hide her pale face, and the shadows beneath her eyes. He wanted to think of something to say. Something clever. Something genius. Something like she would say, to make things all better. He gritted his teeth in frustration. If only magic were like that, wave your wand and everything was perfect. Everything was okay. But she was starting to walk away already, using the silence as cover.

He grabbed her arm; he couldn’t stop himself. Her body was close to his but her face was turned. She wouldn’t say anything.

“I can’t regret it, you know,” he said, burying his fingers in her hair. “I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. The way it felt…the softness…”

“Stop, Harry,” she whispered. She was shaking.

But he couldn’t, not now, when he had her so near to him, the scent of her washed away all his resolve. “Hermione,” he said, leaning his forehead against her. She wanted to turn to him. He could feel it. She was crying with the effort of resisting. She raised her hand. Stroked his cheek. Then pulled softly away.

“I do regret it,” she said tearfully. “I’ve regretted it ever since you…you…at that stupid cave!”

“I did that because nothing was right. Because the three of us need to be together. Ron can’t handle this now, and besides, I’m probably going to die anyway and I don’t want to die with all of us fighting!”

“Harry don’t say that!”

“I just wanted everything to go back to the way it was.” She was crumpling before his very eyes, falling apart, but he knew he couldn’t be the one to put her together again when he’d only have to let her fall back down. He couldn’t go back on his word to Ron, even though he could plainly see that they had all lost. Things would never be the way they were before, and by breaking Hermione’s heart he had probably succeeded in losing not one of his friends, but both.

He sighed, feeling miserable. “I’d kiss you again, Hermione. I’d kiss you forever if I could.” He didn’t know why he needed to say it. “But I can’t. So that morning in the Owlery will have to be my best memory.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling as fresh tears fell. “And mine as well. But this is the price isn’t it? Funny, I always wondered…” She wiped her eyes, and he fumbled in the silence for something to say. “Back to Gryffindor Tower, Mr. Potter.” She turned and faded into the shadows. “If I see you here again I’ll take points from the House.”

*************************************

The next time he was summoned to Dumbledore’s office was a few days later, just after dinner in the Great Hall. Harry was frankly surprised that he had made it through the meal. He was even more surprised when he entered the Headmaster’s office.

Standing behind a wing backed chair, looking serious as always, was Professor Snape. And sitting in the chair before him, was Draco Malfoy.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk opposite them, and motioned for Harry to take the other chair.

“Surprised to see me, Potter?”

“Say it, don’t spray it, Malfoy,” muttered Harry as he sat. Dumbledore was looking from one to the other with a twinkle of amusement, which vanished as he spoke.

“Something very disturbing has happened, Harry.”

“What is it Professor?”

“Lucius Malfoy, has escaped.” He paused as Harry’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Or rather, he was released. Voldemort is calling his soldiers home to him. He is preparing for the final phase of the war.”

Harry felt his spine tighten. “When do I leave?”

“You’re not going anywhere, Potter,” sneered Draco contemptuously. “I am.”

“What?!”

“Now, now, Draco,” Dumbledore said softly, but in a tone that demanded respect. “Harry will indeed be leaving, and soon, but not, I think, before the Holiday Feast and the Yule Ball.”

“We’re holding a Yule Ball?” Harry blurted, thinking of Hermione. “In the middle of a war?”

“Don’t question the Headmaster, Potter,” Snape snarled.

“It’s quite all right Severus,” Dumbledore assured him. “Harry’s confusion is well founded. A party is the last thing one would expect on the eve of such serious conflict. But I think, that it is just the thing.” He smiled at Harry knowingly, then turned to Draco. “Sadly, Mr. Malfoy will have to miss the Ball.”

“Does that make me Cinderella?” Draco smirked and Snape kicked the back of his chair, but Dumbledore only laughed at the Muggle joke.

“Why does Draco have to miss the Ball?” Harry asked.

“Aww, were you hoping for a dance, Potty? Fat chance. That dancing stuff is a bit sissy for me.”

Harry glared at him, so Dumbledore continued. “Draco is leaving tomorrow morning.” Harry looked from the Headmaster to Malfoy questioningly.

“I’ve volunteered to capture my father. I wouldn’t want him causing you any extra trouble when you have to face off with You Know Who.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. “Professor,” he sputtered. “You can’t let Draco go after his father! He’s more likely to help him than capture him!”

Draco exploded from his chair, drawing his wand. Harry was on his feet as well, his own wand pointed between Draco’s eyes. The professors, sat and stood quite still.

“This is what you’ve been aching for, isn’t it Malfoy? A chance to help your good old Dad make a fresh start of it! Looking to become Voldemort’s top new recruit, are you?”

“If you weren’t the weapon that will turn this war I’d put you on your back for that, Potter. You think you’re so smart, that just because my father is a Deatheater that I am too.” Draco sneered at him. “Well you’re wrong. I never knew my father was a Deatheater. And now that I do, my whole life, everything he taught me, was a lie.”

“Nice act, Malfoy. You’re lying.”

“If I was going to lie, I’d do a much better job than this,” Draco hissed. “I’m actually glad my father raised me to be who I am. Because what you said was right. I don’t intend to capture him.” Draco bared his teeth. “I intend to kill him. And that’s the truth. Not that you deserve to know it.”

Harry looked hard into the eyes of the boy he had hated since the moment he had seen him over six years ago, and lowered his wand.

Dumbledore smiled. “Now then. The Yule Ball is being announced as we speak by the heads of each house. Except for the Slytherins, who are being notified by the honorary Head of Slytherin.”

“Honorary Head of Slytherin?” Harry asked as Draco smiled.

“Yes. Slytherin will need someone to oversee it while Professor Snape is away.”

“Away?”

“Yeah,” Draco grinned. “Professor Snape has agreed to come with me. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.” Draco was positively beaming. “And we’re taking Buckbeak.”

**************************************

Harry walked into the Common Room in a stupor. He had greatly upset the Fat Lady by mumbling the password and then ignoring her requests that he repeat himself. After five minutes of shouting at him she had given up and swung herself open in a huff. His mind was so full of swirling thoughts that he didn’t immediately register Ron and Hermione sitting near the fire.

“Hey, mate!” Ron called out to him. “Aren’t you going to tell us what happened? Ginny will you sit down already and make your move?!” Ron’s little sister, Ginny, was pacing slowly across the Common Room. She didn’t look at all interested about where Harry had been. Strange, since there had been a time when she would have been obsessed with what Harry had eaten for lunch. Ron shook his head at her as he looked down at the chessboard. “This is the worst game of Wizard Chess I’ve ever seen. Harry’ll have to take over for you, you know, if you don’t get your head on straight.”

Ginny ignored him, and Harry walked over to where he and Hermione were sitting. Hermione was staring into the fire as though it were the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“Just look at this chess board,” Ron was shaking his head. “Even her own bishops are confused.”

“Lucius Malfoy’s escaped,” Harry croaked. Behind him, Ginny was still pacing. Hermione finally looked at him, her face sharp with concern.

“What are we going to do?” She asked simply.

“Nothing. Draco and Snape are leaving tomorrow morning to go after him.”

Ron released an incredulous laugh, and Hermione looked nonplussed. “So let me get this straight,” Ron smirked. “We’ve got Snape and Malfoy going after Malfoy. Who’s the thick one who came up with that plan?”

“Dumbledore,” Harry snapped.

“Oh,” Ron muttered.

“And they’re taking Buckbeak.”

“Buckbeak!” Hermione cried. She had very strong feelings for the hippogriff ever since she had helped to save his life during their third year. “But he hates Draco Malfoy! Does Hagrid know?”

Harry shrugged. He couldn’t seem to wrap his brain around it. Draco and Buckbeak and Snape of all people. Fighting together and on the right side…

“So they’re leaving in the morning you said? Well I don’t know about you, but I think I’m willing to wake up early on a Saturday to see them off. Might get to see Draco bucked off a hippogriff! We’re are they taking off from?”

Harry shook his head mutely to signify he didn’t know.

“Ron, we might not be welcome,” Hermione whispered. “If Malfoy and Snape really are doing the right thing, we don’t want to make them angry right before they leave.”

“Why not? Come on Harry, where are they leaving from?”

Ginny Weasley smacked her brother on the back of the head and scowled at him. At that moment she looked very much like her mother. “They’re leaving from the clearing on the far side of the Quidditch Pitch. Show up there if you want, but don’t tell anyone else,” she hissed before stalking away and ducking through the portrait hole.

“What is she talking about? How does she know?” Ron wondered aloud. Harry wondered about it as well, but then stopped himself. He was far too tired, and was already wondering about far too many things.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said weakly, and walked towards the stairs, not caring that they were whispering in his wake.

******************************************

It was barely light out when Ron woke Harry the next morning, shaking him vigorously. He was really serious about going to see Buckbeak off. Harry moaned and opened his eyes to see the blurred face before him, red-haired and grinning, and already fully dressed.

“Rise and shine mate, time to go wish little blondie bear good journey,” Ron said, pulling back Harry’s bed curtains.

Harry fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table, grumbling about not being dressed, but before he could swing his feet off the bed, a pair of socks were being charmed over his toes, and slacks and a shirt were walking towards him as if they were clothing an invisible man. Harry jumped back, startled, and tried to bat the shirt away as it tried to wrestle itself onto him.

“I still have my pajamas on!”

Ron was laughing, controlling the little scene with calculated swishes of his wand.

“Ron!” Harry shouted, and Ron lowered his wand, causing the enchanted clothes to fall to the floor quite suddenly.

“Better hurry,” Ron said over his shoulder after he turned to go. “I’ll meet you out there. We can get some breakfast after they’re gone, eh mate? I need some bacon and eggs, some cinnamon toast, a real proper griddle cake…”

Harry could still hear him as he walked down the stairs. What on earth is he so chipper about? Harry wondered. Harry didn’t think that having Lucius Malfoy, one of the most dangerous Deatheaters known, on the loose was anything to be joking about. But all of a sudden, Ron as acting like nothing had ever changed between them, being the jolly goof he usually was. It was strange…

************************************************

Ron’s mood swing was still bothering him as he crossed the Quidditch Pitch, and he didn’t know exactly why. Shouldn’t he be glad that he and Ron were friends again? Wasn’t this a good sign that Hermione might be quick to follow his example? But something didn’t add up. He scratched at his scar. Something about the way Ron and Hermione were sitting last night…

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by Buckbeak’s shrill cry of greeting. The hippogriff had seen him coming and was tugging happily at his rope. Ron was there, standing near the hippogriff’s hindquarter, and so was Ginny, who was patting his neck. Draco Malfoy stood at his head, his hands gripping the rope.

“Easy Buckbeak,” Draco said imperiously. No matter whose side he’s on, he’s still a jerk, Harry thought.

“He’s not trying to kill you,” Harry said begrudgingly, reaching up to stroke Buckbeak’s forehead.

“We reached a bit of an agreement over a plate of dead raccoons,” Draco grinned. “Now he’s as sweet as my own puppy.”

“You have a puppy?” Ron snorted.

“Sod off Weas-” Draco started, and then, for some reason, bit back his words.

“Looks like we won’t get to see his face in the dirt after all, Harry,” Ron said, sounding gravely disappointed. Ginny was looking at her brother scathingly.

Harry turned to Draco, trying to strengthen his stomach enough to be able to wish him good luck. He struggled with it for a few moments, and then settled on, “So, when are you leaving?”

“As soon as Professor Snape arrives. Hey, look who it is,” Draco sneered, peering over Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned, and there was Hermione, walking quickly over the wet grass, looking nervous and unsure that she wanted to be there. She smiled weakly at Harry and then went to stand by Ginny and Ron.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered without meaning to, and Draco grinned. Harry quickly looked away.

“Come to give me a goodbye kiss, Granger?” Draco, said, giving Harry a surprisingly playful elbow.

“I came to say goodbye to Buckbeak,” Hermione growled, stroking the hippogriff’s side.

“Time to go, Mr. Malfoy.” Harry gave a start as he heard Snape’s voice coming out of the forest. Buckbeak stomped and squawked; Snape was leading a thestral, and Buckbeak wasn’t sure how to feel about the other creature. Snape noticed the hippogriff’s discomfort and tugged the skeletal horse to a halt, throwing the reins over its head and adjusting its saddle pack. Harry could tell by the way Snape was handling the creature that he could plainly see it. Harry could see it as well, but to the others, Snape appeared to be petting thin air. Only people who had seen someone die could see thestrals. Harry wondered how Snape was able to see them, and then thought of all his years as a Deatheater and decided he’d rather not know.

When Harry turned around, Draco had mounted Buckbeak, who was flapping his wings, showing off for the thestral.

“Well, Potter, it’s been fun,” Draco smiled. “I’ll be sure to give my father your regards before I kill him.”

Harry paused, then approached the hippogriff and held out his hand. “Don’t die,” he said half-sarcastically.

Draco snorted as he shook it. “What, and leave all the golden snitches for you? I think not.” He laughed as he whirled Buckbeak around, making Harry jump back. He was staring down at the small crowd, for a moment Harry thought he was staring at Hermione and clenched his fists. But then he said, “Sorry I have to miss the Ball. Weasley, you give your sister a dance for me, will you?”

Harry saw Ron start to step forward, his face going red, but Ginny leapt in front of him, staring at Draco. Draco was grinning. “What are you looking at, Ginevra?” Harry thought she would scowl, but instead she started to giggle, and as Draco and Buckbeak walked off, following Snape on his thestral, she walked with them.

Ron was muttering angrily to himself and started to stalk back to the castle, shouting “See you at breakfast!” over his shoulder.

Harry watched him go. Ron had just left him and Hermione alone together, and he hadn’t seemed at all upset about it. A flutter of hope started in Harry’s stomach. Maybe a reassurance of their friendship was all Ron needed, and now he wouldn’t be angry if he and Hermione were together!

He also noticed, with another spark of joy, that Hermione wasn’t walking back to the castle. She was standing there quietly, looking after Draco, Snape and Ginny, but also giving him furtive glances, like she was waiting for him.

“Hermione- would you…would you like to go to breakfast?”

Hermione bit her lip, then nodded quickly and started walking with him. Harry felt a strong wave of relief. Having her by his side again…he hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. He wanted to take her hand.

“Hermione, about the Yule Ball-”

His words seemed to turn her legs to stone.

“What? What’s the matter?” She had gone very pale, and was staring at the grass and wringing her hands. Harry felt a pang of guilt over the grief he had caused her. And now it appeared that it had been for nothing, that Ron was fine after all.

He took her hand. “Well, I was wondering, I mean, if you can forgive me for being such an idiot…”

“I’m going to the Ball with Ron,” she blurted, and he dropped her hand as quickly as he had reached for it.

“You’re what?”

“I’m going to the Ball with-”

“I heard you!” Harry exclaimed, exasperated.

“Then why did you-”

“Why? Just- Why?!”

“He asked me last night, and I said yes, I thought that’s what you’d want me to do,” she said, talking very fast, her voice rising in desperation.

“What I’d want?” Harry couldn’t believe it. Maybe she was under the Cruciatus Curse. “You think I’d want you to just forget about me and pick right up with Ron?”

“No!” Hermione’s lips trembled. “I mean, that’s not what this is! We’re just going as friends, do you understand? Just like you wanted, all of us friends again-”

“Right. Just like I wanted. You two together and me left here-”

She rounded on him, suddenly very, very angry. “What did you expect me to do? You can’t have everything both ways you know! You can’t tell me I need to forget about you one minute and then stand there and tell me that I shouldn’t be going to the Ball with anyone else!” She was screeching at him, and he was reminded faintly of Hedwig pecking at him, which would have been funny if he wasn’t so angry. “You make me miserable and then expect me to stand still and wait until you’re ready and you’re so selfish sometimes Harry that I can’t…I can’t-” And then she seemed to erupt, the tears flying down her cheeks, and ran off across the Quidditch Pitch.

“I never told you to forget about me,” he hissed, his scar starting to tingle. Standing alone on the field he didn’t know if he wanted to cry or punch something. Hermione with Ron…Dancing…Close…He growled in frustration. No wonder Ron had been in such a good mood.

Harry began to stalk towards the dormitory. He wouldn’t be joining that backstabber for breakfast any time soon. His scar was burning now; he was positively seething. He cursed Ron in his head, mumbling things like, “Can’t believe I fell for that nonsense… ‘oh I’m in your shadow, Harry’ ‘oh you’re such a great wizard, Harry’…what rubbish…just wanted to steal my girl…”

Back in the castle, he almost bowled over Neville, who quickly apologized and excused himself. Harry barely glanced at him. He was too busy thinking about his EX-best friend, and how sorry he was going to be at the Yule Ball, when Harry took Hermione back.

To be continued…

AN: Thanks for the reviews. They’ve been terrific and very observant. It’s nice to see people sticking along for the ride. Two more parts to go.