AN: I guess I've been spoiled by the response to "What Might Have Been", but I'm really hoping for a few more reviews this time. Pretty please? Thanks to those who did review. Glad to know you enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: Not mine, as if you lived under a rock and thought it was.
PART I: The End of the Beginning
Chapter Two: The Trio Returns
It took them four minutes, but Ron and Hermione were back in the ruined living room, with what few belongings they had brought to Godric's Hollow with them, facing Lupin expectantly. Remus looked back at them, oddly amused by this, that they still looked to him as the adult for direction, when they had proven themselves adults in the strongest sense of the word.
"Did you get absolutely everything pertaining to the horcruxes?" Lupin said urgently, looking directly at Hermione. She met his gaze unflinchingly.
"Yes sir," she said clearly, indicating her knapsack, where the entire contents of the desk had been reduced in size and placed.
"Where's Harry?" he asked them, even though the house was tiny enough that his voice carried clearly to the back bedroom.
"Right here," he called back, heading down the hallway, with someone in tow. "I had to get my cloak." Ron and Hermione both gaped at the newcomer, and Ron lunged toward him suddenly, only to be held back by both Hermione and Lupin.
"He was the Death Eater going through the desk?" Hermione asked, disdain dripping from every syllable. Harry nodded grimly.
"I've `Incarcerous'ed him…and used Silencio… and put up an anti-apparation ward. Is that enough?" he asked Lupin seriously. Lupin didn't answer right away, as he was staring at the young Death Eater with utter contempt and loathing.
"That'll do, Harry," their former professor finally said. "Are we ready? I'm going to Incendio the house once we're out. Then we'll Apparate to Hogsmeade. We'll have to walk to Hogwart's from there. Minerva won't be expecting us, but…" Lupin shrugged.
"What about him?" Ron asked with disgust.
"What choice do we have but to take him with us, Ronald?" Hermione said in her lecturing tone, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the Death Eater. "Besides, there's been an entire squad of Aurors searching England for him for the last 3 months. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to deal with him… appropriately."
They walked carefully out onto the small, shabby lawn, and Hermione, Harry, and Ron went immediately into a kind of defense mode, each with his or her wand out, and facing a different direction. Not a thing stirred. Their house was far enough on the outskirts of the little village that the brief, but noisy, battle had apparently gone unnoticed.
"Incendio," Lupin said, and a stream of fire issued from his wand, and hit the house, which went up in flames as if it had been hit with an accelerant. Harry watched with mixed emotions as the house burned, unsure how he had felt while living here in the town where his parents had lived, and unsure also how he felt now upon leaving. He felt Hermione's light touch on his arm.
"Harry? Let's go," she said gently. He reckoned that somehow she knew exactly what thoughts were running through his mind. He quirked his lips upward in the approximation of a smile. It had bee awhile since any of them had really smiled.
"What about him?" Harry said.
"I'll side-along young Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said, with a mirthless smile that bared nearly all of his teeth. The Slytherin's face managed to retain his impassive mask, even though Lupin had him by one arm, escorting him none too gently.
"But - " Harry said, wanting to remind him about the ward he'd set up. Lupin looked at him warningly, reminding him wordlessly not to say too much around Malfoy.
"Go." Lupin ordered. "Start on to Hogwart's straight away. Watch yourselves. I'll be right behind you."
The Trio nodded in a determined fashion, and with soft cracks, vanished away almost simultaneously.
Lupin regarding Malfoy for a long moment. Fear had flickered into Draco's eyes, as he realized that he was being left quite alone and totally unprotected, and with a werewolf, no less. His gaze involuntarily went to the night sky, which was studded with stars and adorned with a tiny sliver of crescent moon. Lupin's eyes followed Draco's, and his mouth twisted into a smirk.
"I would never put Harry, Hermione, and Ron in that kind of peril," he said smoothly, in response to Draco's glance. "Even if it lost me the opportunity to rid the world of you." Malfoy regarded him, with something of a challenge in his gaze. He did not attempt to speak, realizing all too well that the silencing charm would only serve to make him look foolish and powerless.
"You're lucky I didn't leave you here alone with Harry after what you've done," Lupin remarked, as casually as if commenting on the weather. Draco raised one eyebrow, clearly contemptuous of the idea that Harry Potter was any threat to him. "I am a werewolf, as you know, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin practically spat the respectful address at him. "As such, I have very little leeway with regard to my actions. I am required to toe the line, if you will. Harry is the Boy Who Lived. If he were to do away with you, I'm sure there are many in the Ministry who would be content to look the other way." An odd look flickered across the younger man's face. "See that you do not give me cause to arrange that."
Without further discussion, Lupin whipped out his wand, and said, "Stupefy!" He nearly staggered under the dead weight of Draco Malfoy, but managed to remove the anti-Apparation ward, and vanished with the barest of pops.
When he arrived at Hogsmeade only a second later, he found Ron waiting for him. The village was silent and dark, the inhabitants obviously safely abed. Even the Hog's Head had already closed for the night, a testament to the dangerous times in which they now lived.
"I thought I told you to go ahead," Lupin said, disapprovingly, as he recast the anti-Apparation charm, and Enervated Malfoy. Ron seemed to quail a little under his reproving look, but spoke in a steady voice.
"We were all going to wait…just in case…" he shot a suspicious glance at Malfoy as he said this. "But Harry and Hermione went ahead… he wasn't - he didn't feel too - " He blundered to a stop suddenly, and did not finish his sentence. Lupin and Ron exchanged a meaningful glance, and Lupin began to walk at a fast clip, almost dragging Malfoy behind him. Ron's long-legged gait made an easier time of it for him.
Ron watched the werewolf sidewise in the dim light of the crescent moon, as they strode quickly up the path that led to Hogwart's. Ron's wand was out, but Lupin's was not…standard procedure for an Auror when one was escorting a potentially dangerous prisoner. Ron was also being careful to stay a safe distance away from Malfoy, even in his Incarcerous-ed state. The redhead didn't need to ask Lupin why he walked so quickly, or what was causing the anxiety that furrowed his brow.
He was worried about Harry.
They all were.
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"I told you I'm fine," Harry said, some annoyance lacing his tone. Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked down at him, cocking one eyebrow in an "oh, really?" kind of way. He read her look perfectly, as she'd intended him to, and glared at her mutinously. He knocked the crisp, white standard-issue infirmary bedsheet off of his legs, and swung them over the side of the bed.
The room spun crazily around him, first in one direction, then the other, slanting in at an odd angle and then slowly coming to a halt. His stomach lurched, and his hand unwillingly grasped for a bedrail.
"Harry, I had to levitate you in here," she said, softly, her tone a gentle plea.
"I could have made it," he insisted. Hermione smiled at him as if he were a small child that needed to be humored. His skin was pasty white, and his eyes were sunken into his head, with deep circles under them. "Don't look at me like that!" he snapped, glowering at her. She looked a little startled at his sudden outburst.
"I don't need sympathy, Hermione," he said, his voice biting at her angrily. "I don't need you to coddle me, and I don't need you to patronize me. You think - you think…" he trailed off, and gestured at himself with one trembling hand. "You think I don't realize what this is doing to me? You think I - I don't know that I'm probably going to die? The - the horcruxes - he's killing me, now…a little at a time. Maybe he won't have to face me at all."
Hermione's face had crumpled a little, and she put one hand over her mouth to stifle any wayward sound of protest or despair that might emerge.
"I've got to be able to stand on my own and do this," he looked at her levelly, leaning back down on the bed and looking more tired than Hermione had ever seen him. "Even if I - I don't make it, I've got to take him out - take him with me. Rid the world of danger, and all that nonsense," he waved his hand around airily, speaking his last sentence lightly to defuse the moment. His eyes were sliding closed, in spite of themselves, and Hermione's heart broke to see her best friend so sapped, so frail, so … mortal.
She was a little shocked at the thought. Is that what she really believed? That Harry had some kind of special dispensation from the gods…that he had magically made it out of every scrape virtually unscathed because he was fated to do so?...and would continue to do so? She amended her previous thought quickly, thinking that Harry would not call losing his parents, Cedric, Sirius, or Dumbledore coming out of things `unscathed'.
"But you don't have to do it by yourself, Harry," she said quietly, laying one hand on top of his. His eyes flickered open again. "You might have to stand on your own, but you don't have to stand alone. Ron and I will be right there with you. You know that."
"If anything happened to you…Ron…" he slurred. "I wouldn't be able to…" live with myself. He was asleep before he'd finished the sentence. She patted his hand for a moment, and slid off of the edge of the bed, where she'd propped herself, with a sigh.
"Is he going to be okay?" came a voice from the doorway. She looked up to see a familiar lanky form unfold itself from the shadows. Hermione pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead and sighed.
"I just don't know, Ron," she said, looking up at him with wet eyes, her expression confused and afraid. Ron was a little taken aback, having seen Hermione in almost every mood possible, except for those two. "He seems to get so much weaker every time…" she trailed off, with a little sob vibrating in her voice. Ron put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them lightly, moving beside her to loop one arm around her back. She leaned into the half-embrace.
"It must be some kind of … you know, trap that…Voldemort put around or in the horcruxes. Maybe he hoped that if someone was going around trying to destroy all of them, they'd …" Ron stopped speaking abruptly and clamped his mouth shut.
"Die before they finished the job?" Hermione finished for him. Ron swallowed hard, and looked down at her for a moment, as she looked up at him. Her eyes were luminous and wet, her expression mirroring the same bewildered, defeated emotions that he had. He placed a light kiss against her temple, and gently ran his fingers one time through her snarled, curly hair. Their relationship hadn't gone much beyond a few chaste kisses, and a handful of dances at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and they were both still rather hesitant about it. As Hermione had quite bluntly put it, in their one discussion about the subject, that would be rather like "fiddling while Rome burned." She'd had to explain the reference to Ron, who was disappointed, but did see her point. They'd deliberately kept their relationship as casual as possible, and said virtually nothing at all about it in front of Harry.
"Well, I wouldn't have put it…but yeah," Ron said. "Do you think there is anything we can do to stop it?"
Hermione took a deep breath, and straightened her posture, getting what Ron liked to teasingly call her "thinking face" on. "I have been wondering about that," she said seriously.
"Of course you have," Ron said, with no hint of a grin or a smirk on his face.
"The prophecy says Harry has to kill him or be killed by him. I'm still not sure that's not a load of complete rubbish, but I also don't know of anyone else besides Harry that's even capable of facing him. Especially now that - now that - that…"
"Dumbledore's gone," Ron supplied for her, solemnly. Hermione looked at him gratefully, and nodded.
"If we can't face Voldemort in his stead," she said evenly, while Ron's eyes boggled that she had even thought of such a thing, "then maybe we can find and destroy the last horcrux for him, so that he is able fight the final Battle." Ron gaped at her for a long moment.
"You're serious, aren't you?" he finally said, a little foolishly.
"Of course I'm serious," she said with irritation. "Why wouldn't I be serious at a time like this?"
"But, Hermione," Ron argued. "You don't even know why this is happening to Harry. He might react the same way whether he finds the horcrux or not. It might not matter who finds it... or who destroys it."
"Well, that's just ridiculous, Ronald," Hermione replied primly, going back into lecture mode. "Why would the horcruxes be specifically attuned to Harry, when most of them were probably created before he was even born? The only way that would make sense would be if he was…" she clapped a hand over her mouth, and let out a soft moan, weaving slightly on her feet.
"Hermione!" Ron said, peering into her face, alarmed. "Hermione, what's wrong?" She just shook her head, her eyes wide with alarm. "Hermione, what? If he's a what?"
Her chin trembled, as she looked full into his face, and spoke in as even a tone as she could muster. "If he is a horcrux too."
There was an endless moment of nauseating, wrenching, oh-no-please-anything-but-that shock. Ron felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat, and he desperately tried to quell the desire to vomit.
"No," he shook his head, and even backed away from her a little, as if her theory were something contagious. "No, that's not possible. I won't accept that." He was looking at her as if she'd betrayed Harry, merely by stating the possibility.
"It's just a theory, Ron. It probably - "
"NO!" The shout was unintentional, involuntary, torn from him without his consent, driven by his emotional attachment to his closest friend. Hermione hissed at him to hush, as they heard Harry shift and mutter from his bed. Ron was going to bring Madame Pomfrey's wrath down on them both. She could barely see him in the shadowy ward, but knew that he was likely red to the ears. "I know you, Hermione," he continued, his voice more under control. "You've already thought of this, haven't you? You wouldn't come up with just any theory. It's the only one that fits all the facts….isn't it?" he prodded.
She nodded, mutely, miserably. "Except that we don't have all the facts, Ron. There could be a different horcrux…Dumbledore had his reasons for suspecting it could be something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's. Surely he would have mentioned it to somebody if there was a possibility that Harry could be made a horcrux. We don't even know what it would do to something alive…" She trailed off from her desperate tirade, as Ron shook his head.
"The snake," he supplied. "The snake did just fine, didn't it? Look - look what we had to do to it just to get rid of it." His voice was dull and bleak, and she hurried to placate him to encourage him, to dissuade him from the horrible possibilities that she had been the one to voice just seconds ago.
"There are incredible differences between snakes and humans, Ronald. Besides, when would Voldemort have made Harry a horcrux? He was too weak to do anything after he tried to kill Harry. Harry virtually destroyed him."
Ron pulled his gaze away from her, and glanced toward the windows. The weak moon and starlight filtering in etched his face into harsh lines, and made him look suddenly older than his years.
"What if he wasn't trying to kill Harry? What if he was performing the spell to make Harry the horcrux? And then it backfired on him. Everyone has always assumed it was the Killing curse, but what if it was another spell that cast a green light?" Hermione swallowed at Ron's statement, and her expression was clearly one that had hoped he wouldn't think of that. "Surprised?" Ron said, curling up one side of his mouth in a somewhat bitter smile.
"Ron!" she said, half-exasperated, half-apologetic. "We can postulate and conjecture all night long. The fact is that we don't know. You said it yourself. We don't know. All we can do is be there for Harry. And what he needs from us right now is to find that last horcrux."
"Even if it's him?" Ron queried, the question slipping out of his mouth before he could stop it. Hermione set her jaw in a determined line.
"Even if it's him," she said, with finality. He reached down and laced her fingers through his, and they looked at each other. It wasn't a look of romance or affection, or even mutual vulnerability; it was a look of solidarity. They were in this together, for Harry, no matter what happened.
"But it won't be him," they said in unison, and then stared at each other again, startled and surprised to find that they were both hoping that if they said it, it might come true.
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The Headmistress of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat at her desk quite motionless and looked sorrowfully at Remus Lupin. It seemed to be her default expression these days…ever since Dumbledore's demise, when she had taken on a mantle of leadership for a dying school.
"How is he?" she asked, the gentleness in her voice seeming to soften her brogue. Lupin was slumped forward in the chintz armchair, his elbows on his knees, his pallor and fatigue making him somehow look more unkempt that usual. He shrugged.
"I'm not sure if anybody even knows," he answered honestly.
"Miss Granger…or Mr. Weasley…" McGonagall put forth tentatively.
"They just say that it's been getting worse…with each successive…" he trailed off, compulsively editing out the word, furtively glancing at the multitude of portraits ringing the office walls, most of whom appeared to be slumbering. Very few people knew of the objective of the Trio's quest. Most people who were even in a position to wonder at their absence just assumed that they were in hiding, perhaps training, in prelude to the final Battle. Lupin leaned forward, speaking confidentially. "Each … one that's destroyed takes a little more out of him." Minerva McGonagall's face seemed to become even more lined and careworn with concern for her former student.
"Why come here, Remus?" she asked. "What can we do that is not already being done?"
"Death Eaters attacked Godric's Hollow…that's how we came across young Mr. Malfoy," Lupin said, referring to the prisoner now residing down in the dungeons under as many charms and spells as the Hogwart's faculty could come up with on a moment's notice. "The attack was a diversion. He was looking for information…about what Harry's searching for. Voldemort," his name was a mutter, spoken through clenched teeth, "must have some kind of suspicion, some kind of reason to concern himself with what Harry's doing. We just don't know what." He sighed. "But it takes him longer to recover…with each one that's destroyed. There's one left...and they think it's here. And if Voldemort thinks that Harry has returned to school, maybe that's so much the better."
"What about the students? Will they be kept safe?" A shadow of fear darkened her eyes. She was responsible for so many innocent lives.
"I wish I could tell you they'd be fine," Lupin said, looking at his hands, rather than at her. "Harry does seem to attract danger wherever he goes, and we don't know when Voldemort is going to come calling for Harry - and they did think of this before they came - but…" he spread his hands out in a "what can you do?" gesture. "If the final …item… really is here, then Harry has to be here. I'll let the Aurors stationed here know… they'll need to be able to evacuate the students… if - if…" There was no need to finish the sentence. Their if, rapidly turning to when, did not bear contemplation.
McGonagall smiled grimly. "They are just a day late." She grabbed a quill, and began jotting notes down on a blank piece of parchment. "I think they would do well in an independent study program, don't you? Any student still here is certainly aware of Mr. Potter's prowess in Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as Miss Granger's ability at anything she sets her mind to. And Mr. Weasley… well, I'm sure he applies himself diligently to things that are important to him." Like his friends. She looked up at Lupin, a hint of moisture glinting in her eyes. Lupin met her gaze, emotion flashing behind his eyes as well. He stood, and extended his hand, which she took.
"The Aurors will be by in the morning to collect the prisoner," he said, speaking casually. "And Minerva? Thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Remus." She stood with him, and walked him out. He hesitated just outside the gargoyle that guarded the entrance, and she looked at him questioningly.
"I - I thought I'd tell Harry good-bye," he explained, "before I go to London. I'm sure the Ministry will want a report." The Headmistress seemed momentarily conflicted, but she evidently decided against accompanying Lupin to the hospital wing, and said only,
"Tell Mr. Potter that he is always welcome here, and that I hope he feels well enough to join us for breakfast."
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Harry's eyes fluttered open to sunlight streaming in the windows of the hospital wing. He could hear someone rustling around in the adjacent room and the ting of glass vials clanking together, and assumed that Madame Pomfrey would be in to see him shortly…probably to give him some potion or other that tasted disgusting.
He blinked his eyes and sat up experimentally. When the room did not spin, he reached for his glasses and placed them on his nose. Ron was sitting in a chair across the room from him, his neck bent at a painful-looking angle as he slept. Hermione was asleep on his lap. They had obviously already been up at some point that morning, because they were both in different clothes, as well as their standard-issue school robes. Harry was rather surprised by the uncomfortable flutterings in his stomach as he saw them together. This is ridiculous. Are you worried they're leaving you out? His inner voice said mockingly, in a tone somewhat like that of Bellatrix Lestrange. They're giving up everything to help you…can't you let them have this at least?
Madame Pomfrey swished through the door, humming tunelessly, and looking quite chipper for so early in the morning. She was pushing a cart laden with potions, and parked it at Harry's bedside. She indicated with one hand that he should begin drinking, as she started scanning him with her wand.
Ron and Hermione had startled awake at the disruption, and Hermione flew out of Ron's lap, looking at Harry with utter mortification. Ron looked thoughtfully at Hermione, as he stood to his feet, stretching up onto his toes and rubbing his neck. Harry waved at them wordlessly, as he knocked back the first potion.
"How're you feeling this morning, mate?" Ron asked, in a voice distorted by a yawn.
"Better," Harry said, nodding his head, and then repeating his reply with a little more enthusiasm. He drank the other potions quickly, eager to put their acrid odors and bitter tastes behind him. "I think I - I could go down to breakfast?" He looked at Madame Pomfrey pleadingly.
"Very well," the mediwitch said gruffly. "If you have any more dizziness or nausea or pain in your scar, you're to come see me at once. Is that understood?" Harry nodded meekly, and then slid carefully out of bed, standing on his feet carefully like one who is walking for the first time.
"Harry, maybe you shouldn't -" Hermione said, almost involuntarily, but then clamped her lips tightly shut. Harry looked at her, with a faint smile ghosting his features.
"Hermione, I'll be fine, really," he said reassuringly, and, grabbing his bag that he had brought from Godric's Hollow, he circled behind a divider and began to change into fresh clothes. "Where'd they put Malfoy?" he called out from behind the screen.
"Down in the dungeons," Ron answered. "Lucky for him it wasn't a full moon. I've never seen Lupin so angry."
"Ron," Hermione chastised him. "Professor Lupin would never even think of such a -"
"Relax, Hermione," Ron said, cutting her off. "I was only joking. Of course I don't think that Lu - "
"You want me to relax? At a time like this? Are you daft?" Hermione's voice became a little higher in pitch with every angry question. Ron drew back, stung.
"I'm taking this as seriously as anyone else, Hermione," he retorted. "I happen to think that a little bit of joking every now and then might be just what we need." Hermione looked livid.
"With Harry's life on the line?" she hissed at him. Ron looked anxiously at the divider, and told her to hush.
"I - I already know my life's on the line, guys," Harry said, his voice muffled, as if he were pulling a shirt over his head. "No need to keep it a secret from me." He came around the divider, his school robes on, but unfastened. He had a slight grin on his face, until he saw that Hermione looked not annoyed, but rather sad that he was making jokes.
"Harry…this is - this is so important," she said earnestly, clasping her hands together. He looked back at her, just as seriously.
"I know that, Hermione," he said, looking intently at her. All at once, Ron had the uncomfortable feeling that they had forgotten he was in the room. "But Ron's right. If Voldemort's able to take away everything we love and appreciate about life, then he's won." When Harry spoke Ron's name they both looked at him, and Ron figured that the other feeling must have been all in his head.
"I know," Hermione said, with that bored tone that highlighted just how little she liked being wrong. "I still wish you two would wait until it's all over to make jokes."
Harry regarded her solemnly for a moment. "All right, Hermione," he said gravely, and checked his watch. "How `bout it, Ron? The day after I defeat Voldemort good for you? How about a joke that day at breakfast?"
Ron's mouth twitched, but he refrained from laughing at Hermione's warning glare. She stalked down to breakfast ahead of them, her spine rigid, her shoulders square, pretending that she didn't hear the snorts of partially repressed laughter behind her.
When they arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione inexplicably stopped before the large double doors. She turned around to face her two best friends, and they looked at her curiously.
"You know what's going to happen when we open those doors," she said, without preamble. Harry and Ron nodded, all pretense of joviality gone. "Are you all right?" she asked Harry, her brown eyes warm with compassion.
Harry was still incredibly pale, though his scar stood out lividly on his forehead, and looked as if a breeze might blow him over. "Just…" he said, hating the need to ask for help, "just flank me…in case anything happens." Hermione and Ron obligingly moved to either side of him.
"Just in case you fall right on your arse, you mean," Ron said to him, out of the side of his mouth.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said in disbelief. "You are the most insensitive git I have ever had the misfortune to meet." Ron eyed her in a disgruntled fashion.
"You need to get some new lines," he said laconically, and Harry could almost see Hermione winding up. Her eyes crackled with energy.
"I'll have you know -" she began, when Harry thrust open both doors, with one sweeping motion of his arms. The Great Hall no longer had four house tables, but several smaller rectangular tables arranged in a giant U shape. The staff table was as it had been, but had far fewer teachers seated at it than they were accustomed to seeing. Still, every eye in the Great Hall had turned, almost fearfully, when the doors clattered open.
There was a moment of complete silence, as the Trio stood motionless in the doorway, Hermione's mouth still open where she had frozen in mid-sentence. Harry hesitated for another fraction of a second, before striding confidently into the Great Hall, leaving Ron and Hermione to hastily catch up with him. Ron was pretty sure that they made quite an impressive sight, marching in like that, black school robes billowing behind them.
They were about halfway up the length of the tables, headed for some empty seats at the top of the U, when the murmurs finally reached Harry's ears, rising quickly in volume.
"It's Harry."
"He's back."
"Didn't reckon we'd see him again."
"You sure know how to make an entrance, mate," Ron remarked, at the rushing whispers than meandered up the aisle behind them.
Harry couldn't stop a smile from flitting across his face. Most of the people who had chosen to return to Hogwart's were friends of his, and he didn't think he'd ever see this place as anywhere else but home. It had been the first place where he'd actually felt he belonged. His eyes drifted up to the empty place at the center of the staff table, and he felt a pang of sadness, as he saw Professor McGonagall seated just to the right, as if she too could not admit to herself that Dumbledore was gone.
He sat down as nonchalantly as possible, while Ron and Hermione crossed to the inner side of the table, and sat opposite. Someone - Harry thought it was Ernie MacMillan - started clapping, and soon the whole room was awash in applause. There were several cheers, and Harry felt himself began to redden.
He saw Seamus and Dean clap Ron on the back, and smiled widely when Neville sat next to him, nudging him companionably in the shoulder. Lavender, Parvati, Padma, and Luna all slid a little closer, straining to hear what was being said. Harry noticed that the houses seemed to be intermingled with each other, save for a tiny group of Slytherins at the opposite side of the U.
"Glad you're back, Harry," Neville said simply, as they shared a man-to-man look.
"It's nice to be back, Neville," Harry said, picking up his goblet of pumpkin juice and raising it to his lips.
Before he could take a sip, something hurtled toward him, speaking in a rapid, unintelligible voice. His goblet went flying as it was knocked from his hand when a warm body slammed into his, and he dimly realized that he had a mouthful of hair.
"Ginny," he sputtered, spitting her hair out of his mouth. Her eyes gleamed with pleasure and something like triumph.
"You're back," she said in a satisfied tone, reaching up with one hand to run her fingers through his hair. He captured her hand with his own, interrupting the gesture, and brought their hands back down to their sides. He saw a flicker of hurt in her eyes, but she didn't comment further.
"I'm back," he responded in kind, his eyes wandering over her face. She was so beautiful, and he really wished that…
"D'you mind?" Ron asked good-naturedly. "I'd rather not be subject to you ogling my sister at breakfast. Way too early." He chewed thoughtfully on a slice of bacon. "Any time would be too early, really."
"Ron, it's not - " Harry began to protest, slightly annoyed. He wasn't really in the mood for this conversation just now. But he was interrupted as Headmistress McGonagall took the podium. Ginny kept her fingers tightly laced through his, and Harry had to admit that he did enjoy the feeling, so he stopped trying to worm his hand out of her grip.
"Good morning, students," she said briefly. "I trust you have noticed our newest arrivals?" There were some more cheers and whistles. "It's good to have you back at Hogwart's, Harry," she said, her obvious emotion slipping out at the use of his given name. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," she continued, a trifle more formally, nodding at them in greeting. "If you three will meet me in my office after breakfast, we can go over your schedules."
McGonagall exited the Great Hall with as much authority as she had ever exuded, and yet…it seemed different somehow. Harry wondered with mild surprise if she was seeing him as differently as he was seeing her, and wondered if his being of age put them on a more equal footing…as adults. He managed to reclaim his hand from Ginny, and tucked in to his food.
More than halfway through his meal, he noticed that both Ginny and Hermione were watching him surreptitiously. Ron had seen it as well, and was giving them both looks that he reserved for people that he thought were nutters.
"Um…" Harry began politely, swallowing his bite of food. His eyes darted from Ginny to Hermione and back again.
"What?" Ginny asked innocently, tucking a loose strand of fiery hair behind her ear, as she poured syrup on her waffle. She looked up at him again, and her whole face brightened. "It really is good to see you again, Harry. After - after everything that - " her face grew somber and her gaze was momentarily distant. When her attention turned back to Harry, she smiled again, as if to say "but now you're here, so everything will be fine." Harry felt a distinct sick sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"Hermione?" Harry queried, turning toward her.
"What?" she said blandly.
"Have I got food on my face or something?" Harry asked patiently. Hermione colored violently, and dropped her gaze to her plate, muttering,
"I just want to be sure you're all right." Ron rolled his eyes, and said something, not very sotto voce, about hysterical, paranoid women.
Hermione rounded on him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing, as she let Ron have it. Her words flowed so quickly that Harry could hardly keep up with what she was saying, wondering instead if she ever realized how pretty she was when she was angry. Maybe that's why Ron winds her up all the time, he thought, and his musing was followed immediately by shock. What the hell am I thinking?
Ron was slouching more and more sulkily into his plate, every now and then zinging Hermione with a pithy one-liner that only served to ratchet her up to the next level.
"Merlin's Beard," Neville said, shaking his head at the two of them. "Something's never change, do they, Harry?"
"No," Harry replied, toying with his eggs and feeling suddenly and inexplicably glum. "No, they don't."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When they left breakfast to head to McGonagall's office, Ron and Hermione were both in a huff, refusing to speak to one another. They parted ways from a positively bubbly Ginny at the doors of the Great Hall, as she was on her way to Charms class.
"Maybe you'll have some classes with me," she said giddily, looking at him so fondly that Harry felt his heart clench and something lurch in the region of his stomach.
"You're…you're not in our year," Harry managed to mumble idiotically. Ginny shrugged.
"There are so few students left that they've combined some of the classes. Sixth and seventh years have quite a lot of classes together, actually." She kissed his cheek, waved good-bye to Ron and Hermione, and headed for Flitwick's classroom. Harry watched her go, and wondered when he'd have the heart to tell her that sitting in a class writing essays and turning aardvarks into hearthrugs was the last thing he planned on doing. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and began walking toward the offices of the Headmistress. Hermione and Ron trailed along behind him in a haughty silence.
When they reached the gargoyle, it had already moved aside and the spiral staircase was awaiting them. They hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances, as they reached the top and stopped before the office doors. Harry finally reached up and rapped lightly on the door.
"Enter," came the Headmistress's voice. They walked into the room to find her seated behind the large desk, smiling slightly at them. "I find that an open-door policy is more … appropriate nowadays," she said by way of explanation. Harry figured that was just a roundabout way of saying that she wanted to be able to be notified immediately if anything happened.
Harry looked around the room, noting that most of Dumbledore's trinkets were gone. The desk was larger and more functional looking. But the squashy armchairs were the same, and there was a bowl of lemon drops on her desk… Harry sucked in a sharp breath, and looked quickly down at his lap. He knew what would be hanging on the wall, had seen the portrait shortly after Dumbledore's death, but it had been slumbering then. He didn't know if he could face the Headmaster's twinkling blue gaze, even from a portrait.
McGonagall was watching him carefully, and appeared to know exactly what he was thinking. "It took me three weeks to even be able to look at his portrait," she said suddenly. "When I did, Albus said that he'd been wondering if he'd offended me somehow," she smiled a little, but her eyes were watery. Hermione and Ron raised their eyes cautiously toward Dumbledore's portrait, but Harry kept his eyes stubbornly on his lap. McGonagall cleared her throat, and began speaking in the business-like tone that they were more accustomed to.
"Regarding the class schedules…" she began, but Harry interrupted her.
"I won't be taking classes, Professor McGonagall," he said respectfully, his voice nonetheless firm. "I've other things to do while I'm here." He looked at Hermione and Ron, and added, almost as an afterthought, "Ron and Hermione are welcome to do what they want, of course." McGonagall regarded him for a moment, with a glimmer of something like amusement behind her eyes.
"As I was saying," she continued, with a trace of her old sharpness, "I believe you three would benefit from an independent study program." Hermione's eyes lit up. Ron smirked at Harry, and Harry felt himself flush at his jump to a wrong conclusion. "Remus Lupin tells me there is some…research … that you are particularly interested in." Her words were guarded.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied.
"You will, of course, have unhampered access to the Library, including the restricted sections, and use of any materials in the Potions laboratory that you may need," she said, rapidly making notes on a roll of parchment. Hermione looked like Christmas had come early. "I've taken the liberty of reserving the Gryffindor Head Suite for the three of you. Since you turned down the badges…" Here, Hermione and Ron looked at each other guiltily, "the Head honors went to Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan, and the Gryffindor Suites are not in use. You will have more privacy this way, and I'll have an extra bed moved into the Head Boy room. You do not object to sharing?" Harry and Ron shook their heads quickly, astounded at their good fortune. "I will not enforce curfew for the three of you, but I do ask that you act responsibly. And, should you need to leave the castle for any reason, I'd like for you to please notify someone first." Harry noticed that she was carefully phrasing her guidelines as requests rather than demands. He smiled at her gratefully.
"Professor, how many people know about the…research we're doing?" Harry asked tentatively. He had agonized long and hard over whether or not to tell Lupin, but had finally decided that they needed some kind of liaison to the outside world, while they were on their quest. He had figured that Lupin had probably told someone, as a kind of failsafe, but he didn't know who.
"Remus Lupin has served you well," McGonagall replied, in answer to his unasked question. "It is just myself and Miss Tonks that know anything about your project…and your father, of course," she said, nodding to Ron.
"So that's why he was on my side about leaving with Harry," Ron said in a voice of sudden comprehension.
"The Order is still intact, though it's in a stand-by mode at the moment. Others in the Order merely believe you've been training. As you're only one day late to school, I see no reason why that story should not continue to stand to the other students and faculty here."
Harry appeared not to be listening. His eyes had locked on the dish of lemon drops, and he felt the incredible empty unreality of Dumbledore's death again, wishing that somehow it would all suddenly make sense. He stood abruptly, stumbling as his foot caught the leg of the chair he'd been sitting in. The room wobbled crazily, as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him. Hermione was suddenly in his field of vision, as she wrapped her arm through his, and helped him find his balance.
"I'm all right," he said, trying to get his eyes to focus. "I'm fine." Hermione and Ron looked at him skeptically.
"You remember what Madame Pomfrey said," Hermione remarked, with a warning tone. Harry glowered at her without result.
"I'm sure that your studies can wait until after you visit the hospital wing," McGonagall said, handing a note to Hermione. "This is for Madame Pince, authorizing your use of the Restricted section." Hermione thanked her.
They were nearly to the door, when Professor McGonagall spoke again, "As I'm sure you could figure out, there is no House cup and no House Quidditch teams. There are simply not enough students. But there is a pick-up Quidditch game every now and then, that I'm sure the students would be delighted to have you join, should you be so inclined." She smiled a little then, and for the first time, it seemed to reach her eyes. "Mr. Finnegan tells me that Mr. Thomas is an abysmal Seeker."
TBC
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