Chapter 8: No News is Good News
It was with an acceptable degree of trepidation that Harry approached Tuesday morning. It would, after all, be the first day he had taught a class as a recognised teacher. Dumbledore had taken him to one side at dinner last night to tell him that although Dumbledore himself was taking the class, that he, Harry, would be his assistant for the lesson. Harry wasn't tremendously keen on this idea; every time he thought about it he imagined himself as a 'magician's assistant' and hoped truly that Dumbledore wouldn't make him wear a sparkly dress in front of his classmates.
Harry descended the boy's dormitory earlier than usual, his thoughts about parading around in high-heeled shoes and a bouffant wig kept his from drifting back to sleep. He was surprised to find Hermione, sitting alone in the sparsely populated common room. She jumped up as she saw him, realised that she was making a show of herself, and then approached him in a casual way.
'Morning,' she said breathlessly.
'Hi,' Harry beamed back.
'Look, about yesterday,' she began, Harry got the feeling she'd been planning this speech all night, 'I'm really sorry about what happened. It started off as a bit of fun and got out of hand. I didn't mean to embarrass you in every class and in front of anyone we came across.'
'It's all right,' Harry said brightly, 'No harm done. It would have been funny if I'd been on the other side. Don't worry about it.'
'Yeah, well I do,' she said seriously, 'I don't want to cause problems for you. I think we need to talk, define what's going on with…you know, us and stuff.'
'What do you mean?' Harry asked suspiciously, he had a distinct feeling that Hermione wasn't about to tell him something he wanted to hear.
'Well, I think we need to be clear about it all. What's going on here, what was happening at my house. Stuff like that. Maybe we need to set some boundaries.'
'If you want me to back off I will,' Harry said, suddenly feeling quite angry, 'It's not as if major stuff is happening is it? Apart from you having a joke at my expense. I thought you were doing that to start Ron from moping, but…I don't know, maybe you were just messing around with me.'
'No, Harry! That's not what…I didn't mean that -'
'Just forget it Hermione,' Harry shot, his face fuming with frustration, 'I'm going down to breakfast. Tell Ron I'm there wont you?'
'Harry! Wait! Please come back!'
But Harry didn't come back. He stormed straight out of the portrait hole, kicking over a game of wizard's chess two second-years were playing. They yelled their anger at him but he found that he was not at all sorry and for a moment, he felt like cursing them for their insolence. He did manage to restrain himself from that though, but as he stomped down to breakfast the anger in his chest intensified.
Harry was hoping for a good half an hour stewing time before anyone came down to breakfast. The Great Hall was empty bar a few students who were up and poring over textbooks, Hermione-style, as they ate their way through a variety of foods. Harry thought that by the time anyone sat with him he would be nice and riled, ready to bite off multiple heads, scold anyone who tried to be nice and calm him down and, most importantly, beat Hermione in the argument they were bound to have.
This was however a false hope for barely ten seconds after he'd sat down Hermione was slamming herself down next to him. Her eyes were slightly puffy and bloodshot and Harry had difficulty deciding whether this was through anger or if she had been crying. He hated himself; the thought of her being angry didn't bother him but when it occurred to him that he may of upset her his anger melting to horrific, gut-wrenching guilt. What is she doing to me? This was the one, single thought circulating in his mind.
'Listen, Harry,' Hermione began determinedly, 'I know you're angry but you are going to hear me out. You've got the wrong end of the stick about what I said upstairs. If you'd ever let me finish a sentence maybe we wouldn't cross wires so often.'
'You sounded perfectly clear to me,' Harry said quietly.
'No, I didn't!' Hermione said, her voice getting quite agitated, 'Look, what I meant was that we need to talk. We need time, on our own, away from everyone else. We need to sort out what's happening with us. I know some things have changed between us, and I know you feel it too, but it's all so difficult, so confusing. Are you going to say you aren't confused?'
Harry wanted to say 'yes' with such force, but he couldn't lie.
'Yeah, I'm confused,' Harry said lightly, 'but with you. One minute you're all huggy and clingy, then you're cold telling me to back off. This is scary for me, you know…I've never, well…felt…some of this stuff, like this…you know. But if you don't want to be near me, or if you want to be near someone else and have a joke about me, then just say and stopped doing this to me.'
'Doing what to you?'
Harry paused for a second.
'Making me weak…'
Hermione seemed taken aback, her face softened slightly and she looked sorry.
'What do you mean?'
'Weak, Hermione,' Harry explained, 'I see you and things happen to me, I cant explain it. Its weird, its scary…it's definitely strong. But, well, its quite nice too. Like I said, of you'd rather not be near me…'
'That's my point, Harry,' Hermione said animatedly, 'I do want to be near you. All the time. That's what I meant about boundaries. How close we can get, what's acceptable and stuff. We need to sort out what we are, and if anything's going on with us then we have to decided how to break it to…um, certain people.'
Harry looked around to see Ron strolling over. Luna was pestering him again, ambling along dreamily by his side and they chatted. Obviously, Harry mused, Ron couldn't think of a good enough excuse to get rid of her.
'That girl,' Ron said exasperatedly, 'talks and talks. Could talk for Britain that one. And I wish she'd stop singing 'Weasley is Our King' everywhere she goes. It's really annoying.'
Once breakfast was over Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to Transfiguration. Harry purposely made sure that he and Hermione were on different sides to Ron, and the situation seemed to make him much happier. It talked and talked about his Quidditch Captaincy, talking very fast about how Ginny was going to help him train to be the best Keeper Hogwarts had ever seen. Strangely, he invited Hermione to go and watch him train but Harry didn't get a mention.
Hermione didn't seem particularly keen either to listen to Ron nor accept his invitation for her to be his own personal cheering section. Harry looked at her as infrequently as his desire would allow and every time he did she looked bored and slightly upset. Harry felt exactly the same.
They passed a group of Ravenclaws huddled at the top of the staircase. Roger Davies, the tall, moderately good-looking Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain had just told a joke to which his audience were now rapturously laughing. Harry caught the eye of Cho Chang, who immediately began to laugh louder and more exuberantly as the others' laughter began to wane. Some of the group gave her strange looks, worried that she might be mental.
Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Malfoy in yesterday's Potions class. He thought about telling a joke himself, maybe to impress Hermione. A strange sensation hit him; he didn't really want to impress Hermione. Merely having her at his side with everyone knowing she was his would have been more than enough for him. This simple thing, however, seemed so unlikely at that point that Harry actually rubbed his chest. The pain shouldn't have been physical, should it?
The first Transfiguration lesson of the new term was particularly tricky. Professor McGonagall, much like Snape, reminded that class that high grade got them into the class and a maintaining of those standards was a must for all those wanting to stay there. The task for the lesson was difficult and tricky, requiring a precise wand swish and an incantation muttered with exact phonetic accuracy. Despite being in a slightly off mood with her, Harry felt a strange swelling of pride when Hermione was the only one doing it correctly. It paled into comparison with his own, rather poor effort. His mind juts wasn't on the job.
After break Harry parted with Hermione as she went off to Arithmancy and he went down to Care of Magical Creatures with Ron. Hermione had somehow managed to convince Professor McGonagall to allow her to attend only one Care of Magical Creatures class and spend the next two classes in Arithmancy. Harry doubted she would struggle with this extra lesson and was willing to help her catch up if she needed him to. Not that he expected her to ask.
Ron seemed to have been waiting for this moment for ages. As soon as Hermione mouthed Harry a wordless goodbye, and gave a solemn little wave, Ron burst into talk.
'So, you and Hermione,' he said quickly, 'what's going on? Tell me, I want to know.'
Ron seemed very agitated; Harry thought it best not to reveal anything to incriminating.
'Nothing,' he said, 'Why d'you ask?'
'Don't give me that nothing rubbish,' he said hotly, 'you two are acting totally weird. If one of you is moody, then the other one is. You talk in hushed tones all the time. And I'm surprised neither of you walk into stuff with the amount of time you spend looking at each other. Don't lie to me, Harry.'
'I'm not!' Harry said loudly, Ron's eyes widened, 'Nothings going on. I've had this for two years now and I wish people would drop it. She's not interested in me and that's the end of it. What have I got to do?'
'So she's not interested in you,' Ron said slowly, 'but what about you? Cho's out of the way so where're you're interests?'
'I don't have any. Ron, this is Hermione. We're just friends. That's all there is to it.'
Harry hated the lie before he'd even finished it. His interest was elsewhere, that much Ron had got right. He couldn't see any way to tell him what he was truly feeling.
'That's OK then,' Ron said after a brief silence, 'because you know what I said in the summer? I'm interested in seeing if I can get her. I mean, I know she hasn't shown much interest yet but I have to prove I can do something if I put my mind to it. I don't want to have to compete with you, Harry; I mean, you've had enough upsets. I don't want to go chasing after Hermione if you really fancy her. But you don't, so it's a clear field.'
'Yeah,' Harry said vaguely, 'Yeah, I s'pose it is.'
Lunch was a sombre affair. Harry poked and prodded at his bowl of pasta swirls but didn't fancy eating much of it. Hermione, who had looking positively radiant after what she had termed an 'exhilarating' Arithmancy class, had turned quite despondent after seeing the look on Harry's face as they met up in the Great Hall. Ron seemed to take a sadistic advantage of Harry's depressed mood and tried to chat to Hermione as much as he could between mouthfuls of shepherd's pie. She kept shooting concerned glances at Harry who was reduced to meeting her gaze on one or two occasions and shaking his head, hoping he had communicated to her that he didn't want to talk.
This wasn't something that he could keep up for any period of time, though. As soon as lunch was over the three of them trooped back up to Gryffindor tower to collect their bags and head for the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. Harry went on ahead after Hermione had tried to pull him to one side, undoubtedly wanting to know what had happened to depress him so much in Care of Magical Creatures. He didn't want to discuss it with her, but couldn't look her in the eye when he said that Dumbledore had asked him to be in class five minutes early.
When he arrived, the classroom was empty apart from Professor Dumbledore, who was sat in a chair.
'Hello, Harry!' he said jovially as Harry entered the room, 'Something troubling you.'
'No,' Harry lied.
'I'll ask you again tomorrow,' Dumbledore said, inspecting Harry over his half-moon glasses, 'I have scheduled your first Occlumency lesson with me for tomorrow evening at 8pm. In my study would be best, I think. Perhaps then I can get to the root of the problem.'
'What problem?' Harry asked, trying to sound casual.
'The one that has been on your mind for weeks, Harry. I have several theories already, perhaps one will turn out to be accurate. I have managed to accumulate knowledge on many of the troubles that youth faces, though, maybe, you particular problem may be slightly acute?'
'That's an understatement,' Harry said, flopping down in a chair opposite his Headmaster.
'Then perhaps we shall discuss the problem tomorrow, see if we cant find a solution.'
Harry wasn't hopeful. Dumbledore was gifted in solving most of both Harry's and the wizarding worlds' problems. But, somehow, Harry didn't think Dumbledore could possibly say anything that could help him here.
The Defence Against The Dark Arts class was full of surprises for Harry. Luckily, Harry wasn't made to wear a dress to be Dumbledore's assistant but he was shocked at the contents f the NEWT level syllabus that Dumbledore had devised. Harry felt certain that if Dolores Umbridge had cast her eyes over this she would have spontaneously combusted from the shock.
Dumbledore had clearly decided to take a hard line in the face of Voldemort's resurgence. Instead of reading the techniques for spotting vampires, werewolves and hags, Dumbledore had decided on an almost militaristic training programme. He explained that the students were to be taught all the hexes, jinxes and curses they would need to defend themselves against dark wizards. He explained that they would also be taught the basics of stealth and concealment, should they ever need to hide or disguise themselves when in danger. He added that he and Harry would demonstrate each one in class before Harry took a totally practical class in the final lesson of the week. He also hinted that he and Harry would duel so they could fight like true wizards do, going beyond the confines of incantations.
'But, sir,' Harry said sceptically, trying not to plead, 'I can't duel with you. Not like Voldemort did. I can't do any of that stuff.'
'Then you shall have to learn,' Dumbledore said with a smile, 'and I have faith that you will. The power is within you, Harry, and though that kind of duelling is very advance, you have already demonstrated that you are ahead of you years in that department.'
Harry doubted very much that this was true. But to duel with Dumbledore? Harry felt angry again; why did all the people he cared for seem to want to humiliate him in public these days?
Harry's humiliation didn't end with the end of classes for the day. It rapidly became apparent as Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way down to dinner that evening that they had missed something going on. In the corridors, people were huddled together in groups, laughing and chatting over what looked like a small newspaper. As these people saw Harry and Hermione, they starting whooping, whistling suggestively and some even making the kind of comments Ron was prone to yesterday.
'What's going on?' Hermione asked anxiously as several fourth-year boys made suggestive gestures aimed at her and Harry.
Harry didn't have an answer but Draco Malfoy did. He was loitering around the entrance to the Great Hall and as he saw Harry his face lit up with a mischievous, evil glow.
'There you are, Potty,' he said in a drawl, 'have you seen the news?'
'The what?' Harry spat.
'News, Potter? You know, stories about things going on in the world? Anyway, take a look at this.'
He thrust one of the mini-newspapers into Harry's hands.
'What's this?'
'This, is the new Hogwarts newsletter. Funded by my father and run by yours truly. Take a look at it, Potter, see if you can find anything you like, though I doubt you will. And check out the competitions page, some very interesting prizes to be won. You have a look, too, Weasley. There's galleons up for grabs and you are in the prime position to take them. That's if I'd give them to you anyway.'
He walked away laughing; Crabbe and Goyle, who'd been just inside the Great Hall, laughed as well as the followed Malfoy to the Slytherin table. Harry turned over the paper he was holding. His face dropped like a ton of stone.
The Slytherin Standard:
Taking The Hiss Out Of Life At Hogwarts
Harry felt a degree of dread but curiosity forced him to read on.
Welcome Hogwarts students to the new Slytherin Standard, the place to find all you need to know about the goings on of your school. Hot topic today: Potter and Granger, the joke of Hogwarts. This little sickening tryst has been in action for quite some time but now it seems they have come out into the open. Masks to block out the sickening displays of 'affection' may be obtained from Pansy Parkinson, c/o Slytherin House.
This alliance is sure to cause many sleepless nights for the decent students at our school. Only this morning, one student (who wishes to remain anonymous), Gregory Goyle, disclosed to me that thoughts about Potty Potter and the Mudblood before bed causing him to wake up with the most terrible nausea imaginable. Madame Pomfrey can testify to his visits to the hospital wing, suffering from severe symptoms of 'Mud-blood poisoning.
POTTER SPOTTERS: The Boy Who Shouldn't Have Lived leaving a very smelly boys bathroom; Potter stealing underwear from the girls laundry room; Potter and the Weasel King throwing dungbombs at the school's mentally-handicapped visitors. SEND YOUR POTTER SIGHTINGS TO DRACO MALFOY, THE EDITOR, SLYTHERIN COMMON ROOM.
COMPETITION TIME! This week's special prizes are as follows. 5 Galleons for insulting the Gryffindor Hide-And-Seeker in front of ten or more witnesses. 10 Galleons for sending Potter to the hospital wing; 20 Galleons for serious maiming or loss of limbs. SPECIAL OFFER!!!! 50 Galleons for any student who can make that no-good, know-it-all, Mudblood Granger cry in the Great Hall. RULES: No redheaded Gryffindors will be permitted to enter; your thirst for any money is desperate enough so you can do without ours. We are NOT a charity.
Harry stared at the paper for a moment, wondering whether it was all just a bad dream. Ron abruptly snatched the paper from his hands, tearing it into pieces with such a look of violence in his eyes that Harry felt inclined to step backwards. He felt Hermione slip her hand into his then without warning, and in full view of Ron, she buried her face into his shoulder.
Harry could feel her weeping quietly, unable to move her head. Ron saw but didn't react; he simply nodded maniacally in cold fury and muttered such threats about what he was going to do to Malfoy that Harry couldn't respond to. Having lost all appetite, Harry guided Hermione away to the front doors, planning a walk around the lake. Ron stopped him.
'Where do you think you're going?' he yelled.
'I don't think it's a great idea to go in there yet,' Harry said, trying to be calm, 'I'm going to take Hermione outside. We'll eat when it's a bit less crowded.'
'Running away are you?' he spat.
'Ron, look at her. You want me to take her in there? Past them? How many Slytherins will try to claim the 50 Galleons prize for making her cry?'
Ron conceded defeat.
'Look, if you want to go in, then go,' Harry said, 'but promise me one thing. Don't kill Malfoy unless I'm there to watch you do it.'
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