A Club
Viopathartic
A/N: I know haven't really discussed the matter with Sirius Black. This chapter will deal a bit on it.
This is unbetaed...right now. I'm sorry but I won't be very free for the next weeks so I thought I'd let you have something.
Chapter 5:
For the first time in months, Harry overslept.
As he rushed through his shower, quickly dressed in his uniforms, and ran down the stairs to the Gryffindor Room, memories from his meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall played through his mind.
After the dinner with Hermione throwing confused looks over at him as he ate his sandwich and Ron throwing looks at Hermione, Harry wished his friends a quick goodnight and left the Great Hall. Luna and Neville had gotten the message that there won't be any meetings for their club for awhile. He was a bit sad, yes, that the meetings were delayed.
Even through a few meetings, the two students had provided him with comfort and companionship. He was glad for that. But for some reason, it felt wrong to continue A Club without Mal--Draco. Even though Ma...Draco never spoken about his membership in A Club, he still came to the meetings which clearly stated that he wanted to be a member. Harry had to admit that he spent so much time worrying about Malfoy's comments that the real purpose of A Club was still a bit unclear. Harry had no idea on what they would do in the meetings.
Luna said friendship and the possibility of forming a band...Harry never expected that. To form a friendship with his enemy of 4 years seemed completely impossible. Would they be able to forget everything that happened in the past and start a friendship from scratch and without prior judgment? Harry couldn't fathom the idea of starting a band either...what was Luna thinking?
Harry mindlessly wandered the hallways, hands in his pockets as usual. A few of his fellow classmates would yell a greeting and Harry would absentmindedly answer back. Then they would go on with their other friends and Harry would continue on his walk. Alone.
He knew that Hermione was suspicious of him. She thought Harry was acting odd, but he also knew that Hermione didn't know about his part in the pictures that were seen in the Transfiguration classroom. Harry remembered how Hermione's face had paled when she saw her image stuck on a board and under the category of Mudblood. He should have taken them off, but he left so quickly after Malfoy had ran away from them that night.
He still had to finish his potions essay. It was due tomorrow and he knew Snape would never believe him if Harry explained that he accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on it. Also tomorrow, the class will pair up in partners and brew the Babbling Beverage, a potion that would have a person babble nonsense if they were unfortunate enough to drink it. Harry still had to read the chapter on it too.
Oh well, that can be done later, thought Harry as he strolled down the now familiar corridor that would lead to Dumbledore's office. It was an unconscious move on Harry's part. He didn't want to face McGonagall but he felt that he had to deal with this now. Proven correct, McGonagall was already in the office, pacing the floor with an amused Dumbledore watching his colleague.
"Potter, explain yourself," ordered McGonagall as soon as Harry stepped through the threshold. He took a seat in his usual spot and gazed at McGonagall, hoping that he had an innocent.
"The Transfiguration chalkboard! Harry," she said, using his first name in the rare occasion, "I agreed to let you have the room for your meeting but what you are doing...putting up such horrific images. It is time for you to tell me the true purpose of the club!"
"Those pictures," Harry began slowly, "were pictures from a Muggle catastrophe called the Holocaust."
"Yes, yes, I am aware," said McGonagall impatiently, "but I want to know how this relates to your club!"
"I was teaching," truthfully answered Harry, using Luna's word for what they were doing with Malfoy.
Minerva suddenly went pale. That statement had caught her off guard. Teaching--teaching what? Professor Dumbledore, who was listening intently, suddenly saw the image of a young boy named Tom Riddle. How everything had gone wrong when the boy was lured into the Dark Arts.
"You put a picture of Miss Granger under the category 'Mudblood". I would never think of you to ever use such a word for your friend," commented Dumbledore. A look of horror appeared on the young Gryffindor's face and he raised his arms in defense.
"No! I would never think of Hermione like that. I-I was teaching one of the members of my club the faults of Voldemort and I had to use those words so that I can show him."
"Him?" Dumbledore inquired after sharing a glance with Minerva, whose color had returned to her complexion.
Harry hesitated. "Draco Malfoy. He's one the members along with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom."
"Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood...and Draco Malfoy," murmured Minerva, thinking how the club had odd membership.
"Mr. Malfoy. That's quite unusual, Harry, for I would have thought the two of you to be enemies," commented Dumbledore who now smiling.
"We are...were..." answered a bewildered Harry, "Me and Luna thought up the idea because Malfoy was being a git as always and we didn't want that in our club. I didn't want that. But then Luna said that it wasn't Malfoy's fault that he was an absolute prat. She said that it was because of how he was raised...with his father being a cowardly, insane Death Eater, that is." Minerva hid a smile at Harry's description of a Death Eater.
"That is true. A person's thoughts and personality are influenced by their environment as they were growing up. Miss Lovegood is very bright for pointing that out,"
"I know," Harry quickly agreed.
"And the Holocaust was your idea?"
Harry nodded. "It was something that I learned in primary school. I only released the small similarities when I thought of it a few days ago. Luna helped me research too."
"Now it is clear that you inherited some of your mother's traits," he complimented him. Harry was a bit shocked to here that. He was always compared to looking like his father and was only commented to have Lily Potter's lush, emerald eyes. Learning that he was somewhat bright--for his mother was quite an extraordinary witch--made Harry smile slightly.
"And did your teaching work?" Minerva asked anxiously. She too thought Harry's idea to teach Malfoy again was quite unusual.
Harry slowly shook his head. "I don't think so. Mal--Draco was...well in shock kind of...we, er, fought too."
"Fought?" Minerva raised in eyebrows and Harry refused to meet her eyes. The fight between Draco and him was not discussed any further.
She turned to the Headmaster, clearing her throat. "So Albus...what do you think of this?"
"It's very good that you are willing to go through such lengths to help one of your enemies. That shows you have a heart--a very good one from what I can tell," commented Albus Dumbledore calmly. Harry nodded.
"Now that we have that matter sorted...I'm afraid we have another. It involves your godfather..."
"Oh," was all Harry could say. He spent the summer wondering when Sirius' will would come out. He hadn't thought of it since then.
"Yes. The Ministry just gave me a copy of his will and I think you'd like to see it," explained Dumbledore, watching closely for Harry's reaction. The boy was closing up again, hiding his emotions.
"Yeah. Sure."
"You probably want to read this in the presence of Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. They are mentioned in there too." The old wizard stretched out his arm and a rolled up parchment suddenly appeared in his hands. Harry reached out to take it, eyes focused on the will. The Ministry had given it...that meant they probably read it...people like Umbridge...had seen what Sirius wrote to his godson.
"I think it is getting late, Harry," Minerva said quietly, standing up from her chair. Harry nodded again and stood up as well.
He turned and walked until he reached the door.
"She says I should change too...," Harry mumbled, hand on the doorknob and with his back to his Headmaster. The other hand was gripping the piece of parchment.
"Luna said you should change what?" Albus asked curiously.
"My dislike towards Slytherins..."
Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his hands. "Why do you dislike Slytherins?"
"Because they killed Sirius."
It seemed almost natural for Harry to say that he despised Slytherins. All Gryffindors would agree to it. It was known that the two houses were the worst enemies. Harry always thought Slytherins were no good scum.
Now, as he took the stairs that led to the dungeons, Harry realized it was the same as thinking all "mudbloods" were dirty blood. His prejudice towards Slytherins was strikingly similar to how some purebloods see Muggle-borns.
So in all senses...Harry was just like them.
He now knew that Luna was right: Not only would Malfoy have to change but Harry would too.
But his new goal was nearly ruined when he pushed the dungeon door open to hear Snape in the middle of instructions for their Babbling Beverage.
"Ah, Potter. Come to grace us with your presence? I would have thought you'd missed the entire class," the slimy git said, sneering at Harry. Some of the Slytherins laughed while the Gryffindors frowned, knowing that Harry would lose them more points.
Harry put his hands in his pocket so that Snape wouldn't see his clenched fists. "Sorry sir...I overslept."
"Indeed. Twenty points from Gryffindor," he said which elicited a small groan from the Gryffindor side. He turned around and faced Dean Thomas. "Five more, Mr. Thomas."
"Potter. Take a seat next to Mr. Malfoy. Everyone else has been paired," instructed Snape, curtly. Harry hauled his bag and moved over to the right side of the room where Draco Malfoy was seated. He passed Hermione on the way and gave her a short smile that disappeared once he couldn't see her face again. Similar to the seating arrangements in the Great Hall, there were two rows of empty seats between the other Slytherins and Malfoy. Harry put his bag in one of those seats and placed himself next to Malfoy.
"Malfoy," he greeted shortly and a bit cautiously. His last encounter with the Slytherin was not exactly cheerful. But, Malfoy gave a brisk nod and turned his head so that his eyes were following the Potions Master. Harry noticed that he had a tip grip on his feather pen and his shoulders were slightly hunched and faced away from Harry as if being near him was certainly painful. Harry didn't comment on that and took out his feather pen, making sure to copy the instructions correctly.
Snape was done after five minutes and barked that the class may begin with the brewing. Malfoy, without discussing with him, immediately went for the proper ingredients while Harry was left to retrieve the necessary equipment. As Hermione was walking pass him to get a bottle of fried frog legs, she whispered, "Harry, are you alright? You've never overslept before." She had a hand around his wrist and was tenderly holding it.
Harry managed an assuring smile, swallowing as her hand caused a fluttering in his stomach, and gave her an unsuspicious answer, "I left the Potions essay to last minute and had to finish it. So I didn't get much sleep."
Was it just him or was Hermione worrying a lot about him?
He saw Ron looking at the two of them and watched as his friend realized that he saw him. "Er...hey mate,"
"Hey."
"Was I or was I not clear that we have a potion to brew?" asked Snape loudly. Harry mentally rolled his eyes and then answered, "Yes sir."
Snape pointed to his and Malfoy's station and Harry muttered a quick goodbye to his friends. Malfoy was crossing out the checklists of the required ingredients, took the cauldron out of Harry's hand, and placed it on the hook so that it was situated above the burning coal. He poured some water into the black cauldron, using a ladle to stir it.
Harry observed as he did so. After a few minutes, he asked, "So have you thought about it?"
"What?" Malfoy asked monotonously. His eyes were now focused on his hand which was carefully spooning a small amount of some sort of powder. Harry never knew his partner was so interested in potion brewing. Or maybe it was something else...
"Our less--discussion the other day?" Lesson was probably the wrong word to use when he was talking to Malfoy.
Malfoy added the ingredients together and poured it into the boiling liquid. Harry took the ladle and stirred as the book instructed. Malfoy proceeded to cut the roots. For a moment he thought Malfoy didn't hear his question so he opened his mouth to repeat it.
"Why would I think about that?" His tone was flat and stubborn and Harry couldn't help but despise it. His goal will be much harder to reach than Harry had thought.
"Don't you understand? Didn't you learn that your father--" Harry said, only to be cut of by Malfoy's fist smashing down to the table.
"Is there anything wrong, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape drawled, his eyes swiveling between the two.
"There was a bug," muttered Malfoy, willing his fists to unfold. Snape seemed unsatisfied by his answer but nevertheless, said nothing, gave Harry another look, and then turned to walk over to the next station.
Harry chose not to speak during the remaining duration of class and waited until Snape had ordered that the brewing part of the lesson was done. He poured the contents of their potion into a set of vials, carefully corking the tops so that none would spill. Malfoy came back from returning the ingredients and picked up his bag.
"Malf--Draco, we did that lesson because we wanted to change you. We want you to be in our club," Harry whispered fiercely.
Malfoy suddenly scoffed and for a moment it was as if he was his usual self again. Then the sound died in his throat and he stared out in space for a short moment. He shook his blond head and hefted his bag over his shoulder.
"Go kill yourself, Pothead," Harry was about to follow him but Hermione suddenly appeared in the aisle, blocking the way. Ron, who noticed Malfoy, stepped in front of his girlfriend and his hand already holding his wand. Harry tensed, noting Malfoy's gaze on Ron. Then they fell upon Hermione.
At once, Malfoy inverted his eyes to the floor and pushed passed Hermione.
Harry was just as confused as his friends. Did our lesson actually affect him?
She shot a peculiar look after Malfoy left. "That's odd. He didn't mutter an insult or anything! What's the problem with Malfoy these days?"
Harry stared after the Slytherin."Yeah," he mumbled, "odd."
"You wanted to talk to us?"
Harry glanced up from his History of Magic textbook, the tip of a quill between his teeth. He sat up when seeing Hermione and Ron awkwardly standing in front of his chair.
"Er, yeah...just sit down."
He could feel their eyes on him as he closed all of his folders and set it aside on a chair. "Er...I wanted to do this when no one was around so that's why the Common Room is so empty."
Hermione observed how he ran his hand through his hair and how his eyes were never directly on them. "Harry, what are you so nervous about?"
Harry jumped, never realizing how well she could read him. Finally, he locked eyes with Hermione. Ron was eyeing the two suspiciously, not knowing what was going on.
"Dumbledore gave me something..." he reached into his bag and pulled out a rolled up parchment. 'It's Sirius' will."
"Oh," his two friends said, their reactions the same as his from the other night. Harry gestured for at least one of them to take it. Hermione did, accidentally brushing a hand against his. He pulled his arm back so suddenly that it alarmed her.
"Sorry," he said, taking a seat and letting his eyes fall on the fireplace, "Well...go on. Read it."
"Did you read it yet?" asked Ron, cautiously.
Harry shook his head.
"W-well then, shouldn't you read it first?"
"Just--read it to me then. My hands are shaking...I can't really hold it," ordered Harry with force. Ron hesitantly took the parchment from his girlfriend's hands. He cleared his throat and began to read,
"Dear Harry,
Since you are reading this, I assume someone has already killed me. But hopefully, I put up a good fight before dying.
I know you will be angry at me and feel that you're all alone. You may even feel like everything is your fault because you think you only bring trouble to the people you love. That's why I'm writing this note to tell you that you are not. There are so many people out there who care for you and love you for who you are. They're all there to protect you and fight along your side. Everyone has your back, Harry.
Keep your friends close and always build new friendships. That's the difference between you and Lord Voldemort. Voldemort never cared for friends and never will. He will never know what love is. Friends are important and their supports will be vital to keep you going.
I'm sorry that I won't see you get your first girlfriend. I'm sorry that I won't see you defeat that bastard. I'm sorry for not being able to go to your future weddings or to see your son and my godchildren. Everything I will miss...I'm sorry for.
Hopefully you will forgive me and move on with your life like you should. There's a future ahead of you, Harry so don't give up just yet.
Lastly...
You may be the Boy-Who-Lived but to me, you'll always be James Potter's son and my godson.
I love you, Harry.
Your godfather,
Sirius Black.
Harry stared into the fire for the longest time, tears forming in his eyes. He thought about his godfather's death when he was holed up in Dursleys' house. He replayed the "vision" he received--the one where he saw Sirius at Voldemort's mercy. Harry was so focused on that vision that he never even considered the possibility that Voldemort was trying to lure him. He even believed Kreacher, for Merlin's sake! He took the word of a house-elf without properly thinking how incredibly stupid it was to listen to KREACHER!
The prophecy only added to the misery.
He was only a boy. A stupid, reckless boy who knew absolutely nothing on how to defeat the darkest sorcerer in the wizarding world. Someone who was supposedly "destined" to save the bloody people who only cared about him for that. Harry wished he never heard it in Dumbledore's pensieve. Wished that he could be left alone to mourn his godfather's death instead of gloomily thinking about his own which felt as if it was near.
Don't let it fall...don't let it fall, Harry thought to himself as he blinked away his tears. He didn't want his friends to see how vulnerable he felt...how useless. He didn't want them to know that in the future he or Voldemort might die at their final battle because it was destined.
"He thought I was mad at him? How can I be mad at him for dying?" he whispered loudly. "I wasn't angry at him. I was angry at myself...if only I had stayed at Hogwarts, Hermione..if only I listened..." He trailed off at the end, more of addressing himself instead of his friends.
Everything was always his fault.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, looking at him pityfully. Harry turned his head away, refusing to meet her eyes and see her pity for him. He hated pity; it made him feel even weaker.
"Go on," he croaked and then clearing his throat.
Hermione stared a bit longer at him before pulling the parchment from Ron's hand. Harry realized after the first few words that came from her mouth that this was the start of Sirius' will. In a wavering voice, she listed Sirius' possessions that Harry would get. He received Grimmuald Place as predicted--except for the library (he only needed half a second to figure out who would get that part). Half of the wealth in Sirius' Gringotts account will be transferred into his vault. The motorcycle was his too.
Ron and his family will get 25,000 galleons while Remus and Tonks will get 25,000 galleons as well. Hermione was given the library portion of Grimmauld Place and 25,000 galleons as well.
Harry remembered the motorcycle. It was the one in his dreams. Hagrid was the one who brought him away from the wizarding world. It was a bit ironic that he was also the one who brought him back. Sirius must haved loved the motorcycle; he fit him just right. Now Harry owned it and he didn't even know how to work it.
Grimmauld Place was something Harry didn't need nor want. The place came with the furniture and everything else that still resides in the space. That also meant Kreacher was under his control. His first decision as owner of Grimmuald Place: behead Kreacher and stick it on the wall next to his dear ancestors.
"Well, that's quite a lot," Harry finally said, standing up from his seat. He attempted cheerfulness in his tone but he guessed it failed. Hermione and Ron shot each other uneasy glances, both thinking 'he's not alright,'
Keep your friends close and always build new friendships.
I'll build it tomorrow. "No, I'm fine. Really."
"Harry," she called out. Harry sighed, suddenly very tired.
Nevertheless, he coulnd't refuse her.
Hermione threw herself onto him, nearly knocking him onto his back. He was so shocked at her sudden burst of emotion that it took him 30 seconds to work his arms around her waist.
"You're not tired, Harry. You don't sleep at night. You don't talk to us anymore!You hang out with Luna," cried Hermione as she had her head buried in the crook of Harry's neck, muffling her voice. "We're not your friends anymore..it's like you don't want us to be! I hate it, Harry. We don't want to be pushed away! I don't!"
With the last words, she pushed Harry away by the shoulders, now appearing to be frustrated. Tears were pouring freely down her cheeks and she didn't even bother to wipe them away. Strands of her hair, which was tied in a ponytail before, came loose. Her cheeks were flustered and bright red. Harry was captivated by the sight of her.
"You may think I'm being too emotional...that I'm overracting. You'll say that you don't hate us and that we're still friends but I know--I know--that you disagree! Have we done something wrong? Is it Sirius? Is it--my god, is it us?" She asked, teary eyed. Ron looked wildly at her, not even believing that she would suggest that their relationship was ruining the Trio.
Harry stood there, mouth slightly opened. He had a bawling Hermione in front of him and a confused Ron.. This was too much for him to handle; he didn't know what to say. She was right on all accounts
As Hermione was always known to be, she was right. On every account. She knew...just knew.
"Hermione," said Ron who seemed even more shocked to hear her say that to Harry.
"Harry! Answer me," she cried, ignoring Ron completely and eyes on only Harry.
"I-I..." he managed, mind unable to form coherent thoughts. He never felt this way before. It was as if the air was compressing the inside of his body, forcing his heart and his lungs to freeze. He could not longer avoid Hermione's questions or Ron's glares. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think...he just wanted to get away...
He did exactly that. He turned on his heels--so quickly that he nearly tripped on the rug-- sprinted up the boy's dormitories as if Voldemort was at his tail. He struggled into his bed and yanked the curtains till they were shut and hid himself away from his friends downstairs and problems--away from everything.
His head hit the pillow and he let out a shivering breath, choking back the sob that was fighting to escape.
Well that was dramatic...I wanted to add a bit more drama so that's what the ending was supposed to be about. I was planning to have a totally different ending but then I changed it abruptly. That's just me.
Anyways leave a review if you have time. Many probably have school stuff to do like me so I can totally understand if you can't.
I'm planning on having some Club moments in the next chapter.
Till next time,
Le