A/N: Requesting AlexisTaylor for moderation
Chapter 11: Ambition Decisions
“So, Katie’s dad wants to join these Sphinx people?” Ron said disbelievingly. “What’s he thinking?”
“Well, his wife was murdered at by Death Eaters…” Hermione said quietly, sounding as though even she didn’t think it was much of an excuse.
“So were my dad and my sister!” Ron snapped.
“People manage their feelings differently,” Hermione said carefully.
Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in a far corner of the common room in their favorite armchairs that they had summoned across the room; Harry had filled them in on everything that Alex had told them about the Sphinx Militia.
“It just doesn’t seem like Mr. Bell,” Harry said. “I couldn’t imagine him killing anyone “ even out of anger.”
“Sometimes people have another side that you never see,” Hermione sighed.
“But he hasn’t actually joined yet, has he?” Ron interjected uncomfortably.
“No… nothing yet,” Harry told him, seeing Hermione give Ron a worried quizzical look. “I don’t think anyone’s left the Order yet…”
They all sat quietly thinking for a few minutes, when a loud grumble from Ron’s stomach punctuated the silence.
“Perhaps we should head down to lunch…” Harry suggested with a grin.
“Good idea,” Ron said, standing up with a stretch, causing a small bottle to drop from his robe pocket as he did so. He dove for it, but Hermione had already grabbed it.
“What is this “” she began to ask, but her jaw dropped open has her eyes read the label. “Ctar Bhooks Sleep Substitute! Explain yourself this instant, Ronald Bilius Weasley!”
Harry wisely took a few steps back from Hermione’s glowering figure.
“I’ve been busy with homework, and everything else,” Ron muttered, his face pinking slightly. “So I used it a few times, so I wouldn’t have to sleep…”
“This isn’t a healthy replacement for sleep, Ronald,” Hermione said. “It will keep you awake, but your mind and body need sleep!”
“I know, Hermione… I only used it a couple of times,” he said, and then he took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. “Can I have it back now?”
“The lack of sleep is obviously getting to you if you think I’m giving this back to you,” Hermione told him sternly, her arms crossed.
“Hermione, its mine, I want it back,” Ron said simply.
“Ron “ ”
“Hermione!” Ron said firmly.
Hermione stared back at him, dumbfounded, her mouth hanging open as though still thinking of how to reply. Ron stood his ground, and slowly she handed him back the bottle, which he pocketed.
“Thanks,” he said uncomfortably, heading for the portrait hole.
Hermione shared a worried look with Harry, who could see she was near tears, before catching up to Ron and following him out of the common room; Harry quickly joined the both of them, and they walked silently down to the Great Hall for lunch.
Harry walked uncomfortably beside the feuding couple, desperately thinking of something to say to break the tense silence.
“Hermione, isn’t your career counseling session Wednesday?” he asked finally.
“Oh… yes, it’s right after lunch,” Hermione said quickly.
“Have you decided what you want to do, yet?” Harry asked.
“Actually, I have,” Hermione said gingerly.
“You have?” Ron said, looking at her for the first time since the incident in the common room.
“Yes… I have,” Hermione repeated. “I was thinking about being an Unspeakable...”
Harry stopped walking, and stared at Hermione.
“You want to work in the Department of Mysteries?” he said.
“Yes “”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I’m perfectly serious,” Hermione said, clearly not understanding Harry’s problem with the matter.
“Why would you want to work there?” Harry snapped.
“The things they study down there… it’s all so fascinating; just imagine the possibilities “”
“Imagine the possibilities?” Harry said vehemently, his voice level rising with each word. “Tell me Hermione, which part did you find the most fascinating? The prophecies that decided people’s futures for them… or perhaps the brains that wrapped around Ron leaving him scarred for life “ or was it the archway that my godfather fell through and never came back from?”
Harry felt his body trembling with anger. A few passersby had stopped and were watching Harry, Ron and Hermione where they stood in the middle of the marble staircase leading down to the Entrance Hall.
“Harry,” Hermione said in a quivering whisper. “We shouldn’t be discussing this here…”
“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot discuss, Hermione,” Harry replied angrily. “I just don’t understand how you find that place ‘fascinating’! Tell me Hermione, what for ONE MINUTE made you think that this would be okay?”
“Maybe because it’s my life!” Hermione shot back.
“It’s your life? So, it doesn’t bother you at all what we all went through that night?” Harry asked, his words reverberating from the castle’s stone walls. “You just don’t care how terrifying it was? I know you were scared… I remember! Maybe you don’t… but I remember every moment of that night! The worst night of my life! You want to live a life where, everyday, you visit the place that I try to escape in my nightmares? FINE… that’s bloody fine, Hermione! But I don’t think I could face you knowing what it is you spend your days doing!”
“So, what? If I do this… if I become an Unspeakable, our friendship is over?” she said
“That is exactly the way it’s going to happen if you make this choice, Hermione…”
Harry glared at her; Hermione didn’t say anything, but looked to Ron pleadingly.
“He’s right Hermione…” Ron said quietly. “That place… I don’t know how you could go back there…”
“You’re going to leave me, too?” Hermione said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I would never leave you Hermione,” Ron said softly. “But Harry’s right; you shouldn’t do this.”
He looked at her sorrowfully, and Harry turned away and retreated back up the staircase, no longer concerned about lunch, as Hermione choked on her sobs as she stood alone at the bottom of the steps.
“Listen mate, I think you were a bit hard on Hermione.”
“So what if I was?”
Harry gritted his teeth as he tried to push his argument with Hermione out of his mind, and pressed his quill down harder on his parchment.
“You know you don’t mean what you said down there,” Ron continued. “You would never abandon Hermione…”
Harry took a deep breath, and tried to swallow his anger, but underneath was nothing but hurt. He felt an overwhelming emotion build up inside of him, as though tears were welling behind his eyes. He took another few moments to push the feeling back to wherever it had come from, and tried to respond as calmly as possible.
“Maybe I wouldn’t… but I meant what I said… I don’t know how I could face her, knowing that’s where she went every day…” Harry said, disguising the hurt as best as possible.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Ron said.
Harry looked up at Ron, and saw in his eyes the fear that had resounded in his voice.
“Ron… what are you hiding?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Ron replied with a sigh, shifting uneasily.
Harry looked into his best friend’s eyes, still dark with fear, and knew it was a lie. There was a flashing image of a woman’s icy blue eyes and Harry heard a bloodcurdling scream echoing inside Ron’s mind, as a man cried desperately… “Aurora!”
“Who’s Aurora?” Harry asked immediately.
Ron looked at Harry with frightened surprise; he hesitated a moment.
“I don’t know,” he said in a low voice, before turning away and crossing the dormitory to his bed, and Harry did not need to look back into his friends eyes to know that his answer had been the truth.
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Whether or not it was right for Harry to share with Hermione what he had discovered in Ron’s thoughts, he did not have to decide, because no words passed between them for the remainder of the week. He did not ask her what had happened during her career counseling session, they didn’t further discuss the Sphinx Militia and neither expressed to the other their concern for Ron, who was growing more fatigued and unfocused with each passing day. Their silence was not a cold one, but a wounded one.
That Friday, Quidditch tryouts were held, and the pickings were good for Gryffindor. They had chosen third years Ryan Healy and Erimentha Patrons for Chasers, as well as fourth year Derry Oaks and sixth year Zahira Kadar for Beaters. Harry was happy with his new teammates, but the usual joy he found in the new Quidditch season had been replaced with worry over what the added burden of practice would do to Ron’s currently frail state of being.
Harry tried to push all his worries aside, which was rather difficult considering their magnitude and weight, as he left dinner that night and headed for Professor McGonagall’s office for his career counseling appointment.
“Good evening, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall greeted him as he entered the room. “Please have a seat.”
Harry sat down in the chair across from her desk.
“Now… in fifth year, you told me you wished to become an Auror after leaving school; should I assume that is still your plan?”
Harry’s mind was numb; he was just realizing that, despite knowing of the meeting a week ahead of time, he had not given it a moment’s thought. He had not decided what it was he would say, what it was he wanted to be after he left Hogwarts.
“Mr. Potter?”
Harry realized he knew the answer to the question. He eyed Professor McGonagall hesitantly, seeing as in fifth year she vowed to assist him in becoming an Auror if it was the last thing she did.
“No,” he said finally.
“You no longer want to become an Auror?” she asked, perplexed. “If you don’t mind me asking, what made you change your mind?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said truthfully. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it at all really. But just now, when you asked me if that’s what I wanted, I realized that it isn’t.”
Professor McGonagall remained quiet as Harry sat thoughtfully a few moments.
“I guess I wanted to be an Auror in fourth year because it seemed so cool, and that kind of stuck with me through fifth year because I never really considered anything else. I think it was just a childish dream…”
“Well - not that I think this is the wrong decision Mr. Potter, because it’s your choice “ do allow me to tell you that you becoming an Auror is certainly not a childish ambition; you’ve fought more dark wizards and been in more dangerous situations than most wizards do their whole lives. You certainly have the ability.”
As she spoke these words, Harry felt something click in his mind.
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s why I don’t want this. I’ve been doing this since I was eleven, and I know it isn’t going to stop until Voldemort is destroyed. I’ve been forced into this situation so many times, for so long. I just want it to end. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“I see,” Professor McGonagall said softly. “Well, that is a wise decision on your part, Mr. Potter. But have you given any thought as to what you will do when you leave Hogwarts?”
“No idea,” Harry said.
Auror had always been the easy choice; the obvious choice.
“What are do you think your strengths are?”
“Quidditch,” Harry said automatically.
“Is that something you would like to pursue?” Professor McGonagall asked promptly.
“Not really,” he replied, knowing automatically that it didn’t feel like the right choice. “I want to do something worthwhile. That was part of the appeal of being an Auror, you know “ I’d be doing something for the greater good.”
“You do seem to have a bit of a saving people thing,” Professor McGonagall said, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“What was that?” Harry asked, not sure if he had heard right.
“A joke, Mr. Potter,” she replied. “Well, what are your favorite classes?”
“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Harry replied automatically, adding “Well… I guess that’s always depended on the teacher.”
And suddenly, it hit him.
“A teacher,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“I could be a professor,” he said. But then looked unsurely up at Professor McGonagall. “I mean… do you think “ err… well, I don’t know. I’d like to be…”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Mr. Potter,” she said, smiling at him. “After all, you did remarkably in your fifth year with… Dumbledore’s Army was it? I haven’t seen that many ‘O’s in nearly two decades.”
Harry stopped to really consider it; he could be a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It would be the perfect job for him.
“And it’s perfect, too, because Professor Alchemina, like all the other teachers, is only able to work here a couple more years “ at which point you could come work here at Hogwarts. I’m sure Dumbledore would be more than happy to offer you employment.”
“And what would I do directly after I leave school,” Harry asked, more enthused about the idea by the minute.
“In order to prepare for a full-time teaching job, Hogwarts would be willing to fund you to travel or study, and perhaps take temporary job posts in other schools … in face I believe there’s a teacher at St. Druid’s in Dublin who will be on maternity leave for the first month of their next school year…” Professor McGonagall paused. “So, is this a path you wish to take, Mr. Potter?”
Harry was about to agree to the decision whole-heartedly, when suddenly he realized what could possibly be a huge flaw in the plan.
“Err… Professor “ would I have to live in the castle?” he asked.
“Would living at Hogwarts be a problem?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Not necessarily,” Harry said slowly. “But let’s just say… I was married.”
“Are you planning on getting married in the next few years?” Professor McGonagall said, clearly not taking him seriously.
“For argument’s sake,” Harry said, feeling his cheeks burn hot. “If I were married, I would want to live with my wife.”
“I understand, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall told him. “Don’t worry, it is of course more convenient for you to live in the castle, but it is not a requirement. You may live anywhere you wish, and commute to Hogsmeade by Apparition, Floo Powder, or you can get personalized Portkey for direct travel to the castle itself.”
Harry relaxed; it wouldn’t be a problem after all.
“Are there any more questions, Mr. Potter?”
“No, none at all,” Harry answered.
“This is what you want?”
“Yes, this is what I want,” Harry said.
“Excellent then,” Professor McGonagall said, standing up to see him out. “I’ll gather some information for you about how you can prepare for becoming a teacher, and contact some schools so they know you’ll be available to substitute over the course of the next two years.”
“Thank you very much, Professor,” Harry said, as he stood up from his seat and walked outside the office door.
“Your welcome, Harry,” she replied. “And I think you’ll be an excellent teacher… after all, your father was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever seen.”