Chapter Thirteen.
“Harry. Harry!” Someone was shaking him roughly by the shoulder.
“Huh? Get off!” Harry waved his arm in the general direction of the disturbance. The sun was bright on his pillow, and he squinted. “What time is it?” It had taken him hours to fall asleep, and he had lain awake for a long time with plenty of uncomfortable thoughts. He reached for his glasses.
“Breakfast,” said Ron shortly. “It’s almost over. If you don’t get up you’ll miss it.”
“Alright,” Harry grumbled, rolling out of bed and fumbling for his robe. The dormitory room was empty apart from him and Ron, and looking at his friend, Harry realised that something was bothering him. Ron was looking at him seriously.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a rumour going around the Great Hall,” said Ron slowly. “About Hermione and a Dementor…”
“What?” yelped Harry. “How did they find out about that?”
“It’s true then,” said Ron, almost fearfully.
“Who told you?” Harry repeated, frantically pulling on his shoes.
“It’s all over. Don’t look like that; you know how this place is. You can’t keep a secret to save your life here.” Ron picked at his sleeve. “Is it true? That there was a Dementor and it was afraid of her?” He looked at Harry’s face. “Blimey.”
“Can no-one in this bloody school keep their mouth shut for five minutes?” grumbled Harry. “Does Hermione know about this?”
“Haven’t seen her yet,” said Ron. “I think she’s still up in her room. Ginny’s gone to knock on her door.”
“We better warn her,” said Harry resignedly, heading for the door.
“Uh, Harry?” said Ron, a bit hesitantly. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry I wasn’t around last night. I should have come with you, but… I just don’t like that bloody Forest. If I had known that anything like this would happen, I would’ve come. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” said Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know.” But he couldn’t help but remember promising Mrs. Weasley that he wouldn’t drag Ron off into any more dangerous situations. He flushed slightly as he realised he’d forgotten all about the promise when he’d asked Ron to go with them. “Still, at least your Mum can’t get upset about it,” he said.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” said Ron hotly. He narrowed his eyes. “She hasn’t been getting at you, has she? Because I’m not going to hide in the castle just because she says so, d’you hear?”
“Er… right,” said Harry hastily, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut. He’d just have to be more careful in future. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, but Ron was eyeing him closely, a shade resentfully.
“I can take care of myself,” he said, ears going pink.
“Course you can,” said Harry, a bit too heartily, and winced at Ron’s expression.
“Sorry. Look, let’s just go find Hermione, shall we? Before the rest of the school does?”
They barrelled down into the common room, in time to see Hermione and Ginny clambering through the portrait hole. The girls waited for them on the other side, and Harry noticed Ron staring at Hermione with a rather fearful expression on his face.
He stamped lightly on Ron’s foot, and it seemed to snap him out of it.
“Er…morning,” said Harry, feeling rather uncomfortable himself.
“Morning,” said Hermione dully. She looked as if she hadn’t gotten much sleep either, and from the carefully blank expression on her face, Harry could see that Ginny had already filled her in on the latest gossip.
The four of them stood awkwardly in the hall for a moment. Ron broke the silence first. “C’mon,” he said stoutly. “Breakfast’ll be over soon. You might as well get something to eat.” He brightened. “The kippers are good today. I might come and keep you company.”
“Get some more food, you mean,” said Ginny, rolling her eyes and making a face at her brother in an attempt to normalise things. “Honestly. Why you’re not too fat to get on a broom I don’t know.”
“Just lucky, I guess,” said Ron cheerily, chivvying them down the corridor.
Breakfast was a dismal meal. The Great Hall was full of students and they went quiet as Harry and Hermione came in. No doubt they’d been waiting all morning, thought Harry uncharitably, hovering like vultures. Whispers had started up almost immediately, and although many of the students at the Gryffindor table sent some hard glances towards the loudest wonderers, there were still others at the Gryffindor table who were looking worried and whispering themselves. The incessant noise, loud enough to hear but not loud enough to decipher, was driving Harry crazy. He threw down a half-eaten bit of toast in disgust, unable to swallow it. Hermione, he noticed, had barely touched her food either, and sat, eyes downcast, staring at her plate.
Just when Harry had almost reached boiling point, when he felt like he could happily start throwing crockery at his fellow students, Professor McGonagall swept down upon them. “Miss Granger. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you when you’ve finished eating. You too, Potter. You’ve been excused from your first class this morning.”
Harry looked hopefully at Hermione, hoping that being dragged from her beloved books would get some sort of reaction from her, but she just threw her napkin onto the table with a sharp motion. He realised that she was as frustrated as he was. “I think we’re ready now, Professor,” he said. They trailed out of the Hall after her, and even Ron’s sympathetic gaze couldn’t distract him from the fact that every eye watched them leave.
McGonagall hustled them through the corridors, and up into the tower where Dumbledore had his office. As they trooped onto the moving staircase, Hermione swayed slightly and clutched at Harry’s hand. She looked pale and unhappy and Harry fervently hoped that Dumbledore might be able to make something out of the situation. He squeezed her hand briefly in support, and as they reached the top of the staircase they could see Dumbledore sat behind his desk, with Lupin and Snape sitting at opposite ends of the room and pointedly ignoring each other. Hermione snatched her hand away and straightened her shoulders. She was still pale, but Harry thought she looked a little too calm “ almost blank. It made him nervous, and he gave a small shrug at Lupin when the Defence teacher raised an eyebrow at him.
“Ah. Harry, Hermione,” greeted Dumbledore benignly. Harry noticed that the usual twinkle was absent from his eyes, though he was putting on a very good show of being his usual self. “Please, have a seat.” He conjured up some squashy chairs, and the two students sat gingerly in them, McGonagall standing behind them like a sentry. Harry could see that all the portraits were awake and paying close attention, not even bothering to hide their interest. He could have sworn that one of them was peering through opera glasses.
Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, hands folded together. “I must apologise for dragging you away from your classes. I imagine you’d much rather be there than here at the moment.” Snape snorted rudely, and Dumbledore shot him a warning glance. “However,” he continued, “the very unusual nature of last night’s events has left me, I confess, rather baffled. I don’t suppose you’d care to shed any light on the situation?” Ostensibly, Harry noticed, Dumbledore was speaking to them both, but his attention appeared to be fixed on Hermione.
Hermione, who refused to answer, and sat staring at her hands.
“I see. Perhaps it would be better if you could just describe to me, in your own words, what happened. Hermione? Would you like to start?”
“Harry and I and Professor Lupin went out into the Forest,” said Hermione mechanically. “I didn’t like it, it was too quiet. We walked to Grawp’s clearing to find some Silvercap mushrooms. While I was collecting them a Dementor came. Professor Lupin conjured a Patronus and chased the Dementor away. We came back to the castle.”
Harry barely caught his jaw before it dropped. That was it? That was all she was going to say on the matter? It was a true retelling, in a way, but so much was left out that it was almost fiction. Harry was well aware, though, that the fact that they were up in Dumbledore’s office with three his strongest teachers meant that Dumbledore and the others had already heard everything that Lupin could tell them. Hermione must have known it too.
Lupin leaned forward, and when he spoke his voice was kind. “Are you sure that there’s nothing you want to add to that, Hermione?”
She shook her head but didn’t look at him. “Yes, Professor.”
Dumbledore sighed deeply, and his eyes were sad. “We’re here to help, Hermione.”
“Yes, Headmaster.” It was very quiet and respectful, but to Harry the message was loud and clear. He’d used that same tone to Dumbledore himself from time to time, whenever he’d wanted to avoid conversations with the man. It was worse, he knew, being on the receiving end of an inquisition with four teachers, and despite the fact that Hermione trusted them all (including, against Harry’s better judgement, Snape) he could tell by looking at her that there was no way she was going to open up to them. Harry couldn’t blame her “ the flat stare of Snape alone was disconcerting enough.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, startling him. “I see. Harry, what about you? Do you have anything you would like to add?”
Harry shot another glance over at Hermione. She was still staring at her lap, and her face was calm, but he could see her distress in the tension of her body. That decided him. “No, Headmaster,” he said neutrally. “I have nothing to add.” Behind him, he could sense McGonagall shift slightly in irritation. He felt a bit bad for Lupin, and shot an apologetic glance over towards his teacher. He was surprised to see that Lupin didn’t look angry or disappointed, but only a little resigned. “Is there anything else?” he asked. “We should really be getting back to class.”
“Rather unusual dedication for you, Potter,” sneered Snape.
“Severus,” said Dumbledore mildly, and the Potions Master scowled and was silent. Dumbledore gave another sigh. “Very well then. Off you go.” Hermione was almost out of the door before Harry was up from his seat, and as he followed her he heard Dumbledore call his name, very softly.
“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Harry,” the old man said softly.
Harry felt a sudden rush of resentment. “I could say the same to you, sir,” he said, and it came out more coldly than he had intended. Dumbledore winced.
“As far as I’m concerned, neither of you know what you’re doing,” snapped Snape.
“You should never have let that girl leave, Headmaster. We should have given her some Veritaserum “ forcefully if necessary.”
“What FOR?’ said Harry loudly, not caring if he was rude. He felt his temper rise when he saw a glance pass between McGonagall and Lupin, a glance that betrayed the fact that they more than half agreed with Snape.
“Harry,” said Lupin carefully. “You need to understand. The only known way to repel a Dementor is with the Patronus Charm. We know Hermione didn’t do that, so either she has found another way to ward them off, or-”
“Or she has no need to ward them off,” finished Snape grimly. It took a moment for Harry to understand what he was getting at.
“No,” he said flatly. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Harry,” McGonagall started, moving in front of him.
“You think she’s possessed,” he stated. “Or something like that. Of all the stupid-”
“Hold your tongue, Potter,” Snape growled.
“I won’t,” said Harry loudly. “I know Hermione better than you do “ if something like that was happening I’d know. I’d know.”
“We’re just trying to look at all the angles,” said Dumbledore calmly.
“You’re wasting your time,” said Harry flatly. “Look somewhere else.”
“It’s just a precaution, Potter,” McGonagall started.
“Just a precaution?” Harry repeated. “Are you trying to make things worse for her right now? Just KEEP AWAY!” He shot Dumbledore a hard stare, feeling resentment towards the Headmaster rise up within him yet again. “Haven’t you done enough?”
Seeing the sorrow come over the old man’s face, Harry realised he didn’t feel the least bit guilty. “Just keep away,” he repeated flatly, and left the room. He slammed the door behind him. Stumbling down the moving staircase, he burst through the door at the bottom and, cursing quietly, tried to remember what class Hermione was supposed to be in. He had a vague recollection that it might have been Arithmancy, and started running in what he hoped was the general direction of the Arithmancy classroom. After a few minutes he caught sight of Hermione trudging miserably down a long corridor, and gave silent thanks that Hogwarts was so large and well spaced out.
He grabbed hold of her hand. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked dully, and Harry felt a twinge of worry in that she was so compliant, trailing after him without complaint. The Hermione he knew would have whacked him round the head with her book-bag before letting him drag her away from a class. He couldn’t help but think of Snape’s likely reaction to her out of character behaviour, and firmly suppressed it, trying to appear cheerful.
“Outside. It’s a sunny day for once, might as well enjoy it. McGonagall said we were excused from class, remember?”
“She only meant that we were excused while we were with Dumbledore,” said Hermione, a shade disapprovingly, and Harry felt himself lighten at her tone. That definitely sounded more like her old self.
“What’re they going to do?” he said flippantly. “Expel us?” He caught a glimpse of her face. “Hermione, they’re not going to expel us. Trust me on that.” There was no way that Dumbledore was going to expel him now, Harry thought grimly. The prophecy made him too valuable. He snorted under his breath. It was a shame he didn’t know about it before “ it would have saved him a lot of worry when he and Ron had smashed into the Whomping Willow, and when… he checked himself. It wouldn’t have saved him the worry; it would just have given him something else to worry about. And Harry had had enough of worrying for the moment. It was sunny, and damned if he wasn’t going to enjoy it. Even for only a short time.
Twenty minutes later they were comfortably settled under one of the trees beside the lake. Harry was thoroughly enjoying chucking rocks into the water. Ostensibly, he was trying to skip stones, but the wet whump of rocks was infinitely more satisfying. Hermione, he noticed, was shaking her head at him from the bank, lips pursed, trying to look maintain her look of disapproval. Harry knew it was a fake, however “ even a few minutes out of the shadow of the castle had improved her spirits. There was less strain on her face, so he ignored the expression on her face and happily continued chucking. Hermione seemed much more relaxed, having apparently come to the conclusion that he wasn’t about to start pestering her over the incident with the Dementor.
Harry desperately wanted to know what was going on, but had the sense to keep his mouth firmly shut. She’d tell him when she was ready. He just hoped it would be soon, though a part of him realised, with a twinge of guilt, the luxury of having someone else’s problems to deal with. It wasn’t that he wanted Hermione to be miserable, but dealing with her unhappiness was taking his mind off his own. He threw another rock in with extra force, and Hermione squeaked.
“Harry! You’re splashing me.”
“Sorry,” he grinned, and flopped back down on the grass beside her. “This is so much better than lessons. We should do this more often.”
“We’d fail if we did this more often,” Hermione reminded him, but she didn’t sound particularly worried. Then again, Harry thought, she didn’t need to be. She was probably weeks ahead in all their classes anyway.
“I wish I’d thought to bring some food,” he commented.
“You could always go and get some if you’re really hungry,” said Hermione. “Lunch isn’t for a few hours yet, you know.”
“I’m alright, really. Besides, I can’t go putting the House Elves to extra work, can I?” Harry retorted, and ducked as Hermione slapped him lightly on the arm, scowling playfully at him.
“I’m glad you’ve finally started thinking about them,” she said, and paused for a long moment. “Thanks.”
“Well, I figured it was listen to you or hear about their poor oppressed lives every day until I did,” Harry pointed out, smirking.
“I don’t mean for that,” Hermione said hesitantly.
Harry looked up at her. “It’s okay.”
“I mean it,” Hermione continued. “Don’t think I didn’t see the looks on their faces. They think that I’ve been… that I’ve been influenced somehow.”
“No they don’t,” said Harry uncomfortably, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re a terrible liar, Harry.” She looked at him curiously. “Why aren’t you thinking the same?”
“Come off it, Hermione,” said Harry, more uncomfortably still. “I know you. If something like that was happening, I’d know.”
“I haven’t exactly been acting myself lately,” Hermione pointed out.
“It’s not like you haven’t had a reason.” Harry shot her a glance. “You almost sound like you want me to agree with them.”
“I appreciate the faith you have in me Harry,” said Hermione slowly. “Really, I do. But don’t you think you’re being a bit, well, trusting here? You should at least keep yourself open to the possibility that-”
“Bollocks,” interrupted Harry. “Well no, not bollocks, exactly. But you’re right. About the trust, I mean.” He rolled over onto his back. “I told Neville about the Occlumency lessons, you know.” At her gasp of surprise he went on. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. And if I can trust him to keep my secrets, I can certainly trust you to keep your own.” He stared up above him at the leaves on the tree. “You’re the only one, you know. The only one who’s stuck by me, no matter what. Even Ron… well. It doesn’t matter now. And if it’s my turn now, then so what?” He rolled over slightly to look at her full in the face.
“Keep your secret, Hermione, until you’re ready to tell it. I won’t ask about it. I promise.” He saw her swallow, saw a tiny tear glisten at the corner of her eye, and before anything could get more maudlin, and feeling more uncomfortable still, he went on. “Besides. I know it’s you. Only the real Hermione would have told me not trust her.” He smirked at her, and didn’t even try to avoid the slap she aimed at him. It wasn’t very hard anyway. He could have sworn it was more like a caress.
It was several hours and more than one missed lesson later when they finally left the lake and wandered back into the Great Hall for lunch. Harry had actually dozed off in the sunshine, and felt much better for having a sleep. They sat down next to Ron, who looked at them curiously.
“Have you been with Dumbledore all this time?”
“Nope,” said Harry cheerfully. “That took all of ten minutes.”
“What about the rest of the morning?”
“Bunked off,” said Harry succinctly, beginning to load up his plate with sandwiches. He shot a glance at the teacher’s table, and saw Dumbledore and McGonagall, deliberately not looking in his direction. Snape, however, was staring quite avidly, as if he was waiting to pounce. Harry frowned. He thought he felt someone nudge him under the table.
“You could have called me,” said Ron grumpily. “All morning in Muggle Studies. As if I don’t hear enough of it at home. I was bored out of my mind.”
Harry nodded, and then jumped. “Ow!” It felt like someone had kicked him this time, and kicked him hard. “Who’s doing that?” A small hand crept up his leg and tugged at his robe.
“Dobby?” Harry tried to duck his head under the table, but bashed it on the side. Ron shook his head in sympathy, placed his hand on Harry’s head and shoved, landing him with a bump on the floor under the table. Dobby, amazingly, was crouched beneath the feet of other Gryffindor students, wearing mismatched socks and a frantic expression, and obviously trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. “Is everything alright?” Harry asked, rubbing the side of his head.
“Dobby is very happy to see Harry Potter again,” squeaked the house elf. “Dobby would like to invite Harry Potter and his friends to come down to the kitchen and have some lunch. We is making some very nice pastries this morning, Harry Potter, sir.”
“Er, perhaps another time,” said Harry bemusedly. “It’s good to see you again, Dobby, but-”
Dobby was wringing his ears, and expression of abject worry on his face. “Harry Potter should come and eat in the kitchens,” he repeated pitifully.
Harry stared at him suspiciously. “Hang on a minute,” he said. “Why can’t I eat what’s on the table? There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?”
Dobby began to beat his head against a pair of shoes, which twitched and kicked him by mistake, the owner obviously mistaking his head for someone else’s feet. Harry grabbed him before he could start banging on the floor.
“What’s wrong with the food, Dobby?’ he said hastily. “Has someone done something to it?” Miserably the elf stared at him, his eyes gone large and hopeful. Why do I always have to drag it out of him? Harry said to himself in irritation. “Who?”
The elf whimpered, and Harry had to grab hold of his jumper to keep him from hurting himself further. “Dobby is not supposed to tell,” he whimpered. “Dobby was ordered not to tell…”
Harry stared at him. Dobby was one of the house elves of Hogwarts, and no-one should be able to order him to do something apart from the teachers… “Snape,” he said suddenly, and Dobby didn’t have to nod to confirm it. Harry could see the truth on his face. “Thanks, Dobby,” he said, and shot back out from under the table, bashing his head again as he did so. Frantically he stared at the spread of food on the table. Surely Snape didn’t have enough Veritaserum to put into everything on the Gryffindor table? Harry knew instinctively that the Potions Professor had gone ahead with his threat to try and force the truth out of Hermione “ but where was it? He looked around in panic.
“Harry? Is something wrong?” said Hermione, pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice. Pumpkin juice, Harry thought suddenly. The table was full of food, and there was no guarantee that Hermione would have some of every dish “ but all the students drank pumpkin juice. There was no other drink on the table. Instinctively, he knocked the drink out of her hand, and it spilled over the tablecloth. A few of the other students grimaced at the mess, and a few even laughed, but Ron and Hermione stared at him as if he had gone mad.
He leaned over and started patting clumsily but obviously at the stain with his napkin. “Don’t drink the pumpkin juice,” he hissed under his breath. Hermione looked puzzled for an instant, but after a moment he could see her glance up at the top table in realisation.
“What’s going on?” Ron hissed back. Not knowing quite how to explain himself, or even if he was definitely on the right track, Harry did the only thing he could think of. He poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice from the jug in front of Hermione and took a large gulp. He turned to Ron.
“Ask me if the Cannons are going to win in the League this year,” he said in a low voice. Ron looked at him as if he was mad. “Just ask, will you?”
“Okay,” said Ron slowly. “Do you think the Cannons will win the cup this year?”
“Not a hope in hell,” said Harry, clearly and immediately.
Ron scowled at him. “Look, I know they haven’t always been that great, but-”
“Shut up, Ron,” said Harry. “There’s Veritaserum in the pumpkin juice. Snape’s slipped it in.”
“Are you sure?” said Ron sceptically. “I know you don’t support the Cannons like I do…” Harry shoved his goblet at him, and Ron, shaking his head, took a sip, and looked up expectantly.
“Tell me you like working with Malfoy,” said Harry.
Ron looked at him in disgust. “But I don’t.” Harry just stared at him, and Ron went on. “Oh, alright. But I’m not saying it loudly, d’you hear?” He took a deep breath. “I like… I like… I loathe working with Malfoy. Happy now?” In any other situation, Harry might have laughed at the run of expressions over Ron’s voice “ surprise and relief quickly followed by anger. “The bastard! What did he want to go and do that for?”
“Three guesses,” said Harry grimly, nodding at Hermione. He was upset to note that she looked as withdrawn and unhappy as she had done when they had left the castle that morning. “Do something for me will you, Ron? Take her down to the kitchens. Dobby will get you something to eat.” From beneath his legs, Harry heard a faint pop and assumed that the house elf had heard him and had gone to prepare something.
“Right,” said Ron, getting to his feet and hauling on Hermione’s arm. “Where are you going to be?”
“I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,” said Harry flatly, and waited until they had disappeared from the Hall. He couldn’t help but notice the whispers that followed them as they went, and he realised grimly that the students of Hogwarts were about to get something else to whisper about. Pasting a pleasant expression on his face, he tucked the jug of pumpkin juice under his arm and made his way casually up to the top table.
“Here you go, Professor,” he said, dumping it in front of Snape with a glare that defied his face and tone. “Veritaserum,” he explained helpfully to Dumbledore, who was watching him with interest. From the change in expression on the Headmaster’s face, it was obvious that he hadn’t known about Snape’s little trick. Harry smirked inwardly. He wasn’t sure he knew which of them was more unhappy, but it was Professor McGonagall who spoke out disapprovingly, on an entirely unrelated subject.
“You missed class this morning, Mr. Potter,” she said frostily.
“I did,” admitted Harry innocently. “Is that a problem?”
McGonagall scowled at him, but before she could give him a detention “ no doubt her intention, Harry thought - Dumbledore interrupted her. Dimly, Harry recognised that the old man was trying to keep the peace. “I’m afraid that you’ll be missing more classes this evening, Harry,” he said. “I cannot have a Dementor running loose about the Forest. It’s enough to sour the milk, I’m sure. Professor Snape will be accompanying me this evening, so I’m afraid you will have to forgo your Occlumency lesson until another time. I trust that won’t be a problem?”
“No problem at all, Headmaster,” said Harry truthfully, and with a tinge of relief.
“Are you sure about that?” said Dumbledore gently. “I don’t want you to think we’re neglecting you…”
“It’s no problem,” said Harry cheerfully. “Professor Snape has been teaching me a new method. It seems to work quite well.” Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Snape stiffen, and it filled him with a strange sort of glee. He would have bet everything he owned “ the entire contents of his Gringott’s bank vault “ that there was no way Dumbledore knew about Snape’s torturous new training. He reached out, tracing the juice jug with his finger, and smiled brightly and quite falsely at the Potions Master. “We really should tell him about it sometime.” Snape looked absolutely furious, but Harry knew there was nothing he could say. Buoyed, and with a certain grim satisfaction, Harry decided to push the envelope.
“About Hermione, sir,” he said, swivelling to face Dumbledore. “It’s probably best if you make sure this type of thing doesn’t happen again.” He let his hand drop from the jug. “After all, she’s had a horrible summer, hasn’t she? You don’t want to make her any more miserable. You never know what she might do “ she’s got an enormous bank account, you know. She certainly doesn’t have to stay at Hogwarts.” He looked innocently at Dumbledore. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t want her wandering around the Muggle world on her own at this point. I know that I don’t.”
Harry knew that all three teachers would take his meaning immediately. He didn’t feel the need to hang around. His lunch was waiting for him in the kitchens, after all.
It felt good to have an advantage at last. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about using it.