Friendship often ends in love; but love in friendship - never.*
Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognise is mine. *sings Ode To JK Rowling*.
8. Discoveries
Over the next couple of weeks, Harry and Hermione met up each night to patrol the corridors. Ron began to get used to the idea, and his and Hermione’s friendship returned to normal. Finally, Harry felt the situation was secure enough to tell Ron about his scar. He and Hermione had been discussing the matter almost every night, and they always seemed to begin and end at the same question:
“Why is this happening after such a long time?” Hermione asked wildly one evening as the three of them sat around the fire, trying to finish their mountain of homework.
They had been sitting in pensive silence for so long that at first Harry did not reply. He merely sat, turning over a solution that had been brewing in his mind for a long while. Ron, however, jumped and responded immediately.
“I dunno…it could be anything…maybe he’s developed a power that requires his mind to be more open…” he mused, turning a quill over in his fingers.
“Maybe…” said Hermione, although she sounded sceptical. She studied Harry carefully, noticing his arrested look. “Harry, are you ok?” she asked concernedly.
“I’m fine…I guess…” he answered vaguely. In truth, Harry’s thoughts were slowly eating away at him, and the more he considered them, the more it hurt. Yet, as he sat aching from all this emotional turmoil, one thing became clearer and clearer to him. It was not only his own sentiments he was feeling, but Voldemort’s as well.
Now even Ron could sense Harry’s discomfort. He tried to speak again, but Harry cut him off with a brisk, “Ron, I’m fine. Please, shut up!”
Ron looked taken aback at his snappish attitude, but Harry had no space in his mind to feel guilty about his behaviour. Instead, he turned unfeelingly to Hermione and remarked shortly, “We should be going.”
Hermione nodded dumbly. Harry strode towards the portrait hole, glancing back just as Hermione flashed Ron an apologetic look. This did nothing but increase his sudden anger. He marched purposefully down the corridor, slowing only when he was several floors down from Gryffindor Tower.
After a furious ten minutes, Harry finally heard the sound of hurried footsteps behind him. He turned resentfully around, expecting to see Hermione but instead he saw a flash of crimson that told him it was Ginny.
“Harry, finally,” she said, cracking a smile as she caught up with him. He grinned down at her “ she was the only person he could face right now. He moved to kiss her, but she pulled away.
“Not now,” she muttered. “I have something important to discuss with you.”
The seriousness of her tone gave Harry a sense of foreboding. He was pretty sure he knew what she was about to say.
“Hermione’s worried about you! She says you suddenly flared up at Ron, and apparently he’s not taking your mood swings too well. What is it?” Ginny asked, slightly desperately.
“I…I’m not feeling quite right…” he stuttered feebly.
Ginny arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Oh really?” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Her face melted as she caught the anguished look that swept across Harry’s face.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied firmly, turning away.
“Look, wait “ Harry!” Ginny called after his retreating back. “Wait! Don’t get angry at me as well.”
He sighed, then walked back over to her, feeling somewhat guilty.
“Right,” said Ginny, grabbing Harry’s arm to ensure that he didn’t attempt to leave again. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Harry let her drag him into the grounds, his mind elsewhere. He barely noticed as she slid her hand into his and steered him towards the lake. In fact, he only wrenched his mind to the present when she began speaking again.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anything?”
Harry didn’t reply. He was determined to stay off any topic that might spark an argument between them, particularly as Ginny’s hand felt so warm in his own. But she jerked it out of his grip and turned to stare at him searchingly. Harry gazed back at her.
“Ginny, can’t you just…just let me tell you in my own time?” he asked quietly.
“Of course,” she replied, her tone softening as she linked her hand in his once more.
They spent a long while wandering around the grounds, ignoring the increasing chill on the wind, talking cheerily and enjoying each other’s company. Harry felt happier than he had done in weeks. He gazed down at Ginny’s face, admiring the way her walnut eyes lit up as she laughed.
“What?”
Harry had barely noticed his eyes glazing over. He shook himself and replied, “Nothing, go on.”
But to his horror, concern was masking her face once more. “No, Harry, I can’t ignore it anymore. What is it that’s bothering you? Don’t you trust me?” Ginny’s voice was choked with hurt.
“I do, Ginny,” he replied tenderly.
“Then why are you doing this?” she asked, more angrily this time.
“I thought I told you that I needed time! It’s difficult! Did you see Dumbledore die last year? Are you the one that’s destined to be murderer or murdered? Do you have Voldemort inside your head every second of the day? No. Please, just leave me alone!” Harry half-shouted, before marching quickly towards the castle.
“Don’t do this, Harry! Don’t shut me out!” called Ginny furiously through the wind. But Harry didn’t even turn around. He continued to stalk back towards the doors into the school, blinking back tears as he went.
*
It was a while later, and Harry sat on his bed in the dormitory, mulling over everything. As he recalled the meeting with Malfoy, an irrational hate and fury seemed to pummel his brain. In all the emotion and confusion of the last few weeks, he had forgotten Malfoy completely. Why was he here? He had helped murder Dumbledore! It just didn’t make any sense. Anger and frustration were pulsing through him now, and, without quite realising his own actions, he rose and made his way unseeingly back down the stairs, through the portrait hole and along the corridor. He was a few floors down when he actually fully registered where he was heading.
Harry had stood before the gargoyle that led up to the Head’s office many a time, but never before had he been as clueless as to what the password was. He had no idea what McGonagall might have chosen as a password. At least Dumbledore’s ran on a theme, thought Harry in frustration.
As if on cue, Tonks appeared at Harry’s shoulder. Professor Tonks, he reminded himself.
“Are you wanting to see the Headmistress, Harry?” she asked.
“Yes, I am,” Harry replied. “Professor,” he quickly added.
Tonks laughed good-naturedly, before saying ‘feline’ clearly to the gargoyle in front of them both. It jumped aside and they both stepped onto the moving staircase Harry knew so well.
Tonks chatted casually to Harry as they approached the door with the griffin knocker, but his mind was so thoroughly elsewhere he barely registered a word of it. When they reached the door, Tonks knocked and a voice from within called, “Enter.”
Harry marched in, his rage still white hot, and was about to speak when his surroundings brought him to an unnatural silence. The office looked so strange. It was no longer filled with whirring silver instruments, but with filing cabinets and ornaments. His eyes travelled to the desk, where Professor McGonagall was sat, looking stressed and worn. I guess that’s only natural, thought Harry. She is still teaching Transfiguration as well. Maybe no-one wanted the job now that Dumbledore’s gone.
Harry jolted himself back to reality, and waited for Tonks to finish talking to McGonagall. Once she was done, Tonks gave Harry a wink and left the room. He tried to force a smile, but in his current state of righteous anger, he couldn’t quite manage.
“So. Harry. Why have you come to see me today?” inquired McGonagall politely.
Harry launched straight in. “Why the hell is Malfoy here?” he shouted. “He tried to kill Dumbledore! How could you even consider letting him come back?!”
“Potter, calm yourself!” she ordered. “Now sit down, and I’ll explain.”
Harry sat resentfully down, his face still set. McGonagall began to elaborate. “When I first thought of the matter, I reacted in exactly the same way. But someone changed my mind. Maybe it would be better if you spoke to him…” She turned towards the place where Fawkes’ perch used to be. Harry followed her gaze expectantly.
And there he was, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles, hung on the wall next to all his predecessors.
“Professor Dumbledore?!”
*Charles Caleb Colton
A/N: I know I haven't fully explained the Draco situation yet, but at least I've given you an idea. The details of it will be explained in the next chapter. Until then...