Something had happened to Harry since that dream. He would find himself staring at Luci, his eyes following the curve of her neck, his skin prickling at the thought of her touch, his temperature rising every time she entered a room. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her. He would repeat Ginny’s name in his head, and he even considered getting back together with her, in hopes of making these emotions go away. He didn’t have the guts to feel like this.
The days following Christmas were all this way. Charlie was still around, and he seemed to have a growing interest in Luci, which perturbed Harry greatly. He couldn’t tell, for the life of him, however, if she returned Charlie’s affections. He often wondered if it would be improper to just ask her. And how improper would it be to just seize her and kiss her? Very improper, he decided. Harry even found himself growing jealous of Malfoy, who spent plenty of time with Luci and certainly knew her better than he did. Envy towards Malfoy was surely the most shame-worthy emotion Harry had ever experienced.
Bill and Fleur, sickeningly and obviously still newlyweds, floated about the house, but Harry had to admit that it did brighten up the place. Fleur, of course, was like moonlight, dusting everything and everyone around her with her enchanting luminosity. It was no wonder that Bill was never seen without an enormous grin on his face. Harry, too, couldn’t help but smile in Fleur’s presence, and Ron was beside himself, much to Hermione’s dismay. The two boys had tried to explain, repeatedly, that Fleur was irresistible, but Hermione seemed to harbor the belief that they just weren’t putting up a good enough fight against her charms.
Luci seemed to also be cheered by Fleur’s presence. The two were often seen giggling together. Hermione had even complained that Fleur had stolen Luci’s attention from her, as well, giving the impression that Hermione was missing her academic partner.
Mrs. Weasley continued to make random comments about Percy, who had stayed all of one hour on Christmas day. Her husband nodded but did not reply, though there was anger and disappointment in his eyes. Fred, George, and Ginny, however, were unabashed about insulting Percy in response.
“What a troll,” Ginny would say.
“He’s a credit to the troll race,” Fred agreed.
“King of prats everywhere,” added George.
Ron’s cuts had healed as much as they would ever heal, they were told. The scars were noticeable, but they weren’t hideous, and Ron had even said, “Perhaps they’ll call me ‘the boy with the scar’ now,” and Harry had laughed.
New Years Day arrived.
Harry and Ron were still unable to take up Quidditch again, though they knew that Malfoy was making good use of the pitch while they were gone.
It was late morning, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were pouring over books in the drawing room. Hermione had been entirely derailed by her experience with the Dementor, and she couldn’t understand how it could have sucked the piece of soul from Hufflepuff’s cup.
“They feed on fear,” she was saying at the moment. “The cup couldn’t have produced fear, so how could it have happened?”
“They suck souls out of people. Why not inanimate objects?” suggested Harry.
“It was too easy,” argued Hermione.
“Easy?” exclaimed Ron. “Permanently disfigured is not easy, thank you very much.”
A striking pain hit Harry in the gut, and he recognized it as his familiar companion “ guilt.
Hermione was gazing at Ron lovingly. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘disfigured,’ Ronald.”
“Yeah? What word would you use?”
“Experienced,” she said simply. “You just have visible memories, that’s all.”
Ron rolled his eyes.
“It was the blackest soul,” said Hermione, suddenly sounding distant, as though revisiting the memory.
“Well, it was Voldemort,” Harry reminded her. “Whose soul could be blacker?”
“And if the Dementor swallowed it, is it destroyed, or do we now have to extract it from that awful creature?” Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s jocular comment.
“Now that’s a good question,” said Ron.
“Ahem.”
Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all,” she began, sternly. “Wanted to wait until you boys felt better.”
“Uh, oh,” Ron said, under his breath, as his mother stepped into the room.
“Now, this has been going on ever since the three of you first met at Hogwarts. You keep chasing after these silly notions and you always end up getting hurt. You hardly ever explain where you’ve been or what’s happened to you. I never know when you could disappear and I’ll have seen you for the last time. When will it be enough?”
“When Voldemort’s dead,” said Harry plainly.
She shivered at the name, and then replied, “Even if you end up dead too?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But I’ll protect Ron and Hermione with all I’ve got.”
He stared at the pages of the book, the words swirling before him, trying not to catch anyone’s eye.
Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head in frustration. “Whatever you kids are doing, I know you think it’s important, but don’t forget that there is a plethora of people who are willing and ready to help you. There is safety in numbers. All you need to do is ask.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were silent. So Mrs. Weasley nodded hopelessly, and though she looked like she had much more to say to them, she left the room.
Harry felt so torn. He had to go after Voldemort and the Horcruxes. But he was risking lives by doing it. Sometimes, he thought he’d just do nothing about it, but he knew that the responsibility was on his shoulders, and he’d have to face it someday. At this point, he just wanted to get it over with.
“Thanks, mate,” Ron said softly.
“Now about the Dementors,” cut in Hermione, abruptly. “Maybe I could ask Luci. You know, offhandedly, like I’m just curious.”
Harry gaped at her, forgetting his dilemma. He wondered what on earth Luci had done to earn Hermione’s trust. Then he realized that it might very well be time to tell his best friends the truth.
“You both should know,” he started, “that I’ve told her everything.”
“What?” Hermione dropped her quill.
Ron didn’t look surprised, but when Hermione glanced at him for support, he feigned disapproval.
“What were you thinking, Harry?” she screeched.
“You said, yourself, that you trust her,” shrugged Harry.
“This is different! This is something that we haven’t even told Ginny! Oh, Harry!”
“Hermione, it’s done. I’m just saying that you can ask her openly.”
Hermione was still fuming. “How long has she known?”
“Since before I came to Hogwarts,” answered Harry.
She squeaked. “Oh, she could have told anyone by now!”
“I think we’d know if she had,” said Harry unperturbedly.
“Why, Harry?” Hermione continued. “Can you at least tell us why? What is it about her?”
Harry frowned.
“She’s too old for you, Harry!”
“Hermione, Krum was four years older than you! And you weren’t even of age!”
Ron had been silent, up to this point, when he interpolated, “Can we not talk about Krum, please? Just give it a rest, Hermione. Like he said, it’s done.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but then she sighed and nodded. “I’m going to ask her then.”
“We’ll go together,” agreed Harry.
The three of them headed to Luci’s room, but instead, they met Malfoy and Luci, together, on the second landing. Malfoy was wearing a very satisfied smirk.
“Why do you look so happy?” Harry asked him, uncouthly.
“My father’s escaped from Azkaban,” Malfoy proudly replied.
Hermione gasped, and Luci’s expression told Harry that she didn’t share Malfoy’s pleasure at this news.
“That’s right, Potter; you should be scared!”
Harry realized that the fear must have shown on his face, so he distorted his features into a stone-cold glare.
“No one’s scared of your dad, Malfoy. He’s just a big bully.”
“My father is a greater wizard than you’ll ever be!” snarled Malfoy.
“Oh yeah?” Harry scoffed. “Is that why he ran around claiming he’d been under the Imperius Curse when I defeated his old mate, Voldemort, the first time? Sounds like a coward to me.”
Malfoy lunged at Harry.
“Enough!” shouted Luci, grabbing the tail of Malfoy’s shirt to hold him back.
“Lucky for you, she’s always here to make sure you never have to actually defend yourself,” Harry jeered.
“Stop it, Harry.”
He turned to Luci and her eyes were cold. He felt as if she’d just slugged him in the gut.
“Fine,” he spat. “Protect him. But eventually, he’ll have to face me on his own, and then we’ll see who’s a great wizard.”
With this, Harry stalked away angrily, followed by Ron and Hermione, who remained in stunned silence.
A small crowd had gathered in the kitchen, and Harry pushed his way to the table, where the Daily Prophet lay spread open, the headline reading, “DEATH EATERS ESCAPE AZKABAN FOR SECOND TIME!!!”
“Oh, Arthur!” Mrs. Weasley was saying as her husband held her.
“At least it was only a few of them,” said Mr. Weasley.
Harry turned to Lupin, who stood on his right. “Which ones escaped?”
“Malfoy, Crabbe, Rabastan, and Mulciber,” Lupin answered.
Relieved by the small number, Harry released a long breath.
Professor McGonagall was standing towards the back of the room.
“Ahem!” she called over the noise.
The voices ceased and everyone looked up at her.
“For those of you who have read this article, you now know that Professor Clares Todge is a Death Eater. I had no knowledge of this when she was hired, of course, and I am greatly regretful, especially for the deaths due to her employment.” McGonagall stopped and sniveled quietly. “After her dismissal, I see no reason why Hogwarts cannot reopen its doors.”
The room erupted and Professor McGonagall held up a hand, quieting everyone again.
“Unless anyone disagrees?”
Mrs. Weasley stepped forward. “Now there are even more Death Eaters out there, and half of them know their way around Hogwarts. You can reopen the school but none of my children will be returning. Harry, Hermione, that includes you.”
This time, the room was silent.
“Very well,” said McGonagall finally. “I will take your feelings, and those of other parents, into consideration when making my decision.”
Then she nodded politely to the room at large and Disapparated.
“Can we still get in touch with the members of the D.A.?” Harry whispered to Hermione.
She held up the Galleon, and asked, “Why?”
“I have a feeling I’m going to need quite an army.”
Harry spent the entire day seething at Luci because she’d taken Malfoy’s side. He wanted to confront her about it, but he didn’t see her again. She’d apparently locked herself in her room and was refusing to come out. Because of this, Malfoy and his mother were free to saunter smugly around the house, something that seemed to irritate everyone immensely.
As the evening was drawing to a close, Hermione ventured, “We should ask her about the Dementor.”
Harry glanced at her and took a moment to respond. He wanted to see Luci by himself. “Let me.”
“But…” she began.
“She trusts me,” he cut her off.
“She trusts me too,” Hermione countered.
“She trusts me too,” said Ron, and then he grinned. “Just wanted to be included.”
Harry shook his head and smiled at the pair of them. “I’ll be right back.”
He knocked softly on Luci’s door. They hadn’t spoken privately since the conversation about her father, and he was unusually nervous about talking to her now, as though she were likely to be in the same troubled mood.
“Go away,” she called, confirming his suspicions.
Crestfallen, he started to leave the landing, but then he thought better of it.
“It’s Harry,” he called back, hoping against hope that she would want to see him.
After a moment, she opened the door only slightly and peered out. Her eyes were red, and Harry could tell that she’d been crying. Something about her frailty took his breath away.
“What’s up?” she asked him, but her voice was apathetic.
Harry frowned. “Are you all right?”
Luci forced a smile. “Sure. Fine.”
Wondering what she was hiding, Harry asked, “Can I come in?”
She hesitated, but then she widened the door and Harry stepped inside. He noticed that her room, like most of the bedrooms in Grimmauld Place, contained only a bed and a desk. However, it was the only other room, besides the kitchen, in which Harry had seen a fireplace. Suddenly, it struck him that this was her method of communicating with people outside of Grimmauld Place.
Upon the desk, he saw the current Daily Prophet, with the same blaring headline.
Harry must have been silent for too long as he was looking around the room, because Luci said impatiently, “Is there something I can do for you?”
Wounded by her iciness, he considered just stomping from the room and leaving her to do her crying.
Instead, he swallowed his pride and said, “Why do you have to be like that?”
She bit her lip. “Sorry.”
He moved closer to her, even though the proximity made him feel tremulous.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’ve been up here all day. I thought you were mad at me.”
“Mad at you?” she asked in surprise. “No, of course not. I shouldn’t have snapped at you earlier. I’m just... It’s a bad day and I’m just having a bit of a conniption, that’s all.”
Harry looked at her uncertainly. “Why are you so upset?”
She hesitated. “Oh, I’m easily upset. I’m just… homesick and so tired of this place…”
Noticing the injured look on his face, she corrected herself, “This place, not you or anyone else. Poor Draco. At least I’ve been able to go to your family’s house and to Hogwarts. Imagine how it must be for him and his mother.”
Harry scowled. “They both deserve to be in Azkaban, so they should count themselves lucky.”
Luci shook her head and smiled. “So bitter.”
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she carried on, “I know, I know, you have a right to be bitter. I’m immensely bitter over some things too, obviously, so I don’t hold it against you.”
He sighed and then redirected the conversation.
“Did you see the paper? One of our professors was a Death Eater, again!”
“Oh, yeah?” said Luci, going over to get the Daily Prophet.
As she walked back towards him, Harry continued, “I knew someone had told the Death Eaters that I was at Hogwarts. It was one of the new professors, a woman called Todge.”
“Hmm,” said Luci, trying to unfold the paper to read the story. Attempting to shake the pages straight, she dropped it onto the floor.
Harry bent down to retrieve it and heard a clunk, followed by, “It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
The gold watch had fallen out of his pants.
He snatched it up quickly, shoved it back into his pocket, and handed the newspaper back to Luci, who was grinning brightly.
“It’s just a pocket watch,” said Harry.
“Oh,” she replied, but her eyes were glittering.
Harry gawped. “You didn’t…?"
She grinned.
"Did you?”
“He wanted me to give it to you, but it was my idea to engrave it and to enclose his voice in it. So it’s kind of from both of us. It was his, you know. He’s had it for ages. Not much use in death, of course.”
Harry just looked at her. He was experiencing a marvelous upsurge of affection, like fire in his veins. He was so moved by her gesture that he couldn’t find words, so he just stepped closer to her, putting a hand gently on her arm. He fully intended to kiss her, but then she stepped back uncomfortably.
Clearing her throat, she said, “Sorry, I’m not much of a hugger.”
He almost laughed aloud. Instead, he said, “It’s all right. Thank you. This is… brilliant.”
“You like it?”
“Very much. It’s the best thing I’ve gotten, next to the Invisibility Cloak. Why didn’t you say it was from you? I’ve actually been a little scared of it, not knowing who sent it.”
“I shouldn’t have told you now, but I’m losing my resolve. Anyway, it’s inappropriate for me to give you a gift,” answered Luci.
“Why?”
“You know why,” she smiled.
“What do you mean “ your resolve?”
She vacillated for a moment, but then replied, “It gets harder and harder not to completely spill my soul to you.”
He blinked, astounded. After a long moment, he managed, “Then why don’t you?”
“Because I still have some self-control,” she grinned.
Harry, baffled by this line of conversation, merely said, “Oh.”
Then, searching for something to redirect this awkward conversation, he continued, “We need your advice.”
“We?”
“Me and Ron and Hermione.”
“OK?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We found another Horcrux,” he began, and then he told her about the events with Zacharias.
“So, in the end, Hermione is stumped on how the Dementor could have removed the soul from the cup,” he concluded.
Luci, who had been shaking her head disbelievingly throughout the whole story, now took a deep breath.
“You’re all lunatics,” she said, smiling, “but it has to be done, I guess.”
Harry nodded.
“I don’t know… I mean, perhaps a piece of a soul is as capable of fear as the soul in its entirety. Maybe it fears the end of its existence as much as we do.”
He frowned. “Possibly. But Hermione’s concern is that the piece of soul isn’t destroyed “ now it’s just stuck in that Dementor.”
“No, when a Dementor steals your soul, it’s gone forever. They don’t carry it around with them. Imagine the suitcase they’d need for that! But I told you, I don’t know much about the splitting of the soul. I’d have to research it too. I could help, if you’d like.” She said this last bit as if she were preparing herself for rejection.
“Ron and Hermione know that I’ve told you everything,” said Harry, “so you could join us.”
Luci pursed her lips. “Why don’t you check with them first and get back to me?”
“OK... The watch, I don’t know how to thank you.”
She beamed. “The look in your eyes was thanks enough. I’m just glad you like it.”
He nodded. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yep. ’Night.”
She closed the door, and Harry returned to his room, where he relayed Luci’s thoughts to Ron and Hermione, who agreed, after some slight persuasion, to allow her in on the research.