Chapter 8 - First Names, Syrup, and Trust
Harry sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, plucking absently at his bedspread. It was so quiet in the empty dormitory that if he cared to listen, he could have heard the gurgles of his stomach as it digested what little food he’d forced himself to choke down at dinner. Hearing a noise outside, he glanced up; the wind must have changed direction and picked up speed as the rain that had been falling steadily for three days was now striking the window with alarming force. Harry grunted to himself. The weather suited his mood: gloomy.
With a heavy sigh, he pondered whether he should drag himself out of the room and down the stairs for a walk around the school, just for something to do, despite the numerous jaunts around the castle he’d made in the last eight days. He and each of the others, since their arrival just over a week ago, had paired up daily with a teacher to inspect the rooms, hallways, staircases, and statues of the castle. The staff, before being joined on the first of September by Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Luna, had seen to most of the major structural repair that was required, leaving the smaller tidying and restoring tasks still to be completed. Working all day with breaks for meals, the repair crew took off the evenings after dinner. This would have been a great arrangement if Ginny had been speaking with Harry. As it were, with her still angry and wanting nothing to do with him, Harry’s anticipated pleasant month’s time at Hogwarts was anything but.
The door burst open, breaking into Harry’s thoughts, and Ron and Hermione entered, kissing enthusiastically. Harry swore under his breath and quickly swung his legs off the bed, his back to the door to avoid watching the intimate scene. “Must you,” he muttered to himself, shoving his feet into his trainers.
“Oh!” Hermione cried, her cheeks bright red as she saw him. “Harry. We didn’t realize you were“” Flustered, she extricated herself, with some difficulty, from Ron’s embrace. “We’ll just“” Still looking flustered, she turned to Ron. “Let’s go back downstairs,” she suggested.
But Harry was already halfway to the door. “Don’t bother,” he told them. “I was just leaving anyway.”
The smile Ron gave Harry didn’t quite reach the redhead’s eyes. Hermione opened her mouth to comment, but Harry was in the hall before she could do so. The less he heard from either of them lately the better, in his opinion.
As he made his way down to the (thankfully-empty) Common Room, he glumly reflected on the brief interaction with his best friends. Since his argument with Ginny, Harry had felt like he’d lost not only her friendship, but in a way, Ron and Hermione’s as well. Hermione, although valiantly attempting to keep their relationship the same as always, was nevertheless steadfastly loyal to Ginny, her closest female friend. Ron, not wanting to rile Hermione nor his sister, was rather stand-offish with Harry. The situation made encounters between the trio quite strained. Harry sighed again. He was getting to spend a great deal of time with Neville, Seamus, and Luna which was enjoyable, but he missed the closeness he was used to with his dearest friends.
Deciding against sitting in front of one of the fires in the Common Room, Harry passed through the portrait hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s query as to where he was going. He had wanted to visit Hagrid, despite the rain, but Hermione had told him at dinner that Ginny was planning to go down to his hut this evening, and Harry didn’t want to risk running into her. He grimly added Hagrid to the list of friendships that had been altered since his row with Ginny.
As he aimlessly wandered the corridors of the castle, randomly ascending and then descending different staircases, he abruptly recalled the tiny box he still had in his trunk. He paused halfway down one flight of stairs near the headmistress’ office. The backs of his eyes had begun to burn and he turned away from the watchful gaze coming from a portrait of a pair of ladies perched side-saddle on horses. He had thought he’d shed all the tears he could over Ginny’s finishing with him. Apparently, he was mistaken.
Movement at the bottom of the staircase roused him from his inner musings, and he recognized McGonagall’s form coming up the stairs towards him.
“Good evening, Harry,” she said as she drew near.
“ ‘Evening, Prof“ Minerva,” he quickly amended. Evidently sensing he was not in a chatting mood, she continued on her way without further comment, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once more. His first, as McGonagall’s footsteps had faded away, was that it was still not second nature to refer to the professors by their given names, even though it was something they had all insisted upon as soon as Harry and his friends had set foot back at the school. However, he mused, it wasn’t nearly as difficult with the most recent addition to staff. Harry figured it was because, unlike the other professors, he’d only met the new woman as an adult, making it more comfortable to use her first name like an equal.
He remembered the morning they’d met the new professor, a few days after he’d arrived at Hogwarts ...
The teaching staff and the handful of students present at the school were all seated together at one of the long tables, as had been the custom since September first, staff towards one end, students the other. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting in a row on one side of the table, rather like they were awaiting a bus Harry always thought, but they had discovered early on that it was actually less awkward that way than if they sat grouped in pairs across from each other.
On this particular morning, Neville was making cheerful comments at regular intervals, in a valiant attempt at conversation. Unfortunately, it just so happened that on that morning right before breakfast Ron, fed up with Ginny and Harry not speaking with each other, had decided to offer his sister some brotherly advice. This had ended up going very badly indeed, with the result that not only was Ginny avoiding conversation with Harry, but with her brother now as well.
Hermione, annoyed at Ron’s interference, was also not on speaking terms with him. Poor Neville, after receiving only noncommital grunts in reply to yet another remark, clamped his mouth shut and turned his attention to his pancakes.
Luna smiled serenely at him. “It is rather difficult beginning a conversation when so many aren’t speaking to one another, isn’t it?”
Having choked on his pumpkin juice, Neville was suddenly unable to respond, and needed to be thumped on the back by Seamus. Harry almost shot a grin at Ginny at the exchange but caught himself just in time and turned to smile sympathetically at Neville instead. He was used to Luna’s honest yet embarrassing comments, but apparently Neville was still caught off guard by them.
Harry was just adding a generous amount of lemon juice and sugar to his second helping of pancakes when a tall, elegant woman, looking to be in her forties, and dressed in a brightly-coloured Muggle skirt and blouse, swept into the Great Hall. Her flawless, ebony skin shone in the sunlight from the enchanted ceiling. She had to be the new professor McGonagall had mentioned the day before, and Harry was positive, from the way she carried herself with such self-assurance, that she would possess the same competence with classroom management that Snape had had, and for which McGonagall was still known.
“Minerva, where are you hiding?” she called to McGonagall, and her strong, friendly voice rang through the Hall. “There you are!” she cried as she caught sight of the headmistress. “Good to see you again!”
As a delighted McGonagall got up to greet the new arrival, the students’ excited whispers buzzed along the table. Harry could detect what he thought was a Jamaican accent in the new woman’s voice, but was reminded strongly of Londoners he knew by some of the endings of her words. At the same time, there was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I wonder where she’s from?” murmured Luna, voicing Harry’s own question.
Hermione smiled smugly. “She’s from America.”
But the new professor had stopped just behind her and had heard her comment. Releasing McGonagall from the warm embrace they’d shared, the newcomer bent closer and informed Hermione, “Actually, I’ve just come from Canada,” before McGonagall led her to the teachers’ end of the table.
“I always thought that was the same,” Luna said, to no one in particular.
Seamus was shaking his head. “No way. Me mum has some Canadian friends. Calling them American is as bad as calling me English!”
Ron flashed Harry a slight grin before remarking, “That bad, huh?” It was obvious he was trying to keep a straight face at the serious tone that Seamus had used.
Before anyone else could comment, McGonagall was addressing them all. “It is with great pleasure that I introduce Professor Meldrum Oblongata who has graciously agreed to fill the vacant Muggle Studies position. Although born of magical parents, she has a Muggle grandmother and has worked extensively with Muggles throughout her career. An exemplary former student and a prestigious individual, she will undoubtedly bring much to Hogwarts.”
Personal introductions were made, and hands shook around the table. Oblongata had gripped Harry’s hand tightly and insisted that he needed no introduction, adding that she was very pleased to meet him. As he resumed his seat, Harry noticed that Hermione was frowning slightly, apparently trying to remember something as she was muttering to herself, “Oblongata ... Oblongata ...”
She suddenly called up the table, “Wait a minute. You were the witch who was instrumental last year in organizing Muggles in the Maritime Provinces of Canada to stand against Voldemort’s followers, weren’t you?” Momentarily forgetting she wasn’t speaking with him, she turned to Ron. “Don’t you remember? We heard a special on the wireless about her after we came back from Australia.” Ron stared at her blankly and, with a little exasperated sigh, she returned her gaze to the new professor. “Some in the Wizarding world were angered that you’d broken the Statute of Secrecy, but most hail you as a hero.”
Oblongata had been watching Hermione closely throughout these comments. She gave the younger woman a slight smile now. “I can see why Minerva speaks so highly of you,” she murmured before confirming, “that’s right. I was loathe to contravene the Statute, but I couldn’t stand aside and watch the slaughter of innocent people. I just couldn’t,” she added firmly.
“That reminds me,” McGonagall said after that had sunk in, “Meldrum is to be our new Head of Gryffindor House.”
Having known that the new headmistress’ duties would most likely prevent her from continuing as Gryffindor Head, Harry had been wondering who would take it on. Although a little saddened at the thought that McGonagall would no longer fill the role, from what he had heard so far, Oblongata certainly seemed well-suited to the name of Gryffindor.
Trotting up another staircase and along a corridor, Harry smiled slightly to himself as he remembered that morning. Oblongata had also seemed to be a woman after Ron’s own heart when she’d taken a seat and hastily pulled large platters of food towards herself. She had been disappointed about the toppings for the pancakes, though, Harry recalled, and amid delighted smirks of those present, had actually Summoned from her luggage a large bottle of pure maple syrup she’d gotten from Quebec, Canada. Harry was sure that Oblongata’s addition to the staff would not be dull!
“This corridor’s back to normal. Shall we go on up to check the next one?” Ron indicated the staircase ahead.
Lost in thought, Harry didn’t answer.
Ron snapped his fingers in front of his friend’s face. “Oi! Snap out of it, would you?” he said, exasperated.
“What?” It took Harry a moment or two to realize that he must have been daydreaming. “Sorry. What did you say?”
Ron sighed heavily and repeated his suggestion.
Harry shrugged morosely. “May as well ...”
The two of them were in the east wing of the castle, fourth floor, checking for areas that still needed repair. Harry had been reluctant at first to be paired with Ron, worried that it would be too tense an atmosphere. Away from Ginny and Hermione, however, Ron acted thankfully very much like his old self.
“Come off it, Harry,” Ron complained as they headed up the stairs together. “You’re about as much fun as getting splinched. I think I’ll go back to working with McGonagall - she’s more laughs!”
“Easy for you to say!” Harry retorted indignantly, finally broaching the subject they’d been ignoring all morning. “Your girlfriend’s still talking with you!”
“Yeah. I know,” Ron agreed sadly. Then, trying to be more upbeat, he added brightly, “But it’s only been a week.”
Harry stopped in mid-step to glare at him. “Nine days, two hours, thirty-three minutes.”
Ron grimaced sympathetically at him, but didn’t reply, and they continued up the rest of the flight in silence. Before they’d reached the fifth floor, they heard a voice floating down to them from above. The new Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Oblongata, was talking.
““ the devil did a swamp of all things get in the castle?” she bellowed. “What happened during that battle last year?”
Ron and Harry didn’t quite catch Neville’s quieter reply. They gained the top of the flight of stairs just in time to see Oblongata raising her wand hand. “No matter,” she remarked briskly. “Soon put it right.”
“No, you mustn’t!” squeaked Flitwick, before Ron, Harry, or Neville could react. The Charms teacher was sprinting down the corridor from the opposite direction, Ginny right behind, their pounding footfalls echoing loudly on the stone floor.
Oblongata whirled to face her colleague, puzzled. “Why ever not?” she demanded. “Our instructions from the headmistress were clear. We’re to“”
Harry never heard Flitwick’s explanation to Oblongata; he’d seen the pain in Ginny’s eyes as she gazed at the magical swamp her brothers had created, had seen her nose redden, her face crumple.
Although both Ron and Neville had started towards Ginny, Harry got to her first. Not caring that they were surrounded by others, not caring that she hadn’t spoken to him, had hardly looked at him, in over a week, he closed the gap between them with two long strides and enveloped her in his arms.
Clinging to him, she wept.
Harry marvelled at how wonderful, how absolutely perfect the simple act of holding her again could feel. After just a short time, his own cheeks were wet, but whether from Ginny’s tears or his own he didn’t know.
It was some moments later that someone, Neville perhaps, nervously cleared his throat. Harry felt Ron’s hand briefly clasp his shoulder before Oblongata, Neville, Ron, and Flitwick all drifted discreetly away, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.
Ginny eventually calmed down and the two of them broke apart, somewhat sheepishly. She let out a self-conscious laugh, trying to mop her face with her hands.
“You must think me a blubbering twit,” she remarked, trying for a light tone.
Harry passed her a crumpled tissue he found in his pocket. “Hardly.”
She blew her nose, her expression clearly telling him she wasn’t convinced. He realized with a jolt that he hadn’t seen her cry like that for years, since his second year to be exact, when he’d killed the Basilisk and saved her from Tom Riddle. She hadn’t even broken down at Fred’s funeral, but instead had stared rather stoically ahead throughout the whole ordeal. He wondered suddenly if he’d had anything to do with that, having told her long ago that he liked that she wasn’t the weepy type.
“You know,” he said softly, “you don’t have to hold it in with me.”
She met his gaze steadily but didn’t reply. After a few moments, she changed the subject, tucking the tissue into her own pocket. “Look, Harry, I’m ... I’m really sorry. I’ve been just horrible to you lately.”
He managed a lopsided smile at her words. “I’m just glad that you’re speaking with me again.”
“And I need to,” she said, motioning to the wooden bench against the wall. They sat down together. There, amid the excruciatingly-painful reminder of the highest price they’d paid in the Hogwarts’ battle, they talked.
For the first time, Ginny told Harry how difficult it had been growing up the youngest of seven, and the only girl to boot; how she constantly struggled to prove herself and her strength, both physical and inner. She admitted that the way Harry always treated her as an equal was one of the things she loved about him, and had made her feel all the more hurt and resentment when he’d sided with her parents in the Room of Requirement during the Battle.
Her eyes still glistening with leftover tears, she said quietly, “You made me feel like my mother always does, Harry, like a child. Like I’d “” Her voice dropped even lower. ““ like I’d never be good enough for you.”
“Ginny. I never meant ...” Harry swallowed hard, reluctant to speak, but knowing full well what he needed to tell her.
“Thinking you were a child was the furthest thing from my mind that day.”
“Then why on earth did you“”
“I needed you safe. I needed to be able to come back to you when it was all over. All I could think of was if I survived, and you didn’t“” His voice cracked and he reached for her hand, needing to touch her again.
“I couldn’t lose you, Ginny. I couldn’t lose someone else ... someone else I love.”
Her eyes shining again, she threw her arms around him once more.
He squeezed her tightly, wondering why he’d never had the courage to tell her that before. She pulled away too soon.
“You were keeping something from me, though, weren’t you?”
Harry sighed heavily. They were back to that already. Reluctantly, he nodded, not about to destroy, by lying, what emotional intimacy they’d just created.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Are you going to tell me what it was?”
Harry met her gaze and pronounced, earnestly, “I love you.”
Ginny laughed out loud at his attempt to change the subject. “Nice try, Potter.”
He sighed again. “I was keeping something from you,” he admitted. “And I will tell you. Soon. Just not yet.”
Ginny peered at him closely for a full half minute. It was her turn to sigh. Finally, with a last glance at the swamp, she said, “Okay.
“I trust you.”
As Happily Ever After As They're Gonna Get by cjbaggins
Chapter Endnotes: For those interested in such things as the meaning of names:
The word ‘oblongata’ refers to a part of the brain stem which controls blood pressure and heart rate. I work as an educational assistant, and while attempting to come up with a name for the new professor, I was quizzing grade five students on the parts of the nervous system. I actually took out my pen and pad of paper from my purse when we got to that word. It just seemed so perfect! Hope you like it. ‘Meldrum’ is a Scottish surname, but seemed to be to fit the bill as a Rowling-esque given name, in keeping with such gems as Albus, Pomona, Severus, and Minerva!