Court and Spark
Harry was in a field. He recognized it, it was a place Euphemia would take James and himself when they were young.
The vast expanse of grass was perfect for James to fly, while Harry went to the edge of the surrounding forest and searched for butterflies, bunnies, and other small creatures.
They’d have picnics there. Sitting out on the grass, clear skies on warm late summer days.
He glanced at the grass surrounding him, it was sharp, a little itchy, but the feeling was nostalgic.
A vast expanse of white flowers dotted the field, the taller ones cow parsley, the smaller ones wood anemone and daisies.
He’d create bundles of them when he was young, he’d give them to Euphemia. She’d make them into little crowns of flowers and place them atop his head.
Times were so simple then, he often found himself yearning to return there.
Nothing seemed to matter back then.
“You again. Why is this happening,” a voice said next to him causing him to practically jump out of his skin.
“It’s- you?” Harry wracked his brain, he knew this man, but from what? From where?
That’s right, the dream of a seaside cliff he had the other day. This man was there, he had been convinced it was his own dream.
That must mean this was a dream, Harry glanced around, then back at the handsome man sitting in the field with him.
“Now where are we this time, odd of me to dream of somewhere I’ve never been before. I think I’d recognize such a serene place from my memory.” The man spoke aloud. “Even odder to dream of a person I’ve never met before, twice now.”
Harry decided not to dignify him with a response; instead he picked the flowers near him, tying their stems together to create a chain.
If his mind was creating this rambling crazed man who believed Harry’s dreams were his own than so be it, he figured. Better than having a nightmare.
The man didn’t speak the rest of the dream, he just watched as Harry picked flowers and tied stems.
Eventually Harry woke up.
Despite the serenity of the dream he had a splitting headache and was sweating profusely. He stumbled out of his tangled sheets to the bathroom where he washed his face with frigid water.
He decided not to go back to sleep, he made himself busy with homework until Regulus woke up.
“You look terrible you know,” Regulus said as they walked to the great hall for breakfast.
Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair, “yes I know. I woke up at three in the morning.”
“Nightmare?”
“No, not a bit.”
Their first class of the day was charms, they got to it swiftly, five minutes early as always.
Flitwick was a good professor, not very entertaining though. “This is stupid, I’ve already read this bit of the book.” Barty sighed, dipping into his chair.
He glanced up at a disheveled looking Harry, “you look terrible mate.”
Harry scowled hard, “yes I know I do, why is everyone pointing this out to me.”
“Because it’s true,” Regulus stated, “Harry honestly, just go back to the dorms. Get some sleep, you really need it. You are never absent from class, I’m sure no one will care if you are for just one day.”
“I’m not doing that, I just have a headache is all.” Harry said furiously, writing notes.
Regulus gave him a skeptical look but decided against pushing the issue.
“Hey,” Barty began as he spun his quill in his hand, “slug clubs tomorrow right?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Regulus stated. They were all members, but they all hated the man.
“I heard he’s got an announcement” Barty began, “some ki-“
“Mr. Crouch! Do you have something to inform the class of.” Barty was cut off by Flitwicks high pitched voice.
He flushed furiously in embarrassment, “er- no sir.”
“Then I suggest you do not talk while I am teaching.” With that Flitwick went back to his lecture.
“I heard he’s announcing a special guest at his Yule party.” Barty said, this time quieter.
Harry had forgotten about the Yule party, they were fourth years, therefore finally old enough to come to the exclusive Yule event Slughorn threw yearly.
It seemed boring, not Harry’s idea of fun, but he had been taught by Euphemia and Fleamont it was rude to turn down invitations without a good excuse.
“Do you think either of you will be bringing anyone?” Harry asked his two friends. He himself had been stressed about that very thing.
He had no desire to go with anyone, he was asked out often enough that he knew there were plenty of people willing to go with him.
Though, he figured, if his friends were to go alone he would just do so too. If they accompanied dates he’d figure something out, he’d hate to be the odd one out.
He suddenly realized neither of them had answered his question. He looked between the two, both looked extremely embarrassed.
They seemed to realize that both of them hadn't answered, “um I’m not sure… I wouldn’t mind bringing someone.” Barty said. Regulus nodded stiffly.
Harry scoffed, they both acted so superior but they could be so odd sometimes. “Whatever,” he said, going back to writing his notes.
Class finished eventually, Harry’s headache persisted through lunch, through potions, through transfiguration, and now at dinner. It was a distinct sting, not so much that he couldn’t handle it, but enough that he found it bothersome.
Harry walked back to the dorms alone, Regulus had to look for sources for a paper in the library. That was probably for the best because the lack of presence of another person made the headache slightly better.
That solitude only lasted so long as he suddenly found his feet stuck to the floor. “Bugger,” he swore. His wand was in his holster under his robes but he found his hands stuck in place as well, he was only able to shimmy them slightly.
“Potter,” a voice spat like the name was poison, “I thought I told you to reign in your brother.”
Harry sighed, of course that was what this was about.
Severus Snape appeared like a ghost from the shadows, his greasy hair stood up on end frizzy with curls, streaks of red and gold colored it.
Marauders, of course.
“I did, I asked him to take it easy,” Harry shimmied his hand. “it seems he didn’t though,” he giggled. James and his gang could be uncouth at times, but this was quite funny to see.
“Shut up,” Severus sent a stinging curse at him.
It wasn't bad but with his already existing headache it was quite irritating.
“They can’t keep doing this, something has got to give. I swear I’ll kill them if they keep this up.” As he spoke Harry continued to shimmy his hands.
He didn’t take a single thing Severus said as genuine, he was the kind of person to be full of empty threats. All bark, no bite.
He was talented sure, spellcrafter, potion master, but hardly utilized those talents. Harry had no clue how Regulus tolerated him enough to get tutoring from him. He was just so irritating.
“Listen I get it you are angry and sad and lonely and everyone hates you except your little muggleborn trollop. But maybe if you didn’t behave like an asshole they wouldn’t do that to you?”
“If they didn’t act like fucking lunatics maybe I wouldn’t ‘behave like such an asshole’.” Severus clenched his fist holding his wand so tight it might snap. “And how would James feel if he heard you speaking of Lily that way”
“Oh shove off,” Harry finally got a hold of his wand from his holster and sent a quick ascendio propelling him into the air.
Harry shook his head and quickly walked off to his dorms. He was so ready for an early sleep.
However, it seemed he would find no comfort in sleep.
The second he opened his eyes his head started screaming, it was terrible, aching, he could hardly handle it.
He gripped his head attempting to force it to stop, it didn’t though.
Around him was a room, grimy, disgusting, outside were loud crashes. Like explosives, a ringing sound as well. Muggle bombs, he thought.
The bed in the corner of the room was tattered, torn to pieces. The blanket had holes and the bed frame was so rusted it looked as if it would collapse at any moment.
On the bed sat a man, a man he knew well by now, the man from his dreams. So this was a dream.
The man didn’t seem aware it was, he clutched his head hard covering his ears in an attempt to silence the bombs outside. He rocked back and forth like a child.
Harry wondered why his mind would create such a scenario, there had to be some sort of reason behind it.
It seemed the man noticed him because he looked up sharply, his eyes seemed to pierce Harry’s soul, they looked red.
The man panted, “so this is what you’re here for them? I know what you are up to.”
Before Harry could register what was happening the man took out a wand and sent a blasting curse his way. Harry jumped away from it, his head was killing him, he tore through the bedroom door and ran down the dilapidated hallway. All the while the bombs rang and the dream man chased him.
He threw himself around a corner running down the stairs as curses were thrown at him from behind.
He ran out the front door to the lawn outside where he tripped on the stairs and fell to the floor. He turned around to see the dream man menacingly following him.
The dream man began the curse “avada-“ Harry glanced around himself, any information, anything to save himself. There was a plaque next to the door, ‘wool's orphanage’ was written on it. Before he could figure out its meaning the man fished the curse and he was launched out of his dream.
He woke up as he had before, panting, sweating, tangled in blankets.
His head burned with the strength of a thousand suns, pure agony, the worst it had ever been. He reached up attempting to cool it with his hand when he felt liquid on his hand. This wasn’t sweat though, he brought his hand back down to see it covered in blood.
He got himself out of his bed, and into the bathroom.
He looked insane in the mirror, blood trickled down his face from the scar on his head. His hair was frizzy and out of place and his eyes were bloodshot.
He stripped himself of his sweaty clothes and ran a shower.
After his shower he sat on the floor by his bed.
Casting a quick tempus he found the time was one in the morning.
He decided against going back to sleep, he just couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to experience that again. So instead he sat, and thought.
The dreams were odd, he couldn’t kid himself any longer, these weren’t just dreams. Perhaps one of his housemates had casted something on him.
He would have to look into it, maybe it was some kind of dark curse, some kind of blood magic. But it didn’t feel normal, it definitely wasn’t light magic.
Suddenly someone tripped over him, “what the fuck?” Regulus said on the floor next to him.
Harry had been so deep in thought he hadn’t noticed enough time had passed that others began to wake up.
“What are you doing sitting on the floor? We have chairs for a reason you know.” Regulus stood brushing himself off, a scowl on his face.
“Yea, I know,” Harry answered. He ran his hand through his hair before willing himself to get up.
“You didn’t sleep again today did you?” Regulus raised a brow looking at him. Harry had cleaned himself up but the bags under his bright green eyes didn’t lie.
“Breakfast?” Harry asked, not acknowledging Regulus’s question.
“Hmm alright. You have to talk about it at some point though.” Regulus gathered his clothes and began to get ready for the day.
It was calm. A Friday.
They had very little to do, only potions and defense. He took a drought for the pain, it helped at least enough for him to pay attention in class.
It wasn’t long till they had slug club, Harry debated not going but he figured that’d just make Slughorn ask about him. He didn’t want the man bothering him, he could be so persistent.
“Ready to go,” Regulus placed a hand on Harry’s back.
“Yea just, annoyed.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not like it’s a whole dinner or anything, just tea. He’s probably just going to tell us about the Yule party then we’ll be off. No big deal.” Regulus reassured him.
“I suppose.”
They walked down to the room the event was being held in. It was no big trek being right by their dorms.
The room was set for tea, quite a few placemats, one for every member.
Sirius and James were there already. James was so busy trying to talk up Lily Evans and Sirius was so busy trying to stop him from embarrassing himself they didn’t notice their younger brothers coming in.
Slughorn sat at the center of it all, he looked on the kids with pride, like they were trophies he had won. It was horribly humiliating.
“Rightio,” Slughorn clapped, getting all of their attention on him, “why don’t we all sit down and have a conversation. I promise I won’t hold you all too long.”
They did as told, sat, and began taking their tea. Harry picked something caffeine heavy. Regulus glared at him for doing so.
Slughorn started off with questions, of course he did, he went around asking about people’s families and their classes. It would be kind, just light banter, but they all knew his intentions. He wanted information, things to latch onto, things he could use in high society.
“So Harry, how are you? It’s been such a while since we chatted.”
Harry sighed and straightened himself out, “I’m very well sir.” He kept it curt and bit back any snarky comments. Across the table James gave him an odd look, Harry ignored it.
It seemed Slughorn could tell he was in no mood for chatting so he moved onto asking Barty about his fathers ministry duties.
“Well now that I know all of you are doing well let’s get on with what you’re here for. Our Yule party will be next Friday, the Friday before your break. I expect everyone to be dressed to the nines of course. Food will be provided, and alcohol only for the adults. I implore you children no drinking,” Slughorn winked after the statement. “On to what you all have been anticipating, the guest list will include a few notable figures. The head archivist shall be in attendance, as will the head investigator, and head of muggle relations. Records officer Whilm will be in attendance, who some of you have met.”
Harry began to tune him out as he rambled, it was always the same people anyway. Harry never cared for politics, he hated talking about it.
He knew James was keen on muggle born rights, he was aware Regulus held some of his parents beliefs on the matter, he never bothered to ask though. None of it had ever affected him so he saw no reason to get involved.
He also never saw himself working in the ministry or any sort of magical government position. So there was no reason for him to network at these parties.
Suddenly everyone began to clap, he looked over at Slughorn who had a self satisfied look on his face.
“What’d he say?” He whispered to Regulus.
“The new minister of magic Tom Riddle will be attending.” Regulus seemed surprised, Harry was too. Slughorn had connections, sure, but that was pretty impressive. Why would the minister of magic want to come to a silly school event, he wondered.
Harry vaguely recognized the name, Tom Riddle, Fleamont had mentioned him a few times.
Riddle was a half blood, that he knew, the first ever half blood minister of magic. He had ran a few times but had never won the position until very recently.
Riddle had only gotten elected because his incumbent had tragically passed away in an apparition accident, leading to him winning. That was all Fleamont had ever really mentioned.
Hell, Harry didn’t even know what the guy looked like. I’m a way it made him feel ashamed, he really ought to know more about his own government.
“So Reggie,” Harry began as they walked back to the dorm’s, “who is this guy?”
“I probably don’t know much more than you do. I think he’s young, younger than the last minister at least. He’s a half blood. My family likes him.”
“Really?” Regulus’s family liking a half blood politician was quite surprising. Harry had met Walburga Black, even in the few minutes he had spoken to her she made her political opinions very clear.
“Yes,” regulus looked down at his shoes in thought, his face scowled. “Though I think it’s deeper than I understand. I think they knew him in school. They mention him sometimes.”
Harry hummed.
“Not much use in harping on it anyway. Don’t you have quidditch practice tomorrow? Get some sleep, you know you need it.” Regulus said glaring at Harry now.
“Oh please, I know you’re so jealous you can’t play. Don’t worry Reggie, I’ll keep the team afloat without you there,” Harry grinned.