Chapter 2
Harry was plenty early to Care of Magical Creatures, so he took the trek around the loop of grounds and forest edge visible from the Game Keeper's hut, where classes usually departed. He could see a few students filtering in and clustering away from the Skrewt pens. Little puffs of smoke became visible, and Harry knew it was because the Skrewts could sense the gathering class. Their pent up energy and agitation had become the equivalent of a very pointy, excited, and not that affectionate dog.
Harry vaguely remembered Aunt Marges' Ripper, and thought fondly of Hagrid, that he did prefer the Skrewts. Look at that, he had learned something about reading animal behavior intuitively and he actually felt a genuine preference, shaky as it was. Harry saw Hagrid walking out of the forest with some small game over his shoulder, Fang was obediently following and eyes trained on the swaying squirrels.
Harry, feeling a rush of affection, sped up his walk to make it back to the paddock before Hagrid got waylaid by other conversations.
But as he was tying off the game near his hut, a loud, red-headed voice broke. Ron had arrived with Lavender in tow. He was showing off his new girlfriend to the half giant. Hagrid was grinning and Harry started to be able to hear their conversation a ways off.
"Yeh better be careful there, Ron. Not sure your mother would approve of yeh dating this young."
"Oh, my brother Charlie had plenty of girlfriends by the time he was my age."
"And gave yer mom enough headaches in kind," Hagrid returned, smiling. "Harry'll make you keep a right mind!" Hagrid said, spotting Harry and grinning broadly. "Friends ought not let relationships come in between 'em."
Harry felt a pang of guilt. Was he going to let some drama get in the way of being a good friend? Still, it didn't sit right with him, and he felt wary approaching the small group. Harry had a sort of false grin he didn't remember putting on his face falling as he looked at Ron. Ron returned his gaze blankly. He wasn't about to fight in front of Hagrid.
"Right, now!" Hagrid raised up his voice to collect to the rest of the class, "We'll be down by the end of the paddock today."
Ron, who hadn't let his arm fall from Lavender's shoulders, said "well, come on. Time to get our weekly burns." He kissed Lavender's cheek before properly starting to walk and said "After this class, will I have enough scars for you to fancy me a hero?" She laughed and hit him lightly on the chest as they walked forward in unison, Harry feeling drawn forward in their wake.
"Gather up, Gather up," Hagrid motioned at the stragglers hanging back and talking amongst themselves. Harry scanned the big group and saw Hermione standing alone, holding her pack in front of her along with her heavy cloak pushed up at the sleeves. The day had turned unseasonably warm but was still too cold to go without a jacket. He was about to make his way to go stand near her when Ron turned around and said "Mate, it's water under the bridge. I get why you were mad, but it was a misunderstanding. I was always a free agent." He offered his hand and Harry froze up, wanting to call him out again, but Hagrid had started to the day's lecture.
Harry didn't take his hand but kinda patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and awkwardly said "yeah, man."
He looked over at Hermione, a look of impassable confusion on his face that she was sure she wouldn't be able to read. She was watching him and had a look of hurt and anger on her face. He tried to mouth to her, he didn't know what, that it wasn't what it looked like? That he was still mad but didn't want to make a scene? That he was secretly worried about fracturing the group that had been the second family and source of strategy and hope for his very life? Harry stood standing, not really listening to Hagrid's instructions, until he noticed other groups walking away and Lavender returning with a Skrewt on a leash.
Harry tried to act like he knew what was going on in their group, he was truly baffled as they walked away from the group and toward the Quidditch pitch. And he was more baffled as they approached the broom closet. Were they ditching the lesson and going for a joy flight? Ron rummaged around and pulled out a ratty old broom. Seamus was claiming the first go.
Ron said, "Nah -- Harry is the best flyer," removing his body from the doorway and collecting Skrewt's leash the leash from Lavender.
"Are you kidding me?!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not taking that thing into the air."
"That is what we chose-- the air. You know-- skrewts in different environments-- the Forest, the lake, the air.." Ron said, proffering a rickety Clean Sweep. "You can fly. Lavender will write down what happens, she has the best handwriting. And Seamus can tell her what to write."
"Um-" Harry looked at the broom and hesitated in taking it.
"What? You're welcome to try to find a better broom if this one isn't good enough," Ron challenged. "The worse the broom, the funnier the results!"
Seamus broke in, "You're such a great flyer it won't matter." Seamus was grinning as he picked up the skrewt and put it into a little cage.
Harry marveled watching the scene unfolding as Ron tied the cage's chain to the end of the broomstick.
"I, uh--" Harry started, and Ron looked around, challengingly, "I think maybe tie it around the middle."
"You do it then," Ron said, handing the broom to Harry and stepping back a few paces.
Harry mounted the broom, his hand positioned over the small chain tied to the cage where the Skrewt was pushing up against the sides forcefully, and then with some trepidation, he took off.
The broom was pulled off course by a violent fftt-ing sound emanating from the cage below. Harry felt a painful pinch in the palm of his hand, the chain grabbing the flesh of his palm. Then he smelt the smoke rising beneath him before he saw it.
"Fly around!" Ron called.
"Yeah, give it ago, Potter," Seamus chorused, laughing.
"Alright," Harry said warily.
He had begun to swing forward, the broom, not entirely steady or following his intentions. It veered slightly off course but he stayed relatively low to the ground. He got enough momentum for the skrewt cage to be dragged behind him with g-force, but suddenly was nearly bucked off the broom with a violent spasm of the cage rippling through his broom, yanking stationary in midair. It was a near thing to avoid falling.
Harry shouted out reflexively while the others laughed. Seamus was mildly gawfawing "You ok there Potter, that's some hell of a job flying."
Ron was laughing uproariously. "You look ridiculous on that broom. You fly worse than my mum!"
Harry was mad and had started lowering the broom down when the skrewt started violently swinging around in a circle, blasting sparks as he went. The speed of the circling was requiring everything he had just to keep the broom steady and he could feel his muscles from all his years of training holding him from flying off this broom. He pushed down for the broom to lower but it wasn't listening to his urgings over the violent vibrations.
"Seamus, conjure something soft or get ready to levitate me off this thing!" Harry shouted in a mild panic.
Harry didn't hear the other boy's acknowledgement over Ron's raucous laughter and insistence that he was fine.
"Seamus, mate, I'm serious!" called in mild desperation.
The broom was starting to veer violently from side to side and the Skrewt had turned its rat on a wheel antics vertical. The cage came crashing into Harry's back, singing part of his neck, and tipping off his head as the momentum yanked Harry's whole broom upwards for a moment before it would yank it down a moment later.
He needed to get control of this situation, Seamus was not going to help. Lavender was useless.
Harry dove off the broom from a height of about 10 feet. He tucked instinctively for a roll. His back slammed painfully into the ground, but he thankfully missed his neck. Harry panted hard as he caught himself from rolling all the way over and slamming his face into the ground. Distantly, he heard the broom was ricocheting around in the air with the skrewt bursting this way and that. But the broom, now riderless, would be falling fast. Harry looked around to brace for the flying broom, or worse, the flying cage.
"What did you bail for?" Ron accused-- "now we have to catch this thing."
"What, and had it killed me?" Harry roared.
"Overdramatic, mate," Ron said casually.
As Harry walked away he could hear the sound of the broom clattering into the wall of the changing rooms next to the pitch. He heard the sound of the snapping broom and the crash of the cage. Was he over-reacting? Harry was angry and in pain.
"What should we do?" Lavender exclaimed.
"Someone stun the skrewt," Ron said.
Harry heard Seamus's voice say the charm and the rattling cage in the grass stopped moving, but Harry didn't look back. He was already walking away. He was a few moments outside the castle when he saw Hermione running past, a blur of wavy hair, clutching her bag to her chest, and .. covered in mud?
"Hermione, what happened?" Harry called, starting to run after her.
She didn't respond. Harry felt dread. This was his fault. He shouldn't have let her get paired with people who didn't care about her. What group had she been with to make her run off like that? Harry debated trying to sprint after her but his head seized up and he was wary.
Forever Dudley would talk in raptures about the people he had concussed and how they would complain about it years later. He didn't want to mess with his brain. His back was hurting. The ground had been a bit soft, but he had landed at speed. He was slightly in shock that he was even walking. He moved through the corridors on raw adrenaline. Harry took himself up to the hospital wing just to make sure he hadn't gotten a concussion from the fall.
He was grateful he had a break and lunch before his next class.
Harry walked into the crowded hall, Madame Pomfrey having kept him the maximum amount of time she could and have him still make his next lesson. He thought she could have made quicker work of him, had she just given him the potion first instead of forcing him to sit and wait for the student nurse to do it. She had wanted to give the 4th year the "Experience". Harry had had enough of today.
The only seat left open at the long and crowded Gryffindor table was the one directly behind Ron's back, as he was turned toward Lavender, one hand over her legs that were resting in his lap.
Harry sat down surreptitiously hoping Ron wouldn't notice at least for a few minutes so he could slam down his food. No luck. He turned around immediately.
"Budge up, man," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Ron, can you not do that, it hurts," Harry said, not looking at the other boy, with a bit of bite in his voice. The potion had taken away his head pain, but his back was still sore. *"No remedy for muscles working the way they ought!," Pomfrey had exclaimed.*
"It was 5 feet, mate," Ron said, turning back to Lavender, and feeding her a bit off his fork.
Harry reached for a platter and started serving himself some roast meat, trying to ignore the spectacle next to him, and trusting Ron was sufficiently occupied to ignore him.
Harry slammed his lunch and was looking around the hall for Hermione the whole while. He didn't see her. She would have had over an hour to get lunch prior to this, Harry thought, there is no way she would be in this crowded hall if she was still upset. Still, he looked for Ginny to see if Hermione was with her, but no such luck. The redhead was talking loudly with a few friends several people down on his side of the table.
Harry stood up, and Ron, now with his face attached to Lavender's, he did not give any notice of him walking off. "I'm going to miss you next lesson," Harry heard her coo, and Ron had started to growl back at her. Harry felt a fresh wave of disgust.
The tears in Hermione's eyes yesterday were entirely wasted. What on earth did she even see in Ron? He couldn't imagine her curled under a lunch table half hanging off the lap of the gangly boy. The thought was just so incongruous. It didn't fit. And it made him slightly more ill to think of.
The DADA corridor was already filling up with a smattering of Gryffindors and Slytherins. A full day with the blighters, Harry thought, avoiding Flint's eyes and focusing on tiny cracks in the stone floor and the heavy glare cast by the harsh afternoon sun. At 5 til one, Snape's clacking shoes rounded the corner, himself just having come up from the Great Hall. He flicked his wand from the rounding of the corner as he always did, the door Springing open so that by the time he arrived at the doorway, students who were too stupid to vacate his way were already seated.
Harry hung back and looked at the row where he, Hermione, and Ron usual sat. In fact, in DADA, everyone always sat in the same seat. If he moved, he would displace someone else. He was trying to remember who sat where.
"Lost, Potter?" Malfoy's voice moved over and past his shoulder and he sniggered his way to his usual seat near the front where he spread his slightly-gangling legs in his best impression of Lucious Malfoy Jr. And yet, Harry mused, he had too much of his mother to have his father's commanding presence. Judging by his interaction with his father over the summer, Malfoy Sr. knew it. Yet, here, in this class, Malfoy could pretend. And yet, Harry still didn't miss the tension between Snape and Malfoy as Malfoy stared out the window, hand on top of his pile of books, refusing to look at the professor. His run-down appearance in other classes didn't extend to this one.
He realized he was still staring at Malfoy and standing slightly in the hallway. He looked back at their usual spot and noticed the class had all but filled. He took his seat, and then remembering Lavender, almost went to sit in her spot, but he thought of Hermione. She should definitely not have to sit near Ron today. Grudgingly, he sat where he knew Ron would be one chair away at the same table.
Just before the bell, Ron sauntered in with Lavender and sat down at the table, and moments later, Hermione rushed in, looking thoroughly clean and yet very worn down. Harry tried to catch her eye to indicate he had planned this for her, to save her seat across the room, but she didn't look over at him.
Snape glared around the room, eyes meandering and roving over the silent students who had long-since learned to be ready at the bell with quill poised. Hermione missed this mark by a moment, and for once, Snape, his eyes roving over Lavender and Ron, didn't snipe. Harry wasn't sure what he would have done if Snape had gone after Hermione, but he was raring for a fight with the greasy bastard.
Snape turned around when his survey was completed by the bell itself and he tapped the shades down and projector on.
Horribly low-frame video clicked by, dueling wizards. Large magical effects of water, or large creatures that seemed almost holographic, energy, moving objects, boulders.. Harry watched scene after scene of dramatic duels with Snape narrating caustically.
"Dueling, is rarely the plebeian and juvenile display of bodily functions and changing appearances so frequently found in this castle. Students get detention for childish spells meant to humiliate another in front of their betters," he looked at Malfoy pointedly, "or their girl-friends," he drew out the word heavily and looked at Ron who just stared back stony faced with a slight swallow Harry didn't miss, "are hardly prepared for the real world of dueling, though they may think they are."
"You all are woefully unprepared for the speed, the creativity, and stamina required in a real fight. I expect you to take notes, and pay-- attention--," he abbreviated the words with loud taps of his wand on the projector, speeding it up to even more furious and frenzied fights, bringing down walls and moving a stone statue to life. He went on, "for the lessons you gain in this section may save your life. Today we embark on a two month-long journey to prepare you for dueling. Unfortunately, this may not be enough time for you to save your own dismal lives, so I suggest you pay attention, and expect you to give the practical exercises your best efforts."
Snape launched into a lecture without delay. Harry found himself being lost in the actual content of Snape's message. As much as he hated the man, Harry had been hooked in by the subtle callback to the previous year. He didn't listen to Snape before and marshal his thoughts, and look where it had gotten him. He wasn't ready to admit this even to himself and would have vehemently denied it if he had realized why, but he was determined to prove he could master what was being taught. After all, whatever Snape knew, is what the Death Eaters also knew. And Harry wasn't above any source of information.
"Today's exercise will be about the provocation of combat. The emotions of a Wizard, when sufficiently provoked, can cause his spells to falter. As you know, Spellcasting requires concentration and intention. And today we will be practicing, *mastering our minds*," Snape said the last phrase with particular enunciation as his gaze moved across the room and briefly fell on Harry.
"You will pair off. By gender. And you will choose someone from your own house. Move, now."
There was a loud scraping sound as everyone rose and stood. Harry looked around helplessly as the other boys in his year were already shaking on it and pairing off. He looked for Neville but didn't spot him.
"Right, we should probably stand toward the back where it's clear," Ron was saying to him.
Snape had barked "Books up!" And a few stragglers scrambled to get their belongings as Snape vanished the desks in a flurry. A clattering sound behind him found Neville for Harry, but he was already paired off.
"Sir, we are three for Gryffindor Girls," Lavender's hand was up and her voice whined as Snape strode by. "Then trade off, he growled."
Ron and Harry didn't end up moving much. The classroom without desks was hardly enough room for everyone to pair off comfortably, but Snape had other ideas.
"Boys to the front, girls to the back. Slytherins to the left, Gryffindors to the right. One at a time, face off inside your quadra."
Snape had drawn lines down the middle of the classroom and across the center. He had seen these faint greenish white lines before and it made Harry slightly ill. It looked a bit like that deathly green light of Voldemort's curse as it had hit his own red spell.
He cast a wary eye as he stepped neatly over the line into the Gryffindor boys' quadrant. He was lagging a bit and Ron hadn't walked much ahead of him. Harry was hopeful if he lined up in the back of the line he could effect a switch without anyone noticing, but Ron was sticking to him.
"First groups," Snape said loudly as he and Ron were just walking through dead center, "square off by three paces. Wands up."
Harry was moving automatically, without thinking. He tried to look to find Hermione, she was watching him and Ron with her mouth slightly open near the back wall, standing behind Pavarti.
Harry wanted to make contact with her, apologize, ask if she was ok, say anything, but he had to raise his wand arm, and inexorably looked back at the boy whose wand was trained on him.
"Those toward the center of the room will go first as the aggressor. Remember, you must provoke without magic, using words as an effective attack. Those on the outside of the room will cast a counter-spell. Begin!"
Ron was looking at Harry with determination, slightly sideways, with his head half turned. He looked like he was almost enjoying thinking of what to say.
The rest of the class was hardly silent, and a small buzz went up the room, or perhaps it was just Harry's mind zeroing in on Ron.
"I wouldn't have fallen off that broom this morning. Pretty pathetic for a flyer."
Without even thinking Harry let out a laugh at the pure absurdity. He remembered his muscles tensing to their limit. He was far stronger than Ron with years of training and conditioning compounding into his body. And Ron apparently had no idea what athleticism over time actually meant.
There were a lot of sounds in the room, but Harry's laugh stood out. Curious glances were cast in their direction and then flitted off back to the din. Other groups were nervously tiptoeing around each other, pretending to be more mad than they were. Harry vaguely registered that this would be the normal tact Harry would have taken with Ron, had they been aligned against Snape's assignment.
As it stood, Ron was standing opposite Harry, six paces away, and face slightly went red. Harry saw anger flash in his eyes, a small sneer flickered across his face, and Harry remained impassive, slightly shocked. He almost felt a trickling sense of fear. But why? He could take Ron. Since when had Harry not been able to out-duel Ron? He stood there, just staring forward.
Ron paused, waiting for his return spell, and it didn't come, was Harry showing him how superior he was by showing that he wouldn't play?
"No one is even comfortable around you but me. They all are tired of how awkward you are. You never have anything to say. They say more but you couldn't handle it."
Harry looked at Ron's face, watching his eyes narrow and mouth screw up, to try to decide if what he had said was real. It's not like he didn't know he was an outsider. Ron was the one who could make the rest of the boys in the tower laugh, or would spend time with them without Harry. But he had been hated and exiled enough to have any illusions that the school at large were made up of friends. Did Ron really think that was news to him? Or that it would hurt? Why was Ron launching these real insults at him if he wanted to make up and be friends again? Harry just stood there, staring, so deep in thought he forgot another insult was coming.
"I think I know why you're not jealous of me snogging a girl—you’re so obsessed with Malfoy lately. Fancy a run around with the ferret? Bet he’ll slam you up against the wall faster than my sister."
Harry heard Lavender let out a gasp on the girls' side of the room. She looked embarrassed and muttered something to Pavarti that didn't carry across the room.
"That's it Potter. Enough playing games. If you are really in control of your magic, then prove it. Duel properly."
"Go on, Harry, show everyone what you're really made of. Control your mind, right? You know how to do that. Oh, wait-- you never learned."
A flash of Harry's failed Occlumency lessons came back as Snape glided past Harry, in an instant, he was back in the Dungeon. And then he was staring at the bright blue eye in a shard of mirror. A mirror smashed over Ron's head, not damaging him, or leaving any ill effects.
Harry heard Hermione gasp loudly. When had the room fallen so quiet? Whispers were going around.
"This exercise is not about a fireworks display, Potter. Respond to the duel."
Harry looked away from Ron and around the room. People were looking at him with fear and trepidation, just like they had so many times over the years. Crazy Potter, evil Potter, better be wary of Potter. Well it was nothing new. If they expected a display, he wouldn't give it to them. For what? Marks in a lesson?
"That's right, Hero Harry, king of Dueling the Dark Lord. Master of Snakes."
Harry flicked his wand at Ron in a simple wave, making his face and hair bright pink. He had been going for a fire red, but this wasn't far off. Hey, maybe he was actually performing ok. At least he could pass that off as intentional.
Harry could feel all the Slytherins watching intently now, but he kept his eyes trained on Ron. The taller boy had a definite sneer on his face now. He was getting riled up. That had been a low blow, Harry thought, Ron was always embarrassed of his face turning red. He thought about retracting the spell, and then Ron spoke.
"Hermione looks at you like she worships you. Pathetic. She’ll follow you right off a cliff, and you’ll let her. Maybe she’ll be the next one to die for you."
Harry froze. He felt a dropping sensation in his gut and without thinking, his arm had waved in a large circle and a spell had shot out of his wand. Ron's clothes transformed to filthy, impoverished rags. He felt a deep frown on his face and his eyes were heavy. His mouth was slightly open in a scowl and he was breathing a bit harder.
Ron, however, had tightened his grip on his wand. Lavender took half a step back and clung to Pavarti's arm, almost burying her head in the other girl's shoulder and hair. Everyone was still and silent.
"You let everyone die instead of you because you're a coward! All for a fake prophecy that doesn't mean anything. Like a kid like you could take out Voldemort?" Ron was out of control. The red in his face was no longer from the spell. His hair had resumed his usual color, and his face was contorted in rage. Harry was transfixed. He almost didn't recognize Ron. Then he said it: "Go die a tragic little death so everyone can get on with their lives!" he screamed.
Harry didn't move. He lowered his wand slightly as Hermione shouted from closer than Harry remembering her being, "Shut up!" Harry could hear the sound of Hermione pushing through other students and rushing over toward him. He glanced at her for a moment and didn't move when she began tugging on his arm to pull him away. He just stood there staring at Ron, who was still seething and breathing heavily.
"You are despicable!" Hermione said loudly, "Come on Harry."
Then Snape spoke. Harry had forgotten he was even there, that he had been standing out of his periphery watching, that this was his classroom, and that this was his lesson.
"Well done, Potter," Snape said in a very neutral voice. It was such a surprising statement, that Harry broke his eyes away from Ron and turned.
Snape was staring down at Weasley, he wasn't looking back at him, a look of interest and consideration and mild disapproval on his face.
"Weasley," Snape barked "McGonagall's office, now. And wait there until I and the Headmaster come along."
Ron glowered at Snape, started to push through the crowd to retrieve his bag.
"Leave it," Snape enunciated and snapped Ron back to stalking out the door, still in his filthy rags, with his head held high.
Harry was entranced as Snape swept from the room. Urgent whispers started up all around them, but Harry was hardly listening. Had Snape just identified with what happened to Harry? Had he actually seen himself as the victim of his father's taunts and loss of Lilly? Why did Harry care if the greasy bat had a moment of sympathy? He could just as easily have been trying to get information revealed, no doubt he was about to report the damage to Dumbledore, as if he didn't want it in the first place.
Students were gathering their things, but Hermione already had their bags and was ushering him out of the room. He let her take him, his mind was ablaze.
He vaguely registered Malfoy's words as he stepped into the echoing hallway.
"Hold me Pansy, I'm feeling faint. Today I have agreed with a Weasley." Harry heard the laughter.
An hour later, Harry sank onto the bench in the Great Hall. After a long walk around the lake unpacking the day’s events, Harry had found out that Hermione had foolishly paired up with a group of Slytherin girls to avoid working with Lavender. She had passively gone on with their plan as penance for joining their group uninvited, and had taken a skrewt into the lake water where it had promptly dragged and trounced her in and out of the mud, as her hand had gotten caught in the chain. She suspected foul play in the form of a sticking charm. In the end, Bulstrode had relented when Hermione had nearly drowned shouting for help while expelling water. Harry had rubbed her back at the story because she looked very shaken up.
And both of them having gone over Snape's possible kindness, and what information Ron had leaked and the possible implications, they had talked over everything except the truth that brokered no speech, but also was undeniable. Their friendship with Ron was over. They both knew they were going to have to strategize damage control from what he knew of their secrets. Horcruxes, for Merlin's sake, he knew about the bloody Horcruxes. How had they been so foolish? How had they not seen this before? These were all topics that existed in the silence between them and remained broached. What was to be said? They could obliviate him? Could he be trusted not to ruin the salvation of the Wizarding World for his hatred of Harry? It didn't seem like Ron believed in their mission, anymore. And had he ever? How had they been so foolish?
Harry and Hermione silently stared into their soups. It was a somber mood in the hall. He didn't imagine that the school hadn't heard of the fight or the breakup of Hogwarts' Trio. He was sure, in fact, that they had heard what happened, but he didn't fancy himself that important that people would care. Perhaps it was just late at night and the somber mood was how he felt.
Was he hurt? Harry didn't know. Had he known that Ron had felt this way? Harry guessed, deep down, he had. All those years of Ron's jealousy and picking fights and outbursts hadn't come from nowhere. Maybe Harry was just so used to it because of the Dursleys. Harry surprised himself and gave out a breath of laughter.
Hermione paused her spoon and looked over at Harry, "Did you think of something funny?"
Harry was about to answer her when he saw Professor McGonagall approaching them.
"Mr. Potter, when you are done with your supper, please go to the Headmaster's office. Miss Granger, please come see me in my office."
Hermione exchanged a puzzled look with Harry -- "what do you think they want?"
"I have no idea."
They hurriedly finished their meal and walked in relative silence as far as their mutual paths went and then parted.
"How are you, Harry?" Dumbledore's blue eyes looked over his half moon spectacles at him. He was sitting in the other chair from his usual one, a foot closer to the door. The room looked slightly different from this vantage for their impromptu meeting. Harry hadn't expected to be back in this room for another month at least.
"I'm fine," Harry dismissed, "Is there something new with the Horcruxes, sir?"
"Well," Dumbledore said softly and leaned back, considering Harry. "In fact, yes. There was a rather big event earlier today that could have significantly damaged our secrecy. It is important that we choose our allies wisely." Dumbledore emphasized the last words.
Harry fired off at once "It's not my fault Ron is a-- I didn't make him say those things! He just--"
"He, what? Changed? Deviated drastically from his character?" Dumbledore's glasses flashed over in the firelight hiding his eyes.
"It's not my fault he's a betraying, backstabbing scum," Harry roared.
"And yet, in war, we must take responsibility for our allies' behaviors. Because it is our vulnerability they affect, it is our position they betray."
"Right and I should have read his mind, shall I?" Harry was done with this conversation, he looked away out the window.
"You misunderstand me, Harry. This is not a moment for blame and I am not saying that you ought to have known. Today, when Mr. Weasley revealed to us what and who he is, it presented us with several lessons."
"I don't need a bloody class right now!" Harry shouted. "You couldn't even wait one day to make this into a lesson? I just lost my best friend!"
"As your father did before you. In fact, it is why you are here tonight, is it not?"
"Why are you provoking me?" Harry shouted louder, standing up. "Haven't I had enough of that for one day?"
"The wound is raw, Harry. We must set bones before they twist. And we must clean wounds before they are infected."
"This is my mind!"
"And so it is, today, your mind has been attacked many times. You experienced what your father never had the time to understand before he died. He never even knew who betrayed him."
"Why are you saying these things?" Harry nearly howled. He could feel sharp tears starting to burn at his eyes.
"And Mr. Weasley, the keeper of the Rat, harborer of the betrayer himself, reveals himself to be such a betrayer."
"And told everyone I'm evil, that people should fear me, and that I'm the chosen one, and that I'm going to get Hermione killed!" He shouted again and stood up and started pacing. He wanted to hit something. He spotted the table of spindly instruments he had smashed last year. He could almost feel the curve of a glass ball in his hand as he imagined throwing it against the wall above the hearth. He was not going to repeat that performance. He wasn't going to let Ron get to him. He sat down, steepling his fingers in front of his eyes.
"You misunderstand me Harry. I do not blame you, for I have been similarly blinded. The evidence was there, and yet I thought he would be incapable of taking it this far. He is, after all, a member of such a beloved family, that I had thought, surely blood could not deviate so far. And yet, even with the evidence I have in my own life.." Dumbledore trailed off for a moment. "No, Harry, we have reached an impasse. For the time being, Mr. Weasely is not to be trusted. Certain measures have been taken which I will explain to you shortly."
Harry looked up. What had happened? Had Ron been expelled?
"No, Harry, first you must face what happened today. The words thrown at you are a map to understanding your weaknesses. And we must use what our enemies give us to understand ourselves more." Dumbledore leaned forward again. "He said your classmates are uncomfortable around you. And of course they are. They do not bear the burden of being so different."
Harry looked around the office, expecting to see a swirling Snape peaking over the lip of the shimmering pensive.
Dumbledore pressed on. "Your secret plans were revealed to your opponent. Even though I must insist you are wrong to continue to chase this tale about Draco, you still have experienced a betrayal."
Harry sat silently, staring at the wood grain on Dumbledore's desk.
"Your very fear of corruption, which is so dear to your desire to have goodness and be worthy of your parents, was used against you. An absurdity of which Mr. Weasley can scarcely have a hope at being any further from the truth." Harry looked up. "It is true Harry, you have never had any inclinations toward the dark. But this suggests that perhaps it is not true of your former friend."
"No--" Harry broke in without thinking. All this was just too much. Ron? Dark Magic?
"Just as there are many forms of evil," Dumbledore cut in, "There are many forms of dark arts. Today, Mr. Weasley unknowingly practiced some. The gateways of manipulation, spite, and envy lead many a Wizard astray."
Harry was silent again.
"And then Mr. Weasley hit, what I believe is your core wound, that which would have hurt you the most. The reminder of Sirius's death. Of your sense of guilt and responsibility. Of Cedric, of everyone you believe you had some hand in allowing you to stand between yourself and Riddle."
"And finally, he told you to die, mocking your very life and the sacrifice you are preparing to make if it is necessary."
"I would give anything to stop Voldemort," Harry said in a voice of determination.
"I know. And yet, a boy who was almost a man, a boy who was your friend these 6 years has mocked that very sacrifice."
"Because he knows nothing of sacrifice!" Harry shouted again, suddenly angry. "He thinks he has such a hard life, but he never has faced any real suffering. I would give anything to be in his position. I don't care about being poor. I'd walk around in rags if I had to so I could have his family!"
Tears were pooling his eyes and he wasn't ashamed. But he couldn't look at Dumbledore.
"And that's what I should have known. Because I have at times despised my own, I forgot the pain of never having one in the first place. And though there were signs, I was convinced enough. This is where you are seeing the game, Harry. These moments in life will test you. And Mr. Weasley may still make an ally, but--"
"No! He is never coming back into my life, and I hate that he even knows anything about me!" Harry looked up, about to demand that Dumbledore do something-- erase his whole existence from Ron's mind. Erase Ron himself. But no, he couldn't actually want that.
"People sometimes find the light and find their way back, even in the darkest of betrayals, there can be hope." Dumbledore looked at Harry softly with his head angled slightly.
"How can you say that, sir?" Harry asked, wondering but not daring to ask what stories would cause the old man before him to make such claims so easily and without seeming pain.
"Because when you have lived as long as I have, you will have seen enough people come to their senses to believe it is possible, in the end."
Dumbledore let a mild silence linger for the better part of a minute. Harry stared into the fire.
"Now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, Harry's eyes snapping up suddenly, "will no longer be in Gryffindor."
"What?" Harry's mouth failed to close. A Weasley, the very definition of Gryffindor itself, from the long line of the Red-headed, Red-house claiming clan, kicked out? How was that possible? Harry almost couldn't register it as true. He felt a creeping sense of guilt. Was this all going too far? Was this all too final? Surely Ron could come back from this, right? It could blow over in a few days, surely.
"Indeed. I believe it best. Mr. Weasley has been permanently removed from Gryffindor house, tower, and common room. He will be attending classes with his new house, Hufflepuff. Perhaps there, he will find an opportunity to redeem himself through rediscovering loyalty." Dumbledore gave Harry a moment to digest this new information.
The boy sat there, not knowing what to say. He had never heard of someone changing houses. He didn't even know it was possible, but he supposed the Headmaster had that whatever power that was.
"Also, be advised that I have carefully removed any memories in regards to our meetings, the Horcruxes, and the prophecy."
"Won't that-- won't that affect him, sir? Having holes in his memory could make him volatile, last summer, that is a big thing to forget, and-- Sirius--"
"It has been done in such a way as to not affect him materially. You must understand, Mr. Potter, that I have been a Wizard for a very long time.."
"Right, sorry, I mean-- thank you. Thank you for .. fixing my -- mistake with Ron," he fumbled on his words, not sure how to express the strange sense of gratitude and shame he felt.
"You are not wrong for having taken a risk, nor for having believed well of another. But today we have learned anew to assess the capacity of others more carefully. Even the best of us can be blind, Harry. I bid you a good night."
"But what about Snape, sir? If Ron can betray me, then certainly Snape--"
"I bid you a good night, Harry," Dumbledore repeated with a rhythm of finality.
"Thank you, sir. Good night, sir." Harry said, standing. He had no idea why, when he turned his back on Dumbledore and made his way to the spiral staircase, he had tears streaming down his face. He wasn't angry. He wasn't even upset for what he had lost or endured today. He was just tired, and, somehow, relieved.