Slugging Towards Hogwarts
Harry and Theo stood next to a tree in the back corner of the garden. The tree was slowly oozing a thick purple honey that was collected in a bucket tied around the trunk. A chubby gray bee buzzed out to greet them.
“They’re adorable,” Harry declared as the bee passed by.
“Their honey causes melancholy,” Theo said, watching the glumbumble’s apathetic flight.
“And it cures hysteria, among other things,” Harry said defensively. “Winky’s got a perimeter set up so they don’t spread to the other hives she’s got.”
Harry looked around at the mist twisting its way through the small stand of trees. “I love this kind of weather,” he said with a faint smile. “Are you okay?”
Theo made an odd lurch and had a twisted expression. “You recall that the dementors have left Azkaban?”
“Yes?”
“They’re breeding.”
Harry frowned, looking around at the normal-looking mist. Perhaps not normal for early July, in the middle of the day…
“Is this the kind of condition they require for breeding?” Harry asked.
“In a sense. They cause mist when breeding. New dementors coalesce from within.”
Harry looked around at the mist again in stunned horror, grabbed Theo, and hurried back to the house. “I thought they laid eggs!”
Safely back inside, Harry asked, “Do you think Sirius knows we’re in the middle of a dementor spawning pool?”
“I do,” Sirius said, looking up from some colorful muggle cards he was sorting. “Lovely weather, though.”
Harry stared intently at Theo eating porridge. He’d never had a good view of whatever he got up to at the Slytherin table, and was committing every detail to memory. Theo was ignoring this.
Sirius wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything, just looked at Harry with an amused expression.
“What?” Harry demanded.
“Nothing. Oh, the Prophet’s here.”
Harry wasn’t interested in reading the paper. He thought, after a year of libel, he would feel vindicated when the magical public, the papers, the Ministry, finally admitted the truth. But he wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, at least for a little while.
Sirius’ expression froze. Theo noticed as well, looking over with a small frown.
“What happened?” Harry asked.
“A bridge was made to collapse,” Sirius said. “Split right in half, they’re having trouble with a good cover story for the muggle authorities. And two more deaths. Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance.”
“I’ve met them before,” Harry said, looking for something to do with his hands. He found his cup of coffee. “Emmeline Vance came to collect me from the Dursleys last summer, and Madam Bones was at my trial.”
“They think Riddle might have personally killed her,” Sirius said, still reading. “Sounds like she put up a good fight.”
Theo went back to his food. After a moment, Harry did too.
Sirius folded up the Prophet and set it aside. “You two wanted to explore muggle London?”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” Harry muttered into his coffee. “Yeah, Theo’s never been in the muggle world much.”
“Right. I know you two are used to sneaking around, but you can’t use magic out there with the trace on. You’ve got your portkeys, but we know it isn’t a perfect solution. They can be taken from you, you could lose them—I’m not saying you will—you might not have time to use it, or be able to get it out. There is an alternative, which you two would be learning this year anyway.”
“Apparition?” Theo asked, mildly curious.
“Where are we going to practice? The garden?”
“Not in Winky’s garden!” Winky said from the scullery door, crossing her arms.
“In the basement,” Sirius said. “Kreacher’s been setting up targets and has taken down the anti-apparition spell. We don’t really need it since we’re under Fidelius.”
“And apparition can’t be traced,” Theo said, glancing at Harry. “So they claim.”
“Please try not to lose any limbs,” Sirius said. “That would be hard to explain to St. Mungo’s.”
Theo looked at the gray controller in his hand.
“I use this to control the small…man on the…screen.”
“Mario, yeah,” Harry said, grinning at him. He reached over to point at a button. “This one makes him jump.”
“And I’m to jump on the…brown mushroom with feet and eyes. And fangs.”
“A goomba.”
“Why a mushroom?”
“They live in the Mushroom Kingdom.”
“And what is the purpose of this? Why did a flower come out of that box?”
“It makes you shoot fireballs.”
Theo shook his head, watching as Mario was bludgeoned by a spiraling red shell and died.
“You’ll get the hang of it. They’ve got a new console coming out next year. The games are going to be in 3D.”
Before Theo could ask what that meant, Sirius came in with a purple leaflet. “A Ministry owl just delivered this. ‘Protecting Your Home and Family Against Dark Forces.’”
Harry took the leaflet from Sirius as Theo stared in confusion at Mario flashing different colors. “What’s happening now? I found a star with a face on it.”
“You’re invincible, go run into things.”
“I see.”
Harry read through the leaflet. “This assumes people can perform shield charms, and apparate. A lot of it sounds like common sense. Why didn’t they come out with this sooner? Not all of this is specific to Death Eaters, just simple defense knowledge.”
“You remember the defense teachers you’ve had?”
Harry frowned.
“It’s been like that for nearly forty years.”
Harry grimaced and handed the leaflet back. A sadly jaunty tune came from the television.
“He died again,” Theo said. “It’s your turn.”
Sirius looked at the black corvid sitting on the kitchen table, in front of where Theo usually sat. The bird pecked at a berry.
“Who sent a crow on delivery?” he asked.
“It hasn’t got a letter. And it might be a raven,” Harry said, hiding a smile.
The bird hopped down onto Theo’s seat.
“Now what’s it doing?” Sirius asked, looking over.
The bird turned into Theo. Sirius nearly fell out of his chair.
The Daily Prophet kept releasing articles, disrupting the seclusion Harry usually found at home. The world was intruding.
“I forgot so many people saw me there,” Harry said, looking at the article titled Harry Potter: The Chosen One? “They’ve even got a picture of us, Sirius.”
“Good thing I wiped the blood off your face,” Sirius said, leaning over to see. “It was something Theo did. They found snakes? They’ve got a picture of one with half a Death Eater sticking out its mouth, kicking his legs.”
Harry smirked, then looked at Theo. “I thought I heard you say something, when…when he tried to...”
“Sowilo can mean success,” Theo said. He met Harry’s eyes. “I didn’t know what he was doing to you, but I wanted you to win.”
Harry opened his mouth to ask something, but stopped himself. He went back to reading the article. “They know we were in the prophecy room, the Hall of Prophecy it says. And that I was there, obviously. Did Dumbledore call me out?”
“He did bring attention to you,” Sirius said, knitting his brow. “You two could have got away under the cloak.”
“And now they think I’m the chosen one,” Harry said acidly. “The only person who chose was Voldemort, when he chose to kill me instead of Neville.”
Sirius and Theo looked up at that.
“What do you mean?” Sirius asked.
“You did hear the prophecy,” Theo stated. “You said it was destroyed.”
“I said the room was destroyed,” Harry said, not looking at either of them. “I heard it before they showed up, I made a lookalike to put in its spot. Then Dumbledore showed me his memory of it in his office.”
“What do you mean you instead of Neville?” Sirius asked.
Harry sat back in his chair, staring off at the wall, and told them the prophecy.
Harry was hiding in his room, letters scattered across his bed, when a dog barreled in through the door. He jumped on the bed, knocking off the letters, and pushed his way into Harry’s arms.
“I don’t want to explain it to them,” Harry said. “I didn’t want anyone to find out. Now it’s front page news.”
He sighed and picked up one of the letters from Hermione. “It’s a good thing we only let certain senders through. I can’t imagine the flock of owls we’d get from a Daily Prophet article. The ones after the Quibbler interview were bad enough.”
“Woof,” the dog agreed.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say to them,” Harry said, looking at the letter again. “I already know what they’re going to ask. Why didn’t I tell them? Why didn’t I take them with? Why did I go? And how will I explain Theo? Oh, yeah, the person I went with has been my best friend for three years, and he’s also my secret boyfriend whose dad is a Death Eater in Azkaban who I nearly killed?”
The dog huffed a laugh.
“I know what you’d say too. That I don’t have to tell them anything I don’t want to. But you don’t know what they’re like. They just keep picking and picking at me, especially Hermione. Sorry, Hermione, if I told you anything you’d tell me to go to Dumbledore, a man who dropped me on my aunt’s porch with the milk and who probably told everyone that I survived the Killing Curse? That besides Voldemort he’s the one who's done the most damage to my life? Who hid a prophecy about me for sixteen years that says I have to kill Voldemort or he’s going to kill me?”
Harry shouted the last part, then stopped, breathing heavily. The dog pressed his nose against Harry’s cheek.
“How do I explain any of that? They wouldn’t understand.”
Harry and Theo were about in muggle London, Sirius somewhere nearby since he didn’t want them venturing alone with all the recent attacks. Harry was just convincing Theo to try Nando’s when an owl flew at them. Harry automatically held out his arm for the bird to land, not realizing that most people would not have that automatic response. And he was attracting a lot of attention. He took the small scroll from the owl's beak and tried to launch it again, but it dug its claws in.
“We need to go,” Sirius said in his ear, leading Harry and Theo away. People began clapping, thinking it was a show. Sirius was doing a good job playing it off, smiling and waving. Harry could tell Theo didn’t understand quite yet why a commonplace thing for him was so notable in the muggle world.
“Most muggles don’t see owls every day,” Harry explained as they ducked into an alley. Once out of sight, Sirius apparated them home, owl and all.
“It’s from Dumbledore,” Harry said, reading the scroll. “He wants to call at the Dursleys on Friday to escort me to the Burrow for the rest of the school holidays. And he wants my assistance in a matter en route. The owl won’t leave because it’s waiting for a reply.”
“It hasn’t even been two weeks since school ended,” Theo said. “Are you going to do it?”
Sirius crossed his arms, pacing back and forth. “You can tell him no.”
“I’m curious what he wants my assistance with,” Harry said.
“He’s taking advantage of your curiosity,” Sirius said.
“I know. So did Voldemort. In the end, I got more out of it than he did. And I don’t think Dumbledore is going to do anything to me,” Harry added.
“Except use you,” Theo said bluntly. He watched Sirius walking back and forth with a pronounced frown.
“I know that too,” Harry said. “Shall I say I’m not agreeable, but I’ll do it anyway?”
Sirius let out a harsh laugh. “He says you’ve been invited to stay at the Burrow?”
Harry shrugged. “I haven’t read any of their letters. Except Neville and Luna. Neville just said he was glad I was okay, and Luna asked if I freed any heliopaths.”
“We didn’t go into every room,” Theo said. “There may have been heliopaths.”
“I’ll tell her that.”
“Two weeks,” Sirius said, shaking his head.
Kreacher took Harry to a local park, as Harry didn’t want to deal with the Dursleys at all. He walked to Privet Drive and sat on the porch, waiting. He checked his watch, watching the slow movement of the constellations reflected in the sky, obscured by the Little Whinging light pollution.
The minute hand reached twelve, the streetlamp went out. Harry whipped out his wand, pointing it at the tall, cloaked figure that appeared at the end of the garden path.
“It’s just me, dear boy,” Dumbledore said. “Though I’m glad to see that you’re, as Alastor puts it, constantly vigilant.”
“What did you tell me you saw in the Mirror of Erised?” Harry asked, not putting his wand away.
Dumbledore smiled indulgently at him. “That I saw myself holding a pair of socks.”
Harry nodded, then stood up, putting his wand away. “I’m ready to leave, professor.”
Dumbledore continued walking up the path. “There were a few things I wished to discuss with your family.”
“They don’t know I’m here.”
Dumbledore paused, looking over his glasses at him. “What do you mean, Harry?”
“I mean I haven’t lived here for three years, since I ran away from the Leaky Cauldron. Whatever protection there was doesn’t exist anymore. This was never my home, and it will never be.”
“May I ask where you have been staying?”
“I think it’s best if I keep that private, professor.”
Dumbledore’s expression was grave, and he looked into Harry’s eyes. Harry looked back, waiting to see if the headmaster would try to pry it from his mind.
"Harry, your safety is paramount. Voldemort—"
"It's under Fidelius," Harry said. "I did the charm last year, after the Tournament."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment, then asked, "Would you be amenable to staying at the Burrow?"
"If you'd ever been in Ron's room you wouldn't need to ask me that."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Your friends are quite worried about you, you know. I believe they are upset they were left out of this most recent adventure of yours."
Harry sighed, annoyed. "That they think of this as an adventure, and me the hero of that adventure, is part of the problem. Was I supposed to take everyone from our defense club while infiltrating the Department of Mysteries? How well did that turn out for all those Death Eaters?"
"And how is Mr. Nott?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.
"I'm sure he's fine," Harry said. "I don't want to talk about Theo."
Harry looked around. Privet Drive was silent. The Dursleys were watching the television inside, oblivious.
"We should go. This address became public information at the trial last year. That blows another hole through the idea I was ever safe from external threats."
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Did you bring your invisibility cloak? I saw it last with Mr. Nott."
"I did," Harry said, lifting his bag slightly. "I don't leave the house unprepared anymore."
"Wonderful. Keep your wand at the ready."
At the end of Privet Drive, they came to a stop.
“You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," Dumbledore said.
"No, I'm not seventeen. I'm not even sixteen yet. I've done side-along before, though."
"Hold onto my arm, then. My left arm, if you don't mind."
Harry glanced at his right arm out of curiosity, and saw Dumbledore's hand was blackened and shriveled. "Is that a curse?"
"Later, Harry," Dumbledore said, holding out his left arm. Harry placed his hand on it.
They appeared in a deserted village square. Dumbledore strode off, setting a brisk pace.
“So tell me, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “Your scar…has it been hurting at all?”
"No," Harry said. "I doubt Voldemort expected what happened, and realized how dangerous it is to leave his mind open to me."
"Indeed."
They walked past a church and a few dark houses. "Who are we visiting?"
"An old colleague I am hoping to persuade to come out of retirement."
Harry raised his eyebrows. He thought they might be doing something Voldemort related. "And you want to use my fame for that."
They approached a small, stone house with the front door hanging off its hinges. Harry took out his wand, narrowing his eyes. If this person had been targeted by Death Eaters, maybe it was related to Voldemort. Someone else Dumbledore wanted to shelter, like Trelawney.
Dumbledore opened the front gate and moved up the path. Once through the front door, he lit his wand. Harry looked around the house. It had been ransacked.
"There's no dark mark above the house," Harry realized. "This wasn't Death Eaters, but it wasn't a muggle home invasion either."
Everything was damaged in some way. The smashed grandfather clock, the fallen chandelier, slashed up couches, blood splattered everywhere.
"Dramatic," Harry said. "This is a scene."
"I agree," Dumbledore said.
"Then where are they hiding? If they are even still here."
Dumbledore stabbed his wand into an armchair.
"Ouch!"
The armchair turned into a portly old man with an amazing mustache, wearing pajamas.
"You didn't need to stick it in that hard!"
Harry bit back a laugh.
"What gave it away?" the man asked.
"As Harry kindly pointed out, there was no dark mark over the house."
"Knew there was something missing…" The man sighed noisily.
“Would you like my assistance clearing up?” Dumbledore asked politely.
“Please."
Harry stepped back as the two elderly wizards waved their wands in a wide, sweeping motion, and the damage in the room reversed itself.
"Holy shit," Harry exclaimed. "What spell is that? Some sort of wordless mass reparo? Reverse entropy?"
The man finally noticed Harry was in the room. His eyes focused on his scar like a laser.
"Oho!"
Harry sighed. "Yes, it is I, Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the savior of the wizarding world. No, you may not have an autograph."
"Harry," Dumbledore chastised. "I was about to introduce you. This is an old friend of mine, Horace Slughorn."
“Nice to meet you,” Harry said politely. “You may have an autograph.”
Slughorn looked off-balance for a moment, but recovered. “So that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, the answer’s no, Albus.”
Slughorn pushed past Harry, turning away from him.
“I suppose we can have a drink, at least?” asked Dumbledore. “For old time’s sake?”
Slughorn hesitated. “Alright then, one drink.”
Harry was directed to a seat where he could be on display. While Slughorn prepared drinks, he kept sneaking glances at Harry.
As Dumbledore and Slughorn made small talk, Harry noticed Dumbledore was wearing on his shriveled hand a heavy gold ring, set with a black stone that had a crack down the middle. Harry made a note to look into cursed rings. Dumbledore eventually stood up, claiming he needed the bathroom, leaving Harry and Slughorn alone. Slughorn stood too, walking to the fire.
“Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you,” he said abruptly.
“It’s pretty obvious why he brought me,” Harry agreed.
After a moment he said, “You look very like your father.”
“And my mother’s eyes, I know.”
“Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”
“Slytherin?” Harry guessed. “I was almost sorted Slytherin.”
“Were you?” Slughorn asked. “I was Head of Slytherin.”
“So you were the head of house when Snape was there,” Harry said, thinking. Most of his teachers had been working at Hogwarts for decades, except for Hagrid who had replaced Kettleburn, and Trelawney, but Harry didn’t think Slughorn taught Divination. “Did you teach Potions?”
“Very good! I did. Your mother was one of the best, I couldn’t believe she was muggleborn. I thought she must have been a pureblood, she was so good.”
Harry glared at him. “What does that have to do with anything? Muggleborns who excel like my mother, and my friend who is generally known as the best in our year, do so despite having the disadvantage of not being raised in the magical world. That has nothing to do with their blood.”
Slughorn looked at him in surprise. “You mustn’t think I’m prejudiced!”
He went on to list the many talented muggleborn students he had taught, and the various gifts and gossip he received throughout the years. Slughorn showed off his series of autographed pictures, making Harry’s offer much more of a joke than he originally thought.
“Does any of that matter,” Harry asked, “when you’ve been on the run? I think we’re the first social call you’ve had in ages.”
Slughorn stopped smiling.
“Hogwarts is widely considered the safest place,” Harry said, an opinion he didn’t agree with. After hearing how many connections Slughorn had, and that Death Eaters wanted to recruit him, Harry was certain the man had information Dumbledore wanted.
Harry listened to Slughorn talk himself into it. He wasn’t sure why the man put up such resistance. Was it because he knew Dumbledore wanted something more than a new staff member?
“How long did you work at Hogwarts before?” Harry asked.
“Fifty years!” Slughorn declared.
Harry smiled and nodded. Slughorn must have taught Tom Riddle, and would have been his head of house. He must have known what he had become, Harry had used the name Tom Riddle often enough.
“So you should know how safe it is, especially with Dumbledore around.”
“Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore…”
Dumbledore returned with a knitting magazine and said it was time to go, and Slughorn broke down and agreed to return to Hogwarts.
Harry listened absently to Dumbledore, how Dumbledore wanted him to be collected by Slughorn. The jewel of his collection.
“Do I need an O in the potions O.W.L. to get in his class?”
“I’m sure he would lower the standards. You should be getting your results tomorrow.”
Dumbledore apparated them to the Burrow, then led Harry to a stone outhouse where the Weasleys kept their brooms.
“I take it you’ve read the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?”
“Unfortunately. I’m not happy about it. My plan was to go in, grab the prophecy, and leave, not to have a brawl in the Atrium. Then again, it did expose Voldemort…”
“I think I am correct in saying that you have not told anybody that you know what the prophecy said?”
“Why would I place that burden on anyone else? Bad enough it exists.”
“A wise decision, on the whole,” Dumbledore said. “Although I think you ought to relax it in favor of your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger.”
“But not Theo?”
Dumbledore looked at him, concerned. “Mr. Nott’s father—”
“Is in Azkaban.”
“Your friend is in a delicate position, Harry. I’m afraid I don’t know young Mr. Nott very well.”
“Nor any other Slytherin students,” Harry said bluntly. “They don’t come from the right sort of families? Are they automatically discarded because of where an old hat decided they belonged when they were eleven?”
“Harry, that’s not what I mean. Surely you see the risk he could be in?”
“You think I don’t know that? Why do you think no one knows we’re…that we’re friends? Why Ron and Hermione?”
“I think they ought to know,” Dumbledore said. “You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them.”
“And not Theo? He’s the one who found me in the forest with Umbridge. He saved me when I was surrounded by Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. He’s already gone against whatever his father believes!”
Dumbledore gave him one of those looks over his glasses, as if somehow he was seeing through him. “Are you concerned it may worry or frighten them?”
“No,” Harry said. “I’m concerned about my mental health.”
Dumbledore regarded him for a moment, then decided to move on. “On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year.”
“What kind of lessons?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”
“I’m guessing it’s not transfiguration,” Harry said drily.
“No, it’s been quite a few years since I taught that! Now, I have two more things to say. Firstly, keep your invisibility cloak with you at all times, even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case.”
“Sure.”
“And lastly, while the Burrow and wherever you have been staying are both under Fidelius, I implore you to not put your life at risk.”
“The prophecy said ‘either must die at the hand of the other,’ right? The only person I’m at risk from is Voldemort. One of us must die at the hand of the other. So I must kill him or he must kill me. If I must kill him, I can’t die before I do, or I’d have to be resurrected somehow to finish the job. On the other hand, if he must kill me, that means that no one else can. I could be injured, I guess, but not fatally.”
“I don’t believe that’s quite what the prophecy means, my dear boy,” Dumbledore said, though he looked unsettled.
“We won’t know until after it’s fulfilled, if then.”
Dumbledore looked out of the window. “I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer.”
Harry woke up on a couch with Crookshanks purring on top of him. Mrs. Weasley had plied him with bread and soup and sent him off to bed, though Harry had insisted on the couch. He had seen Tonks briefly, who had looked stressed with uncharacteristically brown hair, and Mr. Weasley getting off work extraordinarily late.
He didn't intend to stay at the Burrow for very long, but he knew he'd have it out with Hermione and Ron at some point. He'd rather get it over with and enjoy the rest of his summer at Grimmauld Place.
“Sorry, Crookshanks,” Harry said as the cat started kneading his spleen. “I already have a boyfriend.”
“Meow…”
Someone came thundering down the stairs.
“We didn’t know you were here already!”
Harry sat up, dislodging a heartbroken Crookshanks, and narrowly avoided Ron hitting him on the head.
"Ron, don't hit him!"
Harry found his glasses and looked up, seeing Ron looming over him and Herrmione standing back with her arms crossed.
“When did you get here?” Ron asked, finding a seat. “Mum’s only just told us!”
“Around midnight,” Harry said.
“Were the muggles alright? Did they treat you okay?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Harry said, leaning back on the couch. “I haven’t lived with them for years.”
There was a beat of silence. “How are you, Hermione?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said frostily, staring at him. “We’re all perfectly fine.”
It was too early for this.
“So,” Ron said awkwardly. “What’s been going on?”
“Nothing much, just been at home. Dumbledore took me to convince some old teacher to come out of retirement.”
“Oh, we thought—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hermione cut in.
Harry sighed, rubbing the side of his neck. Crookshanks was brushing against his legs. “Tell you what?”
“Anything! You’ve told us nothing all year! We had to find out from the Daily Prophet that our best friend had broken into the Ministry and fought Voldemort!”
“No one was meant to know I was going there,” Harry said. “It sort of defeats the purpose of a stealth operation.”
“And you had some other boy with you?” Hermione went on. “Tonks said his name was Rhys? Is it the same one I met when you did the interview with Skeeter?”
Harry clenched his teeth. “Yes.”
“Is what they’re saying about a prophecy true?” Ron said quickly. “Is that why you went? Does it have to do with the, you know…seer thing?”
“It’s related,” Harry hedged. “I had a dream about a room with these glass orbs, something that Voldemort wanted. After Umbridge drugged me with Veritaserum—”
“She what?” Hermione shouted, standing up.
“She also used crucio on me, Hermione!” Harry yelled back. “The same night she dragged me off the forest and I left her to the centaurs!”
He stood up, shaking his head. “I don’t want to deal with this. I should just go home.”
“What home?” Ron asked. “You said you don’t live with the muggles anymore.”
Harry sat slowly back down. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t?” Hermione asked. “Or won’t?”
“Won’t, then,” Harry snapped. “No one knows, that’s the point! So I won’t have Death Eaters banging down the door!”
“What are you lot yelling about?” Ginny said, coming down the stairs.
“Nothing,” Ron said. “Just talking about…summer. So…who’s the new teacher?”
Harry leaned back, closing his eyes. “Horace Slughorn.”
“What’s he like?” Ron pressed.
“He’s a socialite,” Harry said. “He has a lot of famous acquaintances, which is why Dumbledore used me to persuade him.”
“Can’t be worse than Umbridge.”
“No, Ron,” Harry said flatly. “I imagine few teachers are worse than one who drugged and tortured students.”
They sat in awkward silence, before Ginny said, “I know someone worse than Umbridge.”
Hermione left off glaring at Harry to ask, “What’s she done now?”
Harry listened to Ginny and Hermione talk about someone who was annoying them. Then the person in question came into the room.
“Harry!” Fleur said. “It has been too long!”
“Enchantée or whatever,” Harry said, smiling politely. For some reason Fleur was carrying a tray of food, which she dumped on Harry’s lap. “Thank you?”
Mrs. Weasley had hurried in after her. “I was just about to do that myself!”
“What is even happening right now,” Harry said, looking down at the food.
“Meow.”
“Right?”
“What is happening? I will tell you! Bill and I are getting married!”
“Wow, congratulations,” Harry said. “You got the cool Weasley.”
“Cool Weasley?” Ginny asked.
“You’re the girl Weasley.”
“What?”
Fleur floated off somewhere. Harry learned that Mrs. Weasley and Ginny disliked Fleur, and the latter called her Phlegm. Ron was disoriented from her being part-veela, or maybe just pretty, and this made Hermione possibly more upset than she was with Harry.
“She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she’s hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I’d much rather have her in the family.”
“Yeah, that’ll work,” said Ron sarcastically. “Listen, no bloke in his right mind’s going to fancy Tonks when Fleur’s around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn’t doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but—”
“She’s a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,’’ said Ginny
“And she’s more intelligent, she’s an Auror!” said Hermione from the corner.
“Shut up,” Harry said. “Don’t talk about Tonks like she’s a piece of meat. And I don’t know Fleur very well but I don’t see why you need to disparage her intelligence.”
“Not you as well,” Hermione said.
“What? Tonks is my cousin, and Ron was just mocking her!”
"Cousin?"
“I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ‘Arry, do you?” Ginny said scornfully.
Harry looked at the fireplace. He could floo to the Leaky and walk home, or send a patronus and get Sirius to pick him up. He still had a mountain of food on his lap. He grabbed the tray and stood up. He wasn’t hungry.
“I can’t eat all this, I’m taking it to the kitchen.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten,” Hermione called out. “We need to talk!”
“We really don’t,” Harry muttered to himself.
Ginny got hauled into the kitchen by her mother to help cook, because she was the girl Weasley. Harry went back to sit with Hermione and Ron, who stopped talking when they saw him.
“What else do you want to ask me?” Harry said.
“The Prophet said…” Ron started.
“You want to know about the prophecy?”
Hermione and Ron looked at eachother.
“Most of the prophecies were destroyed while I was getting away from the Death Eaters,” Harry said. “The one Voldemort wanted was broken too.”
“When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person, we thought he might be telling you something or showing you something to do with the prophecy,” Ron said.
Harry hesitated. He really didn’t want to tell them anything, he didn't think it would do anyone any good. But he did have to live with them for most of the year, so it would be a way to make amends.
“I can tell you what it basically said,” Harry offered. “Essentially, I’m the only one able to kill him. Dumbledore’s giving me lessons this year.” There, they would like that.
Dumbledore teaching him whatever it was excited both Hermione and Ron. Harry realized they both wanted to feel involved. If they knew the things he had done, what he had discovered he was capable of doing…He had known they wouldn’t tolerate it, which is why he didn’t tell them. It wasn’t a fun gauntlet hidden under the school. He had to make hard choices and somehow live with them.
“...I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come…”
“Dumbledore said we’d be getting them today,” Harry said absently. He had wanted to open them with Theo. The owl was likely already on its way. It would have to make a detour to London, and that would take hours. Sirius had said he’d get him before noon…
Hermione started screaming from the kitchen. Harry ran in to see what was going on. Outside, he saw three small shapes moving towards them. He and Ron were grabbed by the panicking Hermione.
Harry took his O.W.L. results from the school owl and opened them up. “Huh.”
Hermione had her head bowed over her results. Ron seemed pleased with his.
“Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?” he said happily to Harry. “Here, let’s see yours.”
Harry handed them over.
Ron stared at it. “Are you sure this isn’t Hermione’s?”
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said, taking the parchment back.
“What is he talking about?” Hermione asked, snatching it away. She stared at it too. “Is this real?”
Harry took it back again. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said drily.
“It’s just that, I know what your marks are like,” Hermione explained. “I never see you study, you’re always running off somewhere…”
“I’m going to go now,” Harry said abruptly. “Run off, that is. It was…nice seeing you.”
“But, Harry, you just got here!”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
Maybe it was his fault they had such low expectations of him. If he did too well, Ron would be jealous, Hermione would feel threatened. If he did too poorly, Ron would be happy, Hermione would be on his case to study how she wanted him to. He did better studying alone, or with Theo.
Harry walked out of the kitchen, grabbed his bag, patted Crookshanks farewell, tossed some floo powder at the fire, and went home.
Harry looked down at the badge in his hand.
“How?” he asked the world. “How can this be?”
“You’ve got too much on your plate to be a prefect, but not quidditch captain?” Sirius asked, picking the badge up.
“I’m sending this back,” Harry said. “It should have been Katie, it’s her last year. I haven’t even played quidditch since third year!”
“You played last year,” Theo said, looking over the book list.
“One game, Theo. One! And they’ve already got Ginny as a seeker, they’ll be fine. In what world, in what universe, do I have the time to captain a team when I’m fated by prophecy to bring an end to this dark era?”
“It’s your fate now, is it?” Sirius said wryly. “James was captain, you know.”
“I know!” Harry cried out. “The school is obsessed with legacy. I should’ve gone to Slytherin, broken the chain.”
“There’s always the next generation,” Theo said lightly, picking up the badge himself. “You can get into the prefect’s bathrooms with this.”
“We can just break in, we’ve done it before.”
“I’m too young to be a grandfather,” Sirius said, frowning at them.
Harry buried his face in his hands. “Why me? No, I won’t do it!” He popped up again, recovered. “I’m sending this back right now.”
“You do that,” Sirius said. “I should mention, if you want to go to Diagon Alley yourself, they’re insisting on a Ministry escort.”
“They? Who’s they?”
“The Order, the Ministry itself, I have no idea. We’re meeting them at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday. Unless you want to sneak in some other day?”
“What about Theo?” Harry asked, looking at him.
“I can go on my own,” Theo said. “I don’t feel like having my presence questioned by Weasleys.”
It wasn’t aurors waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron. It was Hagrid.
“I changed my mind,” Harry said. “Let’s do Plan G.”
“Is that the one where I’m a border collie?” Sirius asked, smiling at Hagrid.
Harry glared at him. “Weren’t you listening at all?”
“After six hours, not really, kid.”
Sirius stopped Hagrid from hugging him, making up some excuse, Harry was too unnerved by the man shouting his name down the street to listen. Inside the Leaky Cauldron was dead, except for a gaggle of Weasleys plus Hermione. He wondered if she ever saw her parents at all anymore.
Diagon Alley was also changed. Boarded up shops, Ministry posters, empty streets, shabby pop-up stands selling products that promised the impossible.
"Caw!"
Harry smiled up at the bird as he passed by.
No one wanted to split up, so they all got into Madam Malkins, and Harry was transported five years into the past.
“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a mudblood just walked in,” Draco Malfoy said.
“Hey, Draco,” Harry said genially, while Ron went for his wand. “How’s your dad?”
“Don’t you dare talk about my father! And what are you doing, Weasel? As if you’d dare use magic outside of school.” Malfoy finished this with a sneer.
Narcissa Malfoy appeared from behind some racks.
“If you attack my son again,” she said, “I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”
Sirius waved at her. “Long time no see, Cissy. How’s Bella? Still a raving lunatic?”
“Sirius Black,” Narcissa said, turning her glare on him.
“Yes,” he agreed. “You’re being rather rude to Madam Malkin, aren’t you? Must be Malfoy’s influence.”
“Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you,” Narcissa said, smiling unpleasantly.
“Voldemort won’t always be there to protect you,” Harry said, smiling back. “What was the punishment for your husband’s failure, anyway? I heard him promise Bella there would be consequences.”
Malfoy stumbled off his fitting stool, and Harry watched him curiously. Narcissa had become even paler.
Madam Malkin was out of her depth, and Harry felt bad for her. He didn’t know how she felt about the whole Voldemort thing, but she couldn’t alienate clients for fear of being targeted. Malfoy was treating her horribly too, had been before Harry and the rest had come in.
Malfoy slapped Madam Malkin’s hand away.
“Mother, I don’t think I want these anymore…”
After the Malfoys left, Madam Malkin fitted them and got them quickly out of the door. Harry and Sirius trailed in Hagrid's wake, purchasing the rest of his school supplies, as well as Theo's. If anyone noticed Harry buying double what he needed, they didn't comment.
Harry had been offered another Ministry escort, apparently through some joint effort of Dumbledore and the new minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, but they ignored it and Sirius apparated them into an alley across the street from the station, with Theo under the cloak. Harry hugged Sirius goodbye and hurried onto a train, finding a bathroom for Theo to uncloak in.
“I wish summer wasn’t over,” Harry said miserably, startled when Theo leaned down to kiss him.
“It was the best one I’ve had in years,” Theo said with a small smile.
Harry thought it was the best summer holiday he could have had given the events at the Ministry, the threat of prophecy, and the daily news of attacks on muggles, on magical families, the shuttered businesses, the fog of dementor breeding…
But Theo hadn’t been trapped with his father, or with some distant relative, or alone in his family manor, subjected to Ministry raids. Anyone who asked would be told he had gone abroad. Harry got to know he was safe, and spent every day with him, even with the rest of the house keeping an eye on them. Theo learned more about muggle culture, Harry misused artifacts, they studied magic and used it however much they wanted. They got to pretend, for a little while, that the worst wasn’t yet to come.
After Theo left to find his housemates, Harry went to find a compartment, ignoring the renewed staring by his fellow students. He ran into Neville and Luna. Neville had got a new wand, one of the last Ollivander made before his disappearance. The Quibbler was going strong. Trevor tried to escape.
“Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry?” Luna asked. “It was like having friends.”
“We are friends, Luna,” Harry said. “I don’t think I’ll have time to do DA this year, but you can organize something yourself. Maybe you and Neville?”
A group of fourth-year girls led by some girl named Romilda Vane tried to get Harry to sit with them.
“Why don’t you join us in our compartment?” Romilda asked. “You don’t have to sit with them.”
“I’ve been friends with Luna and Neville for years,” Harry said. “I don’t even know your name.”
“She just told you,” Luna said.
“I already forgot.”
The fourth-years retreated, and Trevor was recovered from his hiding place under a bench.
“People expect you to have cooler friends than us,” Luna said.
“People expect a lot of things from me,” Harry replied. “I don’t exist to meet their expectations.”
Luna stared at him with her Spectrespecs. “Your wrackspurts are having a population boom.”
“I would imagine so,” Harry said blandly.
Harry took out a book to read, occasionally writing to Theo. Hermione and Ron found them. Ron sat down next to Harry, rubbing his stomach and wishing for lunch.
“Malfoy’s not doing prefect duty,” Ron said. “He’s just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed.”
Harry nodded absently, having already learned this from Theo. Theo had created a new pair of journals for his birthday, taking an idea from Hermione’s DA coins to make them warm up when there was a new message. Temperature seemed the most discreet way of communicating such a thing, though Harry had advocated for flashing lights based on some muggle technology they’d seen.
Harry looked down at what Theo had just written.
DM has the mark, he flinched when PP touched his left arm.
“What are you always writing about all the time?” Ron said, reaching for the journal before Harry could stop him. Just as his fingers touched it, Ron froze completely solid.
People began panicking.
“What happened?”
“Harry, what did you do?”
“You shouldn’t touch other people’s things without permission,” Luna said sagely, observing Ron and possibly his wrackspurts.
Irritated, Harry closed the journal and tucked it into his bag, tuning out Hermione’s increasingly frantic screams.
“Shut up, Hermione! I’m going to fix it. I have to write the correct runic sequence.”
He rolled up Ron’s sleeve and began writing on his frozen skin. Ron was starting to chill the entire compartment. Once finished, Harry tapped the runes with his wand and they blazed with icy blue light, spreading over Ron’s skin and returning him to his normal state.
“When did it get so cold?” Ron asked, rubbing his arms.
Hermione was frantically checking him over, then glared at Harry. “Explain why your notebook is cursed.”
“It’s not cursed,” Harry said slowly. “It’s protected against people taking it from me or using it themselves. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m one of the most famous wizards alive. People would kill to have access to any personal information. Not to mention I’ve warned you both in the past!”
“If you would just tell us—”
The compartment door slid open to reveal a third-year girl bearing scrolls for Harry and Neville.
“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” Neville asked
“New teacher,” said Harry. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to go, won’t we?”
As they walked down the train, Neville asked, "Why does he want me?"
"Slughorn likes famous people," Harry explained. "I'm famous on my own, you have famous parents. It's going to be like that for everyone there."
The corridor was packed with people waiting for the lunch trolley and people waiting to see Harry Potter.
When they reached the compartment, the worst lunch ever began.
“Harry, my boy! Good to see you, good to see you!” Slughorn effused.
“Thank you.”
“And you must be Mr. Longbottom!”
Slughorn gave introductions. Marcus Belby, Cormac McLaggen, Blaise Zabini, and Ginny, who’d got dragged in for hexing someone in the corridor.
Belby choked on some pheasant.
Slughorn went around interrogating people on their famous relatives, which was as tedious in practice as in theory.
“And now,” Slughorn said, having reached his crown jewel, “Harry Potter! Where to begin!”
“On July 31st, 1980, I’d imagine.”
Slughorn chuckled, “We barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!”
“Still waters run deep, as they say.”
“Indeed, indeed! ‘The Chosen One,’ they’re calling you now.”
Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.
“Some wizards are just marked for greatness,” Harry said. “It’s the burden I carry.”
“Of course, there have been rumors for years…I remember, after that terrible night, and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary.”
Zabini coughed.
“It’s true,” Harry said. “Did you need a cough drop, Zabini?”
“Yeah, Zabini, because you’re so talented…at posing…”
For that remark, Harry reclassified Ginny as the lame Weasley.
Slughorn chuckled again. “There was quite a disturbance at the Ministry, and you were in the thick of it all!”
“I was, yes. I was trying to get out of the thick of it when Voldemort showed up and tried to kill me, again. He failed. Again.”
“Ah, right,” Slughorn said, looking nervous. “And this…fabled prophecy?”
“That I shall usher in a new era of truth and justice?”
Slughorn looked at him blankly.
“I have been foretold,” Harry said solemnly.
Ginny cut in. “He’s just messing around, professor. All this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual.”
“Yes…well…it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course…”
The rest of the horribly long train ride was filled with Slughorn regaling them with anecdotes of people Harry had never heard of and would never meet. He sat there gamely, having been told by Dumbledore that the only way to get information out of the man was to ingratiate yourself to him. By the end of the train ride, Harry was convinced no information was worth spending time with Slughorn.
Zabini pushed past him, giving him a dirty look.
“Sorry you’re overshadowed by Malfoy,” Harry called after him. “You just sort of fade into the background.”
“So what did Slughorn want?” Hermione asked as the Welcoming Feast drew to a close.
“He wanted confirmation that I’m the Chosen One,” Harry said, examining his treacle tart. It looked normal enough. Treacly.
“People were interrogating us on the train,” Hermione said.
“Yeah,” Ron added, “all wanting to know if you really are ‘the Chosen One.’”
“Tell them I am,” Harry said, as Sir Nicholas proclaimed himself a Harry Potter expert. If he did end up killing Voldemort, again, he’d never hear the end of it.
Dumbledore gave his speech, showing off his cursed hand. Harry wondered why he didn’t have it cut off and regrown. Perhaps it was more complicated than that, that the withered arm was just a symptom. He was positive it had something to do with the ring the headmaster wore. Why he had put it on, why he wouldn’t take it off, Harry didn’t know.
“Professor Slughorn has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master,” Dumbledore said, surprising the students.
Hermione and Ron turned to Harry. “I thought it would be funnier for you to find out this way,” Harry said, waiting for the next bomb to drop.
“Professor Snape, meanwhile, will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
Harry stood up to applaud.