Out of the Box
Dumbledore politely offered Harry tea once they were back at the castle. Harry felt it was mandatory rather than a request, but he didn’t mind. He hadn’t had a cup of tea in ages. He might have used his excess magic to make Azkaban’s food taste better, but it wasn’t the same as the real deal. So, Harry accepted Dumbledore’s offer.
They were quiet as Dumbledore prepared the tea. Harry busied himself with greeting Fawkes, who flew to rest on his chair’s armrest. The phoenix’s soft crooning soothed the remaining tension out of Harry. It sank in that he was finally home. He basked in the warmth of the castle, the comfort from Fawkes, and the near perfection of a cup of tea at just the right temperature.
Despite these comforts, Harry was weary of what Dumbledore wanted to talk about. He didn’t think Dumbledore would expel him after all, but he expected some reprimand. So, it completely shocked Harry when Dumbledore opened with “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” asked Harry.
“For you losing your faith in me, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “I had not anticipated that you wouldn’t believe I would do everything I could to get you released.”
Harry frowned. It wasn’t the reprimand that he’d expected, but it felt like one all the same.
“How could I know?” Harry said, somewhat defensively. He let some of his bitterness bleed into his voice when he added, “you never came to see me.”
“Ah,” Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of him as he observed Harry. “I’m sorry for that as well. I see now it was a mistake. I was so focused on the ministry and trying to get them to drop the charges. It felt like time was of the essence, but I should have visited you as well,” Dumbledore said. Harry was careful not to look the man in the eye, but still tried to study him to gage his honesty.
“I wasn’t sure there was anything you could do,” Harry admitted slowly. Dumbledore looked sad at his response.
They were quiet as they sipped their teas. Harry bit back the instinct to apologize in return. As he sat comfortably at Hogwarts, it was hard to recapture the terror he’d felt in Azkaban. However, he only had to think of the other prisoners still in Azkaban, and his stomach churned. If he had to make the choice again, he would still ask Hale to be his judicial-wizard. He didn’t want to hurt the headmaster, but that was one choice he did not regret.
“Hale did tell me that you’d been at the ministry,” Harry offered as an olive branch. He left out the disparaging comments Hale also said about Dumbledore’s power struggle with the ministry.
“Ah, yes. I had hoped to get Rufus to see reason,” Dumbledore explained. “Alas, retiring from the aurors has not made him any less stubborn.”
“He came to see me. Once,” Harry said. He cupped his hands around his teacup to absorb some of the tea’s warmth. “He said he’d let me go if I told everything the ministry was doing a good job,” Harry frowned at the memory. He instantly regretted saying anything as he felt Dumbledore’s stare intensify on him. Harry looked into the depths of his mug as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
“It was brave of you to do what was right even when forced into a terrible situation,” Dumbledore eventually stated. Harry snorted.
“Or it was stupid. I could have been released ages ago,” Harry remarked. He may not have been completely spared from Burke’s treatment, but he could have avoided the worst of it.
“Why didn’t you?” asked Dumbledore mildly.
“I couldn’t stomach the idea of patting the ministry on the back for doing nothing. I’d hoped it would be different once they acknowledged Voldemort’s return, but they still want to pretend everything is fine without actually doing anything. Except arresting innocent people like Stan Shunpike. How does that help anyone?” Harry asked annoyed. “Scrimgeour isn’t any better than Fudge,” he added bitterly.
“Yes, Mr. Shunpike’s case is a sad one. The evidence on him is circumstantial at best. Sadly, his judicial-wizard has not had much luck getting his sentence overturned,” Dumbledore said.
“I just... he shouldn’t have to live through Azkaban simply because the ministry needs some... sacrificial lamb,” Harry said. An overwhelming sense of sadness came over him. “Honestly, no one should have to live though Azkaban,” he added softly. It was horrible conditions for even the guilty to have to live through.
“Your appeal for prison reform was inspirational,” Dumbledore lightly praised.
“Do you think they’ll actually listen?” asked Harry. Scrimgeour hadn’t been keen when Harry suggested similar measures for the ministry itself. It seemed unlikely he’d like it any better for the prison.
“Hard to say. Azkaban has been much the same now for many decades. Prisons get away with many unsavoury acts and conditions because it’s hard to get the general public to sympathize,” Dumbledore observed. He had a faraway look, and Harry had to wonder if the headmaster had any personal experience with the unsavory conditions he spoke of. Harry internally scoffed as soon as he had the thought. He couldn’t picture anyone arresting the professor.
“Perhaps we just need the younger generation to show us a different way. Reginald has made your recent stay a rather public spectacle. That attention might open debate, and sway witches and wizards to be open to reform,” Dumbledore mused.
“I hope so,” Harry said. He placed his empty cup on the desk. He didn’t know how much he should say to Dumbledore, but Harry didn’t feel good about leaving Lucius and the others in those conditions.
“Speaking of Azkaban’s... care... should I ask Madame Pomphrey to join us?” Dumbledore asked.
“No, I’m fine,” Harry said. He suspected Dumbledore knew it was a lie, but he didn’t press. There wasn’t anything Pomphrey could help with anyway.
“If there is anything I can do,” Dumbledore offered. Once again, Harry felt Dumbledore’s full attention on him. He made sure to avoid the avoid eye contact as the man assessed him.
Harry debated revealing what he discovered about horcruxes, and ask Dumbledore if he knew that Harry was one. Anger briefly surfaced at the thought but it faded quickly and was replaced with fear and sadness. He knew they should talk about it, but Harry wasn’t up for facing it today on top of everything else.
“Not today,” he said. He was vague enough that Dumbledore could interpret that to mean anything from needing to discuss what happened with Burke, or even the events leading up to the crucio casting that started this whole mess. Harry didn’t think he’d ever want to talk about any of it. He would avoid the horcrux issue too, but he’d need all the help he could get if he had any hope of safely removing it.
“Very well. I’m here when you’re ready. I’ve been told I have a very comfy shoulder to cry on,” Dumbledore said amicably. Harry nodded. He was still upset about the possibility that Dumbledore already knew, but still appreciated the offer of support. Perhaps his headmaster was already looking into safely removing the horcrux.
“Now, you can take the rest of the afternoon to get your bearings. I’m sure Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape would understand if you don’t join their classes today,” he sounded amused, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be in any rush to rejoin Snape’s class nor would the professor be to have him. “I hope you’re feeling up to attending your classes tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Harry agreed. Even Snape’s class had to be better than actual prison.
“Excellent!” Dumbledore said happily. “I’m sure Miss Granger has kept a list of all the homework assignments you missed. You’ll be back on track in no time.”
Harry snorted as he imagined the organized and colour-coded assignments that were waiting for him. Normally it would be an unhappy thought, but now he was curious to see how close the Death Eaters had gotten to the sixth-year curriculum.
Dumbledore and Harry engaged in a few more pleasantries, but Harry was dismissed soon after. The headmaster suggested Harry enjoy his afternoon before he got swarmed by curious pupils.
The other students were still in class when Harry left the office, so he was able to make his way to Gryffindor tower unhindered. Harry practically ran to his bed and flopped on it with a small sigh. He took several minutes to just snuggle with his pillow and bask in the feeling of a comfortable bed.
Harry got up after he realized he only had two class periods to go about the castle uninterrupted. He grabbed the first sweater and pair of jeans he found, but instead of just changing out of his formal robes, he opted to take a shower first. He might have had one that morning, but he relished the thought of being alone for a change. He didn’t need to charm the water to remain warm, but he still used his wandless magic to make his soap and shampoo levitate around him. It was a relief to let out some magic and consequently the pressure of Burke’s soul. He hadn’t been able to do anything magical since his first shower, and the pressure had been slowly building.
Once dressed, Harry noted that his sweater didn’t cover his Azkaban serial number. It made him nervous, but short of committing to an entire wardrobe of turtlenecks, there wasn’t anything he could do. With his shoulders hunched, made his way to the owlery. He had some letters to deliver and it would be best to do so before anyone noticed and asked questions.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Harry said as Hedwig flew towards him. He allowed her to fuss with his hair. He took several minutes to just enjoy her company. He wished he could stay longer, but was very aware of how little time he had before the afternoon classes ended. He wanted to be back in his dorm before then.
“Are you up for delivering a letter?” Harry asked her. She was reluctant to leave him so soon, but dutifully offered her leg so Harry could tie a letter to it. He only gave her Albert’s letter to Hale. He didn’t know if he trusted the families of the other prisoners to not hurt her. He didn’t think they would – except maybe Bellatrix – but he didn’t want to risk it. Too many people knew what his owl looked like, and none of the family members of the Death Eaters knew of Harry’s friendship with them.
He sent the letters meant for the prisoners’ wives, Mulciber’s mum, and the Lestranges’ dad off with school owls. He held back on Bellatrix’s. If he didn’t trust her not to hurt Hedwig, it seemed unfair to risk another owl as well. He’d leave it up to Draco to find a way to deliver them to his aunt. He kept all the letters for the prisoner’s sons on him. He could have mailed them as well, but he wanted an excuse to talk to Draco. He didn’t know what he’d say, but he wanted to prod at the possibility that Draco might return his feelings like his father suspected. So, Harry put those letters back in the box after he removed the still photos. He did not need the embarrassment of Draco catching sight of his own face in the bunch.
As he made his way back to the tower, he nervously cast a lumos using his wand. It was significantly brighter than expected. Harry tried focusing on the feeling of his magic, like Lucius had taught him, and tried to channel only a portion of his magic into the spell. He was only partially successful as his lumos remained brighter than it should be. He knew he’d have to keep practicing before he rejoined his classes.
To his surprise, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were waiting for him when he returned to the dorm room.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Harry asked. He wasn’t surprised to see Ron and Neville skip, but it had to be a first for Hermione.
“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed and flung herself at Harry. She drew him into a surprising hug. Harry’s arms automatically locked around her, tense at first but as soon as his brain processed it, he allowed himself to enjoy the non-threatening contact.
“Fuck,” he said into her hair, “you smell good.”
“Wot?” asked Ron from behind Hermione.
“Sorry, that’s weird,” Harry said before he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “It’s just... Azkaban just has this mild moldy smell...”
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione whispered. Harry shifted uncomfortably. He wished he hadn’t said anything in the awkward pause that followed.
“Do I smell good then?” Ron broke the tense silence. He moved slower than Hermione had, but drew Harry into a hug as well. Surprised but grateful, Harry hugged him back.
“Yeah, you do,” Harry snorted. “A bit like B.O., but still... Ron-y.”
“Weirdo,” Ron said, but he smiled at Harry when he pulled away.
“Welcome back,” Neville said. He didn’t hug Harry, but he smiled welcomingly.
Harry sat on his bed and couldn’t help to marvel at its softness again. Hermione sat next to him, while Ron and Neville sat across from them on Ron’s bed.
“So, what did I miss?” Harry asked. He knew they wanted to ask him about Azkaban and the trial, but Harry wanted to put off that discussion as much as possible.
“Well, the ministry is filled with a bunch of bastards,” Ron said.
Harry snorted, “yeah, I didn’t miss that bit.”
Figuring the best place to start was at the beginning, the others told Harry of the chaos in the great hall right after the aurors had taken Harry away.
“I thought McGonagall was going to curse that one man,” Ron laughed. “She was so angry.”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Harry asked. He recalled that the other aurors and Runecraft had wanted to question them. They had a pretty strong hold on the ones they already had in their grasp.
“They kept insisting on bringing us in for questioning, but the professors wouldn’t let them remove us from school. They eventually agreed to question us on school grounds, but the professors insisted on one of them being present,” Hermione recounted.
“McGonagall came with me,” Ron said and smirked. “She kept interrupting the auror or telling me not to answer until I could hire a judicial-wizard,” he explained. Harry thought it sounded a little but like Hale, though he imagined McGonagall would be upfront with her criticism.
“Professor Flitwick was the same for me,” Neville added. “I think I only answered two questions during the whole interview. Professor Flitwick interrupted the rest.”
“It was the same for Ginny, Luna and me as well,” Hermione added. Ron let out another bark of a laugh.
“They couldn’t interview us all at once after two aurors took you away. Gin’s interview had to wait until after ours, which meant McGonagall and Snape insisted on both being present. That had to be the shortest interview of the bunch,” Ron explained.
“And Luna’s interview... well I’m sure you can imagine how that went,” Hermione added. Harry could. Flitwick probably didn’t bother interrupting as much since Luna would talk about nargles and blibbering humdingers. It might have been more frustrating than the professors blocking all questioning attempts.
“Not that they gave up,” Neville said. “They tried to search our dorm next.”
“Luckily McGonagall insisted that they get a warrant first,” Hermione added.
“Did they get one?” asked Harry.
“Yeah, but we had enough warning. I stashed some of your stuff in the room of requirement,” Ron said. “I would have just left your cloak and map under Dean’s bed, but I wasn’t sure if they’d also check Dean and Seamus’ stuff.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, grateful for Ron’s foresight. Harry didn’t like the idea of people going through his things, and he would have hated it if the aurors had taken his dad’s cloak and map. He hoped his family album was safe.
Ron and Neville recounted how the aurors came back a few times and thrashed their dorm. It only stopped once the newspapers started talking about Umbridge and criticizing the ministry. One reporter had caught wind of the aurors’ constant visits to the school and wrote an article claiming the ministry was harassing Harry more by destroying his stuff.
“I think they broke some quills and a sneakoscope, but mostly they just made a mess,” Ron reassured Harry.
The others told him about the constant stream of reporters that hovered around the school. The professors couldn’t officially allow them on school grounds, but they turned a blind eye to the interviews that happened in Hogsmeade.
“McGonagall did find a reporter that somehow managed to sneak into the school. She had to escort him out, but she didn’t stop him from asking students questions along the way,” Neville recalled and added that McGonagall had walked slowly to ensure that many students had the opportunity to complain about Dolores Umbridge.
“Did you give any interviews?” Harry wondered.
“Yeah,” Ron said nervously. “I know you don’t like talking about it, but we hoped it would help your case or at least get the bitch fired.”
“Hale thought the same thing,” Harry said. “I think it worked... wish I knew exactly what was said about me though.”
“I save the articles... you might want to avoid reading a couple of them, but most were on your side,” Hermione said.
“Thanks,” Harry said, then remembered that Hale had told him Hermione kept mailing him muggle court cases and theory. “Reginald Hale is impressed with you. Thinks you should go into law,” Harry said with a smile.
“Oh, did it help then?” asked Hermione eagerly.
“Er, I don’t think the ministry is ready for muggle thoughts on law and psychology,” Harry said honestly. “But Hale says that if you want it, you have a job with his firm when you graduate.”
“Oh... I hadn’t considered a career in law...” said Hermione, but she looked pleased by the offer.
“You should,” encouraged Ron. “After all this, we may need a judicial-witch on our team.”
“Are they still trying to interrogate you?” asked Harry.
“No, they gave up on that. But they briefly went after my dad,” Ron said bitterly.
“Hale told me. But he said the papers pressed the ministry into giving him his job back?” asked Harry, worried that there was more to the story than he’d been told.
“Yeah. Increased salary too,” Ron said. “But it was horrible in the meantime. If Fred and George’s shop hadn’t been doing well, we would have been in trouble. Except, they seemed to realize that and tried going after the shop too until Fred, well, he sort of... leaked that you’d been the one to originally finance the shop. The ministry backed off because they knew it’d look like they were targeting the shop because you were a silent partner.”
As much as namedropping normally made Harry uncomfortable, he was glad Fred had done so. He felt horrible since he was the reason the ministry had gone after the Weasleys in the first place. If the twins found a way around it, he was fine with them using his name.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said.
“Nah, this isn’t on you mate,” Ron said. There was a slight pause before he added, “sales have increased since then. I think people wanted to support you through the shop,” Ron added.
“The twins started a new line of products in your honor,” Neville added. He hurried to his own trunk and pulled out an item. “This is part of their Jailbreak line,” he explained and handed Harry something that looked like a muggle hockey puck.
“What’s this do?” Harry asked. The words ‘Pot Shot’ were on the front, but that didn’t tell Harry much.
“You unwrap it, stick the back to a section of the wall, smack the center, and then back up. Before you know it, there’s a nice-sized hole in the wall you can squeeze through,” Ron explained.
“Brilliant!” Harry said. It wouldn’t have helped him escape Azkaban, not unless he wanted to risk swimming in turbulent waters. At the most it would have let him join Crabbe or Lestrange in their cells. Still, he thought it was a genius invention.
“Dangerous, you mean,” Hermione said with disapproval. “So much can go wrong. What if it damages the structural integrity of the wall?”
“That hasn’t happened so far,” Ron said defensively.
“So far. Doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” Hermione insisted.
“I’m sure Fred and George took that into account when designing them,” Neville said as he tried to prevent a full fight from breaking out.
Harry tried to hand the Pot Shot back to Neville, but the other boy insisted Harry keep it. “The entire line was made for you after all,” he added. Before Harry could ask them about the other products, Ron turned the conversation to Harry’s experiences over the last few weeks.
“So... what was it like for you? Did they really put you next to Nott?” Ron asked.
Harry couldn’t help but laugh when he explained, “I was in the middle of all of them.” He detailed the cell arrangements and was amused by their horrified expressions.
“That’s awful,” Hermione said.
“I thought so at first, but... they’re actually not bad,” Harry said cautiously.
“Not bad? Harry, they’re Death Eaters,” Ron exclaimed.
“I know. I know. It’s just... they helped me,” Harry said, but wondered how to explain it to them.
“How?” asked Hermione.
“Well, Albert is the one who hired Hale for me,” he said hoping that Hermione’s practical side would understand how beneficial that was to Harry’s release. “And they made me study so I wouldn’t fall behind in my classes.”
“How do you study in Azkaban?” asked Ron incredulously.
“Discussing theory, mostly,” Harry said. Given how upset they were that Harry thought the Death Eaters ‘weren’t that bad’, he knew it wasn’t the time to explain that he gained the ability of wandless magic after eating someone’s soul. Harry didn’t know if there ever would be a good time to broach that subject. He needed their help to figure it all out, but he feared they would think him a monster.
“That’s – well, that’s good Harry,” Hermione said placatingly, “but they are still... bad men. They’ve done some really horrible things.”
“I know that. But they’re more than just the-” Harry cut himself off as his eyes landed on Neville, noting his suddenly pale complexion. With Ron and Hermione, Harry could maybe get them to see his fellow prisoners as he did. The problems between them weren’t as personal. That wasn’t the case for Neville. The Lestrange brothers had been involved in the torture of Neville’s parents, which caused permanent damage. Harry couldn’t gloss over that or expect Neville to forgive them. Harry had gotten to see the better side of Rodolphus and Rabastian, but he had no right to ask Neville to do the same.
“I know how it sounds. It’s just,” Harry floundered as he felt a gulph opening between him and his friends, and he didn’t know how to fix it. “They kept me sane while I was in there.”
“Harry,” Hermione said softly and placed a hand on his arm. “Was it... was it really bad?”
“I-” Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to talk about Azkaban. Ever. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how else to get them to understand his new perspective on the other prisoners. “It’s a pretty miserable place. It’s cold, and the guards... well, they’re mostly shit if I’m being honest. Maybe some of them are alright, but not the ones working in the major crimes section of the prison. There’s just so much time to think about how everything went wrong. The dementors’ presence just encourages those thoughts,” Harry said. He might have stopped feeling the dementors’ effects himself, but that wasn’t the case for the other prisoners. He’d felt guilty and frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to help them. The time he’d heard Crabbe sobbing in his cell, trying to be quiet, had been heartbreaking. Doubly so because he had started to look forward to Asherath and Ishanders’ visits, hoping he’d get answers (and then wishing he never had). If he said the dementors ‘weren’t that bad’, his friends would think he was certifiably insane.
“It’s easy to spiral,” he said after a pause. “I don’t know how Sirius did it for twelve years,” he added quietly. Especially since Sirius had been alone, without the support system Harry had.
“And they stopped you? From spiraling?” Hermione asked and Harry was glad she was trying to understand.
“Yes. Sometimes just talking helps. It distracts you from all the bad things going through your head, you know? I think that’s why they wanted to teach me. It gave them something else to focus on. And I learnt a lot,” Harry said earnestly.
“What kind of things?” Ron asked suspiciously. Harry knew better than to admit dark arts were part of it.
“Charms, transfiguration,” Harry said. “They tried to cover the Hogwarts curriculum that I was missing by being there. They might have been completely off base, but I still learned loads of useful spells.”
His friends didn’t look convinced, but at least they didn’t look at him like he’d been permanently brain damaged by his stay in Azkaban.
“I know how it sounds,” Harry said and felt like a broken record. “And I don’t expect you to like or forgive them,” Harry said that last bit to Neville, “but I can’t hate them. I just can’t.”
Before anyone could figure out what to say, their dorm room door opened and Dean and Seamus walked in.
“You’re back,” said Dean. There was a round of pleasantries where they asked how Harry was doing and Harry did the same. However, it didn’t take long for Seamus’ lack of tact to drive him to ask what he really wanted to know.
“So, how was it? Azkaban?” he asked.
“Horrible,” Harry said. Before he could elaborate their door opened again, and Ginny walked in. Both she and Dean shifted uncomfortably as they eyed each other. Rather than exchange any greetings, Ginny turned away first and focused on Harry.
“Welcome back,” she said and moved to sit on Harry’s other side. “You look tired,” she said bluntly, but there was worry on her face. She lifted her hand towards Harry but stopped short. He winced when he realized she’d been aiming for his Azkaban number before she stopped herself from touching it.
The next few minutes were uncomfortable, but Harry allowed them to ask questions about his stay in Azkaban. He complained about the food, and utter lack of privacy when he had to go to the bathroom, or take a shower. The boys nodded in sympathy.
“Is Malfoy as fit as he seems?” asked Ginny.
“Bloody hell, Gin!” Ron groaned.
“Please don’t ask me to think about Lucius like that,” Harry pleaded. He may have noticed many similarities between Lucius and Draco, but the last thing he needed was to think about Lucius in the same way he thought about Draco.
“Lucius?” Ginny questioned. Harry shrugged. Ron and Hermione would likely catch her up on his feeling about the prisoners later.
With a wicked smile, Ginny asked “I guess that means I can’t ask how big Lucius’ d-”
“No!” Ron and Harry said at once while the girls laughed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean give Ginny a disgusted look.
They asked him a few more questions about Azkaban, and Harry dutifully answered until they started to broach the subject of Burke.
“Look, I really don’t want to talk about Burke,” Harry said tensely. He didn’t want Burke to take up any more space in his life. It was bad enough that he couldn’t get away from the heavy and hot feeling of the man’s soul. “Whatever Hale said about him, was probably true. Assuming the papers didn’t bungle it up, that is...”
Luckily no one pressed him to continue. Harry was pretty sure Hermione would try to speak to him privately, but he planned to put that off as long as possible.
Once the others asked all the less personal questions they had about Azkaban, the conversation turned back to what was happening in Hogwarts. Since Ron, Hermione and Neville had updated him about the reporters already, the others mostly told him the standard school gossip. Harry wasn’t all that interested in who started dating who, beyond the relief he felt knowing Draco hadn’t started seeing anyone in his absence.
Harry was happy to be back with them, but he couldn’t help but feel removed. Not much had really changed at Hogwarts. In contrast, he felt so much had changed for him. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel normal again. It certainly didn’t happen by the time dinner rolled around.
Supper in the great hall was as awkward as Harry expected. It was a good thing Dean and Seamus had found them in the dorms and asked their questions then, as they provided more of a buffer between Harry and the other students who wanted to ask him intrusive questions. Being surrounded by Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, Dean and Seamus kept the rest of his nosy housemates away. Occasionally someone would ask a question as they passed by, and a few yelled their questions from their seat, but after Ron implied he’d use his prefect status against them if they didn’t piss off, the other students generally gave up asking him questions. It didn’t stop them from staring and gossiping about him. He caught at least five students openly gawking at his tattoo.
“Can we just go?” Harry asked. Everything about the situation made him uncomfortable. The food was good, but felt too heavy after weeks of Azkaban’s standard meal. Having Ron and Hermione glued to his sides was a double-edged sword. It was comforting to have their support, but simultaneously unpleasant to have them so physically close after weeks of minimal human contact. And it was hot. Azkaban was so cold that, even without the dementors, it seeped into your bones. Harry had his warded cell and Burke’s soul to keep him warm. Without Azkaban’s coolness, Harry felt like he was constantly running hot. While initially pleasant, Hogwart’s warmth has grown uncomfortable. It was as if he’d played a quidditch game and then decided to drink a large cup of tea in front of the fireplace. Wearing a sweater, had been a poor choice.
“You know they’ll just bother you in the common room,” Ginny pointed out.
“Library then?” Harry asked. Naturally Hermione approved.
“Oh! You’re so far behind, Harry,” Hermione fretted, either forgetting Harry told her the Death Eaters made sure he kept up with his studies or doubting the value of whatever they taught him.
“The professors will understand that,” Ron pointed out.
“Snape might not,” Harry said darkly. He’d felt the man’s eyes on him all supper. Harry knew he’d have to avoid making eye contact with Snape as well.
“Git,” Ron agreed. “But you should be fine in defense.”
Harry felt he would be fine in most subjects, but it wasn’t the time or place to get into that discussion again. Still, he was curious to compare notes with Hermione to see how close they managed to get to the curriculum. Even if the prisoners hadn’t been correct about the content itself, Harry was confident the theoretical background they gave him would help him catch up quickly.
“Let’s go,” Neville offered, and Harry was grateful he still had Neville’s support. Harry wouldn’t be as compassionate in Neville’s shoes. He was certain he’d punch whoever tried to tell him Voldemort was a decent man.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville left with him. Harry tried to ignore everyone’s curious eyes following him, even as he sought out one particular set of grey eyes. Like most of the hall, Draco was already looking at him. Harry didn’t know what to make of the look on his face. It wasn’t the sneer he usually had directed at Harry, but it wasn’t exactly warm either. Their eyes met, and Harry was tempted to deviate from his course and go talk to him. He had initially thought he could casually drop off the letters on his way out, but he’d forgotten how gossipy the students were. Harry didn’t need everyone wondering what he gave Draco and the others, or worse discovering the letters. As tempting as it was to run straight for Draco as soon as he spotted him, Harry knew he’d have to wait until he could get the other boy alone. Not that he had any idea how he’d convince any of the Slytherins to meet him. With a sigh, Harry turned away from Draco and followed Hermione out of the hall.
Hermione gave him updates on their classes the whole way to the library. She once again expressed her worry about Harry being able to catch up in time for exams.
“I’m willing to do the work,” Harry assured her.
“Don’t worry too much,” Ron said. “You honestly didn’t miss that much.”
This caused a minor argument between Ron and Hermione. Hermione accused Ron of never taking school seriously, while Ron countered that Hermione was too serious about their schoolwork. It was a common disagreement between them. It usually annoyed Harry, but now he found comfort in the familiarity of it.
The two were forced to cut their bickering short when they entered the library. They occasionally exchanged heated whispers, which grew in frequency each time Hermione refused to share her notes with Ron.
“You’re letting Harry copy them,” Ron muttered as he tried to read Hermione’s charms notes over Harry’s shoulder.
“Harry wasn’t given the opportunity to attend those classes. You, on the other hand, choose to daydream instead of paying attention,” Hermione said snidely.
Ron’s response was cut off by a seventh year Ravenclaw shushing them. Ron grumbled but opened his textbook instead of continuing to argue. When Harry looked up at the shh sound, he noted that the library was considerably more packed than normal. He doubted it had much to do with studying for exams, especially since people kept glancing their way.
“Let me know if you need me to explain anything,” Hermione offered quietly.
“Thanks. I think I got this though,” he said. Lucius had correctly guessed a few of the spells Professor Flitwick has taught during Harry’s absence. Reading over the notes for the spells he didn’t know, he couldn’t help but think they weren’t too complicated.
“Are you sure? That one is complex,” Hermione pointed to a spell on the next page. He read it over, asked her a couple of questions, but managed to grasp the concept quickly. Hermione tried to mask her surprise, and Harry felt a little smug. When he proved capable of quickly catching up with the rest of Hermione’s charms notes, he felt vindicated by their shocked but impressed faces.
“How do you understand this better than me, when I was in the actual lesson?” Ron asked.
“I told you the other prisoners taught me these subjects. Lucius covered charms,” Harry said. For a moment Harry was tempted to tell them he’d been able to cover more than just the theory. He held back because doing so would mean explaining the whole soul eating part and he feared their reactions. It wasn’t a mostly failed crucio casting that his target had laughed off. He took Burke’s soul and would never be able to give it back. Worse, he was damaging the soul each time he used magic. He feared what they would say if they knew.
“What else did he teach you?” Hermione asked, and Harry hoped that his inner turmoil hadn’t been broadcasting on his face.
“Er, he insisted I learn proper posture and some politics. That was exactly as boring as it sounds,” Harry said and was glad when Ron immediately commiserated with him. However, Hermione wasn’t distracted and took to quizzing Harry about various subjects. When she was done, she stated she was satisfied that the Death Eaters hadn’t purposely misinformed him.
“Well, let me know if there is anything you don’t understand,” Hermione said as she handed over her transfiguration notes. Harry didn’t bother working on any of the essays the others had been assigned. Instead he focused on copying Hermione’s notes and making sure he understood them. Neville was particularly excited about Harry’s new dedication to herbology and answered all his questions. He didn’t seem as surprised as the others that Crabbe Sr. had been the one to provide Harry with his new fount of knowledge.
“Crabbe is usually in the top ten highest herbology scores each year,” Neville explained. Harry didn’t know how Neville knew that.
“I didn’t think he did well in any subject,” Ron said.
“Oh, Ron, don’t be rude,” Hermione reprimanded. Harry didn’t think it was for Crabbe’s sake, but more of an automatic response.
“What? It’s not like you thought any different,” Ron defended. Hermione didn’t deny it.
By the time Ron finished writing his charms essay, Harry had gone over most of Hermione’s notes.
“It feels wrong to say this, but I’m actually looking forward to Snape’s class tomorrow,” Harry said once he finished copying the last spell in Hermione’s defense notes. It sounded interesting.
“I suppose after Azkaban, even Snape’s shit teaching looks good,” Ron said. Harry’s snort in response covered up Hermione’s admonishing “Ronald”.
“Do you still have your old Ancient Runes notes?” he asked. Hermione obviously hadn’t brought them as she didn’t anticipate Harry’s new interest in the subject.
“How’d you study something like runes in Azkaban?” asked Ron.
“Not easily,” Harry said. He couldn’t say wandless magic had allowed Harry to transfigure writing implements so Avery could draw the runes for him. Instead he told them that Avery explained their meanings to him.
“It sounded interesting enough, that I now regret not taking it in third year,” Harry said. Of course, Trelawney had made him regret that decision in every class, long before he started learning about runes.
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to read up on ancient runes for fun,” Ron said after Hermione promised to look for her old notes once they got back to the common room. In the meantime, she gave him a couple of book titles he could find while they were in the library. Harry just shrugged at Ron and didn’t bother explaining he didn’t want to let a bunch of Death Eaters down by slacking and letting their efforts go to waste.
He left the others to their essays and went searching for the beginner rune books Hermione suggested. Fortunately, enough time had pass that those that had followed him to the library were now genuinely focused on their homework or reading. Very few people bothered to look his way as he made his way to the Runes isle.
Harry picked up the first book he wanted, but had trouble finding the second. He moved to see if it was in the next isle over, but froze when he spotted the sixth year Slytherin boys all working at a table. It was rare to see them all together, but Harry assumed they must have followed him like a good chunk of the school. He took a moment to observe them, before it dawned on him that it was a good moment to deliver the letters. He hesitated over Zabini’s presence as his father - nor several step-fathers - wasn’t a known Death Eater as far as Harry knew. Harry hoped that Draco and the others would be able to ensure Zabini kept the matter to himself.
Harry quickly checked his surroundings but didn’t see anyone looking his way. He crouched down and removed the ankle bracelet that held the box of letters. He nervously rolled the small box between his thumb and finger as he debated what he should say. He’d have to open the box himself so the others wouldn’t assume it was a trap.
Harry lingered in the shelves, watching them, and he tried to think of what to say to Draco specifically. Unfortunately, he could only think about how tired Draco looked and mentioning that was unlikely to go over well. Harry itched to comfort him but had no idea how to go about it in a way that wouldn’t be rejected.
Draco must have felt the attention, as he looked up suddenly and locked eyes with the lurking Gryffindor. Surprised when he spotted Harry, Draco jumped and gained the attention of the other boys. With no more time to plan what to say, Harry resigned himself to winging it. He patted his pocket to confirm the pictures were still there. The last thing he needed was to accidentally hand those over. Harry took a deep breath and made his way over to the Slytherins’ table.
“Potter,” Zabini greeted with a smirk when it became apparent that his dormmates were willing to silently watch Harry’s approach. Harry nodded in greeting and was glad none of them looked hostile. He assumed it was because Draco, Nott and Crabbe all wanted to ask after their fathers. The papers had made sure to announce he was put close to them. Harry was likely their only source of information, unless Hale was in the habit to updating Albert’s son.
“Er, hi,” Harry said lamely and was immediately annoyed with himself for his nervousness.
“Hi,” said Nott with a hint of amusement. Rather than feeling defensive, it actually put Harry at ease as it reminded him of Albert.
“Right, so,” Harry glanced around again to make sure no one was obviously paying attention to them. Once he was satisfied, he placed the miniature box on the table and said “stag.”
Before anyone could question his odd behaviour, the box started to enlarge. Once it had grown to its full size, Harry awkwardly added “missing you” and internally insulted his past self for choosing such a sappy password. It was still less embarrassing than Harry Malfoy would have been. He hoped the Slytherins assumed it referenced their fathers’ feelings towards them.
The top of the box slid open and revealed a bunch of rolled up scrolls.
“So, er, there are some letters for you,” Harry explained and gestured at the box. The others all stared at the box as if it was about to jump up and attack. It was Zabini that broke the impasse by plucking one of the top letters.
“Vincent,” he read and passed it over to Crabbe.
“It’s my dad’s handwriting,” Crabbe said in amazement.
“How do you have a letter for Vince from his dad?” asked Goyle.
“Er,” Harry once again felt the need to check his surroundings for eavesdroppers. “It’s probably best not to say how.”
“Are we sure it’s real?” asked Nott. Harry couldn’t help but instinctively bristle, but he understood their skepticism.
“It’s real,” Draco said. When the others looked his way, he added “I got one a few days ago. It mentioned something only my dad would know.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” asked Zabini. Draco shrugged. He kept glancing at Harry but looking away as soon as Harry returned his attention. It wasn’t the reaction Harry hoped for, but at least it wasn’t antagonistic.
“OK, but again... how?” asked Nott. They all looked at Harry, and waited for an answer. He understood their curiosity, but couldn’t answer their question, especially in a public place.
“Magic,” he shrugged. Nott and Zabini snorted, and Harry counted it as win when Draco gave a small smile. They looked like they wanted to push the issue, but let it drop when Harry once again nervously glanced about the library. He couldn’t help but feel paranoid.
“Is there one for my mum too?” asked Crabbe. “She’s been...” he trailed off awkwardly as he eyed Harry, not sure how personal he should be with him.
“I already mailed hers,” Harry reassured him. “There are only yours left. And Bellatrix’s,” Harry said, unable to mask his displeasure at her name. “I trust you can find a way to get them to your aunt,” he said to Draco.
While Draco didn’t confirm he knew how to get in touch with his escaped convict aunt, he accepted the letters when they were passed to him.
“Word of caution... don’t sneak a peak at them. You’ll be scarred for life,” Harry said.
“You read the letters?” asked Nott sharply.
“No,” Harry said. “Dolph just isn’t shy about his feelings for his wife. And Mulciber helped him write the raunchy one.”
“Dolph?” asked Zabini with a raised eyebrow. He sounded like Ginny had when she’d questioned Harry’s use of Lucius’ first name.
“Which one is the raunchy one?” asked Goyle. Harry suspected he’d read that one, despite Harry’s warning, if Draco gave him the chance to.
“I don’t think you want to risk Lestrange finding out you read her personal mail,” Nott cautioned.
Having delivered the letters, Harry awkwardly stood by their table. Harry wanted to say something else, something meaningful, to Draco but didn’t know what. He wondered if Draco wanted to say something in return given he kept glancing from his letter to Harry and back again. Harry tracked the movement of Draco biting his lip nervously.
“Thanks,” said Crabbe, interrupting Harry’s observation of his crush. He hoped he hadn’t been obvious.
“No problem. Your dad wanted to write to you for ages,” Harry said. He briefly thought about reciting the message Crabbe had initially hoped Harry would deliver, but he knew the man had put it in one of the letters already. Since Nott seemed annoyed at the possibility that Harry had snooped through their mail, he didn’t want to bring up that suspicion again.
“Why would you deliver it though?” asked Crabbe.
Harry shrugged but honestly said, “I like your dad. He’s really nice.”
The others looked surprised at Harry’s confession, but Goyle just nodded along and added “he really is.”
“Potter... was- the papers said my father was injured,” Nott brought up nervously.
“Yes,” Harry confirmed with a dark look as he recalled Burke’s attack. “He’s healed now though.”
“Still in Azkaban though,” Crabbe pointed out. Before Harry could try to reassure them that Hale was working on Albert’s case, Draco cut in.
“Did they... did the guards hurt anyone else?” he asked.
“Not like that,” Harry said. He wanted to comfort Draco and say Lucius was alright, but a beating from the guards wasn’t the only danger in Azkaban. Harry was worried about them himself. However, he didn’t want to say any of that given that Draco was clearly hoping for reassurances. Not sure what else to say, Harry offered “your dad is mostly worried about you.” He hoped it would bring some comfort to know that Draco was still Lucius’ top priority.
“What did you tell him?” asked Draco. He sounded nervous. Harry faltered, not sure if the answer would upset Draco or not.
“Only what I know,” Harry said. They others were quiet as they could all guess Harry had shared his suspicions about Draco being a Death Eater.
“So, you mentioned your stalking habits,” Nott said. Harry blushed. Even if they didn’t know about his crush, stalking someone was questionable behaviour.
“Er, actually, yes, sort of anyway,” Harry admitted awkwardly. He tried to think of a way to make it less creepy. “I figured you’d want your father to hear about this,” Harry attempted to imitate Draco on those last few lines. He internally cringed immediately after and hoped Draco didn’t take it as an insult. Harry was temporarily relieved when Draco offered a small smile, but it faded quickly. Harry wanted to say something as Draco looked so sad, but he didn’t know what would make it better. Everyone knew exactly how bleak Azkaban was. The little bits of comfort to be found would seem small outside of the prison. An uncomfortable silence fell upon them.
“Did that guard really try to rape you?” asked Goyle when it was clear Harry had nothing more to add about Lucius. Goyle jumped when one of the others kicked him under the table, but the damage had been done.
Harry froze for a heartbeat. He felt himself flush and feared his face was an unpleasant shade of red. “I should head back before Hermione comes looking for me,” he said. He followed his urge to flee and turned away from them, and started to walk back the way he came.
“Wait,” someone called. Harry only stopped because he recognized it as Draco’s voice. Harry turned around but didn’t move any closer.
“You... forgot your box,” Draco said.
“Keep it,” Harry replied. He thought himself a fool for hoping he actually had a chance with Draco. He knew it was just a grand delusion on his part. As Goyle proved, they all knew about Burke, and Harry couldn’t fathom any reason that Draco would want him after that. Still, he wanted to do something for Draco, even if a silly box was a poor gesture.
“Thank you,” Draco said. Both Nott and Crabbe echoed him.
“Of course,” Harry said. He hesitated, but didn’t know what else he could say or do. Defeated, Harry turned around and made his way back to his own table.
“Couldn’t find the other books?” asked Hermione.
“What?” Harry asked confused. He tried not to look as devastated as he felt. Hermione gestured to the Ancient Runes book Harry still held. He was glad he grabbed at least one book before he noticed Draco and the others. After that conversation, he had completely forgotten about runes.