Mr. Potter’s Resilience
Despite the glorious comfort of his bed, Harry couldn’t sleep any easier than he had in Azkaban since eating Burke’s soul. He laid in bed for a long time, only partly comfortable bundled in his comforter. He felt hot but was unwilling to get rid of the comfort of his blanket. He stuck a foot outside his sheets and hoped that would help cool him down. Harry wanted to sleep, he really did. Unfortunately, he felt wide awake no matter how still he forced himself to remain. Try as he might, he couldn’t calm his thoughts either. He worried there would soon be noticeable consequences for how long he had remained awake. He vaguely recalled that someone, probably Hermione, once told him that sleep deprivation caused hallucinations. Harry had enough problems without adding that to the mix.
He didn’t know how much time he wasted idle in bed, but eventually he forced himself to get up. He needed a distraction from his own dark thoughts and unfortunately his failure to sleep only added to the negativity swirling in his mind. In Azkaban he’d used magic and made trinkets as a distraction. If sleep wouldn’t give him the escape he craved, perhaps magic would. At the least, he knew he’d feel better if he managed to do something productive.
The common room was empty, which didn’t surprise Harry given the hour. He went to the chairs he and his friends usually occupied, and spent the rest of the night reviewing Hermione’s notes and practicing the spells. He was mainly concerned about performing the magic using his wand. He attempted to scale back on how much power and intend he channeled when casting. It wasn’t something Harry had paid attention to before Azkaban, so he couldn’t compare his spell work now to how he preformed before. He could only hope none of his professors or classmates had paid much attention either.
About an hour before the other students typically started to wake, Harry silently made his way back to his bed. He once again made himself the center of a blanket burrito. He lounged in bed as the room gradually got brighter with the rising sun. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the negative thoughts from creeping in. Burke was ever present and Harry had to force his mind away from the man again and again. Unfortunately, that only made room for him to worry about his friends dropping him as he continued to defend the prisoners. He knew things would be smoother if he agreed with his friends that all death eaters were evil incarnate. But Harry couldn’t do that. Even picturing Neville’s hurt and horrified face, Harry knew he would be unable to pretend that the Lestrange brothers meant nothing to him. He didn’t know what to do because Neville’s friendship also meant a lot to him. He needed someone’s advice, but it was Lucius and Albert he pictured when he considered who he’d trust to council him.
It surprised Harry how much he missed the other prisoners. Harry had constantly engaged with them during his entire stay in Azkaban. They didn’t just teach him spells; they built up his confidence in himself. Plus, they just listened to him. They’d been his support system and he felt a little lost without them now. Perhaps Burke had been right when he accused Harry of having ‘daddy issues’. Harry honestly couldn’t tell if his messed-up childhood had an impact on how he felt about his relationship with the other prisoners. Harry had never felt more supported than those otherwise miserable weeks in Azkaban, but he couldn’t help but fear that it meant more to him than it did to them. Then, he felt guilty for doubting them.
Harry had to push aside all thoughts of the other prisoners when a couple of stray tears started to soak his pillowcase. He was lucky enough to be free of Azkaban, so he felt stupid for crying now. The last thing he wanted was to look like he’d spent the night bawling.
Desperate for something happy to think about, Harry tried to focus on Draco. Unfortunately, Harry got hung up on the disastrous scene in the library. He felt he’d wasted the perfect opportunity to impress Draco and hopefully get closer to him. For fuck’s sake, he’d admitted to stalking him like some creep. Even if Draco miraculously overlooked that, there was the whole Burke issue to consider. Logically Harry knew what happened wasn’t his fault. Burke was a sorry excuse of a man and his actions didn’t reflect who Harry was. Albert had repeated this fact to him multiple times following the attack. Harry had believed him, but every so often doubts came back. It made Harry feel weak, dirty, and scared that any future relationship he tried to build would be tainted by it. Harry used to get an excited thrill imagining being in bed with someone on top of him. Now, Burke lurked in the background and Harry was terrified about what would happen if he ever found himself in that position again.
The sound of Dean getting up pulled Harry out of his downward spiral. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in case Dean happened to look his way. A short time later he heard Neville get up as well. He waited until his friend left before opening his eyes. Harry figured it was safe to ‘wake up’ now without anyone questioning his sleeping habits.
Breakfast was as awkward as dinner had been. Many students were still half-asleep and didn’t bother to even glance in his direction, but the ones that did made up for the rest. Harry might be used to attention, but that didn’t mean he liked it. The exception being Draco, of course. When he’d seen the Slytherins walk into the great hall, he’d been tempted to go say hello. He’d held back, unsure if more questions about Burke would come up. He thought he saw Crabbe give him a small wave, but feared it was just wishful thinking that he’d still be welcomed by them now that he had no more letters to offer. Instead of talking to them, Harry spent his time watching Draco but tried to appear like he wasn’t watching Draco.
Halfway through Harry’s modest breakfast, McLaggen gathered enough courage to ask the questions everyone seemed to want to know. When Harry pretended not to hear him, the older boy grew increasingly loud and his questions turned into rude comments. Harry tried not to let it bother him. He knew it was suspect when the saltshaker kept falling into McLaggen’s meal, but Harry felt secure that no one would immediately jump to the conclusion that Harry had mastered silent and wandless magic. After McLaggen’s bravery, Harry noticed more and more people blatantly listened to his conversations with his friends. Harry managed to make it through the entire meal, but he’d developed a tension headache by the time his first class started.
Harry had double transfiguration with McGonagall first. During the practical portion of her lesson, she spoke to Harry about catching up on the work he’d missed.
“I’ve reviewed Hermione’s notes,” Harry said.
“I’m sure Miss Granger’s work is as thorough as always,” McGonagall replied. Hermione, who was standing nearby, preened at this. “Still, I want to see for myself how you’re fairing.”
Harry was able to demonstrate enough mastery of the current lesson, so McGonagall suggested he take the rest of the class to practice the spells he’d missed and call her over if he needed aid. She kept an eye on him as she circulated the classroom, helping those that were struggling. Towards the end of the lesson, she returned to Harry’s side and asked him to demonstrate the spells he’d been working on. Harry only had enough time to explain and carefully cast two spells before the class period was over. McGonagall was pleased to see Harry had no difficulty with those spells, but wouldn’t be satisfied until Harry demonstrated them all.
“Come see me after today’s classes. We’ll review the rest and decide on a plan for how you’ll catch up with the missed assignments,” McGonagall said. Harry wasn’t thrilled imagining the amount of assignments he’d likely have by the end of the day from all of his professors.
Flitwick was similarly concerned about Harry’s ability to catch up quickly on the missed classes. The charms lesson that day comprised of only a lecture, so Harry was unable to show some of his spellwork. Flitwick asked him to remain after class so he could explain what Harry had missed. He once again reassured his professor that he’d studied Hermione’s notes from those missed lessons. However, like McGonagall, this was not enough to reassure Flitwick. He offered to spend most of the lunch period reviewing the class content and answering questions. Harry was happy to agree as it meant he had an excuse to avoid the great hall and his gossip-hungry peers. Harry pretended to struggle with some spells to prolong how long his meeting with Flitwick went. Flitwick was patient with him, and ultimately declared he was happy with Harry’s progress.
Unfortunately, Flitwick cut their meeting short with enough time for both of them to have a quick meal before their next class. Harry had no desire to follow the man to the great hall, especially after he spotted two Ravenclaw girls lingering outside the classroom. They weren’t as stealthy as they thought they were. Harry pretended he needed to use the bathroom as an excuse to veer away from the professor’s steady march to the great hall. Harry briefly considered going to the kitchen for lunch, but changed his mind when he realized he wasn’t that hungry. Azkaban’s meals were small, providing the minimum needed to keep the prisoners acceptably healthy. Harry was confident he could skip lunch and not feel too hungry before supper.
Harry ran into Sprout before the end of lunch. He didn’t have her class that day, so she took the opportunity to check in with him then.
“I can ask one of your classmates to be a study partner,” she proposed.
“I’ve already asked Neville to explain his and Hermione’s class notes,” Harry informed her. Since Neville was one of her stronger students, Sprout was satisfied with Harry’s choice.
“Mr. Potter, Harry... if you need to speak with anyone about your experiences in Azkaban, please know that my door is always open. I know I’m not your head of house, but I want to reassure you that all of the professors are willing to listen,” she said kindly. Harry was fairly certain he wouldn’t take her up on her offer, but he appreciated it nonetheless.
As Harry expected, Snape was the only professor he saw that day that wasn’t understanding or supportive. He’d started the class by making a big spectacle when he announced they would review the past several classes, specifically so Harry could catch up. From any other professor it might have been a kindness, though they wouldn’t single him out like Snape did. Snape tried to use the opportunity to show how little Harry knew. This became clear when he posed more questions to Harry than any of his peers who had attended the lessons. Unfortunately for Snape, Harry was unwilling to pretend to struggle and answered all of the questions correctly. When it became apparent he couldn’t humiliate Harry this way, Snape decreed that since Harry did not need their help, he had until Monday to hand in all of the assignments he missed. Since it was already Thursday, it was clear he expected Harry to spend the entire weekend catching up on weeks of Defense lessons. Snape didn’t bother to actually give him a list of the missed assignments. Hermione likely had a record of them, so Harry knew he’d be fine. Still, it seemed like Snape hoped he’d miss some so that he’d have an excuse to fail Harry.
Harry’s poor mood grew worse as Snape peppered his lecture with snide comments aimed at or about Harry.
“It’s a good defensive spell if you find yourself faced with... a delinquent. Like Potter,” Snape concluded.
“You’d know all about delinquency,” Harry muttered. He didn’t need Hermione’s elbow to his side to let him know he said it too loud. Snape’s frown grew more pronounced than ever as he leveled Harry with a look that could rival aunt Petunia’s look of utmost disgust. Harry didn’t care. He didn’t need Snape of all people throwing proverbial stones. When Harry chanced a glance in Draco’s direction, he was somewhat mollified by the blonde’s annoyed expression. Harry knew it wasn’t for his benefit. Half of Snape’s comments had referred to Harry’s stay in Azkaban, which was where Draco’s father still resided.
When the class began to work on the practical part of the lesson, Snape didn’t bother checking in with Harry like his other professors had. The man was content to let Harry figure out how he’d catch up on the spells and theories he’d missed. It seemed like Snape was prepared to spend the rest of the class pretending Harry hadn’t rejoined them. Therefore, it was all the more surprising when Snape approached Harry from behind and suddenly reached for Harry’s wand hand.
“Pott-” Snape was cut off when Harry flinched hard. An angry crimson-coloured spell shot from his wand. Fortunately, he had not been aiming at anyone, as the spell left a deep crack in the wall that quickly spiderwebbed. The entire class stopped what they were doing to either watch Harry quickly shift away from Snape, or where the crack continued to spiderwebbed up the wall about four feet.
“I-” Harry swallowed nervously and tried again. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he said in an unsteady voice.
“Obviously,” Snape sneered. Luckily, he made no move to touch Harry again. Unluckily, he stared at the wall with a displeased expression. “Ten points from Gryffindor for damaging the school,” the man stated as he moved to investigate the damage. Harry didn’t bother to argue as he still felt unsteady and could hear his heart pounding.
“Back to work,” Snape snapped. The other students went back to practicing their spellwork, but their attention remained primarily on Snape or Harry.
“Alright?” asked Ron. Harry looked over his wand before he answered.
“Yeah,” he said when he was satisfied he hadn’t damaged with wand with the force of the spell. Snape’s unexpected touch had made him loose focus on the feeling of his magic and how much effort he put into casting. Consequently, a lot of energy had been channeled through his wand. It partly explained the large amount of damage done to the wall. The second reason being that Harry had accidentally cast a dark arts spell that Rodolphus had taught him. The spell was intended for living beings, but Harry had been unwilling to practice casting it on Lestrange. Harry had practiced it by aiming at the wall separating their cells, so he knew what the effects looked like when cast on inanimate objects. He really hoped he was the only one. He could pass it off as a fluke; just a strong burst of energy. He’d rely on Snape’s low opinion of him to actually work in his favour for once.
Unfortunately, Harry saw the moment surprise turned to suspicion on the dour man’s face. Snape struggled to undo the damage. Harry didn’t feel much better when he chanced a glance around the room. Nott was watching Snape work with a thoughtful expression. Draco appeared worried as he kept glancing over to watch Harry. It made Harry’s stomach churn unpleasantly. He didn’t want to look unstable. He could feel many of his classmates’ stares on him for the rest of the class, which intensified when Snape finally gave up on fixing the wall and left some noticeable lines. When they were finally dismissed, Harry had to hold himself back from running out the door. He tried to look calm and collected as he packed up his things. Harry had mixed feeling when Nott complemented him with an “impressive” as they passed each other on the way out.
Harry was grateful that McGonagall wanted to see him after classes, as it gave him an excuse to avoid everyone without looking like he was running away. He wasn’t particularly proud of it, but he knew he was hiding away from them. He feared what new rumours would circulate about their Defense class. He knew even more intrusive questions were in his future.
His meeting with McGonagall unfolded in a similar manner as his meeting with Flitwick had. Harry was eager to show her that he was ready and willing to catch up. At first McGonagall was pleasantly surprised at Harry’s progress, but grew suspicious rather quickly. It annoyed Harry, but he couldn’t really blame her. Even before Hogwarts he hadn’t been the studious sort. One of his teachers had called him intellectually lazy. Most of his teachers had been annoyed with his spotty record with completing homework. It was a bit tough to do when locked in a dark cupboard. Harry tried to do as much as he could during his lunch hour at school. More often than not he had to rush through it to make sure he was able to hand in everything. Needless to say, Harry never developed any useful study habits. The Dursleys didn’t care about his grades beyond the fact that he had to do well enough so they wouldn’t be called in for a meeting with teachers.
This hadn’t changed much once he got to Hogwarts. Despite having the time and resources to do schoolwork properly, Harry preferred to learn more in class than out of it. Perhaps if he and Hermione had been close from the very start, she could have changed his habits. However, his closest friend from the beginning was Ron, who was just as ‘intellectually lazy’. Harry felt that had recently changed, but by now his habits were set. He assumed he had excelled with Lucius and the others because they had been teaching him themselves, answering all questions, and never once told him to read dry books on the subject.
Harry briefly considered telling McGonagall about his study sessions in Azkaban. However, Ron and Hermione’s shocked reactions did not bode well. It seemed like McGonagall, and by extension Dumbledore, would have a similar reaction. Harry didn’t want to deny his new friendships, but he held back. It had been a long day already and he had no desire to deal with the fallout of that on top of everything else. So, he strategically pretended to struggle with some spells. McGonagall seemed content overall. At the end of their meeting, she informed him that he only had to complete the missed assignments for the spells he’d ‘struggled’ with. Had Harry known this was her intention, he wouldn’t have pretended to struggle that much, suspicions be damned.
Afterwards he met up with Hermione in the library. He figured it was still the safest public place he could be in Hogwarts. Some students still watched him and a few others pretended to look at the shelves nearby but were clearly listening to his conversations. Luckily no one dared face Pince’s wrath by being too disruptive. Harry managed to finish a couple of his assignments before Ron found them and urged them to go for dinner.
“I think I’m going to get something from the kitchen instead,” Harry said once he was back in the noisy hallway.
“You sure?” asked Ron.
“You can’t avoid everyone forever,” Hermione added.
“I know. I just want to give it enough time for everyone to find something else to talk about than my stay in Azkaban,” Harry said, even though he privately thought avoiding the great hall permanently was a fantastic idea.
“We’ll go to the kitchen with you,” Ron offered.
“No, go ahead. Maybe you can tell everyone to piss off again,” Harry said with a smile.
“Sure mate,” Ron said. Harry was surprised that Hermione didn’t jump in to lecture them about abusing prefect privileges.
“I’m going to get my cloak too,” Harry decided. He’d very much like to regain the ability to move about without everyone’s eyes on him.
Ron told him the map and cloak were in the old DA room, hidden in one of the corners. Harry was a little worried that one of the other DA members might have found them, so he decided to go to the room of requirement before the kitchens. He waved goodbye to his friends before Hermione’s concern compelled her to meddle and force him to go with them.
No one stopped him on his way to the room of requirement. Fortunately, by the time he got there, there were no other students lingering about, so no one saw him sneak into the old DA room. He found the cloak and map where Ron said he’d left them and breathed a sigh of relief. He shoved both in his bag and took a few moments to enjoy the peace and quiet. As he glanced around the room, he thought it might be a good place to practice using magic with and without a wand.
Harry’s stomach growled, which he figured meant he should stop lingering in the room. He might be used to eating small meals, but the unhappy gurgling his stomach made let him know he needed to recharge. Harry decided he’d make good on his promise to get food from the kitchen.
He was only a few steps away from the room of requirement when he spotted Draco heading in his direction. His immediate happiness at seeing his crush faded quickly when he realized Draco was headed towards the room of requirement to continue with whatever it was he’d been doing all year.
“Hi,” he said, trying hard to remain neutral.
“What are you doing here?” Draco asked defensively.
“I’m not follow you,” Harry said quickly. “I was just avoiding the great hall.”
Draco lost the defensive look as he considered Harry’s word.
“They won’t let it go any time soon,” Draco warned. He said it in such a matter-of-fact tone that Harry didn’t take offense. He mostly just felt worried about the lingering stares, questions, and comments that he would have to continue to deal with indefinitely. Harry wondered how much Draco had dealt with after Lucius was arrested.
“Great,” he said morosely. He opened his mouth a few times as he attempted to add something to that, but nothing came out. A small blush started when he saw that Draco was staring at his mouth, noting Harry’s struggle.
There was an awkward pause.
“Thank you, again. For the letters,” Draco said.
“No problem,” Harry offered.
“Is it bad? Azkaban, I mean. I know people say it is, but is it... as bad as they say?” Draco asked.
Harry wasn’t sure how much he should share. He didn’t want to lie, but the truth wouldn’t comfort Draco. Plus, he didn’t know how much Lucius would want him to say. Lucius had always been Draco’s hero. Harry didn’t want to tarnish that by inadvertently giving the impression that the hardships of prison made Lucius weak. If anything, it was the opposite, but it was hard to explain the man’s strength without acknowledging what he was surviving through.
“It’s... mostly accurate... but your dad has an advantage. His, er, peacock,” Harry cringed as soon as it was out of his mouth. He was trying to be discrete in case someone was sneaking around nearby, like they had been doing all day. Instead, he just made it sound like he was using inappropriate euphemisms.
Mercifully, Draco snorted in amusement, so Harry relaxed.
“Does that make a difference?” Draco asked.
“For the most part. They, er, your dad, and er, the others, aren’t completely unaffected. But they do better than those that can’t... you know,” Harry explained. He left out the part where a dementor told him they can still sense smaller animals, but mostly left them alone because they were less appealing as meals.
“How... is-” Draco started but faltered and looked uneasy about whatever he wanted to ask. Harry waited for him to gather his thoughts. “He’s been there for months. People say... I’ve heard that it doesn’t take that long to... change...” Draco spoke in vague terms, but Harry knew what he meant. He too had heard horror stories about Azkaban long before he’d been sent there. Stories of people dying or going near catatonic after too much exposure to the dementors. Harry now wondered if the guards also played a hand in that. Sirius hadn’t talked about his experiences. The little he had shared with Harry hadn’t been good and Harry suspected that not much had changed in Azkaban over the past decade at least.
“It’s... he’s still, well, I don’t know how he was before. Not really. But he’s still all there. Like, mentally. He’s relatively healthy. Er, he lost weight, but he’s still eating!” Harry said. Despite not painting a good picture, he thought Draco looked less tense than he had a moment ago.
“I think it helps that they aren’t alone. The ministry has rounded up so many prisoners lately, that most of us are put next to someone else. Being able to talk to someone helps... you know?” Harry said. Draco nodded slowly.
“What do you talk about?” Draco asked. It was hard to imagine the dreary prison inspiring many interesting conversation topics.
“Your dad talked about you,” Harry said. Draco made a face, so Harry quickly added, “nothing embarrassing.” Except that wasn’t quite the truth. He wondered if Draco would be embarrassed to know Lucius spoke about his cute footy pajamas. It was the sort of thing Hermione or Ron might get embarrassed about. Harry just thought it showed how much Lucius cared about his son.
“He misses you and your mum... he gets this look whenever he’d talk about you. I don’t know, he just... stopped being a prisoner for a moment. That doesn’t make sense! It’s like...” Harry struggled with how to express it, but he tried because Draco hung to every word he said. “Thinking about you brought back all the good that Azkaban sucked out.”
“I...” Draco’s eyes teared up, and Harry panicked. He didn’t know why he always screwed things up so badly he made the people he fancied cry.
“I miss him too,” Draco said softly, but managed to keep his voice steady. “He... spoke about you too... in his letters,” Draco added.
“He did?” asked Harry in surprise.
“Yeah, he... likes you,” Draco said. Harry wanted to ask what exactly Lucius had said, but the blush that formed on Draco’s cheeks stopped him. Almost crying aside, the conversation was going remarkably well considering their history. Harry didn’t want to push and ruin it. He was happy enough to assume Lucius had written good things if Draco’s impression was that his dad liked him.
There was another awkward pause, and this one went on longer than the previous one. Harry desperately searched for something new to say but drew a blank.
“I need to...” Draco straightened his posture. Harry noted he was holding himself like Lucius had insisted Harry learn. “Thank you, Potter, for... everything. I do appreciate it, but I have to... go,” Draco said resolutely and looked towards the room of requirement.
Harry grit his teeth but didn’t stop Draco as he marched past him.
“Can I help?” Harry blurted just as Draco reached the entrance area. Draco turned back towards him with raised eyebrows.
“Not help, er, with whatever that is,” Harry clarified and gestured towards the room of requirement. As much as he liked the Malfoys, he wasn’t about to help Voldemort’s schemes. “I just mean...” Harry trailed off. The truth was he didn’t know what he meant. Unless Draco confided in him, Harry didn’t know enough about the situation to offer anything.
Draco watched him with a strange look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly snapped it shut again. He watched Harry fidget.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Draco eventually said. He stiffly walked back and forth in front of the room of requirement.
“I could-” Harry once again stalled on what he could offer. Draco let out a strained laugh and Harry cringed in response.
Draco frowned at the door that appeared in front of him. He grabbed the handle and stood there for a moment. “What I need is... I need my father,” Draco finally decided. The words just as much as his tone made it clear that whatever he’d been doing all year, it was out of Draco’s depth. With an almost savage strength, Draco opened the door, resolutely stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.
Harry stood frozen there for a long time, only snapping out of it at the sound of a stomach gurgle. After one last glance at the room, he turned and made his way to the kitchen.
Dobby greeted him before enthusiastically getting a small meal at Harry’s request. Harry was glad that Dobby didn’t ask about Azkaban beyond making sure that Harry was ok. The other elves mostly ignored him unless he spoke to them first. It was the most pleasant meal he’d had since being back at Hogwarts.
As he ate, Harry reflected on Draco’s words. He couldn’t get Lucius released from Azkaban since he didn’t have Hale’s skills. Perhaps there was something else he could do. Both at his trial and during his conversation with Dumbledore, Harry spoke of his desire to have better conditions for the prisoners. He wasn’t sure how to go about that, but perhaps he could think of ways to make their time in Azkaban less miserable. Perhaps Hermione would have ideas. Assuming Harry figured out a way to get her to care about the prisoners. She was a compassionate person. She wouldn’t have made SPEW if she wasn’t. However, she might be less sympathetic about helping a bunch of Death Eaters. Harry hoped to help all prisoners, but he knew Hermione would focus on the fact that mostly Death Eaters would benefit. Harry remembered the look she’d given him when he talked about the other prisoners. He would just have to count on her sense of justice outweighing her hatred and distrust of Death Eaters.
Just in case, Harry decided he should contact Hale for advice too. The man would be able to tell him about specific laws or policies that he should look into, or perhaps certain people he should talk to. Plus, the man had a remarkable ability to use words as a weapon. Maybe he would be willing to coach Harry on what to say when advocating for change.
Before Harry made it back to the Gryffindor common room, a younger student stopped him to say Dumbledore wanted to see him in his office. With a sigh, Harry changed direction.
The password had not changed during his imprisonment, so he didn’t have a convenient excuse to postpone whatever the meeting was about for another day.
“-unstable,” sneered Snape’s voice. Harry was able to hear it from the other side of Dumbledore’s door. He stopped to listen to the conversation instead of letting them know he was there.
“That’s an exaggeration, Severus. He has been doing remarkably well considering,” McGonagall said.
“Yes, so well that he compromised the school’s foundation. There are still cracks where Potter caused the most damage,” snapped Snape.
“You said yourself that it wasn’t intentional,” McGonagall returned.
“You’re supporting my point, Minerva. If the boy cannot get a handle on his emotions-”
“One moment,” Dumbledore cut it. “Perhaps Harry has something to contribute to this conversation.”
The door swung open to reveal Harry standing at the top of the staircase. Snape sneered at him, but Dumbledore offered Harry a seat before Snape could say anything scathing about Harry eavesdropping.
“How was your first day back, my boy?” Dumbledore asked.
“Fine,” Harry said as neutrally as he could given Snape was trying to get him in trouble.
“Permanently damaging school property isn’t fine, Potter,” Snape said. Harry was surprised that Snape hadn’t been able to undo all of the damage. On the one hand, Harry hoped that meant Snape was unaware of the spell he’d used. On the other hand, Harry did feel bad for damaging the school. He couldn’t offer to fix it though. Snape wouldn’t believe Harry capable of something he couldn’t manage. And Harry wasn’t telling him his outburst had been a dark arts spell, even if that knowledge could fix the wall.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, but directed the apology towards Dumbledore and McGonagall.
“No real harm done-” said Dumbledore.
“This time,” muttered Snape.
“-but Professor Snape has expressed some concern that we’ve been too hasty with having you return to your classes,” Dumbledore explained. Harry frowned.
“It was an accident. I was startled,” Harry said.
“Potter, you’ve just returned from Azkaban. You shouldn’t return to classes until we’ve evaluated what you can handle,” Snape insisted.
“And yet, you were happy giving me only this weekend to catch up with all my missed Defense assignments,” Harry couldn’t help but snap back. Snape narrowed his eyes.
“If you’re saying you can’t handle it...” Snape hedged.
“It’s fine,” Harry grumbled. He would do the work, but was annoyed by Snape’s hypocrisy.
“He has done well in all of his classes today. You heard Filius at dinner. The man was praising Mr. Potter’s resilience,” McGonagall interfered before Harry and Snape could start bickering. Harry wondered if Flitwick had actually been that complimentary or if McGonagall was playing it up for Harry’s benefit now.
“And you, Minerva? How do you feel Harry has adjusted to being back?” asked Dumbledore.
“He has made remarkable progress in catching up with his studies so far. I’m sure with Miss Granger’s continued support, he will be back on par with his peers soon,” McGonagall said. Harry was conflicted. He appreciated her confidence in him, but was annoyed that she contributed most of his success to Hermione. He might have relied on Hermione in the past, but he was trying to improve his own skills now. It hurt that McGonagall assumed all progress he’d make would be mostly Hermione’s doing.
Snape also wasn’t content with McGonagall’s answer, but for different reasons.
“Be that as it may, it is too soon to have Potter return. He should be barred from classes until we’re all certain he’s ready to return,” Snape insisted.
“And what exactly am I supposed to do until you decide I’m ready?” asked Harry sharply. He knew Snape would take his time in declaring Harry fit. If the man suggested Harry return to the tender loving care of the Dursleys in the meantime, there was going to be another ‘accidental’ crack in the wall. Preferably right above Snape’s head.
“Heal,” Snape sneered.
Harry was taken aback, not expecting that, especially from his dour professor. The other professors gave Harry time to mull over the suggestion.
“What do you want to do?” asked Dumbledore after a minute. Harry didn’t need to think it over, but he pretended to and hoped that would satisfy them.
“I want to attend my classes,” Harry said. Honestly, he would be happy to skip Snape’s class but he knew this was an all or nothing scenario. Harry kept his voice steady as he plead his case.
“There isn’t really that much time left in the school year. I don’t want to fall behind if I take even more time, er, away,” Harry stated and hoped that appealed to the professors. McGonagall looked as if she agreed, but Snape looked unhappy. Of course, Snape was the perfect example of ‘Resting Bitch Face’. No surprise there.
“The wall was a fluke. I was surprised. It won’t happen again,” Harry added.
“Minerva? As his head of house, what do you recommend?” Dumbledore asked.
“I saw no cause for concern today,” she responded. Snape made a tisk noise. Harry had never been more happy that he hadn’t been sorted into Snape’s house.
“Then Harry will continue with his classes,” Dumbledore determined.
“At least have a mind healer come talk to Potter,” Snape insisted, not ready to give up yet.
“I don’t need a mind healer,” Harry bristled.
“Potter, you need to speak to someone about your trauma,” Snape insisted as he looked down his nose at Harry.
“I’m fine,” Harry insisted. He wouldn’t put it past Snape to bribe a healer to say Harry was unfit for school just so Snape could get Harry kicked out like he’s always wanted.
“Pott-”
“I don’t need to talk,” Harry insisted. Snape turned to appeal to the headmaster.
“He will continue with his classes. For now, we won’t ask a mind healer to come,” Dumbledore said while Snape’s frown grew more pronounced. “However, we will revisit this decision should any other professors share Professor Snape’s concerns.”
Harry clenched his jaw but didn’t respond. He couldn’t exactly be happy with Dumbledore’s decision because it meant that all of his professors would now watch him closely and wait for him to screw up.
“You know you can always come to me if you need to talk,” McGonagall offered. Harry nodded but privately thought he hadn’t seen McGonagall as someone to confide in since first year.
They let Harry leave shortly after. He was tired by the time he got to the common room. He wanted nothing more than to sleep the rest of the day away, but since he no longer could sleep, he had no escape. Harry debated pretending to go to sleep just avoid everyone, but as soon as he spotted his friends, he knew they weren’t done with him yet.
“Where have you been?” asked Ron.
“Dumbledore’s office,” Harry said with a sigh and sat down beside him.
“Was it for... you know,” asked Hermione. She could not outright ask if it was related to Voldemort because of the crowded room. She frowned when she spotted Romilda Vane nearby, obviously listening in. Hermione cast a privacy spell with a glare.
“No. Snape wanted to kick me out after what happened in his class,” Harry explained. He felt vindicated at their outraged expressions. He relayed the whole conversation when they prompted him too.
“And now Snape is trying to get a mind healer to say I’m unfit for school,” Harry grumbled.
“What an arse,” Ron said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Harry responded.
“But... would it be so bad talking to a mind healer?” asked Hermione. “Not to get to kicked out, obviously, but to talk about what happened...”
“I don’t need a mind healer, Hermione,” Harry insisted. Hermione fidgeted.
“Ok... ok, but don’t get mad. I was doing some research, and, well Harry, mind healers can help you after what you’ve been through. It’s not a weakness to see one. Oh Harry, after everything-” Hermione pleaded earnestly.
“I know it’s not a weakness to need a mind healer, but I don’t,” Harry asserted again.
“Ok... but would you please take these,” Hermione said and riffled through her bag until she pulled out a stack of pamphlets. “Just – just in case you change your mind.”
Harry accepted the bundle Hermione gave him with an ungracious “fine”. He flipped through them, noting some contained contact information on healers or health centers. Others were informational brochures about the different types of therapy, or covered various kinds of trauma. When Harry got to a booklet that centered on sexual assault, he instinctively crushed it in his fist.
“Harry?” asked Hermione.
“I’m fine. I’m going to go get some books from my room and start on the assignments I got today,” he said. He took a few minutes away from them to calm down, but was still annoyed that Ron and Hermione immediately cut off their conversation when he rejoined them. It didn’t take a genius to know they’d been talking about him.
Harry started with the transfiguration work. If McGonagall was going to be the deciding factor on whether or not he was allowed to go to his classes, then he had to make sure he impressed her. He allowed Hermione to review his essays. She corrected a few grammatical errors but found nothing wrong with the content itself.
Slowly the common room emptied out as students retired for the night. Hermione was the last to leave him. Harry told her he wanted to finish at least one more assignment before going to bed. Knowing exactly how many Harry had, she didn’t argue but asked that he go to sleep soon with a worried look on her face.
Harry felt he made good progress on the assignments, but he hadn’t finished them all. He knew even more were in store for him after tomorrow’s classes. He was irritated that the professors hadn’t spoken to each other about assigning a reasonable workload. If Harry had the luxury of sleeping, he didn’t know how he would have gotten through them all. He didn’t want to agree with Snape, but pre-Azkaban Harry would have been overwhelmed.
Harry grabbed a book to lookup a spell and jostled the pamphlets Hermione had given him. One fell to the floor. Harry was about to toss it back with the others but stopped when he noticed its subject. This one was about the difficulties many prisoners face once they were released. Harry thought it might be muggle in origin, but many points likely applied to wizards as well. After he read through it, he realized he had not asked Hermione to help him develop a plan to get some positive changes for the prisoners in Azkaban.
Harry grabbed a blank parchment and wrote out a brief letter for Hale. He wrote how he desired to make some changes to Azkaban, but explained he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He requested any advice Hale was willing to offer. Once he was satisfied with his letter, he packed away the rest of his school stuff. He figured there was no reason not to mail it immediately. He gathered his cloak and snuck out of the common room. He just hoped Hale would still be supportive even though he was no longer being paid to be his judicial-wizard.