Chapter 2
On Thursday morning, Harry woke up feeling peculiarly well-rested. He lay on his back for a while, trying in vain to recollect his dream.
Then he remembered: he’d taken a swallow of Dreamless Sleep the night before. Blindly, Harry grabbed for his glasses that were placed on the nightstand, put them on, and cast Tempus to check the time. It was seven thirty which meant that breakfast had just started, and one and a half hours remained until his first class.
Harry got out slowly from under the covers and took a moment to stretch his arms above his head.
Only Neville seemed to be up already as his bed was neatly done (thanks to the house elves, Harry knew) and his shoes weren’t anywhere to be seen. The curtains around Ron’s and Seamus’ beds, on the other hand, were still closed; this wasn’t a surprise considering that most Gryffindors rarely got out of bed before eight. Over the years, Harry himself had frequently missed breakfast because he’d had to go straight to class to avoid being tardy.
There was one more bed in Gryffindor eighth year boys’ dormitory – this bed would belong to Dean Thomas if the dark-skinned boy was here to claim it. Having asked Seamus earlier, Harry knew that Dean had decided to pass up this last year at Hogwarts in order to start working as an independent painter.
Casting a final glance at his timetable, Harry packed his bag with necessary schoolbooks and exited the dormitory.
On his way out of the Gryffindor common room, which was expectedly void of students, his gaze involuntarily went to the couch he’d shared with Ginny two nights before. He looked away quickly – it wasn’t really something he wanted to think about.
In the Great Hall, the enticing smell of food had his stomach growling. The dishes were laid out on the four long House tables, from piles of sausages, to rashers of bacon, to scrambled eggs in large bowls, to cornflakes, and steaming porridge. About one-third of the student body were already present, mostly from the Ravenclaw and Slytherin Houses. Pretending not to notice that his entrance had caused a hush, Harry made his way over to Neville who he’d spotted sitting alone at the Gryffindor table.
“Hullo, Harry,” said Neville once Harry sat opposite him. Neville had barely spared him a glance though, so fervently was he stuffing his mouth with food.
“Hey, Neville, what’s the rush? Don’t you have a free period now?” Harry asked him curiously – Neville didn’t take Advanced Transfiguration which was the Gryffindor eighth-years’ first class of the day.
Neville nodded eagerly. “Yeah, but –” he swallowed his mouthful of porridge, “– I’ve got to go to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout said she wants me to be her apprentice this term... Can you believe it, Harry? Me! I’m rather hoping it’ll be longer than just one term...”
“But that’s great, Neville! Well done – if anyone deserves it, it’s you!” Neville blushed at the praise, and Harry hefted a sausage onto his plate. “Honestly, I didn’t even know you could do an apprenticeship at Hogwarts,” he admitted.
“Yeah, I didn’t know, either,” said Neville. “But apparently, professors sometimes offer it to seventh-years and graduates who want to go into teaching... usually it’s for Herbology, COMC, or Potions. Ginny told me that her brother Charlie was once offered apprenticeship in COMC, but he refused – went to work with dragons, instead... Me, though – I really want to be a teacher. According to Professor McGonagall, I’ve got to obtain at least three N.E.W.T.s to teach here, at Hogwarts, which isn’t so bad, I don’t think...”
Harry remembered that during the Death Eaters’ reign of Hogwarts, it was Neville (alongside Ginny and Luna Lovegood) who had led Dumbledore’s Army. Knowing that, Harry wasn’t very surprised at Neville’s newly developed leadership qualities and passion for teaching.
“So, what do you do in this apprenticeship, anyway?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m just starting today, so, er, I’m not completely sure, either... I’ve got second year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws now, and then the Gryffindor-Slytherin group right after...” Around them, more and more students were bustling about, talking noisily. Neville started a bit. “Oh, blimey, what time is it? I’ve got to run! See you later, Harry!” he called as he ran off.
Harry was waving him goodbye, when he spotted Ron in the gaggle of students entering the Great Hall. He raised his arm higher in order to get his friend’s attention, though Ron was already heading his way.
“Mate, you’re up early,” said Ron with an accusing undertone. He took the seat Neville had just vacated. “You’re not turning into Hermione, are you? She wakes up at, like, half six!”
“I’m not turning into Hermione,” countered Harry. “How do you even know at what time Hermione wakes up? Er, never mind... Where is she, anyway?”
“That’s just it! I haven’t got a clue. I barely even saw her yesterday.”
Since Hermione had frequently disappeared like this in the past (usually to raid the library) Harry wasn’t overly concerned. Evidently, neither was Ron who for the next several minutes scarcely raised his head from his breakfast.
Because of Ron’s insatiable appetite, he and Harry were among the last students to leave the Great Hall that morning. In the end, Hermione hadn’t made an appearance at breakfast – Harry and Ron headed to Transfiguration without her.
“I bet she’s already there,” said Ron, paying more attention to his abandoned plate than to Hermione. “Went without breakfast, ‘cause she thought she wouldn’t make it to class on time or something...”
However, when they got to Transfiguration, Hermione was still nowhere to be seen.
Even though eighth year students from all four Houses took Advanced courses together, only thirteen (of those who had returned to Hogwarts) had managed to continue Transfiguration. Aside from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, there was Parvati Patil from Gryffindor, five Ravenclaws, and three Hufflepuffs. In the corner, Harry spotted Malfoy leaning back in his chair, looking out the window – he was the only Slytherin in the class.
Harry and Ron took their usual seats near the back of the classroom. They barely had time to take out their books before Professor McGonagall swept inside, telling them to be quiet and beginning the lesson.
As it had turned out, there were now two Transfiguration professors: Professor McGonagall who taught students above O.W.L level, and Professor Septima Vector who took over the younger years. Apart from the fact that she was also an Arithmancy teacher, Harry didn’t know much about Professor Vector – only that, according to Hermione, she was strict and excelled at both her own subject and Transfiguration.
About ten minutes into the lesson, Hermione finally turned up. She looked unkempt and a bit pale.
With merely one look Professor McGonagall silenced her profuse apologies, and then, only docking five points from Gryffindor, ordered her to sit down. Harry and Ron exchanged glances as Hermione took her seat – neither of them remembered the last time she’d come to class late.
They didn’t risk a conversation just yet, though, because as always during Professor McGonagall’s lecture, the students were so quiet that only the sound of quills scribbling on parchment could be heard. Harry and Ron finally got a chance to talk to her when the practical part of the lesson began.
“Hermione, are you alright? You look a fright!” cried Ron with his usual lack of tact.
“Thank you, Ron, I didn’t notice,” snapped Hermione, angrily turning her back to them.
Ron looked bemused as his eyes caught Harry’s, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
For the next few minutes, they worked in uncomfortable silence, trying to turn sugar bowls into cats, and the other way round. Even Hermione, in her clearly sleep-deprived state, was having trouble and only managed to give her sugar bowl a cat tail.
Remarkably, it was Ron who seemed to make the biggest breakthrough – after a particularly vicious swish of Ron’s wand, his sugar bowl grew fluffy brown fur and developed three legs. Thusly appendaged, the bowl was immediately spurred into action, jumping off from the desk and taking off. With a quiet swearword, Ron raced after it.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione spoke, “Harry, I talked to Ginny.”
In response Harry nearly dropped his wand. “Oh,” he breathed as he regained his hold on it. “So, er, how is she?”
“Rather devastated, actually,” sighed Hermione. She waited for a moment before speaking again. “Harry, look at me.” He did, after a second’s pause. “Ginny told me everything. I know what happened between you two... and that you’re –” he widened his eyes in a warning, “– well, that you don’t like her that way,” she finished lamely.
Harry deflated a little as he looked away – he’d been rather hoping Ginny hadn’t shared that bit with Hermione. He cast a sweeping glance around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers, but then he cast a Muffliato, just in case.
“I’m not angry with you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking, by the way,” whispered Hermione, moving a little closer and pretending to be focusing on her sugar bowl. “But Ginny took it quite hard, you know... Came to my dormitory at three in the morning and cried for some hours...”
Harry realised it was probably the reason Hermione looked like she hadn’t slept a wink – she’d been up all night, consoling Ginny. Inexplicably, he felt a spark of anger.
“If you’re trying to guilt me into getting back with –”
“Oh, Harry, no, of course I’m not,” interjected Hermione. “Stop being silly – you asked me how she was, and I told you. Okay? I’m concerned about you both.”
Harry nodded, though with some hesitation. “Yeah... Sorry, I’m being a prat.” Above Hermione’s shoulder, he noticed Ron approaching, and quickly added, “Listen, Hermione... Can you not tell anyone? About me and stuff... Please, Hermione, not even Ron...”
She squeezed his forearm. “Sure, Harry,” she said just as Ron reached their table with his furry sugar bowl in his arms.
After that conversation, Hermione’s foul mood seemed to have improved. Before the end of the lesson, she even transfigured her sugar bowl into an exemplary cat (if a bit fat) earning Gryffindor the five points she had lost earlier.
Although Harry had made little progress with his own sugar bowl, he felt a little relieved; Hermione knew, and she didn’t mind! She didn’t look at him differently, or called him names! Harry hadn’t really believed she would do any of those things, but the fear had been there nonetheless. He’d grown up in a household where homosexuality was something of a taboo subject, and when it was mentioned, it was regarded as a disgusting disease. Uncle Vernon had even made some threatening remarks to Harry on several occasions, making it clear that nancy-boys were not welcome in his house.
While Harry wasn’t exactly sure what his preferences were yet, he was quite certain they didn’t involve Ginny. It was a bit sad, but if there had been any sexual attraction he felt towards her, it had died early on in their relationship.
Transfiguration was followed by Charms on the third floor, which meant that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had to clamber up the stairs. Harry had taken to walk as fast as he could during these fifteen-minute breaks between classes, and he frequently looked over his shoulder. The reason for this was simple: it was during the breaks that he was most often harassed by admirers.
Upon reaching the Charms corridor, Harry realised in his rush to escape the attention he’d lost Ron and Hermione. Moreover, it appeared he couldn’t avoid the spotlight completely. There, in front of the Charms classroom, a group of young girls were already gazing in his direction, giggling and whispering among themselves.
“Hi, Harry,” one of the girls said in a flirtatious tone once he was near. “I heard you broke up with Ginny Weasley – is that true?”
Harry sighed with some resignation. “Sorry, I’ve got to get to class, so...”
“Because if it is, I could help you out... I’ve got experience. I know how to use my mouth and body, if you catch my drift...”
Pausing in mid-step, Harry turned to look at the girl incredulously. She seemed to be no older than fifteen years old; had she seriously just propositioned him? Judging by the coy, suggestive smile on her face, she had. Her friends didn’t appear to find anything strange about that, either.
“Er, no, thanks,” he mumbled as he quickly walked around the girls, to the safety of the classroom.
He couldn’t believe that had just happened – did that girl have no dignity? How could she be that bold? And what had she meant by experience? She was probably even younger than fifteen!
Harry sat in his customary chair by the window, more than a little disturbed. Malfoy would have been in stitches if he’d witnessed that scene, Harry was just sure of it.
Thankfully, Malfoy didn’t take Advanced Charms, and therefore he was nowhere in the vicinity. As Harry stared out the window, leaning his elbow on the desk and his face on his hand, he was surprised to actually find Malfoy outside, on the grounds. His white-blond hair was unmistakable, but Harry frowned as he watched him. Was it really Malfoy out there, in dirt-stained clothes, standing beside a horse? Harry squinted, looking closer; it was Malfoy, alright. However, when Malfoy and the animal started walking, Harry noticed that it wasn’t a horse but a Thestral, and Malfoy was leading it by the reins. He leaned out in his chair to have a better view – Malfoy and the Thestral were moving out of sight, into the concealment of a dense stand of trees.
“Bloody moving staircases!” a voice exclaimed, making Harry start. He looked up at Ron and Hermione who were taking their own seats at the desk. “It dropped us off on some island of a platform, and then we had to wait ages before a different staircase picked us up!” ranted Ron.
Hermione seemed equally peeved. “Nearly came to class late,” she grumbled. In Hermione’s books, tardiness, especially twice in the same day, was evidently unacceptable. “Speaking of, it’s strange... I could swear we passed Professor Flitwick just outside the classroom. I wonder where...”
“Right here, Miss Granger, right here,” squeaked Professor Flitwick as he trotted past their desk.
While Ron’s shoulders shook in silent laughter, Hermione was so mortified she looked close to tears. Harry was too distracted to pay them much attention, though. He turned his head back to the window, trying to detect Malfoy’s bright hair behind the screen of trees. His survey went without success – Malfoy was already gone.
Settling back into his chair, Harry contemplated what he’d just seen. He was quite certain the Thestrals on the Hogwarts grounds lived in the Forbidden Forest. Why then was Malfoy walking with one outside the Forest, in plain view? Was he planning to leave the grounds on it? Harry knew it was possible as he’d done it before, along with Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, and Neville. Just what was Malfoy playing at now? Harry had thought he’d changed, but obviously he was wrong. Malfoy was clearly plotting something again.
Harry was making up different reasons for which Malfoy would need a Thestral, when Hermione elbowed him in the side. “Pay attention, Harry!” she hissed at him before she went back to taking notes.
Massaging his bruised ribs, Harry decided to obey her.
For the first forty-five minutes, Professor Flitwick had them practise the non-verbal Summoning Spell they had covered in sixth year and revised last class. Nobody seemed to have much trouble with it, except for Hannah Abbott. Instead of summoning a roll of parchment, as they had been instructed to do, Hannah’s non-verbal casting kept extracting books from the stack on which Professor Flitwick was perched.
When Professor Flitwick emerged for the third time after toppling out of sight, he squeaked that everybody, more or less, mastered the spell. (Hannah was advised to practise more in her free time.)
The class got less exciting after that. Professor Flitwick began a lecture about the Fixing Charm, which Harry found incredibly boring. His thoughts started circling about Malfoy again, and then about the awkward situation with Ginny. He wondered if Ginny had told anyone besides Hermione about their split-up. He hoped she at least hadn’t blabbed why it had happened...
With his mind completely elsewhere, Harry didn’t notice when he’d put his head in his arms. A lazy glance towards Professor Flitwick told him that he was safe from being reprimanded. He sighed into his arm and let his eyes close. He felt so comfortable in his seat, with the sunlight warming his back... And Ginny – she was still his friend... How could he have thought she would betray him? There was obviously nothing to worry about... He felt so light and content...
Harry was floating. He was sailing in the air, slowly and steadily moving up and forward... And then down, and down, and Harry tightened his grip on... something before he was picked up by the wind again. He realised he was holding an open umbrella – it was keeping him up, letting him be propelled along by the wind. With a look down, Harry found he was drifting above hard ridges of a canyon, but he wasn’t afraid. He was safe, safer than he’d ever been... Another gentle breeze, and he was raised higher and higher... And what a wonderful feeling it was, to be propelled upward without doing any work, without making any decisions... He could be floating like that endlessly...
“...ry! Harry! Will you wake up already!”
“Hmmm...?” Harry mumbled as he peeled his eyes open. Someone was shaking his shoulder. “H’mione?”
“Oh, finally!” huffed Hermione. “We’ve been trying to rouse you forever. How could you have fallen asleep in class?”
“Give him a break, Hermione,” Ron’s voice said. “It was a boring lesson. I could barely stay awake myself...”
A slap was delivered to the back of Harry’s head, and he jumped up in his seat. “Ouch... What was that for, Hermione?”
She looked slightly concerned now. “Well, you looked like you would kip again, so I... Are you alright, Harry? It really was a while before you woke up...”
Taking a look around, Harry realised there was no one else in the classroom – even Professor Flitwick had left. “Yeah, yeah, ’m fine... just a nice dream, is all...”
“Ah,” said Ron with a knowing grin. “I hear you, mate – we all get those, don’t we? Eh?” And he proceeded to heartily thump Harry on the back.
“Yeah,” said Harry as he moved out of Ron’s reach. “Look, why don’t we just go to lunch? Don’t know about you two, but I’m starving.”
“Oh, are you?” chortled Ron. “That dream tire you out that much, eh?”
“Shut up, Ron, and go back to the cave you came from,” said Hermione. “Harry wasn’t having that kind of dream.”
“And how could you know that?” returned Ron. “We’re teenage boys, Hermione – come on! Actually, I bet you have dreams like that too, and you’re a girl.”
Red-faced, Hermione gaped at him in outrage. “Ron! God, you are such a... Argh!” And she stomped out of the classroom.
“What?” Ron said to Harry, looking clueless. “What did I say this time?”
“I wouldn’t know, Ron,” said Harry as he discreetly rolled his eyes. “But at least this time you noticed she’s a girl, right?”
“What d’you mean? I’ve noticed that ages ago!”
Harry just sighed, lumbering out after Hermione, with Ron following at his heels.