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Author: Delylah Story: Harry Potter and the Deadly Deception Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 2 Words: 61,877
"Haaarrryyy...." Harry looked around for the voice calling him. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He was blind.... No, that wasn't right. It was the moonlight. He was outside, and the light of the moon was so bright it was blinding him. He gazed up at it, squinting and shielding his eyes against the glare. It shouldn't be this bright.... Why couldn't he see? "Haaarrryyy...." The voice again. He would follow, if only he could see. He stumbled blindly, one arm shielding his eyes and the other thrust before him to feel for obstacles. There were trees; he was in a forest somewhere. "Harry!" He recognized the voice this time. It was Ginny. She needed him. He began crashing through the forest as quickly as he could, both arms out before him, squinting against the light of the moon. He didn't understand why it was so bright. It hurt to open his eyes. "Harry, please!" "I'm coming! Where are you?" he shouted, but she didn't answer him. He ran faster; he had to get to her. Suddenly, he stumbled, but as he tumbled headlong to the ground, an arm caught him. "Harry?" It was Ron. "What are you doing here, mate?" "I...I have to.... Didn't you hear her?" Harry was still squinting, but the moonlight seemed to be dimming somewhat. He could make out the features of Ron's face. "Yeah, I heard her. And I tell you what...you stay away from her. She doesn't need you. None of us do. You're a liar, and a Slytherin. The Sorting Hat was right about you. She doesn't want to see you. None of us ever want to see you again." Ron shoved him backwards, hard. "Stop it! You don't understand!" Harry shouted. "You're right. We don't," Hermione said. "But here, have a butterbeer anyway." She had materialized next to Ron and was walking towards Harry, an open bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Harry realized he was incredibly thirsty. He took the bottle from her and drank deeply. As he swallowed the last drop, Hermione began to laugh. "What's so funny?" he asked. "You. You're so stupid, Harry. How was the butterbeer?" Harry suddenly felt a familiar cold creeping over his body. He could hardly draw a breath. "Harry, do you feel all right?" Ginny asked him, standing where Hermione had been just a moment before. "Ginny...help...please!" he pleaded, reaching for her. "I can't..." she whispered, and tears began to trickle down her face as she laughed. "Leave us alone!" Ron shouted, and he shoved Harry backwards again. Harry found himself falling into a grave that had been dug in the forest.... WHUMP! Harry's eyes popped open, and he had the sensation that he had just fallen onto his bed from midair, as if he had been levitating in his sleep. His heart was racing, and his pajamas were soaked with sweat. He was momentarily confused when he saw green and silver drapes around his bed rather than the familiar scarlet and gold. Then he remembered, and he closed his eyes in resignation. This was the Slytherin dormitory. His new home. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch at the thought. Harry heard a soft hooting and turned to see Hedwig perched on the headboard next to him. She flapped softly down to the mattress and nipped at his hair, as she was fond of doing. Harry thought he could see a look of concern in the owl's eyes. He wondered if he had been talking in his sleep and was glad that he had cast a silencing charm around his bed the night before. "Good morning," he whispered and stroked the top of the owl's head. He wondered how long she had been perched on the headboard. It gave him comfort to know that she was watching over him. She hooted softly once more. Harry knew she was likely to be hungry, and he was running low on owl treats. "I'll take you up to the Owlery in a few minutes," he promised her. "I need to get dressed first." It was early yet, and Harry was the only one awake, which suited him fine. He gathered some clothes and toiletries, then hurried to the bathroom. Within ten minutes, he was showered and dressed. He returned to the dormitory long enough to retrieve his rucksack and Hedwig and was relieved to find that his roommates were all still sleeping. Harry made several wrong turns in the dungeons on his way to the Owlery. Twice he wound up back at the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and once he found himself at the door to Snape's office. Horrified, he turned and walked quickly back the way he had come. The last person he wanted to run into was Snape. Finally, he found his way to the ground floor of the castle and from there proceeded without incident to the base of the West Tower, the top of which housed the Owlery. By the time he had released Hedwig and bid her farewell, the rest of the castle was stirring. He met several other students, three Ravenclaws and a couple of Hufflepuffs, on the way to the Great Hall. He nodded politely, but was again met with odd stares, just as in the Slytherin common room the previous evening. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would allow him to attend his classes wearing his father's Invisibility Cloak. Upon arriving at the Great Hall, Harry was glad to see that there were only a handful of students present. He chose a seat at the end of the Slytherin table nearest the entrance to the Hall and halfheartedly filled his plate with bacon, eggs and toast. He rummaged around in his rucksack and retrieved the timetable he had only briefly glanced at the day before. His heart sank as he realized his first class of the day was Potions. "Rough way to start out the week, isn't it?" Harry was startled to hear a voice over his shoulder, but he didn't need a glimpse of blond hair to know it was Malfoy reading his timetable over his shoulder. "It's never been my favorite subject," he answered noncommittally. "Don't worry," Malfoy said. "Snape is our head of house. He's a complete git, but he's not as hard on us as he is everyone else. The good thing is, he only accepts people with at least half a brain in his advanced classes. Just being able to get in means you'll do all right. At least this year we won't be stuck with the entire Gryffindor class. Incompetent, the lot of them. Except maybe for Granger, but Mudbloods don't count." Harry's fists clenched, and he stood up from the table to stand face to face with Malfoy. He had to struggle to contain his temper. "Don't ever use that word in my hearing again. It offends me," he said in a stony voice. The smirk faded from Malfoy's face, replaced by confusion. "What word?" he demanded. "Mudblood. My mother was a Muggle-born witch," Harry said furiously. Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Really? And what if I told you that I'll say whatever I bloody well please and there's nothing you can do about it?" Harry smiled coldly. "Then I'd say that nothing would please me more than to wipe the floor with you." Before Malfoy could even blink, Harry had slid his wand out of his robes and was tapping it slowly against his palm. Malfoy stepped back in surprise, and anger flared in his eyes. For a moment, Harry wondered if "Evan Jameson" would soon be ending his short Hogwarts career by engaging in a duel in the middle of the Great Hall. Suddenly, Malfoy laughed. "You've got a bit of nerve, haven't you, Jameson? I like that." He started to step around Harry, who stepped in his way again. "I want an apology," Harry said quietly. Malfoy's face darkened. When he spoke, his voice was low and had an edge to it. "You're new here, and Snape frowns upon fighting within the house, so I'll cut you some slack. I offer my apologies to the memory of your mother. I assume she must be dead, as you spoke of her in the past tense." Harry nodded brusquely, and Malfoy continued. "I warn you now, though, don't push me. You'll regret it." Harry stood his ground. "Keep in mind what I said, and we won't have a problem." Malfoy nodded. "Fine. We understand each other, then." Harry stepped aside to allow him to pass, but Malfoy stopped him. "I'll show you the way to Snape's office after breakfast. He wants to meet with you before class." Without waiting for a reply, Malfoy strode off towards the middle of the table, where Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle now awaited him. As Harry turned back to his seat, his gaze fell on the High Table at the front of the Hall to find that Dumbledore and Snape had both arrived and had witnessed the exchange. When neither of them beckoned him forward, he breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his meal. He wasn't surprised to find that his food had grown cold, but he didn't bother replacing it, as he was no longer hungry—early morning encounters with Malfoy had a negative effect on his appetite. Instead, he pulled out his Potions text and began reading. He had nothing better to do, and he couldn't afford to blow Potions this year. A N.E.W.T. in Potions was mandatory in order to apply for Auror training, which Harry, now more than ever, was determined to do. Twenty minutes later, Malfoy tapped him on the shoulder and nodded his head at the door. Harry gathered his books into his rucksack and swung it across his shoulder, then followed Malfoy out of the Hall. As they walked out, Malfoy nearly ran over Ginny Weasley, who was walking with Dean Thomas. "Watch where you're going, Malfoy," she tossed over her shoulder, but then she paused in her stride as she noticed who Malfoy was walking with. Harry watched several emotions play over her face: surprise, dismay and resignation. "Evan," she said and nodded in his direction. He returned the nod but couldn't bring himself to say her name. "Come on, Ginny. We don't have much time," Dean said, while tugging gently on the sleeve of her robes. Without another word, Ginny followed Dean to the Gryffindor table. Harry continued towards the dungeons with Malfoy, forcing himself not to look back at her. "Do you know her?" Malfoy asked him. "Met her on the train," Harry replied tersely. "I'd stay away from her, if I were you. Slytherins don't consort with Weasleys. Besides, her brother is the thickest prat you've ever seen. He hears you've been speaking to his sister and he's liable to have a go at you; he's that stupid." "I can take care of myself," Harry retorted. "Didn't say you couldn't, but don't say I didn't warn you. They're not worth bothering with, anyway, the lot of them. They're Mug—" Malfoy began, then stopped. Harry knew what he had been about to say and was surprised that he had stopped himself. "They're what?" Harry asked. "Most decidedly poor, that's what," Malfoy sneered. "Are you always this much of a snob?" Harry asked in a tone of disgust. "I'm a Malfoy. It's what we do," Malfoy said, as if it were the same as having blond hair or a pointy chin. "Come on, Snape's office is this way." They wandered through the maze of corridors that led to the Potions dungeon. Harry hated it down here. It was dark and dank and smelled of standing water and fungi, just like any dungeon he'd ever imagined when he had read about them in fairy tales as a child. Only Snape could be happy in an office that was located in a dungeon, Harry thought. Finally, they had reached the Potions master's office. Malfoy knocked sharply on the door. "Enter," called a voice from within. Malfoy opened the door and walked into the room, followed by Harry. Snape was busy scribbling on a piece of parchment. He did not acknowledge their presence. Harry waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, until Snape finished what he was writing and looked up at them. "Malfoy, take this," he commanded and gave Malfoy his professor's edition of the sixth-year Potions text. "Collect the ingredients for sneezing powder from the storeroom. Take your seat when you're finished, and make certain the rest of the class does as well. I'll only be a few moments." "Yes, sir," Malfoy replied and walked through another door that led to the Potions classroom. Snape seemed to be the only person at Hogwarts who commanded any kind of respect from Malfoy. It amazed Harry to no end. "Mr. Jameson," Snape said, finally acknowledging Harry. He sounded like someone who had detected a bad odor in the room. "Professor Snape," Harry answered neutrally. Harry had hoped that since the professor had taken measures to save Harry's life, they might make an attempt to be civil to one another. Apparently, that was not to be the case. Harry wondered why the man had even bothered. Snape likely could have killed Harry instead of faking his death, and no one would have been the wiser. "I want to make it very clear that your circumstances do not entitle you to any kind of special treatment from me. I expect nothing less than Outstanding work at all times from my sixth- and seventh-year students. I am astounded that you scored high enough on your Potions O.W.L. to be admitted to this class. You will perform to my highest level of expectation or you will find yourself permanently dismissed from my class so fast that your head will spin. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jameson?" Snape asked icily. "Completely, Professor Snape," Harry answered, struggling to keep his ire in check. "Very well. You may go." Harry turned from Snape's desk to walk towards the door to the classroom, but Snape stopped him. "Mr. Jameson." "Yes, sir?" "If you intend to pass this class, I would strongly suggest that you choose to work with Mr. Malfoy, if he is amenable. He has an aptitude for Potions that you are sorely lacking." Harry did not turn around but answered, "I'll consider your advice, Professor." Snape snorted in disgust. "Get out of my sight, Jameson." Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he shut the office door behind him. Students were beginning to arrive to class. He was dismayed but not surprised to see Ron and Hermione walk in together. They sat at the workstation that Harry used to share with Ron. Harry saw Malfoy's eyes light with malicious pleasure as he left his own workstation to stand in the aisle near Hermione. "Granger, I'm not surprised to see you here. Disgusted, but not surprised. But you, Weasel," Malfoy's eyes drifted to Ron, "who did you have to do to get in here? Or maybe I should ask, who did Granger do?" Ron's face turned crimson. He started to get up from his seat, but Hermione's hand on his arm stayed his movements. Harry could hear her whispering, "Ignore him...ignore him," from where he stood, next to the workstation Malfoy had vacated. Unfortunately, Harry knew that wouldn't be the end of the confrontation. Malfoy wouldn't stop until he got some type of reaction from Ron. He should have expected what came next, but nevertheless, he was unprepared. "I heard what happened to Potter. Damn shame," Malfoy said. Ron and Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "Oh, I meant it was a damn shame I wasn't there to see it," he elaborated and began laughing. "How dare you?" Hermione shouted. "You bastard!" Ron yelled simultaneously. He shook Hermione's arm away and leapt off his seat, lunging at Malfoy. He swung wildly. Malfoy was able to avoid the blow easily, and he drew his wand before Ron had a chance to swing again. "Infligo—" Malfoy began. But by this time, Harry had managed to react. He seized Malfoy's wand before he could finish the incantation, just as Hermione grabbed Ron's arm to prevent him from trying to land another blow. Livid with anger, Malfoy turned and violently snatched his wand back, but as he opened his mouth to tell Harry off, Snape burst into the classroom. "Enough!" the professor hissed. "Weasley, fifty points from Gryffindor. I will not tolerate common brawling in my classroom." Ron scowled but did not argue with Professor Snape; he knew better. Harry cringed in sympathy for his friend. The classroom had filled during the exchange, and many of the other students were snickering. Snape, however, wasn't finished. "Malfoy, twenty-five points from Slytherin. Do not ever draw your wand in my classroom again. Do I make myself clear?" he asked icily. "Yes, Professor," Malfoy muttered. "Jameson, Granger, an additional ten points from each of your houses for your interference. It is not your place to involve yourselves in a physical altercation between other students, especially in the Potions classroom. You endangered yourselves and everyone else. I expect better from N.E.W.T.-level students. You should have called for me. All four of you will serve detention here every night this week. I will expect you all promptly at seven. Now, return to your seats immediately." Harry wasn't surprised Snape had taken points off him; he was only surprised that the professor hadn't taken more. He started to walk past the empty seat next to Malfoy, but he recalled the professor's earlier words to him. Gritting his teeth, he slid into the seat and faced forward, refusing to look in the other boy's direction. At the front of the room, Snape marked the roll and began his lecture. "Today, we are studying sneezing powder. Can anyone tell me the active ingredient in the powder, what the effects are and what the antidote is?" As usual, Hermione's arm shot into the air first. Harry's was second. Snape appeared surprised, but he called on Harry. "Mr. Jameson. Do enlighten us," he drawled in a voice tinged with sarcasm. "The primary ingredient in sneezing powder is ragweed pollen. The powder is used to induce uncontrollable sneezing: the higher the concentration of pollen, the more sneezing. The antidote is a decoction of the leaves, stems and roots of the ragweed plant in a base of dandelion wine. A bit of powdered valerian root enhances the antidote, acting as a catalyst to achieve a quicker result." "Very good, Mr. Jameson. Ten points to Slytherin." Snape spoke slowly, as if the words were so unfamiliar to him he had trouble getting his mouth around them. Hermione was glancing at Harry with a look of surprise and respect. Ron simply rolled his eyes and ignored him, whispering to Hermione something that Harry couldn't hear. The other Slytherin students whispered congratulations to him. "Not bad, Jameson," Malfoy muttered next to him in a low voice. Harry ignored him, still disgusted by his comments to Ron. But a small part of him was pleased by the compliments. He had never done well in Potions, and he had partly attributed his lack of success to Snape's hatred of him and the presence of the Slytherins. He wondered if Advanced Potions wouldn't be so bad after all. Harry managed to make it through the entire class without spilling anything, burning anything or otherwise causing some type of catastrophe. He did his best to concentrate on brewing the antidote for the sneezing powder that Malfoy was blending with a mortar and pestle. At the end of the class, Snape walked among the workstations to witness each set of partners ingest both the powder and the antidote. Malfoy and Harry received full marks. Snape lingered at their workstation after Malfoy went to return their unused supplies to the storeroom. "Jameson," the professor began. Harry wondered for a wild moment if Snape would actually compliment him on the day's class work. He should have known better. "The Headmaster would like to see you after classes today," he finished and handed Harry a slip of paper. It read: 4:00 p.m. "pepper imp" "Thank you," Harry said and pocketed the slip of paper. Professor Snape nodded once and moved on to the next pair. Malfoy returned, and he and Harry cleared off the workstation while waiting for the bell to ring. Malfoy was the first one out of the door after class. Harry waited a few moments before leaving, hoping he wouldn't run into the other boy in the corridor. He had no such luck; Malfoy was waiting for him. "What was that all about?" Malfoy asked, referring to the note Snape had given Harry. "The Headmaster wants to see me after classes today," Harry answered. "Oh. Probably wants to give you the grand welcome speech, make sure you're settling into your classes, blah, blah, blah. What have you got next?" Harry consulted his timetable. "Defense Against the Dark Arts." "Me, too. It's that way," Malfoy said, motioning down the corridor. "But first," he stepped closer to Harry, eyes alight with menace, "what the hell were you thinking, grabbing my wand like that?" "You were being stupid, and like Snape said, endangering the rest of the class," Harry answered. "You ought to know how volatile potion ingredients can be. Thanks to you, I've got detention on my first day." "You wouldn't have detention if you hadn't interfered. Don't ever do that again, unless you want to risk losing a hand," Malfoy said. "I make it a point not to make promises I won't keep. If you don't want me to interfere, don't do anything else stupid," Harry retorted. Malfoy narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to continue the argument, but something that resembled common sense took over. "Come on. We'll be late." ~~~~~~~~~~ "Can you believe that greasy git?" Ron complained to Hermione on the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Yes, I can. You can hardly blame him, Ron. You were fighting in the middle of a classroom! He didn't have much choice other than to give you detention. I don't know what you were thinking," Hermione chided. "I was thinking I was defending your honor!" Ron shouted, drawing looks and smirks from other students in the corridor. "And I couldn't let him say that about Harry and get away with it." "I know, Ron." Hermione's voice had dropped lower, as they had begun to attract attention. "And I understand. I just don't know why you didn't wait until after class. You let your temper get the best of you, and it always lands you in trouble. Besides, I don't give two figs for what Malfoy says. It's rubbish, and everyone knows it." Ron's only reply was to grumble a few words that Hermione was unable to make out. When they had reached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione pulled him aside before he could enter. "Ron?" "What?" he growled. She kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for defending my honor." Ron's face grew bright red. "You're welcome," he mumbled and followed her into the classroom. Hermione chose one of the double desks near the front; Ron chose a seat across the aisle from her. The seat next to him, which would have been occupied by Harry, remained empty. Hermione was soon joined by Susan Bones. Most of the sixth- and seventh-year students had opted to take Defense Against the Dark Arts, so the class was exceptionally full. The Slytherins were the last to appear and, as a result, were scattered about the room. When Malfoy and the new boy arrived, Hermione was dismayed to realize that the only remaining empty desk was the one directly behind Susan and herself. Malfoy sneered at Hermione as he passed by, but Evan did not look up as he walked past. They took their seats just as Professor Shacklebolt called the class to order. "Good morning, everyone. Welcome to N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts." Several of the students, who remembered Dolores Umbridge's first day of class, chorused back, "Good morning, Professor." Professor Shacklebolt smiled. "Now, I don't expect you to recite a greeting to me every morning, but thank you." He reached for a stack of parchments on his desk and passed them to Neville, who was seated in front of Ron. "Would you be so kind, Mr. Longbottom?" Neville took the parchments and handed them out as requested. When Hermione received hers, she saw that it was a syllabus of the upcoming year, encompassing all of the chapters in their new text, Dispelling the Darkness: Practical Application of Detection and Defense Techniques. She also noticed they were to complete a research project, to be turned in at the end of the year. "I understand you've had an interesting time of it the past few years in this class," Professor Shacklebolt said with a smile. Hermione started to speak up, but Professor Shacklebolt cut her off. "It's all right, Miss Granger. Professor Dumbledore has filled me in on all the details. I believe you covered theory with Dolores Umbridge last year, the Unforgivable Curses, among others, the year before, and dark creatures and elementary self-defense prior to that." There were several nods and murmurs of assent throughout the room. "As you can see," the professor continued, "you will be practicing defense techniques this year rather than writing about them. You will also each complete a research project, not just a paper, that will count as twenty-five percent of your final mark in this class." Around the room, students groaned. Only Hermione had a look of excitement. Ron shook his head but smiled. "Now, it won't be so bad. You will be allowed to work with a partner. But don't get ahead of yourselves," Professor Shacklebolt cautioned, as the students began to murmur to each other. "We will determine who will be paired with whom at a later date. Now, there's just one more item I'd like to discuss before we begin today's lesson. I understand that last year many of you participated in an independent study group led by Harry Potter." The room was completely silent for several moments. Finally, Hermione answered, "Yes, Professor." Professor Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, Headmaster Dumbledore has expressed his desire for this study group to continue. Attendance will be voluntary; membership will be open to all fourth-year students and above. This will be essentially a practice group. I will be supervising, but it is the Headmaster's wish that the group be primarily student-led." Professor Shacklebolt paused for a long moment, as if to collect his thoughts before he continued. "Ahem. It is primarily in Harry's honor that Dumbledore desires to see the continuation of ‘Dumbledore's Army,' as I believe it was affectionately called. I would like to know if anyone is interested in picking up where Mr. Potter left off." The room was silent for several moments; then Hermione heard several gasps behind her. When she turned, she was surprised to see that Evan Jameson had raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Jameson, isn't it?" Professor Shacklebolt asked. "Yes, Professor. I'm interested in leading the group. I know I wasn't a student here last year, but I think I can do it." "Very well, then. See me after class, Mr. Jameson." Hermione risked a glance across the aisle at Ron. He appeared to be livid; his face was white, but the tips of his ears were scarlet. Hermione tried to catch his eye, but his gaze was leveled at Evan. Hermione knew she would have to act quickly once class was over to prevent Ron from earning another week or more of detention. "Now, if everyone would please open your textbooks to Chapter One. We will be reviewing the theory and practical use of personal wards. Can anyone tell me the difference between a shield and a ward?" the professor asked. Several students raised their hands along with Hermione. As she became absorbed in the material Professor Shacklebolt presented, she forgot to be concerned about Ron. The period passed quickly, and before she knew it, everyone was chattering and gathering their books and things in order to leave. Ron wordlessly stuffed his textbook, parchment and quills into his rucksack and left without speaking to Hermione. She gathered her own belongings and hurried after him, only to find he had stopped just outside the classroom door and was leaning against the wall. "Come on, Ron. It's time for lunch." She reached for his hand and tried to pull him along with her, but he wouldn't budge. "You go ahead," he told her. "I'll be along in a minute." "Ron, please don't do this. It's not worth it," Hermione pleaded. "Well, I happen to think it is." Ron folded his arms against his chest and set his jaw. "Ron, he couldn't possibly have meant any insult by it. No one else volunteered. He probably just wants to help," Hermione said, although she wasn't certain she believed this herself. "Right. And Malfoy is a really nice guy deep down inside. Come on, Hermione. You know what they're like. And I won't have it!" Ron said furiously. "Won't have what?" a new voice asked. It was Evan's, and Professor Shacklebolt was behind him. "Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?" the professor asked. "Yeah, there's a problem. There's no way I'm going to stand by and let this git take over the D.A.!" Ron stormed. "Mr. Weasley, are you interested in leading the group yourself?" asked the professor. "Why didn't you say anything when I asked for a volunteer?" "No, that's not what I meant. I'm not.... I don't...." Ron stumbled over his words. "Ron," Hermione broke in gently, "you wouldn't have been happy no matter who had volunteered to take over." Tears gathered in her eyes, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "That's not true," Ron said. Some of the anger had left his face. "Then who, Ron? And don't say me, because I feel the same way you do. I just couldn't," Hermione said. "Why don't we do it together?" Evan asked quietly. "That's not a bad idea, Mr. Jameson," Professor Shacklebolt said. "In fact, I believe it might be an even better idea to invite a member of each house to help head up the group. I expect it will be considerably larger than last year's." Ron appeared to contemplate the offer for a moment but shook his head. "No. I can't. I...I wouldn't feel right, not without Harry. I have to go," he said abruptly. He turned and quickly walked off, leaving Hermione to make excuses to the professor and Evan. "I'm sorry, Professor Shacklebolt, but I'm certain you know how it's been for us," Hermione explained, blinking back tears. "I know, Miss Granger," Professor Shacklebolt said kindly. "We all feel Harry's loss." Evan looked uncomfortable, and Hermione was embarrassed and angry with herself for nearly breaking down in front of him. She hated to air private business in front of strangers. She cleared her throat and tried to smile as she spoke again. "I think having leaders from all four houses is a good idea. I'll talk to Ron. He may come around," Hermione said. It'll be a cold day in hell, she thought. She knew how Ron was once his mind was made up about something. "I hope so. I think it would be good for him. Well, you two had better get down to lunch. I'll see you both in class tomorrow," the professor said, nodding at both of them before leaving. Evan turned to Hermione. "Listen, I didn't mean to offend either of you. I wasn't thinking. I can tell Professor Shacklebolt I've changed my mind," he offered. "No, don't do that. If you hadn't volunteered, I don't know if anyone else would have," Hermione said. "You couldn't know what Hogwarts was like last year. This horrible woman.... Oh, I don't have time to explain," Hermione fretted. She wanted to go after Ron, but she felt Evan needed an explanation for Ron's behavior. "About Ron...if it weren't for Harry and the D.A., Ron and I might not even be here. It means a lot to both of us—you understand? I'm certain things will work out, but I need to go after him. See you in class." Evan nodded and walked away as Hermione turned to follow Ron. ~~~~~~~~~~ Harry felt like kicking himself as he carried his books to his room. He couldn't imagine what had possessed him to volunteer to head up the D.A. He located the entrance to the Slytherin common room and muttered, "Bog Banshee." "Damn, Jameson. You do love to cause trouble, don't you?" Malfoy said behind him. Go away, Harry thought. Out loud, he said, "What do you mean?" as he walked into the common room, followed by Malfoy. They continued towards their dormitory. "I've never seen Weasley so brassed off. I couldn't have done a better job if I'd tried. That was brilliant!" Malfoy grinned. "This may come as a surprise to you, Malfoy, but I didn't do it to make him angry. It didn't look like anyone else wanted the job, and I happen to be uniquely qualified," Harry said. "Is that right? We'll have to discuss your ‘unique qualifications' sometime. Right now, it's time for lunch. You coming?" "I'm not really hungry," Harry answered, even though he was. "Suit yourself. What have you got this afternoon?" Malfoy asked. "Care of Magical Creatures," Harry replied. They had reached the sixth-year boys' dormitory, but none of their roommates were inside. Harry wondered what had become of Crabbe and Goyle, but he didn't want to ask about them. He wasn't supposed to know that Malfoy rarely took two steps without his gorilla-like bodyguards. Malfoy snorted. "Why in the ruddy hell did you sign up for that?" "Because Divination is for losers," Harry snapped. "Of course it is, but—oh, never mind. You'll find out. You're on your own there. See you tonight." "Right. Detention. How could I forget?" Harry asked, his voice full of sarcasm. Malfoy tossed his books onto his trunk and ambled out of the room. Harry dropped his books as well and sat down on his bed with a sigh. He was at odds with himself. He didn't care to stay by himself in the Slytherin dormitory, as he had two hours until his next class, but he didn't feel like making an appearance in the Great Hall, either. He didn't think he could handle any more questions or awkward situations for the moment. He decided that what he really wanted to do was fly. Harry reached into the wardrobe and rummaged behind his clothing until he found the item he was searching for: a brand new Nimbus 3000. He hefted its weight with one hand with a mixture of pleasure and sadness. It was a beautiful broom, but it was no Firebolt. He had agreed with Professor Dumbledore that it was best if he put the Firebolt away for safekeeping. It was too distinctive; Harry had been the only student at Hogwarts to own a Firebolt. For Evan Jameson to possess one as well would likely invite unwelcome questions. Harry had agreed readily, not just to ease Dumbledore's concerns, but also because the Firebolt was one of the only things Harry possessed that Sirius had given to him. He didn't know if he would ever be able to bring himself to ride it again. Harry changed out of his robes and into jeans and a jumper, then swung the broom onto his shoulder and headed out to the grounds. He calculated he could fly for a good hour and a half and still make it back in plenty of time for Care of Magical Creatures.
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