Rumours

14: Rumours

Ron was awakened by the sound of a pleading whimper. Straining in the dark, he heard it again.

“No, please, no.”

Ron sighed; Harry was dreaming again. He wished his friend could find some peace. There was something bothering Harry. Ron hadn’t figured out what it was yet. At first, he thought it was something about Sirius, but now suspected it had more to do with You-Know-Who.

“Have to protect them,” Harry pleaded in his sleep.

Although Ron knew Harry was somehow, inexplicably, tied to the evil one, he didn’t understand the pressure Harry put on himself. It wasn’t like bringing the Dark Lord down was Harry’s responsibility. After all, he was still just a kid. He knew Harry always took whatever You-Know-Who did to heart and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt about it.

While he sympathized with Harry’s plight, he couldn’t fully understand it. He didn’t understand why the evil git was so obsessed with Harry and wanted to kill him so badly. In the end, Dumbledore and the Order would win, and they would bring You-Know-Who down; Ron needed to believe that. While he was exceedingly proud of his family - well, all except for Percy - and all they were doing to help, he was worried about them, too. They were deeply involved in all of this, and Ron feared they all wouldn’t make it out alive. This was the danger of being such a large family involved in a war.

Ron heard Harry gasp and sit up. “Are you all right, mate?”

“Yeah,” came Harry’s shaky reply, and Ron knew that his friend was lying.

Ron heard movement, and he peeked his head outside of the bed hangings. Harry had pulled his own hangings aside and was fastening a dressing gown over his pajamas. He explained, “I’m not going to get back to sleep for a while; I’m going to do some reading in the common room.”

“Want some company?”

“I’m okay, Ron, thanks. I’ve got some preparation to do for the DA meeting tonight, anyway.”

“Okay, Harry. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Harry padded down the dormitory stairs into the common room. The fire was just about out, so he stirred the embers and added another log. His nightmares had strengthened since his talk with Remus, and Harry was sure it was just his subconscious struggling with the new information. He was tired of waking Ron all the time and weary of the sympathetic looks his roommates gave him. Ron had been great, never uttering a word of complaint, but Harry knew it wasn’t fair that Ron felt responsible to keep him company after he had them, too; he’d lost enough sleep already. Harry curled up on his favorite chair and pulled out his notes for the DA. He tried to study them, he really did, but his gaze kept being drawn to the flames, and his mind to the nightmare from which he had just escaped.

********

He was facing Voldemort, battling him with everything he had. Voldemort just batted away Harry’s curses as if they were nothing more than annoying insects. He smiled lazily and laughed at Harry’s efforts. The laughter went on and on as Harry’s frustration grew, and then Voldemort pulled out an odd, circular device and silkily asked if Harry wanted to play a little game. Harry blinked at the object in confusion. It looked like a roulette wheel, only instead of numbers, it bore the faces of Harry’s friends.

Harry instantly knew he didn’t want to play, but couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and giving the wheel a spin. It stopped on Neville’s face. Neville looked in horror at Harry as Voldemort cast the killing curse.

“Don’t you just adore Wizard Roulette?” Voldemort hissed, as Harry spun the wheel again, this time landing on Ron. Hermione. Mrs. Weasley. Bill. Ginny… One after the other, they all died because of him. He couldn’t stop himself from spinning the wheel. And all the while, that insidious laugh continued to echo.

********

Harry feared this was more than a nightmare - what if it was a premonition? What if somehow Harry did manage to stop him in the end? Would there be anyone left? If Harry managed to live but without any of the people closest to him, did he really want to? Was that winning? What if that’s how it ended: Voldemort killing all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Moony, but Harry living and murdering him in the end? Would he then go back to the Dursleys alone and spend the rest of his life with them? That couldn’t be how this ended. There had to be a way. There just had to.

Harry didn’t want to think he was nothing more than a tool, the means to an end, either Voldemort’s or his own. Who was he? He was Harry James Potter, only son of James and Lily. Was this to be his only purpose, his only reason for being? Was this his only reason for existing? If he died, they would all die. Simple as that. If he lived, but became a murderer, could he live with himself afterwards? His head was aching, and he dropped it into his hands, rubbing at his temples.

He hadn’t heard Ginny come down the stairs, nor had he seen her kneel on the floor next to his chair. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and he was startled by her touch.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you,” she murmured.

“S’okay. I’m just jumpy.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Did he want to talk? Yes, more than anything. But he couldn’t. Talking to Remus had only made it worse, and he couldn’t put Ginny in danger like that. He couldn’t tell her without telling Ron and Hermione, as well, and he wasn’t ready to make any public announcements about his fate. Ron would panic completely. Hermione would be horrorstruck at first, and then she’d run to the library, determined to somehow to find a solution to this whole mess. Hermione would never believe the library could let her down.

Wearily, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ginny; I can’t.”

“You don’t have to, Harry, but there’s a big difference between can’t and won’t.”

He understood what she was getting at, but truly believed he was doing the right thing. “I know that. It’s still can’t.”

Ginny nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t happy. He could see the worry in her eyes, and it touched him. Remus had been right about one thing — he wasn’t alone. She, Ron, and Hermione were all worried about him; they would be there when he needed them, as would Neville and Luna. He really did have wonderful friends. He didn’t know how or why he deserved them, but he was truly grateful to have them. Harry scooted off the chair and sat down on the floor next to her in front of the fire. Leaning his shoulder into hers, he said, “Thanks for being here, though. I can’t tell you how much it helps.”

“We all want to be here for you, Harry, but you have to let us in. We can’t fully help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“I know I can be difficult. I’m not trying to be. There are certain things happening in my life that I truly can’t share with you right now. I have to work some things out before I can do that.”

“I hope you’re sharing them with someone, Harry. It does you no good to bottle so much up.”

“You sound like Hermione.”

“Well, she’s right. She’s not the smartest witch in her year for nothing.”

“I don’t bottle stuff up.”

Ginny just gave him a scathing look and didn’t even bother to comment.

“I don’t,” Harry insisted.

“Harry, you’re not fooling anyone; we can all see how troubled you are. You can’t take on the world alone and turn all your emotions about it inward. You have to let it out. Scream, cry, rant, just do something or tell someone. If you don’t, you’ll just end up like Snape, bitter and hostile. Alone. You’ve been through more than anyone I know, and I wish you’d just let us help you.”

“I tried talking to Moony the other day,” Harry whispered.

Ginny could see the hurt that had crossed Harry’s features and desperately wanted to soothe it away. How could she if he wouldn’t tell her what was wrong? “Did it not go well?”

Harry shook his head, dropping his gaze. “He’s hard to talk to.”

Ginny gave an ironic smirk. “Yeah, I know someone like that.”

Harry caught the sarcasm, and a reluctant grin spread across his features. “Touché.”

“I think maybe he has trouble getting close to people. Being a werewolf, he’s probably always had to pull away. I’m sure it’s hard for him to change the habits of a lifetime, even if he wants to.” Ginny spoke from experience; she had trouble getting close to people, too. Other than her family, she’d shut everyone out after her experiences first year, and it was only last year that she’d started letting them back in again. She felt she was better for it now, too—she was a stronger person.

Harry was quiet, thinking about her words. They made sense to him, but he still didn’t know what to do about it.

“I think he’s a lot like you,” Ginny continued. “You tend to pull away when anyone tries to get close, too. I think sometimes you want to let people in, but don’t quite know how to handle it. Maybe if you think of how you feel, you might understand Remus better.”

“He was close to Sirius…I know they talked.”

“And you were close to Sirius and would talk to him, too. Maybe Sirius was just easy to open up to. You both have that bond and connection; I’m sure you can find a way to build on it.”

The warmth of the fire was making Harry sleepy. He knew they should get back up to their rooms, but he was comfortable, and this was nice. Ginny’s words made a lot of sense and were very comforting. He felt very drowsy, and he allowed his thoughts to stray. Maybe he and Remus could try again, maybe she was right and they were both just too reserved for their own good. Ginny laid her head on his shoulder, and he enjoyed the warmth of feeling her there. He laid his head on top of hers and shut his eyes. It would be all right just for a few minutes more…

******

They were awakened the next morning by the contemptuous voice of Dean Thomas. “Well, doesn’t this look cozy for a pair of friends !”

Harry blinked in confusion and blearily looked around the room. He and Ginny were still sitting on the floor, snuggled very close together . We must have slept down here . Waking fully with a start, both blushed and pulled away as Harry found his glasses lying next to him. Seeing clearly, he looked at the disgruntled face of Dean and the amused looks of Seamus, Neville, and Ron plus several other faces already in the common room.

“I was going to wake them, but they just looked so cute sleeping there peacefully.” Hermione was curled up on the couch behind them, and Harry jumped at the sound of her voice.

Harry’s face was now uncomfortably warm, and he looked at Ginny in a panic. She seemed to have regained some of her composure, though her cheeks were still very pink. “Thank you for that bit of consideration Hermione,” she said, rolling her eyes.

This seemed to only amuse the older girl further, and Harry couldn’t ever remember seeing Hermione so giggly. “I’ve always got your best interests at heart, Ginny. You know that,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. Ginny glared at her, and Harry jumped up off the floor.

“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he said, nearly running up the stairs.

“We’re going to talk about this later, Potter,” Ron’s voice called up the stairs, but Harry could hear the amusement. He swore under his breath; how could he have let that happen? The rumors Cho Chang started had just about died down without evidence of Harry and Ginny dating - now this would bring all that back up again. Harry hated being the center of attention, no matter what the cause, and he certainly didn’t want the focus to be on his love life…or lack thereof. He’d have to talk to Ginny about it later; for now, he was going to be late for class.

Thankfully, after a rocky start, Harry’s day went relatively smoothly, owing mostly to the fact he didn’t have Potions that day. Lessons with Snape were always harrowing and, more often than not, left Harry with a headache that had nothing to do with his scar. The Potions Master was always ready to pounce on the slightest error and daily tested Harry’s resolve not to mess up in class. He was meticulous with his essays and followed instructions to the letter. Even Hermione was impressed with his progress. Snape, however, seemed even more irritated by him, if that were possible. From the biting comments he would make, Harry was sure Snape had been pressured to accept Harry for the course. He couldn’t help but wonder who had what over Snape or what kind of bargain had been struck to allow him to take the class. He assumed it was either McGonagall or Dumbledore himself, but neither was owning up to the deed.

Harry was also doing well in his other classes. The workload was heavy, but bearable, and he managed to fit in Quidditch practice in addition to making preparations for the DA. He remembered Sirius telling him that sixth year was the best of all. They would be between OWLs and NEWTs, so the studying wasn’t as intense, and would be old enough to have sufficient privileges to get into plenty of mischief.

His relationship with Professor Trent was still strained, but not difficult. She was cold and distant but didn’t single him out or embarrass him in class like Snape did. Hermione suggested that since Harry was bothered by her knowledge of his parents, perhaps he affected her, too. Maybe Harry’s presence reminded her of some painful memories she’d rather not think about, and she was trying to avoid him as much as he tried to avoid her. That made sense to Harry, and he had no problem keeping their relationship distant.

She continued teaching a variety of spells that could be useful in battle, but nothing Harry could use to take down Voldemort or, as Harry called him, ‘the Big Guy’. Hermione hated when he joked like that, but Harry found humor made things easier to deal with. Lightening the situation in any way seemed to help him get through the day.

Tonks was good for this. She always seemed to have fun, and his Defense lessons with her left him grinning right through dinner. She was helping him work on his Shield Charm; it was now strong enough to withstand a volley of several curses. She had suggested a practice dual with Malfoy to see how long he could hold it in a real situation, but Harry wasn’t sure if she had been joking or not. They had tried to work on wandless magic— just a few simple spells— but Harry hadn’t been able to make anything happen. They started each lesson with a few attempts, but Harry was growing frustrated, and Tonks suspected his ability to perform wandless magic in the past was a fluke. She explained that most young witches and wizards could do it when upset, but it might be lasting a bit longer for Harry, since he’d had a lot to be upset about in his life. Harry ignored her comment and continued to try, but short of getting a Dementor to go after him and see if he could do it again, he didn’t know what else to try.

******

The first meeting of the DA was scheduled for seven o’clock that evening, and Harry wasn’t sure how many people would attend. Nearly all of the previous year’s members who were still at Hogwarts said they would be coming, and announcements went up in the common rooms of all the Houses to invite anyone else who wanted to join. It had been offered to fourth-year students and above.

Harry got to the Room of Requirement early and rapidly scanned his notes. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had come early as well to keep him company and were amused by his nervousness.

“You’ve done this before, mate,” Ron commiserated.

“You’ll be fine, Harry,” Hermione said, her voicesoothing. “You just have to get into your routine again. We’ll all be here to help if you need us.”

The door opened, and the rest of the Gryffindors arrived. They had gotten there early in a show of support, even Dean Thomas, who was still glaring at Ginny over the incident that morning. For her part, Ginny didn’t seem the least bit put out by him. In fact, she barely acknowledged his presence. Harry had asked Hermione why Dean seemed so angry at Ginny; after all, he was the one who had broken up with her. Hermione explained that Dean thought the reason Ginny had been distant all summer was that she was already getting involved with Harry. Harry didn’t know how Hermione figured these things out so easily about other people but had taken so long to get together with Ron. He was glad she helped him, though, but he wished sometimes that she could explain these things before he found himself in trouble.

Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones arrived next, followed closely by Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Cho Chang. Cho smiled brightly at Harry, but narrowed her eyes as she noticed Ginny sitting beside him.

The room began to fill with several new students, and Professor McGonagall was taking down names as they entered. Harry heard a low growl come from Ron and looked up to see Draco Malfoy entering the room with his trademark swagger. Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson followed him inside. The sneer seemed to melt off Malfoy’s face as he realized Professor McGonagall was there and planned on staying.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I’ll be the staff representative for this club. It’s an official school club this year so some things have changed.”

“I knew it couldn’t be Potter teaching it,” Malfoy said loudly to his makeshift bodyguards.

“On the contrary, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. Potter is indeed the instructor. I’m here merely as a representative and to assist him if needed.”

Harry smiled and shut the door. Taking a deep breath, he approached the podium that had been set up in the center of the room. “To those of you who are returning, welcome back. To our new members, I’m happy you joined us. We started this group last year in order to better prepare us for our OWLs. As you may recall, the level of instruction last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts was not up to standards. Although that situation has improved, we,” Harry said nodding his head in the direction of Hermione and Ron, “felt that due to the upcoming war and the return of Voldemort, we should continue preparing to defend ourselves.” There were several gasps as Harry said his name, but he ignored them and continued. “We were working on Patronus charms when we were forced to break up last year, so I thought we’d pick up from there. As you’re all aware, the Dementors have left Azkaban to join with the Death Eaters and knowing how to cast a Patronus could be critical.”

“Come on, Potter,” Pansy interrupted. “What student is actually going to be able to cast a Patronus?”

“I think you’ll find several of them in here who already can. Hermione, why don’t you help anyone from last year who was already able to do it over there. Those of you who are new or still having trouble with this, follow me, and we’ll begin over here.”

As they began work on the theory of casting a Patronus, Harry prepared to show them how it was done. Closing his eyes, he envisioned Sirius telling him he could come live with him and leave the Dursleys forever as they left the Shrieking Shack. He tried to focus on the joy he felt in that moment, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the veil and the fact that that life was never to be. Shaking his head and smiling sheepishly at the expectant students, Harry thought of flying, soaring above the Quidditch pitch to win the Quidditch cup.

As he bellowed the words, “Expecto Patronum,” however, his thoughts turned to who had given him that Firebolt and, once again, the loss overwhelmed his thoughts. His Patronus quickly turned to formless vapor and evaporated. Harry felt a thin sheen of sweat break out on his forehead . Why can’t I do it? He couldn’t seem to focus on anything happy for more than an instant, how pathetic was that? Panicking slightly, Harry glanced over at Ginny and saw her listening intently to Hermione’s instruction. Harry was reminded of his convalescence at Grimmauld Place, and Ginny teasing him for playing it up. That familiar swooshing feeling in his stomach caused a grin, and he quickly bellowed, “Expecto Patronum!”

Prongs galloped from his wand and sauntered around the room to the amazement of some of the newer students. For the next several hours, they all worked on their Patronus charms. Professor McGonagall was pleased with the level of instruction in the class and the eagerness of the students. When she announced it was time for the students to return to their dormitories, Harry was stunned by the time. It had just flown by, and he felt he was riding on the same high he had experienced the previous year. He stayed behind to clean up, and his friends remained with him.

“That was a really good first lesson,” Hermione said.

“Great job, Harry. I just wish I could make out the form of my Patronus.”

“Don’t worry; it’ll come, Ginny. Even the vapor is helpful against a Dementor. I had trouble getting it at first today, too, and I thought Malfoy was going to split his face in half from grinning, he was so pleased.”

“You did it, though. Didn’t I see Prongs from the corner of my eye?” Hermione questioned.

“Yeah. Malfoy pretty much sulked after that.”

“What was he doing here, anyway?” Ron asked, his ears turning red. “Probably reporting back to his dad what’s going on. I’m sure he’s here as a spy.”

“More likely he just wanted to cause trouble but couldn’t because McGonagall was here. He probably won’t be back again.”

“Are we going to continue with the Patronus charm, Harry?” Ginny asked. “I really want to get a form out of mine.”

“You’ll get it, Ginny, don’t worry,” Ron said, patting her on the shoulder. “It’s not like you’re going to run into a Dementor in Hogsmeade.”

They all returned to the common room and turned in for the night. As Ron and Harry were changing into their pajamas, Ron leaned over with a smirk. “I hope you’re planning on actually sleeping in your own bed tonight, Harry.”

Harry glared at Ron. “Sod off.” As he climbed into his bunk, he had to grin at Ron’s chuckling. At least he didn’t try and deck me .
-------------------------------

A/N: Special thanks to Samhaincat for some of Ginny’s words after Harry’s dream. They came from an interesting email conversation we had on Harry’s state of mind.

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