Chapter 16: Lies
Hogwarts, September 14th 1996
"When do you reckon your next lesson with Dumbledore is gonna be?" Ron asks quietly as we walk down the stairs towards the Great Hall on Saturday morning.
I give him a slight shrug. "Dunno," I say lamely, still feeling a bit confused by the first lesson, which occurred a week ago.
In our first lesson, Dumbledore showed me a memory he had acquired from Bob Ogden, an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ogden had visited a man named Morfin Gaunt, who was suspected of performing magic in front of a Muggle. I then learned that Morfin was in fact Voldemort's uncle, who lived with Marvolo and Merope; Voldemort's grandfather and mother. It was all very fascinating, to learn about Voldemort's past and his family, but I haven't yet put it together how exactly the knowledge will help me survive, as Dumbledore seemed to think.
The past two weeks have been busy, and if I thought that the sixth year in Hogwarts would be easier compared to the fifth, since we don't have to sit our NEWTs until next year, I was badly mistaken. The workload is enormous and the professors are expecting more and more from us. I haven't got a clue how Hermione manages all Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, while I only have five subjects and after two weeks it feels like I'm completely worn out.
"Should we go see Hagrid today? I think we owe him an explanation," Hermione asks after a short silence, chewing her lip, a thoughtful look in her eyes.
We haven't really spoken to Hagrid after the school started, and haven't even seen him that often, as Hagrid doesn't eat his meals at the staff table anymore. I hope he's not hurt that the three of us are not taking Care of Magical Creatures anymore.
"We've got Quidditch try-outs this morning!" Ron says exasperatedly. "And we're supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explanation to what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?"
"We didn't hate it!" Hermione says persistently and takes a seat at our house table in the Great Hall.
"Speak for yourself, I haven't forgotten the Skrewts," Ron says sullenly as we sit down side by side, opposite to Hermione. "And I'm telling you now, we've had a narrow escape. You didn't hear him going on about his gormless brother — we'd have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we'd stayed."
"I hate not talking to Hagrid," Hermione says quietly, frowning at the table.
"We'll go down after Quidditch," I say, trying to assure her. I miss Hagrid too, but there're so many other things on my plate at the moment. For example, Quidditch.
"But just so you know, trials might take all morning, since so many students are hoping to join the team," I warn her, not able to stop the nervous tone in my voice. Why so many students are suddenly interested playing Quidditch? I don't recall past years' trials to have had so many eager students joining the team. "I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden," I mutter, trying to ignore the tenseness I'm feeling.
Hermione rolls her eyes as she spreads butter on her toast. "Oh, come on, Harry," she says with an exasperated look. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable," she continues simply, as if it was obvious.
I almost choke on my cereal as Ron makes a pretend gagging noise into his scrambled eggs.
Fanciable? Me? But…
Hermione gives us both a frustrated look before turning back to me. "Everyone knows you've been telling the truth now, don't they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they're calling you 'the Chosen One' — well, come on, can't you see why people are fascinated by you?"
I suddenly feel very hot, and my cheeks prickle slightly in embarrassment. At the same time, I feel a pang of resentment, since the one person whom I think I'd like to be fascinated by me, hates me. I try to shake the thoughts away before focusing back on Hermione, who is apparently continuing her list of reasons why to be spellbound by Harry Potter.
"…from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway. And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer either," Hermione finishes, ignoring Ron as he tries to get her attention.
Her eyes sweep over my face, studying my features. Seeing straight from my eyes what or whom I'm thinking about, she gives me a sad smile.
We were at the Burrow, a couple of weeks before leaving towards Hogwarts, lounging on the warm grass in the Weasleys' orchards, watching Ron and Ginny to practice Quidditch.
"What did he say?" Hermione asks quietly, her eyes trained at Ron and Ginny, a small grimace appearing to her lips as Ron nearly collides with a goal post.
"Who?" I mutter absently, making a mental note that if Ginny would circle from the left, it would give her better advantage to the outer post…
Hermione huffs, and I glance at her. She gives me a pointed look, and I realise who is she talking about. Regulus.
I give her a tense shrug. "Well…what you'd expect, I reckon," I say, my voice tight as I move my gaze back to Ron and Ginny, even though I'm not really looking at them.
Hermione stays silent and I can see her studying me from the corner of my eye.
I let out a sigh and rub my neck, tired of even thinking about my visit to Grimmauld Place. "He, um…didn't want to talk about it," I say – lie – since I don't have it in me to repeat what he said to me. I'm so…so angry at him, for blaming me, but at the same time, so…disgusted with myself for being so stupid, so careless, so naïve...
"And, well, I'm apparently the last person he wants to see right now," I continue thickly, the condemning look he gave me then still bothering me.
And it's not like I was expecting him to be ready to talk about…Sirius. At least, not yet. Because the mere thought that my godfather's gone…I can't handle it. But I just…I wanted to see how Regulus was, to let him know that he's not alone. That I too have lost someone.
But I sure as hell wasn't expecting him to say those things to me.
Hermione frowns at me as she gnaws her bottom lip in thought. "I'm sorry, Harry…" She says quietly. "You've both lost so much," she continues, her eyes glittering.
"Yeah." I say gruffly, trying to put my focus on Ron and Ginny, who are now bickering about the last goal Ginny made.
"I think…I think you both probably need time. You know - time to heal, before you can talk about Sirius…or think about anything else…" She says hesitantly.
"Yeah." I say again, more forcefully, not really in the mood to talk about my godfather or his brother. Not really having the strength to think about them without getting angry and frustrated…and sad. I stand up on my feet and grab my broom before turning to look at her.
"You up for a two-a-side?" I ask, aiming for a light tone, as if we hadn't been discussing anything pressing.
Hermione sighs and gives me a contemplative look. She then shakes her head, standing up as well. "No. I think I'll go back inside. I have to start with my Arithmancy essay." She says astutely, and waves at the others before leaving towards the Burrow.
I hear Ron complaining quietly about Hermione's inability to unwind as he stares at our friend making her way back towards the house, her bushy hair bouncing against her back.
The post owls arrive, and I'm shaken from my thoughts. It seems that students are receiving even more mail than usual this year, supposedly from their worried families. I feel slightly bitter, since I don't really have anyone who'd write to me. The only one who did is now gone, and somehow, losing Sirius feels even worse.
Hermione opens up her copy of the Daily Prophet, and we learn that there have been more Dementor attacks and that Stan Shunpike has been arrested – which is outrageous, since, based on the article, he was detained after gossiping about Death Eaters' secret plans. It's obvious he wasn't hurting anyone, and it is likely that he was only trying to make out he knew more than he did.
"They probably want to look as though they're doing something," Hermione says with a deep frown. "People are terrified — you know the Patil twins' parents want them to go home? And Eloise Midgen has already been withdrawn. Her father picked her up last night."
"What!" Ron says, gaping. "But Hogwarts is safer than their homes, bound to be! We've got Aurors, and all those extra protective spells, and we've got Dumbledore!"
Hermione looks uncertain. "I don't think we've got him all the time," she says, almost inaudibly, glancing at the staff table. "Haven't you noticed? His seat's been empty as often as Hagrid's this past week."
I look at the staff table, and see only his empty chair. "I wonder what he's up to…" I mutter quietly, glancing at my friends.
Hermione chews the inside of her cheek. "I think he's left the school to do something with the Order," she whispers. "I mean…it's all looking serious, isn't it?"
I give her a grim nod, thinking about the day before, when our classmate Hannah was taken out of Herbology – her mother had been found dead earlier that morning. Hannah left Hogwarts immediately.
We eventually leave the Great Hall and walk towards the Quidditch pitch, where I'm going to run my very first try-outs.
"I thought I was going to miss that fourth penalty," Ron says thoughtfully as we walk across the grounds, towards Hagrid's Hut. "Tricky shot from Demelza, did you see, had a bit of spin on it —"
"Yes, yes, you were magnificent," Hermione says, with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
"I was better than that McLaggen anyway," Ron continues smugly. "Did you see him lumbering off in the wrong direction on his fifth? Looked like he'd been Confunded…"
I hum in agreement and glance at Hermione – whose face has turned pink. What? Is that…has she got something to do with the try-outs? I arch a brow at her, and she gives me a helpless look, which outright confirms my suspicions. Has she really Confunded McLaggen? Bloody hell…If McLaggen ever finds out, he'll be furious, and most certainly would blame me for it, as he already thinks I'm favouring my best mate.
Ron's oblivious to our little wordless conversation as he keeps on describing his every move and every goal he saved in great detail.
As we reach our destination, we see Buckbeak; which is tied in front of Hagrid's hut. The Hippogriff's sharp eyes follow our every movement, and even though I'm sure it remembers us by now, the creature still lets out a small screech, its sharp talons rising stiffly from the ground.
While Hermione makes a nervous comment about the creature, I quickly go closer to Buckbeak and give it a low bow, without breaking eye contact. A second later, the Hippogriff bows back to me.
"Hey there," I say quietly to Buckbeak after Ron and Hermione have performed their bows without problems but still put some distance to the creature.
Buckbeak takes a couple of steps towards me and pokes at my arm lightly with its large beak. I lift my hand slowly, holding my palm up. "How are you?"
Buckbeak makes a small croaking sound and nuzzles its beak against my palm. I can't help but smile sadly at the creature, as I'm flooded with memories of Grimmauld. Memories of Sirius. I wonder if Buckbeak misses him as well.
The Hippogriff blinks at me, and give it a small nod. "Yeah, me too," I say softly, and from the corner of my eye I notice that Hermione and Ron have moved further along, towards Hagrid's front door.
I wonder when did Buckbeak come back to Scotland? I remember Dumbledore mentioning something about Hagrid picking it up from Grimmauld Place, but I'm curious to know how long had Regulus been taking care of it. Especially since he rarely went to his mother's old bedroom after meeting Buckbeak the first time. A small chuckle emerges from the base of my throat at the memory.
I wonder how he is doing…Living alone, his family gone, trapped inside that house, with anger and resentment keeping him company. Much like Sirius seemed to be after the Order was reformed.
Grimmauld Place, October 13th 1996
I'm waiting him in the kitchen, and he appears, precisely when he said he would, not a minute late.
"Severus," I say coolly, studying him carefully. My fingers are nearly twitching with the need to grab my wand at the sight of him.
A faint smirk lifts the corner of his mouth as he takes the seat opposite to me, his eyes sweeping over me. "No need for that, I assure you."
Annoyed that he's managed to perceive my thoughts so well, I lift a challenging brow at him. "Oh?"
Severus rolls his eyes. "By all means, say what you are bursting to get out," he drawls.
I narrow my eyes at him, the air around us darkening slightly. "Are you behind this?" I ask, my jaw tight, and he has to see something else than coldness in my eyes, since his expression softens slightly.
"Yes and no." He says, almost resignedly, and I can see a hint of an inward struggle in him.
Severus stares at me for a while before he continues, "I had a reasonable assumption what the Dark Lord was planning. I didn't possess all the details…But I knew. The minute Potter told me that your brother was being held his captive, I knew," he says grimly.
Anger surges through me. I look away from him and press my eyes closed, gritting my teeth together so hard my jaw aches.
"I had no intention to let Potter go to the Ministry, but the boy managed to slip away while I was absent a mere moment."
I give him a dark look, and Severus shifts in his seat, perhaps from uncomfortableness, perhaps from guilt.
"Why?" I ask sharply. "Why didn't you tell Sirius? When you contacted us to see if my brother was here? Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my voice cracking, the feelings of bitterness and anger trying to take over.
Severus sighs wearily, looking so old all of a sudden that I'm reminded he's not a young man anymore. "…I did tell you. Almost a year ago, I told you about my suspicions." He says slowly, a calculating look in his eyes.
I shake my head with frustration, shutting away all the maddening feelings I've got circling in my mind. Keeping myself from cursing my…old friend, if he even is that anymore. He's told me, yes, that he had suspicions. But somehow, it seems that he knew when the Dark Lord was going to carry out his plans.
"I was under the impression that Potter was with the previous Headmistress, but obviously I was mistaken. And for that, I apologise." He says solemnly.
I watch him carefully. "And not coming to my aid, after my brother had locked me here? Not sending anyone to help me? Do you apologise for that?" I ask steadily.
Severus gives me a long look. "If I had…do you think Sirius would have appreciated that?"
I swallow hard at the mention of my brother's name, as it sounds so foreign coming out of him. "You have hardly agreed with my brother in the past."
Severus nods slowly. "I appears, that there was something we both agreed upon, after all," he says expressionlessly.
It's the best he can do, I know. Because I know him. But I still need to know more. "How did you know Potter was there? In the Ministry?"
Severus's eyes flash with something, and a shiver runs down my spine as I realise. The summoning.
"After the Dark Lord requested his followers to meet him, I asked a previous Headmaster, Everard, to see if Potter indeed was at the Ministry. After receiving confirmation, I contacted you," he says with an unreadable look.
I give him an absent nod, the events from last June running in my head. Severus had known about the Dark Lord's plans, and had had a good assumption when everything was going to happen. Severus had told us that Potter thought that my brother was in the Ministry, but he hadn't mentioned about anything else. Once he had found out where Potter was, he had contacted us immediately. I know this speaks for his allegiance to the Order, but even if Dumbledore trusts the man, I'm not so naïve to believe that he's innocent, that he hasn't had a hand in anything. I know this isn't everything. There's still more.
There's always more.
"Vance?" I ask suddenly, disappointment crawling in my stomach as I see him looking quickly away.
I let out an exhausted sigh. "…Don't you ever get tired of it?" He knows what I mean. Tired of betraying the people he cares about, tired of being the reason for somebody's pain. "How many others have you watched die?"
He huffs and a small frown appears between his brows, his black eyes revealing his thoughts, revealing him. It's one of the few and rare moments I've seen regret in him, seen the fear and self-hate, seen him through the hard and cold mask.
"Lately, only those whom I could not save," he says quietly.
Hogwarts, October 22nd 1996
"Did you know — then?"
"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark Wizard of all time? No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is."
"You know, sounds like he was a bit mental, even as a kid," Ron says after we've taken our places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps, continuing our discussion from earlier and pulling me back from my thoughts.
I was only able to tell Ron and Hermione about my last night's lesson with Dumbledore on our way to Herbology, as they'd both been asleep when I got back to the common room, and there had been just too many listening ears this morning at breakfast. But now I kind of wish I hadn't told them. It's not that I don't trust them, it's just that I'm suddenly not in the mood for speculating the memories Dumbledore showed me.
Last night we viewed Dumbledore's memory, from a time when he went to see young Tom Riddle to the orphanage. In the memory, he told Voldemort that he was a wizard, and that there was a school for his kind, where one could study magic.
I can't stop thinking about how…how similar we are, Voldemort and I, at least when he was younger. How neither of us knew anything about magic, but still thought that there had to be something special, something different in this world. How we both felt that there was something different about us. Raised without parents, without love, both so eager to accept being a wizard. To accept a purpose for one's life.
"But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?" Ron asks with a thoughtful look.
"I think it's fascinating," Hermione says excitedly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"
I let out a weary sigh. "Yeah, I guess you're right…" I say and try to figure out something else to speak about. "So how was Slughorn's latest party?"
"Oh! It was quite fun, really," Hermione says as she pulls on her protective goggles. "I mean, he drones on about famous exploits a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones…"
My focus drifts away once Ron and Hermione start to bicker about Gwenog Jones, the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, and I suddenly remember the moment I was about to leave Dumbledore's office last night. How my gaze had fallen upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested during our last lesson, but was no longer there. I remember Dumbledore was wearing it the day we visited Slughorn, but the next time I saw it, the ring had been on that table. And now it is gone. I recall the secretive look in Dumbledore's eyes as I questioned the ring's current location, how he had ushered me out right after. I wonder…
I'm shaken back from my thoughts again as Professor Sprout speaks with a brisk voice, "Quite enough chat over here! You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"
We hastily start to work with our lump of wood and after a tough but victorious wrestling match we manage to pull a pod from it. Hermione and Ron start arguing, mostly about the upcoming Christmas party Slughorn is organising, and also about how Ron is not part of Slughorn's selected group of students.
I know there's something else underneath all the quarrelling, that there is more between the two of them than just friendship. I've been suspecting it since last year, but now it seems even more probable. The thing is…after everything that happened with Cho, and after everything that didn't happen with Regulus, I'm not sure how I feel about my two best friends having more than friendly feelings for each other.
What if they start dating, and then break up? What if they have a falling out and they'll never be friends again? Would I then have to choose one of them? And whomever I'd choose, would still be wrong. Whenever Hermione and Ron have been fighting, it has been awful. And I don't know if I can handle that anymore.
What if they start dating, and then forget about me? What if they'd be so besotted with each other, that they'd want nothing more than to be by themselves?
After a couple of more minutes them bickering, I accidentally break a bowl while trying to open up a pod, and my friends stop speaking altogether, as if remembering we're in a middle of a class, and I'm still with them. The rest of our lesson goes without another word from any of us.