263Chapter 10: Lessons of Patience
Chapter 10
Lessons of Patience
Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week. This meant that with Lupin-Black's anti-dementor classes, which in themselves were more draining than six Quidditch practices, harry had just one night a week to do all his homework. Even so, he wasn't showing the strain nearly as much as Hermione, whose immense workload finally seemed to be getting to her. Every night, without fail, Hermione was to be seen in a corner of the common room, several tables spread with books. Arithmancy charts, rune dictionaries, diagrams of Muggles lifting heavy objects, and file upon file of extensive notes; she barely spoke to anybody and snapped when she was interrupted.
"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Harry looked up. Hermione was barely visible behind a tottering pile of books.
"Doing what?"
"Getting to all her classes!" Ron said, "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"
Harry didn't have time to fathom the mystery of Hermione's impossible schedule at the moment; he really needed to get on with Snape's essay. He had not talked to Draco since their last argument, and he was feeling disappointed. He really hoped that Draco would have tried something by now, but instead he had done nothing, not that Harry had a lot of free time to look for the Slytherin.
He looked up to see the Weasley twins walking into the common room, but paid them little attention as they walked past, keeping his attention to the essay.
"I'm telling you I'm handling it," George whispered as he and Fred walked towards a corner of the common room. George looked around to make sure that no one was listening in.
"Yeah, handling it," Fred said. "That idiot just came by and demanded you to follow him—"
"And I did not," George said. "Honestly Fred just let me handle it."
"Handle what?" a voice asked. They looked up and saw Oliver Wood standing in front of them, looking down at the sitting twins. George looked at Fred, as if silently telling him not to tell Wood, but Fred didn't listen. "Flint is bothering George," he said.
"Why?" Wood asked, frowning.
Both him and Fred looked to George for an answer. George gave his brother a sharp look before looking up at Wood. "We were dating," he said, "and I broke up with him."
Oliver Wood frowned at George. "And he's still bothering you?"
"Yeah," George nodded. "But I'm handling it," he said more to Fred than Oliver.
"I'm talking to him," Oliver Wood said.
"What?"
"I'm talking to him," Oliver repeated. "I'm not going to have someone bother one of my teammates and push him off his focus."
"No, you don't need to do that," George said. "Please don't do that."
Oliver shook his head, "I'm going to anyway, there no way I'm going to let that brute bother you George," he said with a wink and smirk. "And don't try to stop me."
Oliver Wood walked away from the twins and out of the common room, both twins looked at each other, Fred smirking and George grimacing. "He's totally gay," Fred said with a smirk.
"Yeah but I told you I can handle it," George said. "And now you got Wood involved."
"No, that's all you brother," Fred said. "Come on, I've done my part."
George gave Fred one last look before standing up and following after Oliver Wood. He found the Quidditch captain down the hallway at the top of the stairway and yelled out his name. Oliver turned around and said, "George, what are you doing?"
"What am I doing? Wood, what the hell are you doing?" George asked, crossing his arms as he stared at the burly Gryffindor.
"I'm going to give Flint a piece of my mind," Oliver said. "If that troll keeps on hounding you, it's going to impact our results as a team! Besides, it's just wrong."
"Wrong…" George repeated. "You don't even know what he did to me."
"Then tell me," Oliver said. "What did he do to you?"
George shook his head, "I'm not going to tell you, that'll just send you in a rage. I've told Fred that I am handling it, and I don't need anyone's help."
"Well, I want to help," Oliver said. "And I will help. So tell me what he did to you. Don't tell me… did he—"
"No, he didn't do that," George said. "He had the decency to stop when I told him to." He stopped, embarrassed and shocked that he just easily shared that information with Wood. Both boys were quiet as a battle ran in George's head, debating whether or not to tell Oliver the evils Marcus Flint had done against him. They both stood quiet, Wood waiting patiently as he stared at the lean Weasley as his eyes screwed tight in confliction. Then, after a painfully long five minutes, George said, "He's rough with me. …Too rough, and lately he started stalking me as well. He can't seem to accept that we're not dating anymore. Today, he followed me into a bathroom just to tell me that I cannot get away from him. … it's scaring me, but I can't tell anyone about it since he's not exactly hurting me."
"You still need to tell Professor McGonagall!" Oliver Wood said. "He's tormenting you, stalking you!"
"No, I am handling it," George said strictly. "Don't you dare tell Professor McGonagall."
"Then, I am helping you," Oliver Wood said.
"But—"
Oliver took a step forward and grabbed George's shoulders. He made the Weasley look him into his eyes and said, "I am helping you George, there is nothing you can do to stop me."
They both stared at each other, and George had to look away, blushing. "Fine," he said. "But we're not going to either Professor McGonagall, or just directly to Flint."
"Alright then," Wood said with a cocky smirk on his face. "Then what?"
"… I don't know," George said. "Let's just do nothing for now."
Oliver looked at him and said, "Alright, nothing… for now."
"Good," George nodded. He noticed that Oliver was still holding his shoulders. "Err, you can let go now," he said.
Oliver Wood smirked at him and said, "Of course I'm not. Come on." So, still holding George by his shoulders, Oliver Wood led the shorter boy back towards Gryffindor Tower and into the common room.
James Potter watched as the two wizards brought in an empty portrait into the house, the wizard painter following them as they walked into the study. "Right next to the old man's portrait," James said as they walked in. Fleamont was walking into his portrait as the two wizards took out their wands and aimed it at the portrait they were just carrying. The two wizards flicked their wands and the portrait hovered into the air and glided towards the wall. The painter took out his wand as well and aimed it at the portrait, now hanging perfectly next to wall, and aimed a non-verbal spell at it. The portrait seemed to spring to life, a small ornate love seat appearing as the background changed.
The portrait was now of a porch, the love seat facing away from the sunny weather of the painting. They waited, and soon a woman walked into frame, looking around. She looked at James and said, "Took you long enough, James."
"Euphemia, there you are," Fleamont said as he walked into his wife's portrait. James and the other wizards turned away from them to conduct business. "Thank you very much," James said. "How much do I owe you?"
"It was an easy job," the painter shrugged. "Copying a portrait, easy work. Just give us" –he pulled out a small slip of paper—"249 Galleons, eight Sickles and eleven Knuts."
"Alright, one second," James said as he walked towards the back of the study. He took out his wand, tapped a part of the wall, and a small compartment opened up with a money pouch. He took the pouch, counted up the money, and gave it to the painter. The painter nodded in thanks, said his goodbyes, and barked at the two wizards to leave.
With the three wizards gone, James turned to look at his mother's portrait. "I told you I've get it in," he told his father.
"Yes, but you certainly took your sweet time," Fleamont said.
"Oh hush Fleamont, the boy was busy," Euphemia said, turning to look at James. "Weren't you?"
"Yes, I was," James said. "And I still am. So, goodbye."
"Where do you think you are going?" James' mother's portrait demanded. "I've just got here and you are already leaving?"
"Sorry mother, but I have work to do," James said. "I'm sure dad here can fill you in on everything." He tried again to leave the study but his mother's voice stopped him again. He turned around and with a sigh of annoyance walked towards his desk, sat down in his padded chair, and turned to look towards his mother. He was glad that he had gotten one of those muggle chairs with wheels as he flicked his wand as the chair rolled towards the two portraits. "What do you want, mum?" he asked.
"Firstly, where is my grandson?" she asked.
"Hogwarts mum," James answered bored. "It's January, term's started." His mother looked around and nodded, looking disappointed. "This place needs a woman's touch," she critiqued. "You know your father's house is still in clean condition. If you would—"
"For the last time Harry and I will not move into Potter Manor," James groaned. "We're happy here. This is Harry's home and I will not uproot him to a place that is too large for the two of us and swarmed with musty old house elves."
"But the Potter Manor has been in our family for generations," Euphemia argued. "To simply not live in it… it's unthinkable! It was yours to live in when we died."
"And Lily and I agreed that it would be better to live in Godric's Hollow," James said.
"And look where that ended you," Euphemia said. James' face darkened as he glared at his mother's portrait.
"What your mother means… I think, is that it's about upholding tradition," Fleamont said, looking between his wife and their own son. Isn't that right, Euphemia, sweetie?"
"Yes, tradition," the old woman nodded.
"Besides, James and I have gone through this talk a hundred times," Fleamont said. "The boy's stubborn. You know that. Now, what is it you're so busy about you can't talk to your parents?"
"Harry has something important to tell me," James said. "He told me so in the letter he sent me for Christmas, and now I have till either Easter or the end of the school year to figure it out before he tells me."
"Ah yes… that," Fleamont nodded. "I remember you talking about that. What do you think it could be?"
"I don't know… hopefully nothing seriously damaging," James said. "Though if he had hurt himself like that, I would have been contacted. … But I don't know what else it could be." He looked up to the two portraits and said, "Also I still have to deal with the damn dementors, and I'm meeting the Minister to talk about it in half an hour. Worst of all, Malfoy will be there."
"Malfoy… you mean Abraxas' kid?" Euphemia asked.
"Yes, Lucius," James said. "I swear that man is up to something. He actually said to me that he will work with me on the dementors. He actually agreed with me!"
"Oh my… there must be something wrong with him," Euphemia said. Both Fleamont and James nodded, agreeing with her.
"Yes, well whatever it is, I need to get to the Ministry," James said to the two portraits. "Goodbye."
James left the study and made sure that he had everything he needed, picking up a stack of papers. He took out his wand, took a step, and apparated directing into the Ministry foyer. He walked down to the elevator and stayed quiet as he rode it down to the Minister's level. When he got off the elevator, he saw Malfoy walking down the small corridor, heading towards the Minister's office as well. "Malfoy," he said.
Lucius looked back and said, "Potter."
They both stayed quiet as they walked towards the Minister's office, James opening the door and entering first. The Minister of Magic was alone, and James started immediately. "Sir, here is the report of the dementors at Hogwarts and the damage they have done," he said, dropping the stack of papers onto his desk.
The Minister looked up and frowned. "Potter, don't remember calling you in."
"I know, but you wanted the information of how your project is working," James said. He pointed at the papers and said, "There you go. Every complaint, disturbance, and injuries the dementors had caused since September."
The Minister just glanced at the stack before shaking his head dismissively. "I am busy Potter. There will be expected disturbances for the change. They are not directly on the grounds, nor in Hogsmeade so please return to your job. I am busy."
"If I may, Minister," Lucius Malfoy said, stepping forward. "Potter raises a sound point with the dangers of the dementors. True, they may not be precisely on the grounds or Hogsmeade, yet their effects can still be felt in both. If you remember, a single dementor caused the Hogwarts Express to force a stop an hour before arriving at Hogsmeade Castle. And a small swarm of dementors came and caused the first Quidditch match of the season to stop short with the near-death of a student."
"A death that had been avoided, and a stop that was to be expected," the Minister said.
"True, but still both incidence could have been avoided with better planning," Lucius said. "I believe it is in the best interest of everyone if the Ministry turns their attention to this problem after you and I have dealt with the hippogriff problem."
"You are still hung up about that?" James said, slightly outraged. "You would rather deal with one singular hippogriff than the dozens of dementors that are surrounding the castle?"
"Yes, I am," Lucius said shortly. "And I do not have time for your bellyaching of the supposed innocent on a mad hippogriff."
James glared at Lucius. "You cannot be serious, Malfoy," he said. "There are things more important than your son getting a damn scratch and the dementor situation is one of them."
"Either way, the Minister has priorities," Lucius smirked. "And my son's horrible attack is one of them. Now, if you are done, there is a trial that both the Minister and I need to prepare for."
James gave Lucius a sharp look as the Malfoy smirked victorious. He mouthed 'Fuck you' then walked out, angry at both the Minister and Malfoy that they would rather focus on a hippogriff then the obvious problem.
Draco Malfoy paced up and down the Slytherin common room, irritated. "A git? He calls me a git?"
He had told everyone in the common room to go to the dorms, except for Blaise, who was watching amused as his friend looked as if he was trying to hold back his anger. "And he tells me that if I don't 'change my ways' that he'll just snog it up with you! Well, I'm sorry if I do not care about the oaf or his damn bird! I mean honestly, who cares about a damn hippogriff? Prideful bird attacked me! Me! And yet Harry's defending it!"
"I don't think that's the point Draco—"
"And the mudblood thing? I mean, yeah I was a prick with that, but I've never called anyone that for a year! If Harry doesn't want me to use then, then all right," Draco went on, fuming. "I mean I am trying here, and he still calls me a git?"
"Draco, if you would just shut up," Blaise said quickly. "Look, I think Harry cares more about Hagrid than the hippogriff. And I guess with your dad wanting the creature dead… it's making Hagrid, and so Harry, very upset."
"Maybe but still, it isn't entirely my fault," Draco said. "The beast attacked me!"
"After you provoked him," Blaise said. "I forgot what you said, but I just know you've said something to cause that beast to slash at you."
"I might have said… something…" Draco said. "But there's nothing I can do at this point! Father already had the trial set."
"Seriously?" Blaise asked.
"Yes," Draco said. "It is in April, and whatever happens, happens. There is nothing I can do to deter father." Blaise gave Draco a sharp look. "Look," Draco continued, "if it would help Harry out that much, I would love to stop the hippogriff's trial, but I simply cannot. I'm a thirteen year old student, and the Minister is involved. You know how my father is, I cannot do anything that makes him seem weak. And going against this trial will make him and our family seem weak."
"Then talk to Harry about it," Blaise said. "Let him know about your father. From what I heard, you two barely talk about fathers."
"We do," Draco said. "We talked about how our fathers both have pressure on us."
"Is that it?" Blaise asked. "Look, Harry needs to understand what exactly your father is pressuring you to do. Otherwise you'll just seem like a giant prick." Draco stopped and threw a glare at Blaise. The dark-skinned Slytherin just shrugged, "It's true Draco. Without it, you're just looking like a giant prick."
"Fine, then I'll talk to him!" Draco said, throwing his hands into the air in a frustrated manner. Blaise smirk victoriously and said, "Have fun Draco!"
Draco said nothing as he left the dungeons, deciding to get the conversation over with. He walked up the stairs, looking out the windows near the entrance hall as he thought about where Harry would be. He decided to just roam the corridors. He headed towards the seventh floor, believing that it would be easier and more likely to find Potter nearer the Gryffindor Tower. He walked for nearly an hour, and decided that he was going nowhere, spending most of the time glaring at first and second year Gryffindors as he looked for his Potter. Feeling slightly defeated, he started to walk down the stairs when he walked into Hermione Granger, who was carrying many heavy textbooks. "Granger!" he called out, deciding that if he couldn't talk to Harry directly, he could at least let his Gryffindor know that he is trying.
"What do you want Malfoy?" Granger asked, voice filled with both annoyance, and sheer tiredness.
"No need to look at me like that Granger," Draco said. "I'm just here to say I'm sorry."
"Excuse me?" Granger said, not believing him.
"Look, I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood. Goodbye." And with that, Draco descended the stairs and left Granger to her ways. He returned to the Slytherin common room irritated, yet feeling accomplished. Blaise only glanced up at him from his seat, a roll of parchment in front of him. "Couldn't find him, apologized to Granger," Draco stated as he sat down in front of Blaise.
"That's a good start," Blaise nodded. He looked up and smiled weakly at Draco. "Draco, think you can help me with my Transfiguration assignment?"
Draco chuckled and said, "You're hopeless Zabini, give it here." Blaise just smiled as he slid his parchment towards Draco, letting his best friend correct his mistakes in the essay.
"He said what?" Harry asked, shocked.
"I told you," Hermione said, "Malfoy just walked up to me, said he's sorry for calling me a mudblood, then left."
They were in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione just coming back from a talk with one of her professors. Ron and Harry were staring at her as if she had spontaneously grown a second head. Harry and Ron shared a look and Harry began to mouth something as Ron shook his head. "Well… Harry said slowly. "That's just… weird."
Harry wondered if his and Draco's talk a few days ago had an impact on the Slytherin as he guessed that under normal conditions, Draco would never apologize for anything. Maybe he was trying to make a difference.
"I know, right," Hermione frowned. She shook her head and moved past them, towards her usual corner and unpacked all of her homework assignments for the night.
"I honestly have no idea how she does that," Ron said as they watch Hermione open up her runes dictionary. "Honestly, what is she trying to prove?"
But Harry wasn't thinking about that, instead thoughts of Draco filled him as he made his way up to the dormitories. He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out the dairy. He just felt like writing about it.
"Draco is trying," he wrote. "Hermione told me that he had apologized to her for calling her a mudblood."
"Interesting. … A muggleborn? It seems good that the Malfoy is giving an effort. Though, I am wondering about you Harry. Do you remember the proposal I've made? It is still open, and now it seems that it will be more helpful than ever."
"Yes," Harry wrote. "I accept."
"Excellent," the words oozed from the diary. "We will begin later. What will you do now?"
"I'm thinking of finding Draco," Harry wrote. "But I can't until tomorrow."
"Then sleep Harry, sleep and tomorrow find Draco Malfoy."
Somehow, Harry yawned and felt tired. He returned the diary to it's rightful place, and stripped. He changed into his pajamas and laid in bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows, he fell asleep.
The next morning Harry immediately went out to look for Draco. Lucky for him, he found the Slytherin just as he and the other Slytherins were walking up from the dungeons. The Slytherins all sneered at him, but Blaise gave him a small smile and wave. Draco looked uncertain, but slowly drifted from the crowd as Harry walked away from the doors to the Great Hall.
"Harry?" Draco said.
"I've heard that you apologized to Hermione," Harry said.
"Yeah well… I was looking for you, and found her instead," Draco said. Harry nodded and gave him a small smile. "I'm glad… that you're showing an effort."
"Of course I am," Draco said. "Which is why I wanted to look for you."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"There are some things I need to tell you," Draco said. He looked around and frowned. "After we find some privacy." He grabbed Harry's hand and led him down to an empty corridor. He looked around and found a stone bench next to a window between two suits of armor. They both sat down and Draco said, "Remember when we both admitted that our fathers exert pressure on us?"
"Yeah," Harry said.
"Well… my father is more… forceful," Draco began. "To him, the family image means everything. We cannot show any weakness, to anyone. And to him, anything that he is against or does not like is considered as 'weakness.' One of the biggest showing of weakness that he just hates is going back on plans. Especially when time and effort had been put into it. The situation with the hippogriff… yes, I over reacted. I provoked the damn beast, and now it is out of either my hands or yours. The trial is set for April, and there is no way my father is backing down. The Minister is involved, and if he backs down now and withdraw the charges… it would cause my father to embarrass himself in front of the Minister, something he would never do.
"And there is nothing I can do. I'm sorry but I cannot convince my father to change his mind, nor even think of convincing the Minister! I wish there was something I could do for that hippogriff, but there isn't. I am sorry, but know that if there was anything I could do to help you, I've would have done it already."
"Then find something," Harry said.
"Excuse me?"
"Find something to help me," Harry said. "Go against your dad."
"I already am," Draco muttered.
"What?"
"I already am going against my dad," Draco said. "I'm liking you."
Harry's face turned red as he stared at Draco.
"I told you, my father had a plan for me, and one of those plans was marrying a pureblood witch," Draco said. "It didn't matter who it was, I was to be married to a pureblood witch… and that's just impossible now."
"Why?" Harry asked.
Draco chuckled and smirked, "Really Potter? Did you forget already? I'm gay Harry. I am gay, and I like you. That's already two signs of 'weakness' for my father."
Harry frowned. "Then go against him," he said.
"I can't just 'go against' my father, Harry! This is my father we are talking about! He has the Minister in his pocket!"
"Then do something!" Harry said. "Don't just stand there and mope cause your dad's having a plan for you! Look at me, I'm diverting from my dad's plan and you don't think I'm scared of what will happen?"
"Harry—"
"I'm scared too Draco," Harry said. "But I'm still working on it. … I've mailed my dad at Christmas, I'm going to tell him I am gay. I'm not following my dad's expectations, and I want him to know it. That is what I am doing Draco. What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" Draco repeated. "I am thinking of going against my father. My father Harry, who basically controls the Ministry. Yeah, we both have hard dads, but honestly Harry mine is a hundred times worse than yours. At least yours mail you every month, at least your dad runs to Hogwarts when you get hurt! Do you want to know what my father did? Nothing. No visit, no owl, not even a stupid visit! My mother visited me then told my father about it. And during the Christmas break, he did not even bring the attack up. He just asked me how my classes were going, requested for m grades, and left me alone. So yeah, that is what I'm up against Harry."
Draco's arms were crossed as he fumed against Harry. Harry's frown deepened as he shifted closer to Draco. "I… I didn't know," he said.
"Yeah well… I'm used to it by now," Draco shrugged.
Harry wrapped an arm around the taller boy hesitantly and said, "I'm sorry…"
Draco shook his head and turned towards Harry, "No, you don't need to apologize, Harry. No one outside the Malfoy family knows of how we've kept our image for generations. So don't ever think you need to apologize for that."
Harry blushed but nodded slowly. He looked up at Draco and said, "I've missed you, you know?"
"Of course you did," Draco smirked. "Who wouldn't miss me? I'm the most important boy in your life."
Harry chuckled, relieved that Draco was lightening the mood and said, "Well… I don't know if you're the most important boy in my life… but you're up there."
Draco chuckled and smirked. "I'm sure I can get up there."
"Oh really?" Harry said.
"Draco chuckled and moved his hand to Harry's chin. "Yes, now are we better?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. Draco smiled and stood up, pulling Harry with him. "Good, I'll see you later than Harry." He kissed Harry's cheek and left the corridor, leaving the Gryffindor smiling as their relationship became a little clearer.
January faded imperceptibly into Februrary, with no change in the birrerly cold weather. Harry frequently wrote in the diary, at least twice a week as Tom Riddle taught him about Parseltongue and more lewd subjects. Every time after they have talked, however, Harry always felt a severe tiredness overwhelm him, which he put to on staying up late at night to talk to the diary. To make matters worse, Harry's anti-dementor lessons were not going nearly as well as he had hoped. Several lessons on, he was able to produce an indistinct, silvery shadow every time the boggart-dementor approached him, but his Patronus was too feeble to drive the dementor away. All it did was hover, like a semi-transparent cloud, draining Harry of energy as he fought to keep it there. Harry felt angry with himself, guilty about his secret desire to hear his mother's voice again.
"You're expecting too much of yourself," Professor Lupin-Black said sternly in their fourth week of practice. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"
"I thought a Patronus would—charge the dementors down or something," Harry said dispiritedly. "Make them disappear—"
"The true Patronus does do that," Lupin said. "But you've achieved a great deal in a very short space of time. If the dementors put in an appearance at your next Quidditch match, you will be able to keep them at bay long enough to get back to the ground."
"You said it's harder if there are loads of them," Harry said.
"I have complete confidence in you," Lupin-Black said, smiling. "Here—you've earn a drink—something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before—"
He pulled out two bottles out of his briefcase.
"Butterbeer!" Harry said, without thinking. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"
Lupin-Black raised an eyebrow.
"Oh—Ron and Hermione brought me some back from Hogsmeade," Harry lied quickly.
"I see," Lupin-Black said, though he still looked slightly suspicious. "Well—let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher …," he added hastily.
They drank the butterbeer in silence, until Harry voiced something he'd been wondering for a while.
"Do you think there's a reason? On why my dad doesn't like you and your husband? It cannot be just because you're gay."
Professor Lupin-Black lowered his bottle thoughtfully.
"Hmmm… if there is a reason, then it is one that I do not know Harry," Lupin-Black said. "I suppose that if there is a reason, for there has to be considering we were friends for so many years, that only your father would know it. And, considering that we are currently on nonspeaking terms, I can only guess that he would not be sharing that reason with me nor Sirius shortly."
"Ohh," Harry said with a slight frown.
Lupin-Black gave a short chuckle and said, "You know, my son Orion asked me something similar during the school break."
"Your son?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Lupin-Black chuckled. "I'll expect you see him next year here. His birthday's in August."
"Ohh… what did your son ask?" Harry asked.
"He asked if there was a reason why we didn't talk to James," Lupin-Black chuckled. "And we have told you what I have mostly told you. If there is a reason behind your father's homophobia, then we do not know it. I hoped that there is another, underlining reason for it, though if I were honest, I had given up that possibility years ago."
Harry frowned. "I do not mean to put a wedge between you and your father," Professor Lupin-Black said. He finished his butterbeer and looked at the time. "It's getting late. You should return back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry."
Harry nodded, thanked Lupin-Black for the butterbeer, and left the History of Magic classroom. He returned to the common room to find Hermione working. "Can I sit down?" Harry asked Hermione.
"I suppose so," Hermione said, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.
Harry looked around at the cluttered table, at the long Arithmancy essay on which the ink was still glistening, at the even longer Muggle Studies essay ("Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity") and at the rune translation Hermione was now pouring over.
"How are you getting through all this stuff?" Harry asked her.
"Oh, well—you know—working hard," Hermione said. Close-up, Harry saw that she looked almost as tired as Lupin.
"Why don't you just drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked, watching her lifting books as she searched for her rune dictionary.
"I couldn't do that!" Hermione said, looking scandalized.
"Arithmancy looks terrible," Harry said, picking up a very complicated-looking numbers char.
"Oh no, it's wonderful!" Hermione said earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's—"
But exactly what was wonderful about Arithmancy, Harry never found out. At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bedsheet.
"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.
"Ron, what—?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. Harry looked down at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it. Something that looked horribly like—
"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"
N-No," Hermione said in a trembling voice.
Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs.
A/N: I know that this is a chapter's ending… I just love the cliffhanger Ms Rowling had made.
Kigen Dawn: I'm a dork? And it takes… mostly a chapter lol. Interesting I was going to put in a lewd scene… but that'll be for later. And yes, we will find out soon. You can say that the culprits are… staring you at the face.
Guest: You deal with a break up and I had a horrible twisted breakup… Yay! Glad to help!
Sasuhinas fan: … … … ….. STOP LOOKING AT MY NOTES! YOU'RE GOING TO SPOIL THE WHOLE THING! Lol
MagnificentFern: Sorry bout the beginning… Will try to keep it shorter. And for now Tom is playing nice, but whether or not he will have control of Harry…well, there will be a certain chamber he will open.
Laura: You check everyday!? Wow… umm wouldn't it be easier to make an account? Just asking.
MiniMarauder5: Yes, he did send it.
Love Faith Embers: maybe
Ern: Well he's starting to.
Zatsune D. LawLuFan: Really? Lol thanks!
Jokul Frosti: Ohhh and no, no dream sequences here. And the creature of the NEW FIC will be revealed when I'm done outlining the overall plot.
Hyper-Blossom Z: The Horcruxes' memories end up to when the Horcrux was created. The only reason Tom Riddle knew about Harry was because Ginny never stopped talking about him. Without the girl telling the diary Harry's history, there is no reason or way for the diary to know everything essential about Harry Potter and how he had caused his downfall. And yes, I am. We are close. Just you wait lol
OUATLover02: Well, the wait was short.
Super MKatR: Well, yes, yes, yes, and maybe.
Littlesprout: you are welcome.
Sapphirewaterfall: You just happened to review when I was nearing the end of the chapter lol. Yes it is nice to see the two actually working out their problems for a change! What a concept!? No mirror. The diary is the only thing I'm bring from previous books and it's not going to be here long lol. NO! THIS ONE IS NOT A CREATURE FIC! I was talking about a new story, sorry for the confusion. Yes there is MPreg in here, yes Harry knows James' an Animagus, And you are welcome for the reply, I love replying to long reviews lol.