Secrets and Second Chances: Chapter Four Part One
See Master Post for details
Chapter Three Part Two
Chapter Four
The rest of the summer holiday seemed to fly by in a daze of quiet grief and weeding. Harry stayed at Neville’s house, content to help the other boy in the family greenhouses for hours on end. If the Longbottom clan noticed Harry’s greater quietness, none of them mentioned it.
They will live again, was the prevalent mantra that got Harry through the hard days. You will see them again. Even if they never call you father, you will be there to watch over them, watch them grow up, all of it. You will. And maybe…maybe. Maybe they will end up mine anyway. Maybe.
Time, as it does, heals most grief. The heartache that choked Harry for the first few days after visiting Ollivander’s shop faded, as he knew it would. The bittersweet memories played out in his dreams, hazy as half forgotten imaginations, but the pull on his heart stayed the same. James, Albus, Lily, Harry would wake with tears still wet on his face sometimes. Neville never asked him why.
Harry went with his friend to St. Mungo’s once a week. Harry stayed in the waiting room, not wanting to crowd Neville’s time with his parents. Neville seemed to draw strength from Harry’s company - or at least that was what Mrs. Longbottom told him.
Before he knew it, it was September first again and the school term was upon them.
They were up at dawn, even though they had packed the night before. “Gran’s always like this,” Neville said through a yawn as they tromped down for breakfast.
After that Mrs. Longbottom called the Knight Bus, while a few of Neville’s older relatives came to see them off. They were on their way to London by a little after eight in the morning. Harry played cards with Neville as the bus made several more stops. Harry waved to a familiar Hufflepuff face, even as a shy Slytherin third year came by to say hello to a bewildered Harry. Harry didn’t recognize the face from his memories, but a glance at the girl’s parents told him why - the man was clearly a wizard, in his worn robes and wand, but the woman sitting next to him was in Muggle clothing and was peering around with bright, interested eyes.
They reached King’s Cross Station with almost an hour to spare. Mrs. Longbottom saw them off with little fanfare; a brusque kiss for Neville and a gracious nod for Harry seemed to be extent of her public affections.
The boys claimed a compartment on an eerily empty train. The porters had their things stowed in a flash. Harry and Neville watched the young men lounge near the tea trolley vender and smoke, while flirting with the girl behind the till.
“I’ve never been here this early,” Harry said.
“Me either. Last year we went from Diagon Alley.”
“That’s right,” Harry said. “I never did thank you for your help, did I?”
Neville rolled his eyes at him. “Forget it. Bets on how long it’ll take Hermione to ask us about our homework?”
“Five minutes.”
“I say three.”
They shook on it.
It wasn’t long before the platform started to fill. Harry and Neville watched the ebb and flow of the crowd from their window, picking out familiar faces from the rush.
“There you are,” came Hermione’s voice from the door. “I’ve been looking all over. We wanted to get here before the rush, but my father forgot to fill the tank for the car and it was just horrid at the fill station.”
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry grinned as he turned to face his friend.
Hermione beamed back at them. “I am so excited. I can’t wait. A whole new year of studies! Do you have your homework finished?”
Harry shared a wry look with Neville. “We finished it. Promise.”
“Wonderful. I’ve come up with a preliminary schedule for our study group, but I’ll have to -”
“Study group?”
Harry glanced up to see Theodore Nott standing at the door.
Hermione rolled her eyes “Yes, Theo. The study group. I told you about it.”
“Not that you started to schedule it.” Theo moved into the compartment, Draco hot on his heels.
“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Hello,” the blond’s chin came up. Harry thought he caught a hint of nervousness in Draco’s gaze.
“Did you finish your homework?”
The haughtiness died as Draco gaped at Hermione. “Of course I did!”
“Well,” Hermione sniffed. “Good.”
“You’re arranging study groups already?” Theo threw himself onto the seat opposite her. “We haven’t even got our class schedules yet, how can you start planning?”
“A general study group in the afternoon can be assured of.”
“For a single House group, but what about including other Houses?”
Hermione blinked. “You want to join our group?”
“Thank you for the offer; we would be delighted.”
“I - but I - hey…”
Harry tuned out Hermione and Theo’s squabbling as Draco settled in next to him. “How was your summer?” He asked the blond instead.
Draco shot him a shrewd glance, then Neville. “We had several…unpleasant visitors,” he shrugged, his expression grim. “My father was out of temper for the most part. That’s probably what caused the,” Draco wrinkled his nose. “The - you know.”
“Knock down, drag out brawl?”
Color spread over pale cheeks. “Yes.”
“No offense, but your dad deserved it.”
Draco scowled, but said nothing. What a change, Harry bit down on a smirk.
“ - absolute rot -”
“ - is not the cause of -”
“ - without necessary -”
“ - is not -”
“She’s been doing this to him all summer,” Draco sighed over Hermione and Theo’s rising shouts.
“Has not,” Theo snapped at Draco, face flushed.
“At least you got to see the Muggle stuff.”
“You…wanted to see it, too?” Hermione peered at Draco.
The blond tried to look nonchalant, Harry noted, but failed. “Sure,” Draco said. “It would have been diverting.”
Harry spared a moment to palm his face. Were we all such twits at this age?
“Diverting,” Hermione repeated.
There was a tap on the door. Fred stuck his head inside. “There you are, Harry. Hello, all.”
“Hello, Fred,” Harry gave the older boy a small wave.
“We’ve just made it aboard,” Fred winced as the train whistled screeched. “Mum wanted us to make sure you lot made in on, too. Now that I’ve filled my filial duty, I’m off!” Fred tossed them a sloppy salute and was gone.
“He always seems so stupid, but their pranks are well planned and their joke pieces are very well put together,” Theo sighed. “It’s a shame they weren’t sorted into Slytherin.”
Harry couldn’t help his laugh. “Are you mental? Snape would have drowned them both during their first year.” Hermione giggled, but Draco scowled at the Gyrffindors.
“Professor Snape would never do such a thing to a fellow Slytherin.”
“Maybe not,” Harry grinned. “But I’d bet he’d dream about it.”
The rest of the train ride was spent catching up. Apprehension touched Harry at Draco’s description of the visitors that had decamped at the Malfoy estate for most of the summer.
“Father seemed furious, but became quite cross with me when I said to just throw them out,” Draco sulked. “Mother took me out most days. It was - It was nice.”
“They weren’t relatives?” Neville asked. “We have relatives that visit a lot. Gran likes them to stay at least a week at a time.”
“No, they weren’t blood,” Draco made a face. “Mum’s sister is - ah,” he glanced at Neville, who looked away. “Bellatrix is a mental case in Azkaban. Mother never sees her. Father doesn’t have any siblings.”
“Sounds lonely. Even we have cousins who come over,” Hermione said.
“Cousins I’ve got plenty of,” Draco rolled his eyes. “No, Mother said our guests were Father’s business partners once, when he made a bad deal. I still think it was rude of them to stay so long, but Mother said we didn’t dare throw them out. It would be rude.”
Harry let the conversation roll over him, saying as little as possible as he turned the information over in his head. He knew Narcissa had always been neutral to either side of the war - Lucius, not so. However, it sounded like the Malfoys had been visited by unwelcome guests - former Death Eaters, probably, Harry thought as he glanced at Draco. How better to pressure the powerful Lucius Malfoy than to call on the Manor where his only son and heir resides and refuse to leave. Yes, Harry could see why Narcissa had taken Draco out almost every day. Especially if they had sent Greyback to persuade Lucius to be more active to the Death Eater’s cause.
The troubling news accompanied him all the way to school. There was nothing he could do for Draco, now, save be his friend and try to help the blond see that his choices for the future were not as limited as they may yet seem. I can help them, Harry reminded himself. Anyone, everyone in Slytherin who didn’t have a way out - I can help them, too.
They found their carriages for the ride up to the school. Harry’s heart ached as he stared at the Thestrals, but he forced himself to look away and climb inside.
Then they were at the castle and filling in the four long tables with their golden plates and goblets. The bewitched ceiling showed the evening sky overhead, along with a forest of candles hanging in mid-air.
Harry picked out Ginny’s shock of red hair as the first years entered the hall. He sat squeezed in between Hermione and Neville as the sorting began. How strange things change, Harry glanced at the head table. Snape’s scowl was directed at the line of first years. Last time I did this Snape was hauling us into his office for a scolding. We thought we’d be expelled for sure, Harry glanced at Ron. The redhead seemed to feel his gaze and glanced at Harry - and then scowled. Harry’s heart dropped. Will we ever be friends?
Harry looked back at the first years, smiling at a bouncing Colin Creevey and then - Luna! He sat forward, peering at the girl. She looked so different, almost…almost normal. It was bizarre. He bit back a smile. Luna. I’ll have to try and talk to her at some point. She was such a help to us when we needed it most, both during Voldemort’s attacks and Hammerstein’s.
Harry cheered along with the rest of the House when the last of the first years had been sorted. Harry was ravenous by the time the food appeared. He noted with some amusement the approval on Hermione’s face as she watched him fall onto his food. Such a mother hen, he smiled down at his plate. Ron and I would have been lost without her. But the thought dimmed his happiness a bit - I have Hermione again, but not Ron. He resolved to push the worry away, for now. He still had plenty of time to befriend Ron. And he would, somehow. He winced and rubbed at the flash of pain that spiked through his head.
They were settled into Gryffindor Tower, with Harry stopping by to congratulate Ginny on her placement. The twins were proud enough to be her father, while Ron glared at Harry anytime he approached. Ginny was alight with joy, smiling and laughing with the other first year Gryffindors. Harry hung back, unable to think of a way to ask about the diary. Hey, I know I barely know you, but I was wondering if you managed to find a creepy journal that talks to you…? He swallowed a snort and turned back to his friends. Yeah, that won’t work at all.
Later that night, Harry caught sight of Scabbers sniffing around his trunk. Harry reacted without thinking, firing off a hex at the bloody Animagus - which set off Ron, and then Seamus and Dean had to separate them as Harry and Ron went at each other. Percy waded in before blows could be thrown, but the damage was done - Ron snarled if Harry so much as looked at Scabbers.
The argument and the tension in the room did little to settle Harry’s nerves. His dreams were a painful mix of old memories and new fears. Harry woke several times throughout the night, chest heaving, pulse racing, all from the images that haunted his mind.
Harry was up bright and early for the first day of term, easing out of bed on silent feet. He couldn’t spot that damned rat anywhere and it wouldn’t be long before the others started to wake. No, he would have to bide his time and go after Pettigrew when he was alone in the dorms. He trudged to the bathrooms instead, shelving the problems for later. He found Hermione in the common room, and he, Neville and Hermione all went down to the Great Hall together. Hermione had her copy of Voyages with Vampires with her at breakfast - Harry ignored the text and tried to focus on eating. His appetite had fled during the night.
Professor McGonagall handed out their class schedules as more Gryffindors started to arrive.
“Oh, double Herbology,” Neville beamed. “It’ll be so nice to have that with the Hufflepuffs this year. And we get to work in the morning! It’s ever so much nicer.”
“Dirtier, as well,” Hermione said.
“A little dirt never hurt a soul,” Neville answered back primly. Harry bit back a laugh and finished off his toast.
They left to get their things, waving to Draco and Theo as they ducked out of the hall. Harry noted that Blaise Zabini had sat next to the Slytherins - it looked rather frightful to navigate the politics of that House, Harry shivered. A few first years had also sat near Draco and Theo’s side of the table. Harry could only hope that somehow things could turn out differently for a lot of the innocents in that House who had been caught up in the war.
They left the castle, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the greenhouses. Neville, Harry noted, had a bounce to his step. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class waiting outside. Ron was in a group with Dean and Seamus and a few other Hufflepuff boys.
They had little time to wait before Professor Sprout joined them, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Professor Sport was a squat little woman who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and under her fingernails that would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a turquoise hat with gold trimming.
“Ah, hello there!” He called, beaming around at the assembled students. “I was just talking with your Professor here about the wonderful plants she’s been growing for you this year, yes - but I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…”
“I bet you did,” Harry muttered.
“Greenhouse three, today, chaps!” Professor Sprout called. She was looking distinctly disgruntled and not at all her usual, cheerful self.
“No one is better at Herbology than Professor Sprout,” Neville said as they made their way to the greenhouses. There had been a general murmur of interest at the Professor’s announcement - they had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants.
Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Neville and Hermione inside when Lockhart’s hand shot out. Harry flinched back, startled.
“Harry! I’ve been wanting a word - you don’t mind if he’s a couple minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?”
Harry turned to Sprout in mute appeal - the woman’s scowl eased as she met Harry’s pleading look - but Lockhart moved before she could rescue him.
“That’s the ticket, thank you, Pomona,” Lockhart said and closed the greenhouse door in her face.
“Harry,” Lockhart said as he turned, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”
Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing back.
“You, my boy, are such an interesting young wizard. Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart took him by the shoulders.
Harry’s stomach twisted at the man’s proximity - he’d hated Lockhart the first time around and he didn’t see himself warming to the man this time, either. He’s scum, Harry tried to step away.
“Please, sir. I’ve got class.”
“Harry, Harry, Harry. I know you’ve had your first taste of publicity with me - gave you the bug, haven’t I? Oh, yes.”
“Sir, please let go.”
“But, Harry, Harry, Harry.”
“You’re hurting me.” Lockhart’s fingers had dug into Harry’s shoulders as he tried to get away. Harry did not like the manic light that had entered the man’s eye.
“Harry, my boy, there is no need to be so wary. You must simply be patient, yes, patient, my dear, dear boy…”
“What is going on here?”
Harry felt an odd moment of disconnect when relief washed through him. When have I ever been grateful for Snape’s appearance?
“Severus!” Lockhart turned, one hand still digging into Harry’s shoulder. Harry winced and tried again to pull away.
“Professor, please. That hurts and I’m missing class.” He glanced up; Snape had several glass vials filled with liquids and bits of herbs. Potions ingredients. Harry met the dark eyes, trying not to flinch when Lockhart’s fingers bit in deeper. Stop touching me, I hate it, I hate being touched. I should just kick him, I…
Harry blinked at the hint of a smile on Snape’s mouth. “Lockhart,” Snape transferred his gaze to the man. “Quit being an imbecile and let our celebrity go to class. You do have your own lectures to attend to.”
Lockhart’s hand disappeared. “Severus! Really, I know my stunning self is hard to -”
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry cut in, forcing himself to say the words. Then he bolted into the greenhouse, not looking back. He heard Lockhart’s voice raised to a shout as he eased into place next to Hermione and Neville.
Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different colored earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between his friends, Sprout said, “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”
Harry nudged Neville, grabbing Hermione’s hand to keep it down.
“Yes, Neville?”
“It’s uh - Mandrake,” Neville stuttered. “It’s a - a restorative.”
“Exactly, ten points to Gryffindor,” Sprout graced Neville with an approving smile. “Mandrakes are indeed a restorative. They can be used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state. They also form an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”
Hermione’s hand narrowly missed Harry’s glasses as it shot up.
“Ms. Granger?”
“The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” Hermione answered.
“Precisely. Ten points to Gryffindor,” said Sprout. “Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.” She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke. Everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish-green in color, were growing there in rows.
“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink or fluffy.
“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,” said Professor Sprout. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on.”
Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants and pulled hard.
Instead of roots, a small, muddy, ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of its head. It had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
I’d forgotten how creepy they were, Harry shivered.
Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the mandrake into it, burying it in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs.
“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,” she said calmly, as though she’d done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. “However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.”
She clapped her hands together. “Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.”
Harry, Neville and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy. Harry had to look away.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” the boy said, shaking Neville’s hand. He turned to Harry. “I know how you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter. And you’re Hermione Granger - always top in everything, and Neville Longbottom, yeah?”
“Ah, yeah,” Neville stammered. Harry said nothing. Justin wasn’t a bad sort, he’d even joined Dumbledore’s Army, but when Hammerstein had invaded, Justin had fled with his family to Australia and never looked back. Not that Harry could blame him, (although, yes, he did, a little) but…
“…My name was down for Eton, you know,” Harry tuned in long enough to hear Justin say. Harry hurried off for the compost heap, not trusting himself to stay pleasant. They didn’t have much chance to talk after that, since Sprout gave the order for them to put on their earmuffs and get back to work.
Part Two
Chapter Three Part Two
Chapter Four
The rest of the summer holiday seemed to fly by in a daze of quiet grief and weeding. Harry stayed at Neville’s house, content to help the other boy in the family greenhouses for hours on end. If the Longbottom clan noticed Harry’s greater quietness, none of them mentioned it.
They will live again, was the prevalent mantra that got Harry through the hard days. You will see them again. Even if they never call you father, you will be there to watch over them, watch them grow up, all of it. You will. And maybe…maybe. Maybe they will end up mine anyway. Maybe.
Time, as it does, heals most grief. The heartache that choked Harry for the first few days after visiting Ollivander’s shop faded, as he knew it would. The bittersweet memories played out in his dreams, hazy as half forgotten imaginations, but the pull on his heart stayed the same. James, Albus, Lily, Harry would wake with tears still wet on his face sometimes. Neville never asked him why.
Harry went with his friend to St. Mungo’s once a week. Harry stayed in the waiting room, not wanting to crowd Neville’s time with his parents. Neville seemed to draw strength from Harry’s company - or at least that was what Mrs. Longbottom told him.
Before he knew it, it was September first again and the school term was upon them.
They were up at dawn, even though they had packed the night before. “Gran’s always like this,” Neville said through a yawn as they tromped down for breakfast.
After that Mrs. Longbottom called the Knight Bus, while a few of Neville’s older relatives came to see them off. They were on their way to London by a little after eight in the morning. Harry played cards with Neville as the bus made several more stops. Harry waved to a familiar Hufflepuff face, even as a shy Slytherin third year came by to say hello to a bewildered Harry. Harry didn’t recognize the face from his memories, but a glance at the girl’s parents told him why - the man was clearly a wizard, in his worn robes and wand, but the woman sitting next to him was in Muggle clothing and was peering around with bright, interested eyes.
They reached King’s Cross Station with almost an hour to spare. Mrs. Longbottom saw them off with little fanfare; a brusque kiss for Neville and a gracious nod for Harry seemed to be extent of her public affections.
The boys claimed a compartment on an eerily empty train. The porters had their things stowed in a flash. Harry and Neville watched the young men lounge near the tea trolley vender and smoke, while flirting with the girl behind the till.
“I’ve never been here this early,” Harry said.
“Me either. Last year we went from Diagon Alley.”
“That’s right,” Harry said. “I never did thank you for your help, did I?”
Neville rolled his eyes at him. “Forget it. Bets on how long it’ll take Hermione to ask us about our homework?”
“Five minutes.”
“I say three.”
They shook on it.
It wasn’t long before the platform started to fill. Harry and Neville watched the ebb and flow of the crowd from their window, picking out familiar faces from the rush.
“There you are,” came Hermione’s voice from the door. “I’ve been looking all over. We wanted to get here before the rush, but my father forgot to fill the tank for the car and it was just horrid at the fill station.”
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry grinned as he turned to face his friend.
Hermione beamed back at them. “I am so excited. I can’t wait. A whole new year of studies! Do you have your homework finished?”
Harry shared a wry look with Neville. “We finished it. Promise.”
“Wonderful. I’ve come up with a preliminary schedule for our study group, but I’ll have to -”
“Study group?”
Harry glanced up to see Theodore Nott standing at the door.
Hermione rolled her eyes “Yes, Theo. The study group. I told you about it.”
“Not that you started to schedule it.” Theo moved into the compartment, Draco hot on his heels.
“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Hello,” the blond’s chin came up. Harry thought he caught a hint of nervousness in Draco’s gaze.
“Did you finish your homework?”
The haughtiness died as Draco gaped at Hermione. “Of course I did!”
“Well,” Hermione sniffed. “Good.”
“You’re arranging study groups already?” Theo threw himself onto the seat opposite her. “We haven’t even got our class schedules yet, how can you start planning?”
“A general study group in the afternoon can be assured of.”
“For a single House group, but what about including other Houses?”
Hermione blinked. “You want to join our group?”
“Thank you for the offer; we would be delighted.”
“I - but I - hey…”
Harry tuned out Hermione and Theo’s squabbling as Draco settled in next to him. “How was your summer?” He asked the blond instead.
Draco shot him a shrewd glance, then Neville. “We had several…unpleasant visitors,” he shrugged, his expression grim. “My father was out of temper for the most part. That’s probably what caused the,” Draco wrinkled his nose. “The - you know.”
“Knock down, drag out brawl?”
Color spread over pale cheeks. “Yes.”
“No offense, but your dad deserved it.”
Draco scowled, but said nothing. What a change, Harry bit down on a smirk.
“ - absolute rot -”
“ - is not the cause of -”
“ - without necessary -”
“ - is not -”
“She’s been doing this to him all summer,” Draco sighed over Hermione and Theo’s rising shouts.
“Has not,” Theo snapped at Draco, face flushed.
“At least you got to see the Muggle stuff.”
“You…wanted to see it, too?” Hermione peered at Draco.
The blond tried to look nonchalant, Harry noted, but failed. “Sure,” Draco said. “It would have been diverting.”
Harry spared a moment to palm his face. Were we all such twits at this age?
“Diverting,” Hermione repeated.
There was a tap on the door. Fred stuck his head inside. “There you are, Harry. Hello, all.”
“Hello, Fred,” Harry gave the older boy a small wave.
“We’ve just made it aboard,” Fred winced as the train whistled screeched. “Mum wanted us to make sure you lot made in on, too. Now that I’ve filled my filial duty, I’m off!” Fred tossed them a sloppy salute and was gone.
“He always seems so stupid, but their pranks are well planned and their joke pieces are very well put together,” Theo sighed. “It’s a shame they weren’t sorted into Slytherin.”
Harry couldn’t help his laugh. “Are you mental? Snape would have drowned them both during their first year.” Hermione giggled, but Draco scowled at the Gyrffindors.
“Professor Snape would never do such a thing to a fellow Slytherin.”
“Maybe not,” Harry grinned. “But I’d bet he’d dream about it.”
The rest of the train ride was spent catching up. Apprehension touched Harry at Draco’s description of the visitors that had decamped at the Malfoy estate for most of the summer.
“Father seemed furious, but became quite cross with me when I said to just throw them out,” Draco sulked. “Mother took me out most days. It was - It was nice.”
“They weren’t relatives?” Neville asked. “We have relatives that visit a lot. Gran likes them to stay at least a week at a time.”
“No, they weren’t blood,” Draco made a face. “Mum’s sister is - ah,” he glanced at Neville, who looked away. “Bellatrix is a mental case in Azkaban. Mother never sees her. Father doesn’t have any siblings.”
“Sounds lonely. Even we have cousins who come over,” Hermione said.
“Cousins I’ve got plenty of,” Draco rolled his eyes. “No, Mother said our guests were Father’s business partners once, when he made a bad deal. I still think it was rude of them to stay so long, but Mother said we didn’t dare throw them out. It would be rude.”
Harry let the conversation roll over him, saying as little as possible as he turned the information over in his head. He knew Narcissa had always been neutral to either side of the war - Lucius, not so. However, it sounded like the Malfoys had been visited by unwelcome guests - former Death Eaters, probably, Harry thought as he glanced at Draco. How better to pressure the powerful Lucius Malfoy than to call on the Manor where his only son and heir resides and refuse to leave. Yes, Harry could see why Narcissa had taken Draco out almost every day. Especially if they had sent Greyback to persuade Lucius to be more active to the Death Eater’s cause.
The troubling news accompanied him all the way to school. There was nothing he could do for Draco, now, save be his friend and try to help the blond see that his choices for the future were not as limited as they may yet seem. I can help them, Harry reminded himself. Anyone, everyone in Slytherin who didn’t have a way out - I can help them, too.
They found their carriages for the ride up to the school. Harry’s heart ached as he stared at the Thestrals, but he forced himself to look away and climb inside.
Then they were at the castle and filling in the four long tables with their golden plates and goblets. The bewitched ceiling showed the evening sky overhead, along with a forest of candles hanging in mid-air.
Harry picked out Ginny’s shock of red hair as the first years entered the hall. He sat squeezed in between Hermione and Neville as the sorting began. How strange things change, Harry glanced at the head table. Snape’s scowl was directed at the line of first years. Last time I did this Snape was hauling us into his office for a scolding. We thought we’d be expelled for sure, Harry glanced at Ron. The redhead seemed to feel his gaze and glanced at Harry - and then scowled. Harry’s heart dropped. Will we ever be friends?
Harry looked back at the first years, smiling at a bouncing Colin Creevey and then - Luna! He sat forward, peering at the girl. She looked so different, almost…almost normal. It was bizarre. He bit back a smile. Luna. I’ll have to try and talk to her at some point. She was such a help to us when we needed it most, both during Voldemort’s attacks and Hammerstein’s.
Harry cheered along with the rest of the House when the last of the first years had been sorted. Harry was ravenous by the time the food appeared. He noted with some amusement the approval on Hermione’s face as she watched him fall onto his food. Such a mother hen, he smiled down at his plate. Ron and I would have been lost without her. But the thought dimmed his happiness a bit - I have Hermione again, but not Ron. He resolved to push the worry away, for now. He still had plenty of time to befriend Ron. And he would, somehow. He winced and rubbed at the flash of pain that spiked through his head.
They were settled into Gryffindor Tower, with Harry stopping by to congratulate Ginny on her placement. The twins were proud enough to be her father, while Ron glared at Harry anytime he approached. Ginny was alight with joy, smiling and laughing with the other first year Gryffindors. Harry hung back, unable to think of a way to ask about the diary. Hey, I know I barely know you, but I was wondering if you managed to find a creepy journal that talks to you…? He swallowed a snort and turned back to his friends. Yeah, that won’t work at all.
Later that night, Harry caught sight of Scabbers sniffing around his trunk. Harry reacted without thinking, firing off a hex at the bloody Animagus - which set off Ron, and then Seamus and Dean had to separate them as Harry and Ron went at each other. Percy waded in before blows could be thrown, but the damage was done - Ron snarled if Harry so much as looked at Scabbers.
The argument and the tension in the room did little to settle Harry’s nerves. His dreams were a painful mix of old memories and new fears. Harry woke several times throughout the night, chest heaving, pulse racing, all from the images that haunted his mind.
Harry was up bright and early for the first day of term, easing out of bed on silent feet. He couldn’t spot that damned rat anywhere and it wouldn’t be long before the others started to wake. No, he would have to bide his time and go after Pettigrew when he was alone in the dorms. He trudged to the bathrooms instead, shelving the problems for later. He found Hermione in the common room, and he, Neville and Hermione all went down to the Great Hall together. Hermione had her copy of Voyages with Vampires with her at breakfast - Harry ignored the text and tried to focus on eating. His appetite had fled during the night.
Professor McGonagall handed out their class schedules as more Gryffindors started to arrive.
“Oh, double Herbology,” Neville beamed. “It’ll be so nice to have that with the Hufflepuffs this year. And we get to work in the morning! It’s ever so much nicer.”
“Dirtier, as well,” Hermione said.
“A little dirt never hurt a soul,” Neville answered back primly. Harry bit back a laugh and finished off his toast.
They left to get their things, waving to Draco and Theo as they ducked out of the hall. Harry noted that Blaise Zabini had sat next to the Slytherins - it looked rather frightful to navigate the politics of that House, Harry shivered. A few first years had also sat near Draco and Theo’s side of the table. Harry could only hope that somehow things could turn out differently for a lot of the innocents in that House who had been caught up in the war.
They left the castle, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the greenhouses. Neville, Harry noted, had a bounce to his step. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class waiting outside. Ron was in a group with Dean and Seamus and a few other Hufflepuff boys.
They had little time to wait before Professor Sprout joined them, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.
Professor Sport was a squat little woman who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and under her fingernails that would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a turquoise hat with gold trimming.
“Ah, hello there!” He called, beaming around at the assembled students. “I was just talking with your Professor here about the wonderful plants she’s been growing for you this year, yes - but I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…”
“I bet you did,” Harry muttered.
“Greenhouse three, today, chaps!” Professor Sprout called. She was looking distinctly disgruntled and not at all her usual, cheerful self.
“No one is better at Herbology than Professor Sprout,” Neville said as they made their way to the greenhouses. There had been a general murmur of interest at the Professor’s announcement - they had only ever worked in greenhouse one before - greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants.
Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. He was about to follow Neville and Hermione inside when Lockhart’s hand shot out. Harry flinched back, startled.
“Harry! I’ve been wanting a word - you don’t mind if he’s a couple minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?”
Harry turned to Sprout in mute appeal - the woman’s scowl eased as she met Harry’s pleading look - but Lockhart moved before she could rescue him.
“That’s the ticket, thank you, Pomona,” Lockhart said and closed the greenhouse door in her face.
“Harry,” Lockhart said as he turned, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”
Completely nonplussed, Harry said nothing back.
“You, my boy, are such an interesting young wizard. Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart took him by the shoulders.
Harry’s stomach twisted at the man’s proximity - he’d hated Lockhart the first time around and he didn’t see himself warming to the man this time, either. He’s scum, Harry tried to step away.
“Please, sir. I’ve got class.”
“Harry, Harry, Harry. I know you’ve had your first taste of publicity with me - gave you the bug, haven’t I? Oh, yes.”
“Sir, please let go.”
“But, Harry, Harry, Harry.”
“You’re hurting me.” Lockhart’s fingers had dug into Harry’s shoulders as he tried to get away. Harry did not like the manic light that had entered the man’s eye.
“Harry, my boy, there is no need to be so wary. You must simply be patient, yes, patient, my dear, dear boy…”
“What is going on here?”
Harry felt an odd moment of disconnect when relief washed through him. When have I ever been grateful for Snape’s appearance?
“Severus!” Lockhart turned, one hand still digging into Harry’s shoulder. Harry winced and tried again to pull away.
“Professor, please. That hurts and I’m missing class.” He glanced up; Snape had several glass vials filled with liquids and bits of herbs. Potions ingredients. Harry met the dark eyes, trying not to flinch when Lockhart’s fingers bit in deeper. Stop touching me, I hate it, I hate being touched. I should just kick him, I…
Harry blinked at the hint of a smile on Snape’s mouth. “Lockhart,” Snape transferred his gaze to the man. “Quit being an imbecile and let our celebrity go to class. You do have your own lectures to attend to.”
Lockhart’s hand disappeared. “Severus! Really, I know my stunning self is hard to -”
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry cut in, forcing himself to say the words. Then he bolted into the greenhouse, not looking back. He heard Lockhart’s voice raised to a shout as he eased into place next to Hermione and Neville.
Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different colored earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between his friends, Sprout said, “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”
Harry nudged Neville, grabbing Hermione’s hand to keep it down.
“Yes, Neville?”
“It’s uh - Mandrake,” Neville stuttered. “It’s a - a restorative.”
“Exactly, ten points to Gryffindor,” Sprout graced Neville with an approving smile. “Mandrakes are indeed a restorative. They can be used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state. They also form an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”
Hermione’s hand narrowly missed Harry’s glasses as it shot up.
“Ms. Granger?”
“The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” Hermione answered.
“Precisely. Ten points to Gryffindor,” said Sprout. “Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young.” She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke. Everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish-green in color, were growing there in rows.
“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” said Professor Sprout.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink or fluffy.
“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered,” said Professor Sprout. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right - earmuffs on.”
Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants and pulled hard.
Instead of roots, a small, muddy, ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of its head. It had pale green, mottled skin and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
I’d forgotten how creepy they were, Harry shivered.
Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the mandrake into it, burying it in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up and removed her own earmuffs.
“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,” she said calmly, as though she’d done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. “However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.”
She clapped her hands together. “Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.”
Harry, Neville and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy. Harry had to look away.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” the boy said, shaking Neville’s hand. He turned to Harry. “I know how you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter. And you’re Hermione Granger - always top in everything, and Neville Longbottom, yeah?”
“Ah, yeah,” Neville stammered. Harry said nothing. Justin wasn’t a bad sort, he’d even joined Dumbledore’s Army, but when Hammerstein had invaded, Justin had fled with his family to Australia and never looked back. Not that Harry could blame him, (although, yes, he did, a little) but…
“…My name was down for Eton, you know,” Harry tuned in long enough to hear Justin say. Harry hurried off for the compost heap, not trusting himself to stay pleasant. They didn’t have much chance to talk after that, since Sprout gave the order for them to put on their earmuffs and get back to work.
Part Two