Chapter 11: A Midwinter Night's Dream
Hermione thought it best to leave it to Harry to explain things to Ron, hopefully avoiding triggering an outburst. She sat nearby in one of the cushioned armchairs, a book propped up in front of her face, half-listening as Harry quietly gave Ron the gist of things.
Ron gawked at Harry, not quite sure that he had heard correctly.
"Wait, so you're telling me that you're ditching Divination?"
"I didn't really have a choice, Ron," Harry retorted. "It was McGonagall's idea apparently."
"And you've got a bodyguard now?" The look in Ron's eye suggested a bit more than incredulity.
"Yeah! More or less... but not just for me - for Hermione as well."
"Bloody Hell!" Ron swore, scowling, tabling the issue of Harry and Hermione's secret personal escort for the moment, as he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. But there was one feeling he was certain of.
"What am I going to do in Divination then?" Ron moaned. "We were supposed to be taking it together."
"Well, it's not going to be a piece of cake for me either, Ron," said Harry, his frustration growing. "I'm certainly not going to miss Trelawney predicting my death all the time, but I'm stuck in fourthyear Ancient Runes and Arithmancy now - I'll be a year and half behind everyone else. ... While they're doing whatever, I'll be starting from scratch - the only one in the classes who's completely rubbish at them."
"Oh!" Ron deflated like a punctured balloon; he hadn't considered that angle. "That's bollocksed mate," he sighed, looking more sympathetic. "You're right Harry. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."
"Anyway, you'll still have Neville in Divination," Harry pointed out. "And I'll still see you in all our other classes."
"Yeah, true enough," Ron agreed. "But all that extra homework - you probably won't have as much time to hang out after classes."
Harry nodded, then shrugged resignedly.
"Honestly, I'm not as fussed about the homework as I thought I would be," he confessed. "I just wish I'd picked Runes and Arithmancy to begin with, instead of Divination. What with Vol..." Harry caught himself, not wanting to upset Ron even more, "...with You-Know-Who after me nearly every year, I should've been more focused on learning as much magic as possible if I ever want to stand a chance against him and finish him permanently one day. ... He's a bloody Evil Genius!"
"Suppose so," said Ron, "I'm just glad I'm not taking Runes and Arithmancy. Better you than me!"
Harry couldn't help grinning at that. Hermione snorted, her rolling eyes hidden by the novel.
~o0o~
"Writing a book, are you, Draco?" asked Zabini, raising his eyebrows. "Thought you might want to sort things out with Pansy, instead of wasting your time."
"Mind your own business, Blaise!" snapped Draco.
"Suit yourself," Zabini shrugged. "It's no skin off my nose if you don't apologise to Pansy."
Draco scowled, seething as he continued penning a letter to his father. The Yule Ball had been an utter disaster, and it was all Potter's fault.
Potter had sowed the seeds of doubt in Pansy, who had told Daphne about Draco's demands to get her nose fixed if she wanted to go to the Yule Ball with him; Daphne had then refused his generous offer to take her to the Ball "on a matter of principle," standing by her friend, Pansy. And to top things off, Potter had humiliated him in front of that snooty French bitch.
All this had followed on the heels of ruining the advantage that Snape had given Draco after his last letter to his father. Draco had hoped that he would be able to take the opportunity to ingratiate himself more with Krum, and undermine his friendship with Potter while Potter was too busy doing homework to spend any more time with the Durmstrang Champion.
Draco knew that Potter was involved in that somehow, perhaps his pet Mudblood too. They had got to Dumbledore, and of course that muggle-lover had favoured his golden boy, Potter. These humiliations and insults to Draco's honour simply could not stand; he was a Pureblood, a Noble. Potter and the Mudblood should be groveling at his feet, if not six feet under.
Draco had held out some hope that the Dragon - which his father had informed him of at the outset of the tournament - would either eat Potter or at least horribly burn and mutilate him. But Potter had somehow managed to get lucky again. Dumbledore must have used some sort of magic to give Potter an advantage; it was inconceivable that anyone could actually out-fly a Dragon - they were born to fly.
If his father had had something to do with rigging the tournament, as Draco suspected, then he had obviously failed. It was long past time to put an end to Potter and his Mudblood, and if his father's apparent new schemes to finish them off after the Chamber of Secrets debacle continued to be thwarted, Draco might be forced to take matters into his own hands...
~o0o~
The next few days leading up to the New Year were by and large pleasantly filled with holiday spirit for Harry and Hermione, despite some trepidation regarding the possibility that the Triwizard Tournament had been rigged, and wondering what sort of mad scheme Voldemort would come up with next.
Dora had moved into spare teachers' quarters in the corridor next to the entrance of Gryffindor tower, and had introduced herself as a new teacher's assistant to most of the Gryffindors. Only Ron and Neville, and Lavender and Parvati knew of her real purpose, and had all agreed to keep it a secret.
As Dora had indicated he might, the real Alastor Moody sent for Harry and Hermione on the third day of Christmas. It was a bit disconcerting to meet someone for the first time that they thought they knew.
Moody's magical eye swiveled to peer at them suspiciously when he cracked open the sturdy oak door of his private quarters after Dora knocked. Only after Dora turned her hair a shade of blue did he allow them all entrance. The real Moody looked a bit more haggard and worn than the fake Moody, but that was to be expected as he had been held captive at the bottom of his own trunk for several months.
Harry and Hermione both felt a bit anxious as they sat down with Dora on a sofa. The real Moody somehow seemed even more intimidating than the fake one.
"So you're Potter, obviously," Moody growled, his eye briefly landing on Harry's scar, "and you must be Granger. Dumbledore said it was the doing of you two which saved me. Can't thank ye both enough, really!"
"Er... You're welcome," said Harry, unable to think of anything else to say.
"Er... How are you feeling now?" Hermione nervously asked, her voice a bit squeaky as she unconsciously took Harry's hand, gripping it tightly.
"Much better, thanks," said Moody gruffly. "Just a bit o' wounded pride perhaps."
Moody's magical eye darted back and forth between Harry and Hermione, as if sizing them up, and his features broke into an ugly grin.
"Hmm... seems Minerva was right about you two," he chuckled. "Looks like you're practically hitched already."
Harry and Hermione both blushed furiously at Moody's blunt remarks. Dora rolled her eyes.
"Oi! You promised you wouldn't tease 'em, Mad Eye," Dora admonished the grizzled ex-Auror.
Moody grunted. "Just callin' it as I see it, Tonks! ... Anyway, Potter, you'd best be prepared for some hard trainin' come the beginning of the term. Gotta get ye whipped into shape - but we'll have you ready to make Death Eaters eat death in no time, if Dumbledore's right about you... Granger, you might as well join us, seein' as you and Potter are attached at the hip."
"Mad Eye!" Dora shot him a glare. Moody chuckled again.
"Right, I suppose I'll let you two get on with the holidays," he said. "You might as well enjoy the frivolity while it lasts. Mark my words though, fun and games will be over once term starts! And watch your backs - even with Tonks on guard, you'll still need to keep yer eyes peeled.
"Constant Vigilance!" he concluded with a bark. Dora rolled her eyes again.
Harry and Hermione both gulped; Hermione's hand tightened around Harry's even more.
"Y...yeah," Harry stammered. "We'll keep our eyes out."
"We will," squeaked Hermione, nodding vigorously, "definitely!"
"Good! Make sure you do!" Moody grunted, looking satisfied. "Alright then, I'll be seein' you two around. Good t'meet you both."
"Er... you too sir," said Harry as he stood up to leave.
"Bye," said Hermione.
Dora shook her head after shutting Moody's door behind them, hearing half a dozen deadbolts click into place.
"Sorry 'bout that," said Dora, a slight smirk on her face. "'E's a bit rough around the edges, but he's alright really. Mad Eye's a bit more wound up than usual, but I suppose you can't really blame him after what he's just been through. He'll probably calm down a bit by the time term starts."
"Well, he's not wrong, really," said Hermione.
"Yeah, after everything that's happened to me at Hogwarts, I probably should be on the lookout more," Harry agreed with a sigh.
"Look, Mad Eye may be right, but sometimes he goes a little overboard," Dora reassured them. "Yeah, it's good to be aware, but don't let it eat you up if you wanna stay sane. From everything I've heard, you're not doing so bad in that department - you did rumble the fake Moody after all.
"And don't forget, I'll be around - there's a few other Aurors here too - and Dumbledore's put up some extra security measures, including Polyjuice and Imperius checks on all visitors and staff members."
"Oh!" Harry brightened up, relieved at hearing that piece of news. "That's brilliant!"
~o0o~
The fourth day of Christmas was taken up in part with Harry and Hermione reading a couple of the science fiction books Hermione's parents had sent her for Christmas. Then in the afternoon, Harry flew around a bit with Ron and the Weasley Twins. Viktor was off somewhere with Lavender - probably snogging, Harry reckoned.
Hermione was joined by Fleur and Gabrielle in the stands, all bundled up against the cold, conversing in French, in which Hermione was apparently quite fluent. Harry had been a bit surprised at first, then he remembered that Hermione had spent some holidays in France and Switzerland.
Harry and Hermione even found a little time to do a bit of snogging themselves, and all in all it had been a great day. It wasn't until nearly bedtime that Harry began to feel unsettled again, his scar itching and burning more intensely than it had in some months.
"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked, already in his pyjamas when Harry entered the dormitory, "You look a bit peaky."
"Harry seems alright to me," said Ron who had been oblivious the past half-hour in the common room. Then he peered at Harry, squinting as if that would help him see better and shrugged. "Dunno if Neville's right, but are you sure you're okay, Harry?"
"I'm fine," Harry fibbed, "Just a little twinge in my scar..."
~o0o~
Powdery white drifts piled up against the brick walls of the old manor house which was falling into disrepair as flurries of snow whipped around it, driven by a bitter wind which howled under the eaves. Very few people ever approached the manor, especially at night in the middle of winter, excepting the occasional youths who dared to see if it was as haunted as some folk claimed.
But there were no youths tonight, and if there had been, they would have no doubt fled in terror upon hearing the screams within. In a cobwebby upstairs drawing room with faded and peeling wallpaper, a rodent like man was screaming and writhing on the threadbare Persian rug.
"M-Master, I beg you! It wasn't my fault!"
"Beg a little harder, Wormtail," hissed a high, cold voice, "and I may forgive you!"
"P-please Master! How was I to prevent Crouch from being captured?"
The red arc of magic halted, and the oozing homunculus in the armchair set down his wand, his rage abating enough to consider his servant's word.
"You have a point, Wormtail," the homunculus admitted. "It was Crouch's own incompetence which led to his failure. And perhaps I was too trusting to believe that he was my most faithful servant. I shall not make that mistake again - are there no others who will do my bidding?"
Thankful that his master had ended the torture, Wormtail, shaking, scrambled to his knees and prostrated himself.
"N-no Master! The Ministry has not yet released the information regarding your return - perhaps to avoid panic without more proof than that which Crouch may have provided. Many still believe you are dead, and those who suspect you may yet be alive are not willing to go against Dumbledore without clear evidence of your continued existence - my word would not be enough.
"B-but if you wish it, I... I will bring you Potter myself," Wormtail offered tentatively, hoping it would be enough to stave off another furious outburst from his master.
The homunculus was silent for a moment, contemplating his options. Finally, he seemed to have reached a decision.
"No Wormtail, you are too valuable to me to risk on such a mission at Hogwarts while Dumbledore presides over it. I still need you to milk Nagini, and to perform the ritual. It may indeed have to be done with another, as you previously suggested."
"M-Master?" Wormtail was incredulous, unable to believe his good fortune. Such words were high praise indeed, coming from his master.
"I believe I may have misjudged you, Wormtail. Wretched though you are, you have proved your worth to me, beyond those others who have forsaken their lord and master. You showed courage to seek me out when no others would.
"Your foresight to kidnap a Ministry lackey was inspired, and your skill at performing the necessary ritual to craft this crude form for me to inhabit demonstrates at least a modicum of competence in the Dark Arts.
"Continue to serve me well, and you may yet find yourself placed above the others when I have been restored. Those fools who have deserted me - they shall feel my wrath when they eventually return to my side."
"Th-thank you Master, ... Thank you! ... Your generosity knows no bounds," Wormtail groveled obsequiously. "I will serve you well. I shall not disappoint you!"
"See that you do not, Wormtail."
"What is your bidding now, Master? Shall I procure a replacement for the boy?"
"No!" the homunculus replied. "Not yet. We shall await the outcome of the Second Task, and see what comes of it. And in the meantime, perhaps we might find another who can slip past the increased security protocols at Hogwarts to bring me the boy. If not, then we shall move forward with a replacement."
~o0o~
"Harry! Harry... Wake up!"
Harry finally managed to emerge from the dark sludge which clung to him like quicksand, threatening to pull him back down into unconsciousness, the worried faces of Ron and Neville hovering above him. Blinking, Harry was now wide awake, his heart racing, thudding against his ribcage, beads of cold sweat dripping from his brow, his scar on fire. His sheets and covers were a tangled mess, entwined around him, apparently from thrashing about in his sleep.
"Wh...what happened?" asked Harry, still feeling a bit confused.
"Blimey mate!" Ron burst out, "You were yelling in your sleep!"
"We couldn't wake you though," said Neville, who looked very shaken. "That must have been some nightmare."
"It wasn't a nightmare," Harry muttered. "It was real! I was there."
"But you were asleep," said Neville, looking bewildered. "You didn't go anywhere."
"That's not what I mean," said Harry, feeling frustrated, not really sure how to explain it.
"Was it... was it like, you know, earlier this summer - that dream you eventually told me and Hermione about?" asked Ron.
"That wasn't a dream either," Harry answered, now certain of the truth. "I need to speak to Dumbledore - he needs to know."
"But it's the middle of the night," Ron moaned, "You can't..."
"There's no way I can go back to sleep now," Harry insisted. "I have to tell him."
"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey," Neville suggested. "She'll have something to help you sleep, and you can see Dumbledore in the morning."
"This can't wait," said Harry sharply as he clambered out of bed and put on his robe and slippers. "I'm going."
"Do... do you want me to go with you?" asked Ron, his features earnest.
Harry shook his head. "No! Thanks Ron, but I'll be okay... I'm fine now! I just need to see Dumbledore while it's still fresh in my mind - I don't want to forget anything. You go back to sleep."
"Okay - if you say so, Harry."
Neville and Ron watched Harry exit the dorm and crawled back into their respective beds once Harry had departed. Harry padded down the stairs, wishing he could get up to the girls' dorm to bring Hermione with him, and feeling a bit guilty that he hadn't wanted to go with Ron.
Then it came to Harry - Dora had told him to get her whenever he needed, day or night. She could go up to the girls' dormitory and fetch Hermione for him. He slipped out through the portrait hole and approached the door of Dora's quarters. Swallowing nervously, Harry began to have second thoughts about waking her in the dead of night.
Harry knocked before he could talk himself out of it. The door creaked open and Dora peeked out, her sleep clouded eyes widening when she saw who it was, instantly alert.
"What's up, Harry? What's wrong?"
"Er..." Harry suddenly felt stupid and pathetic, not wanting to give her the impression that he'd just had some sort of nightmare and needed comforting. "Sorry to wake you, but I need to see Dumbledore - it's really important. But... er... I was hoping you could get Hermione for me too."
"No problem, Harry," said Dora, much to his surprise, having thought she might be reticent. "Wait right here and I'll go get her."
A few minutes later Dora reappeared with a yawning Hermione in her nightgown and slippers, much to the annoyance of the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"In and out and in and out at this time of night," the Fat Lady grumbled. "Make up your minds."
"What's going on, Harry?" asked Hermione, her eyes full of concern. "Have you been having nightmares again?"
"It's more than that," Harry groaned, reddening as he glanced at Dora. Hermione caught on quickly.
"Oh!" she gasped, "Like your vision during the summer."
"Yeah," said Harry. "I'd wait till morning, but it could be hazy by then, and I don't want to forget any important bits of information. And I, er... I just thought you should hear it firsthand too."
"Right, come on then," said Dora. "Let's get you to Dumbledore's office."
The three of them traipsed through castle, and when they arrived, the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's tower was as annoyed as the Fat Lady to be awoken so late - or early, depending on whether one counted the wee hours of the morning as night or not.
The winding stone staircase carried the trio up to the oak door of Dumbledore's office, where Dora grasped the brass door knocker and rapped three times. It took a few minutes, but Dumbledore finally appeared, wearing the long woolen nightgown that Harry recalled seeing in second year when Colin Creevey had been petrified and brought to the hospital wing late at night.
"Ah, Harry, Miss Granger, Tonks, do come in and make yourselves comfortable."
Dumbledore gestured to three well cushioned chintz armchairs which appeared out of thin air in front of his desk. As the Auror and the pair of students settled into the seats, Dumbledore took his own and waved his wand, conjuring a tray with three steaming mugs of cocoa and a plate of chocolate covered digestives. Fawkes ruffled his feathers, trilling expectantly, and Dumbledore tossed him one of the biscuits.
Once everyone had a mug in hand and had taken a sip of cocoa, the headmaster peered cannily over the top of his half-moon glasses.
"Well, Harry - I presume that you are the one who called for this impromptu meeting, and that you have some important information to impart."
"Yes sir," Harry nodded, wishing he hadn't when his scar throbbed. "I... er... I had another dream sort of vision, like I did during the summer. It was Voldemort and Wormtail, they've just found out that Crouch has been captured, and they're making plans..."
Everyone listened intently while Harry recounted everything with as much detail as he could remember, which was far more than he had recalled during the summer, down to the cobwebs and the peeling wallpaper. When he had finished, Dumbledore steepled his fingers, looking disturbed.
"Thank you, Harry," he said. "You did well to bring this to me as soon as possible, despite the late hour. Not only does this confirm the information we received from Crouch, but now we have a strong inkling of Voldemort's plans for the near future."
"I just wish I could figure out where they were," Harry sighed. "Then we'd be able to stop them before Voldemort could regain a proper body and capture Wormtail."
"Quite so," Dumbledore agreed. He stroked his beard pensively as his piercing blue eyes gazed at Harry. "This connection you have, Harry..." he murmured. "Under the right circumstances, we could perhaps put it to great use.
"...Putting that aside for now, we can revisit that later. In the meantime I think we need to have that talk I had promised you. There is much that I have kept from you, Harry - answers to the questions you asked at the end of your first year. I perhaps should have told you sooner - I think I may have been mistaken to withhold it from you for so long - and there are other things which I have gleaned during the years in between then and now.
"We shall discuss this further tomorrow, say over lunch here in my office?"
Harry's eyes widened, as he felt a thrill of excitement. Finally, the answers he had been seeking so long were so near he could practically taste them. He shared a look with Hermione, who seemed as rapt as he was.
"Can I bring Hermione again?" he asked Professor Dumbledore.
"I don't see why not," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he turned his head slightly to look at Dora, giving her a wink. "And I see no reason why you shouldn't join us as well, Miss Tonks, given the situation at hand. ... Now, what say we finish our cocoas and return to bed?"
"Blimey!" Dora muttered on the way back to Gryffindor Tower with Harry and Hermione, her cheeks as pink as her hair, "Miss Tonks? Never thought I'd hear that again..."
Chapter 12: Revelations
It was the fifth day of Christmas - otherwise known as New Year's Eve Eve (or New Year's Double Eve as Fred and George had called it when announcing the party that evening in the common room). Harry was so wound up in anticipation of the upcoming chat with Dumbledore that he barely ate a thing at breakfast, managing to down only a buttery crumpet and a piece of bacon.
"Wha'zhup Harry?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs and sausage. Hermione looked slightly sick, but bit her tongue for the sake of keeping the peace.
"Er... I'm seeing Dumbledore later," Harry replied vaguely.
Neville gave Ron a little nudge. Ron caught Hermione's poorly concealed look of disgust and hastily swallowed the rest of the food in his mouth before speaking again.
"You in some kind of trouble then?"
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It's not like that. Er... supposedly Dumbledore's going to tell me some stuff - maybe stuff about V... You-Know-Who which has t'do with me, like the visions I keep having. Hermione and I are going to see him at lunchtime."
"Hermione's going with you too?" Ron frowned.
"Why wouldn't she?" said Neville, slightly puzzled. "She is Harry's girlfriend."
"I know but... it's just..." Ron trailed off, his ears turning pink. It suddenly struck Harry that Ron was starting to feel a bit left out of things, even though he'd been spending a lot more time with Neville these days anyway.
"Er... Yeah. But I'll tell you everything later - promise," said Harry. "You too, Nev. I suppose you both ought to know, seeing as you two were the ones who had to put up with me the most last night."
"Cool!" said Ron, brightening. "That's alright then."
"Thanks Harry." Neville's eyes widened a bit in surprise, but he seemed happy to be included.
The rest of the morning wore on. As Harry was too agitated to sit still and finish the science fiction book he had been reading, Hermione suggested a walk in the snow. Finally it was lunch time; Harry and Hermione made their way to Dumbledore's office with their "secret escort."
"You may enter," Dumbledore's voice called out from within after Harry rapped the knocker on his door.
Awaiting the threesome between the armchairs and Dumbledore's desk was a mahogany coffee table set with three golden plates and crystal glasses beside each. On Dumbledore's desk was a large stone basin with runes carved along the edge, from which emanated a silvery glow.
"By all means, order up what you will," said Dumbledore warmly, "and we can begin whenever you feel so inclined."
Harry hurriedly munched his way through a pork pie and some crisps, washing it down with some apple cider. Hermione and Dora took their time and were still eating when Harry peered eagerly at Dumbledore.
"Very well, Harry," said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye, "I see that you are ready. Feel free to interrupt if you have any questions. First, some of what I am about to tell you should be kept in as small a circle as possible - for your ears alone - as it would not do for the information to inadvertently reach Voldemort's ears.
"Miss Granger is being allowed to share in this as she is so close to you, that I don't doubt you would be hard-pressed to keep a secret from her. And Tonks is joining us, because not only is she your protection detail - and therefore needs to know what she may be possibly up against - but also because she has recently become a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix, on the recommendation of your godfather Sirius, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor Moody.
"And of course," Dumbledore added with a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes, "I recall Miss Tonks quite fondly from her school days. ... Otherwise, Professor McGonagall is the only other person with whom I have entrusted with everything I know."
"What's the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked, curious despite his desire to move on to the more important bits.
"For the time-being," Dumbledore replied, "let it suffice that the Order of the Phoenix is an organisation of my creation to fight Voldemort which your father and mother belonged to, as did Sirius. Today, our focus will be on the questions you had asked at the end of first year, which also bear some relevance to the visions which have recently plagued you. As I recall, you asked me why Voldemort wanted to kill you."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, nodding. "Eventually I worked out between what you told me, and what I remembered others telling me, that Voldemort's going to keep coming back. He means to keep coming back until he restores himself and finishes me off. And when he's done that, he's going to try and take Britain again.
"Voldemort told me at the end of first year that he only killed my mother to get to me. And Hagrid once told me that something about me prevented Voldemort from killing me, and that Voldemort vanished after trying to kill me - but Hagrid also said there wasn't enough human in him left to die completely... And I also remember Mr Ollivander telling me that my wand shared the same core as Voldemort's - a phoenix feather.
"And my scar - which you and I talked about a bit already - it hurts when I'm near Voldemort, or when he feels something strongly. I know that means that somehow we're connected, and I reckon that connection has something to do with why I sometimes have visions of what he's up to.
"And I know that Voldemort chose me for a reason. He knows that there's something about me that might finish him off for good - So one of us is going to have to kill the other eventually, aren't we? It's either him or me! ... All I really don't know is why."
"Very good, Harry," Dumbledore nodded, looking quite impressed as his bushy eyebrows rose. "I must say that your intuitions and deductive skills have stood you well - as they have in previous years - in regards to the unique challenges which befall you."
"Er... well I had loads of help from Hermione," said Harry, turning a bit pink. "I doubt I would've made it this far without her. Ron helped a bit too of course."
Hermione blushed in mid-bite of her ham and cucumber sandwich.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Which Professor McGonagall herself has taken note of - particularly in regards to Miss Granger. ... In any case, to begin answering your question, it is often wise to start at the... beginning. And it all started with a prophecy, as revealed by none other than our own Professor Trelawney in the midst of a job interview.
"I almost didn't hire her, as by and large her abilities as a seer are... unreliable, to put it most kindly. She did however, fall into a trance during the interview, and produced a very real prophecy, cementing her position at Hogwarts..."
"That was her first Prophecy, wasn't it?" Harry gasped, his eyes widening. "I remember, at the end of third year you said that the one she made about Wormtail rejoining Voldemort was only the second one she had ever done."
"Quite so, Harry," Dumbledore agreed. "Now, before I reveal the Prophecy, I should say that Prophecies are a very dubious business, regardless of their reality as a phenomenon. The Hall of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries is filled with Prophecies which never came to fruition. The fact is that there are too many variables which come into play as time slips ever into the future.
"A single decision taken by one person, a single chance happenstance, a path not taken, may change everything. In your case however, certain factors came into play which make this particular Prophecy inevitable. And I thought it best for you to witness it firsthand."
Dumbledore gestured towards the stone basin, and Hermione - who had since polished off her lunch - suddenly realised what it was.
"Is... is that a Pensieve?" she asked, perking up with great interest.
"Indeed so," Dumbledore replied. "And it contains a copy of my memory of the event in question."
Dumbledore prodded the misty substance swirling in the basin, from which the silvery glow emanated. A tall familiar figure draped in shawls and beads rose from the basin, her eyes magnified many times by her glasses. A harsh guttural voice quite unlike her usual dreamy tones issued from Trelawney's mouth.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
Professor Dumbledore prodded the silvery mist once more, and the echo of Trelawney sank back into the basin.
"Well, Harry, there it is. Much of the Prophecy has already been fulfilled, and a good deal of it you yourself have simply deduced through the process of Reason - piecing together bits of information you have gleaned these past few years.
"You are, of course, the one who was born as the seventh month dies. Your parents faced Voldemort three times and survived, though unfortunately they did not survive the fourth encounter. The other key identifier is that Voldemort marked you as his equal when you received that scar.
"It was possible that the Prophecy referred to another, but when Voldemort chose to mark you instead of the other, he not only made the Prophecy inevitable, he also made it clear that you were the one the Prophecy referred to... the one who would vanquish the Dark Lord..."
"Hang on a minute," Harry interjected, frowning in puzzlement, "I get all the other parts then, but I don't have any power that Voldemort doesn't know about! How can I? ... I'm only in fourth year, and he's an evil genius that knows all kinds of magic - more than I'll ever know."
"Ah, Harry, that is where you are wrong," Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Yes, you are only in fourth year, and it is true that Voldemort has a vast store of magical knowledge at his disposal, and is also one of the most powerful sorcerers to have lived, but you do indeed possess a power greater than his, despite your youth and inexperience.
"Have you not faced and thwarted Voldemort yourself, thrice already - as many times as your parents had before their final encounter? You could have only accomplished that if your magical power were indeed greater than his."
"Maybe... I suppose," said Harry doubtfully, "But a lot of it was luck - and like I said, with Hermione and Ron's help. And according to what you told me in first year, I only survived Voldemort because of my mum, something to do with her love for me - I was only a baby... How could I have done anything then?"
"Well, Harry, that brings us to another point I was going to bring up - your mother's sacrifice. By deliberately dying in your stead, when she could have stepped aside, she invoked an ancient magic which did indeed grant you certain protections against Voldemort - and that is indeed why you survived. And yes, that ancient magic could have only been invoked by love.
"However, it can only have been your power which vanquished Voldemort. Your power was so immense that there was no body to recover, which is why most believe Voldemort to have died that night. When his Killing Curse struck you, it rebounded from the shield against him which your mother's sacrifice provided. ... But think, Harry - of what you have learned this year. When people die from a Killing Curse, their bodies remain whole, physically unscathed - the only reason you have a scar is due to the reaction of the shield itself to the impact of the Killing Curse.
"Voldemort could not have exploded, taking half your parents' house with him, by being struck with a mere rebounding Killing Curse. For Voldemort to have been vanquished so thoroughly, the magic could have only come from you, yourself. In your grief, even as an infant without comprehending the complete truth of the matter, you must have produced an enormous outburst of so-called 'accidental magic.'"
"You're joking!" Harry gasped, openly gaping at Professor Dumbledore in amazement. He glanced at Hermione, who looked equally stunned.
"No Harry," the headmaster retorted. "It is the only explanation which fits the facts of the matter."
"But I'm not that powerful! I can't be!"
"Your mother is not the only one who loved, Harry. You too possess that power - your immense ability to love is what fuels your magic. It is that power which Voldemort cannot know - indeed it is anathema to him, that which he cannot abide. How do you think you managed to produce such a powerful Patronus in your third year? ...despite your upbringing, which I suspected might be a difficult one..."
"You don't know the half of it," Harry muttered, before catching himself and shutting his mouth.
Hermione frowned, thinking of all the things Harry had let slip over the years.
"Why did you leave Harry with the Dursleys?" she asked the headmaster with some heat. "Did you know how horrible they were to him? They kept him locked in a cupboard under the stairs! They put bars on his window when he finally got a room! They didn't feed him properly, and..."
"Hermione, drop it," said Harry, flushing with embarrassment.
"No, I won't drop it!" said Hermione, jutting her jaw defiantly. "I'm sorry Harry, but if I'm right, I think your Aunt and Uncle used to hit you too!"
Harry said nothing, casting his eyes at the floor moodily, wishing now that he had been more careful not to let anything slip. It wasn't something he liked talking about. Dora looked shocked.
Dumbledore was taken aback. He had known about the cupboard when the magic which addressed the Hogwarts envelopes had pinpointed Harry's precise location. And when the follow-up envelopes had readdressed themselves to the upstairs bedroom, Dumbledore had taken some comfort in knowing that the Dursleys had been shamed into improving Harry's living conditions.
Dumbledore hadn't expected Harry's aunt and uncle to be enthusiastic about raising Lily's son, but he had hoped that his Aunt had grown up enough to get past old grudges and at least treat Harry with a bare minimum of caring.
"Harry, is this true?" he asked softly. "Please look at me."
With some difficulty, Harry raised his head and shrugged. "Er... I dunno - maybe a bit... every now and then. It's alright, really."
Hermione scowled; she should have known that Harry would try to downplay his aunt and uncle's treatment of him.
Piercing blue eyes met iridescent green for a few moments; Harry felt a pricking at the back of his eyeballs. Dumbledore was shaken by what he saw - dodging blows from the fists of a purple faced monster, which more often found their mark than not - a frying pan barely missing Harry's head...
"I am so sorry, Harry," he said quietly. "I did not know. ... But I should have! I should have looked in on you personally over the years and rectified the situation. I... I have no excuse for that, and no mere apology can ever make up for not doing so."
"I should bloody think not!" Dora snapped, glaring at the headmaster. "So what are you gonna do about it?"
Dumbledore thought for a moment, rubbing at a brow wrinkled with worry and no small amount of shame. His options were limited, especially now that Voldemort had returned to Britain, seeking once again to reconstitute himself and finish the job he had begun nearly fourteen years ago. There was only one solution which he could think of.
"Harry, how would you feel about being able to use magic when you liked, at home to protect yourself - as long as you do not abuse it?"
"I'd rather not go back at all," said Harry, perplexed and not quite sure where Dumbledore was going with this. "But if I have to go back, then yeah, that would be great! I think they'd back off a bit if they knew I could do magic at home. ... But the Ministry would never let me."
"Oh, I don't think that will present a problem," said Dumbledore. "I believe that under the circumstances, Cornelius Fudge could easily be persuaded to order your emancipation on his authority as Minister. He certainly would not like to be known as the Minister who allowed the Boy-Who-Lived to be mistreated by his guardians."
"D'you really mean it?" Harry asked eagerly, his features brightening as he goggled at the headmaster. "I could really do magic at home then? That would help loads when I'm doing summer homework too."
"Yes! I do indeed mean it, Harry! I know it won't make up for the past, but it should make your present and future much easier. As long as you follow the Statute of Secrecy laws in regards to other non-magicals, I think this is the best solution to the problem.
"You see Harry, I placed a protective enchantment upon you myself, which is based on the protections your mother imbued in you. As long as you reside under the same roof as the nearest blood relative of your mother - in this case your Aunt - Voldemort cannot touch you there. Nor can any followers of his who bear the Dark Mark.
"That is why I placed you with your Aunt. It was the strongest protection I could think of for you, never having suspected that you would need protection from your relatives."
"I understand, Professor," said Harry, feeling even more excited as the reality of being able to do magic whenever he liked began to sink in. "And it's alright - I don't care about having to live with Dursleys as long as I can do magic! That'll be brilliant!"
Dumbledore glanced at Dora and Hermione, pleased to see that they were both somewhat mollified by the proposal.
"Very well, Harry. I will speak to Fudge, and you will have your emancipation by the New Year. ... Now, on to the next item we are to discuss - the connection with Voldemort, and what it all means. We are now nearing the part of the conversation which must not go beyond the walls of this office - excepting Professor McGonagall, who has counseled me on this matter.
"What about Ron, and maybe Neville - can I tell them?" asked Harry, looking concerned. "They sort of know a bit anyway... because I told them my nightmares were real."
Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively, then nodded.
"You may reveal some of what we are about to discuss regarding your link then. However, I must ask that on the matter of horcruxes - which are related to your connection - that you keep the secret close. That, you cannot reveal, lest Voldemort discovers that I - that we - are aware of them.
"And in order to keep the secret of our awareness of the horcruxes from Voldemort, I believe it is time for you begin Occlumency and Legilimency lessons before Voldemort himself eventually discovers the connection between you both."
Hermione gasped, shooting an eager look at Harry. She apparently knew exactly what Professor Dumbledore was talking about, but Harry didn't.
"Er... what's Occlumency and Legilimency?" Harry asked.
"They refer to what non-magicals often call 'telepathy' - for lack of a better word," said Dumbledore. "With Occlumency, one can block one's mind from being read, or invaded, and with Legilimency one can read someone else's mind. Normally, this is done through eye contact, and can be performed either casually, simply by eye contact, or more forcefully, with a wand while maintaining eye contact.
"However, due to your link with Voldemort, you can see into his mind - receive his thoughts without eye contact..."
"But then Voldemort could see into my mind through the link too!" said Harry, horrified, and suddenly not so sure he wanted to be able to see into Voldemort's mind anymore.
"Yes! Quite so," the headmaster replied with a nod. "However, it would appear that Voldemort has as yet not discovered the connection that you and he share. And he may not for the foreseeable future, until such a time as he is reconstituted and achieves his full powers. That is why the sooner you learn to block your mind, the better.
"However, this connection has thus far proved very useful to us, and I believe we should take advantage of it while you still have it. We would not have known that Voldemort had returned to Britain until it was too late, without your ability to see his thoughts and sense his moods. That is why I will also be teaching you how to look into his mind.
"Now, as to the connection itself - at first I was not certain how it had been formed, but as I learned more - especially when you discovered Tom Riddle's diary - it became more clear to me what had likely happened to you when he first attacked you as an infant.
"As it turns out, the diary is what is known as a horcrux - a means of preventing death by binding a piece of one's soul to this plane of existence. A horcrux is created by splitting off a piece of one's soul, placing it in a container - usually some sort of artifact - and sealing it in with the Darkest of magic. As long as the horcrux exists, the creator cannot die. The only way then to be certain of permanently killing the creator of the horcrux, is to destroy the container itself.
"Only through the most vile of acts, such as murder, can one split one's soul - which is why most wizards would never dream of such a thing. And as I continued to ruminate upon how your link came to be, I was forced to conclude that Voldemort had created more than one horcrux, badly damaging his soul - weakening it to the point where it became unstable.
"When his Killing Curse was deflected, it left you that scar, but when your outburst of magic caused him to explode, another piece of his unstable soul flew off from his own, and entered you through the scar, attaching itself to your soul."
"Hang on," said Harry, feeling a bit ill now at the thought of having a piece of Voldemort in him, "are you saying that I'm a horcrux too then?"
"Bloody Hell!" swore Dora. "That's an 'orrible thought!" And from the look on Hermione's face, it was clear that she thought so as well.
"Yes and no," Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking as old and weary as his years. "In a sense, Harry, you are the horcrux Voldemort did not intend to make - a vessel which contains a piece of his soul. But, because Voldemort never performed the necessary magical rituals, you are not a completed horcrux..."
"Doesn't that mean that Harry has to die then, before Voldemort can be killed?" Hermione squeaked, her breath quickening, feeling like she might hyperventilate; she gave Harry an anguished look with her pooling eyes and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.
Harry swallowed, his anxiety skyrocketing. Dumbledore peered at him sadly over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
"At first," said Dumbledore, his voice cracking, "I refused to believe it! ... It seemed most unfair that you should be faced with such a terrible burden! But as time wore on, and I considered all the possibilities, it appeared that indeed it was the only option - and it may yet be so.
"However, after consulting on the matter with Professor McGonagall, another potential option has come to light. ... I was reminded of that which makes your magic so special, Harry - your immense ability to love.
"And thus, we have come full circle. It may be possible to eventually rid you of the piece of Voldemort which resides within by using your magic against it - and by allowing your flowering relationship with Miss Granger to flourish, unhindered, to strengthen your magic even further. Professor McGonagall and I are continuing to investigate this possibility, and we shall not rest until we have come up with a solution..."
Chapter 13: Dangerous Creatures
Hermione was sitting on a sofa in the common room reading another one of the books her mum and dad had sent her for Christmas while Harry took Ron and Neville up to their dormitory to fill them in on the bits he could tell them about his conversation with Dumbledore. She felt the cushions on the sofa giving way and peered over the top of the page to see Parvati and Lavender both looking at her.
"How's Harry?" asked Lavender, peering at Hermione worriedly. "Is he alright then?"
"We were worried about him when Dora came up to get you last night," said Parvati, her voice full of concern. "Is he having nightmares again? What did Professor Dumbledore say?"
Hermione glanced around the common room anxiously, then took a deep breath.
"Not here," she said. "Let's go up to the dorm, and I'll tell you what I can. But you have to promise not to tell Fay or Sally-Anne, or anyone else really."
"We promise," said Parvati quickly.
Parvati and Lavender filed up the stairs behind Hermione to their dorm. Crookshanks gave a little meow when he saw them arrive, and jumped off Hermione's bed to give them all space. Hermione yanked the curtains around her bed after they were all sitting cross-legged atop her covers, and began to quietly tell Lavender and Parvati a few of the bits which Dumbledore had said Harry could tell Ron and Neville.
"It's not really just nightmares," Hermione began. "Harry is actually having sort of visions of what Vol... I mean You-Know-Who - is up to..."
"It's okay," Parvati interjected. "We don't care if you say Voldemort's name, do we Lavender?"
Lavnder looked slightly dubious, then nodded.
"Oh, alright then," said Hermione, a bit surprised. "Anyway, there's some sort of connection between Harry and Voldemort which has to do with Harry's scar - and Harry can sometimes see what he's up to, or sense what he's feeling. And Harry had a vision last night of Voldemort scheming to come after him, again.
"He's already tried to have another one of his supporters infiltrate the tournament... But we found him out."
Lavender gasped, shocked. "Is that who entered Harry's name in the tournament? ...to try and get Harry killed?"
"More or less," Hermione agreed, thinking it best to not go into too much detail. "Harry already told Ron and Neville about that bit, so it's probably alright to tell you too, even though Dumbledore doesn't want too many people to know about it at the moment."
"Of course! It wouldn't do to panic everyone," said Parvati wisely, "like in second year, unless there is a big threat to the whole school again."
"Right!" said Hermione. "Anyway, the upshot is that Voldemort is back, and the reason he keeps trying to go after Harry is because he's afraid that Harry would be able to finish him off for good, eventually. So it's likely Harry might have more scary visions."
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" said Lavender. "Especially if it means that Harry will get a bit of warning in advance."
"Dumbledore seems to think so," said Hermione, feeling a pang of worry. "Unfortunately, it also makes Harry's scar hurt horribly whenever he senses Voldemort."
"Oh! Poor Harry," said Parvati. "That's awful."
~o0o~
"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed when Harry finished telling him and Neville as much as he felt he could. "So Dumbledore reckons this connection has something t'do with your scar, and that's why you keep having these vision thingies of You-Know-Who then."
"More or less," Harry sighed. "Anyway, it's probably best to keep this just between us for now."
"Sure Harry," said Neville. "No problem."
~o0o~
It was the morning of New Year's Eve and Draco was digging into his breakfast when his Eagle Owl, Abaddon, beat its great wings as it dropped a piece of mail into Draco's porridge. Draco scowled.
"Oi... Watch it you bloody chicken," he snapped at his owl, "or I'll have you turned into dinner."
Unable to restrain himself, Theodore Nott sniggered as Draco retrieved his dripping letter from his bowl of porridge and wiped it with a napkin. Draco shot him a glare.
"Sorry Draco! No need to get your knickers in a twist," said Theo. "So who's that from anyway?"
"If you must know, it's from Father," Draco answered with a sneer.
"No doubt an answer to your latest complaint." Blaise Zabini rolled his eyes. "What - you think he's going to set you up with a date for the Yule Ball and give you a Time-Turner?"
Theo chortled then quickly shut up when Draco glowered at him again. Draco rose from his seat at the Slytherin table and angrily marched across the Great Hall, leaving the rest of his breakfast behind and cursing under his breath. Blaise and Theo fell into a fit of laughter as soon as Draco was out of earshot.
Draco stormed through the castle and the dungeons until he reached the Slytherin common room. Flopping on one of the sofas by the fire, Draco finally opened his letter and began to read.
Draco,
I understand your frustration, but you must have patience. There is only so much I can do about Potter and his pet Mudblood while Dumbledore remains as headmaster. Severus has informed me that Dumbledore is now looking over his shoulder, which limits his ability to rectify any slights against you in regards to Potter.
That may be remedied by next year, but for now you will have to deal with Potter yourself - at least until the Second Task. I cannot tell you precisely what has been planned, but rest assured, I have spoken to the Senior Undersecretary and Bagman about upping the risk factor of the Second Task. It is doubtful that Potter will survive this time.
Draco snorted. The Second Task was nearly two months away, not to mention that Potter always seemed to get lucky somehow. He heard someone enter the common room and quickly chucked the letter into the fire.
~o0o~
New Year's Day finally arrived, and the festivities almost (but not quite) put Christmas Day to shame. Of course nearly everyone slept in, having been up late at Fred and George's New Year's Eve bash, which had included a load of indoor non-lethal fireworks in the common room. Ron and Seamus weren't the only ones visiting Madam Pomfrey that morning, though Neville had been much more cautious this time around.
Harry had eaten his last piece of bacon and Hermione her last piece of toast with marmalade, when Cedric approached them from the Hufflepuff table.
"Hey, Harry, er... can we chat for a moment?"
"Sure, no problem Cedric." Harry glanced at Hermione. "I'll be back in a minute, or we can meet up in the common room if you'd like."
"I think the common room," Hermione replied, smiling at Harry. "Then we can get our coats and go for a walk."
"Right, see you in a few then." Harry followed Hermione with his eyes as she left the Great Hall, then turned back to Cedric when Dora slipped out after her. "So, what's up then?"
"Er... I've been meaning to catch up with you ever since the Yule Ball, but you've been a bit busy, and I can see why." A little smirk crossed Cedric's features. Harry turned slightly pink.
"Well, there's been a lot of other stuff going on," said Harry a bit defensively. "It's not just, er..."
"...snogging?" Cedric finished for Harry, his eyebrows rising as his smirk broadened. "Anyway, that's not really what I wanted to talk about. I was just wondering if you'd got that Golden Egg clue yet."
Harry peered suspiciously at Cedric for a moment. He wondered if Cedric was angling for another tip. But then he reckoned that even if he was, then so what?
"Yeah, actually I did," said Harry, "a few weeks ago, before the Christmas Holidays."
Oddly, Cedric looked disappointed. "Oh! I...er, was hoping I could pay you back for telling me about the Dragons. I figured it out a few days before Christmas, and I kind of owe you one."
"No worries Cedric," said Harry, grinning. "You don't owe me a thing. I would've told you anyway - I wasn't expecting anything in return."
"Yeah, well, I still feel kind of bad..." Cedric flushed. "I mean, I was a bit of a prat before you gave me that tip. And most of my friends were wearing those stupid badges."
"Well, you weren't quite as bad as others I could mention," said Harry ruefully, rubbing at his scar, unable to help the memory of Ron's attitude at the time which briefly crossed his mind. "We're cool, Cedric."
"Er... righto! See you round then..."
The rest of the Christmas Holidays flew by far too quickly. Of course Fred and George were going to throw another party on the twelfth day of Christmas, but Harry and Hermione begged off after finding out that it was Dora's birthday, and had a small celebration in her quarters instead. They were thus far more rested for the first day of the new term than many of the other students.
Potions wasn't brilliant as Draco and Snape both seemed to be shooting malevolent glares at Harry and Hermione, but otherwise Snape seemed to be avoiding them as much as possible, which Harry thought was a great improvement. Without the constant harassment, Harry managed to follow the instructions perfectly well. When he turned in a flawless potion at the end of class, Snape's expression looked a bit constipated.
Everything seemed to be going alright until Care of Magical Creatures. Having completed their in-class Herbology assignment in good time, Harry and Hermione trudged through the thick snowdrifts and showed up a bit early for class. Seeing nobody else outside Hagrid's cabin where Hagrid usually awaited the students, they went off looking for him.
"Maybe he's by the paddocks," Hermione suggested, shivering, as it had begun snowing again.
"Yeah, he's probably got a Yeti," said Harry wryly. "It's certainly cold enough for one."
"At least that would be an improvement over the Skrewts."
"Dunno about that," Harry chuckled. "Their flames might warm us up a bit."
As they passed by the paddock which housed the gigantic winged horses which pulled the Beauxbatons carriage, there was still no sign of Hagrid. But something else caught their eye; tethered to a tree was a gleaming white Unicorn, its radiance making the snow look dingy in comparison.
"Oooh!" Hermione's eyes widened. "It's gorgeous."
"Yeah!" Harry croaked, choking up. The last time he had seen a Unicorn it had been lying dead on the forest floor, its silvery blood dripping from a wraith-like shadow's maw; Harry had been soon to learn that the dark, cloaked figure hunched over the Unicorn's corpse was actually a Voldemort possessed Quirrel.
Harry was so overtaken by its beauty that he stepped towards the Unicorn, blinking back the unbidden tears; Hermione grabbed his hand.
"Harry, I'm not sure about this!" she squeaked, eyeing the Unicorn pawing nervously at the snow-covered ground with its golden hooves. "They don't usually like boys."
But Harry didn't seem to hear as the compulsion drew him closer. The world had gone silent and for a moment it only seemed to contain him, Hermione, and the Unicorn. Falling snowflakes stilled and sparkled in midair, frozen in time as Harry bowed and reached out his hand. The Unicorn calmed and bowed its head in return.
Hermione gasped and beamed at Harry as he gently petted the Unicorn's nose and stroked its silky white mane. Still holding Harry's other hand, Hermione stroked the Unicorn too, feeling a strong urge to kiss Harry and ride off with him into the forest on its back. But just as she leaned closer to kiss him, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps and voices.
"...Now stay back boys," an unfamiliar and brusque voice was saying. "Unicorns prefer a woman's touch..."
"Why's Potter touching it then?" sneered the very familiar voice of Malfoy.
The unfamiliar professor turned around and gasped, just as Harry and Hermione turned their heads see a sturdy looking witch with steely grey hair and a jutting chin. The professor stood perfectly still and held her breath, eyes wide with shock, afraid that she might break the spell and spook the Unicorn. As she watched the bushy haired girl and the tousle-headed boy both stroking the Unicorn, it suddenly registered with the professor that the irksome boy was Harry Potter.
"Who're you?" asked Harry, frowning as he dropped the hand which had been stroking the Unicorn's mane.
"Er... Professor Grubbly-Plank," the stunned witch said, finding her voice. "And you must be Harry Potter!"
"Yeah! That's me! Where's Hagrid?" Harry demanded.
"He is indisposed," was all Professor Grubbly-Plank seemed inclined to say. "Er... if you would, Mr Potter and..."
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"...Miss Granger, perhaps you and Mr Potter could step back and join us so that we can begin the class."
Harry joined the rest of the students with a glowing Hermione at his side.
As she looked him over to see what could possibly account for the Unicorn's unusual behaviour, Professor Grubbly-Plank noticed that there was something quite different about Harry Potter's shining green eyes, something that seemed almost feminine. She snapped out of it with a shake of her head and returned to form
"Right then, class!" Grubbly-Plank said sharply, "Now, what you just saw was highly unusual. If you value your lives boys, I highly recommend that you keep back! Unicorns can be quite dangerous towards males. Girls, please form a line."
The girls all ooohed and aaahed over the Unicorn. Lavender and Parvati quivered with excitement. Even Pansy Parkinson was taken with its beauty, looking quite unlike her usual self with a smile on her face.
Malfoy snorted and glowered at Harry and Hermione. Draco felt a nearly overwhelming urge to ignore the Professor's warning and have a go at touching the Unicorn. If Halfblood Potter and a Mudblood could do it, then he knew he could do it too. He was a Pureblood - a Noble - of course a Unicorn would accept him. But then he remembered his experience with the Hippogriff and thought better of it.
"Big Deal!" sneered Malfoy. "So you touched a Unicorn, Potter! ... Just proves how girly you are."
Harry raised his eyebrows at Malfoy and smirked. "Yeah, maybe I am. So what?"
Draco felt a surge of bewilderment and anger, unable to conjure a response as Harry and Hermione turned and walked away.
Ron and Neville waved them over, both goggling at Harry.
"Blimey Harry! That was amazing. ... How'd you do that?" asked Ron.
"I've heard that Unicorns usually skewer guys with their horns," said Neville. Seamus and Dean, who were standing behind Ron and Neville, peered at Harry questioningly.
"Dunno how I did it, really," Harry replied with a shrug. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to."
Hermione almost spoke up, but held her tongue, thinking better of embarrassing Harry by mentioning that it might have been his purity of heart.
"Anyway," said Harry, "do any of you know what happened to Hagrid?"
"It mighta had somethin' t'do with this," Seamus chimed in, passing Harry a Daily Prophet.
Hermione leaned in to read it with Harry and gasped with shock at the lurid headline.
"Bloody hell!" groaned Harry. Hermione scanned through the article quickly while he tried to keep up.
DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE:
HALFBREEDS AT HOGWARTS
by Rita Skeeter
It has recently come to light that Headmaster Dumbledore, long known for his controversial appointments, has engaged as the Care of Magical Creatures professor, an enormous brute of a man given to terrorising his students. Upon being apprised of this alarming news, this reporter and her crack team of researchers launched an investigation.
To our horror, we discovered that the professor, who goes by the name of Rubeus Hagrid, is actually a half-giant, which would explain his violent behaviour and penchant for breeding dangerous creatures. One must wonder if Dumbledore's encroaching senility would account for his turning a blind eye to the menacing monster, given to maiming and mutilating his students.
"I nearly lost my arm after a hippogriff attacked me," says the tearful, doe eyed young pupil, Draco Malfoy. "The school nurse had to reattach it - I couldn't use it for weeks after. And my best friend, Vincent Crabbe, nearly lost a finger after a flobberworm bit him."
And apparently, Rubeus Hagrid is also responsible for breeding the deadly Blast-Ended Skrewts, horrific demons, the mutant progeny of Manticores and Fire-crabs. Numerous students, far too many to count, have complained about third degree burns which have scarred them for life. Mr Hagrid's insistence that these terrifying monsters were actually commissioned by the Triwizard Committee for the tournament is dubious at best.
The discovery that Mr Hagrid is a half-giant, follows on the heels of Dumbledore's appointment of the vicious werewolf, Remus J Lupin, to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor last year. This dangerous halfbreed is said to have mutilated and mangled several students, and parents have to wonder if the headmaster's mental faculties are all there after his hiring of a Dark Creature to oversee the classes.
Fortunately, after many parents complained, the Senior Undersecretary pushed legislation through the Wizengamot at the beginning of the summer banning the hiring of Werewolves. Bleeding Heart Advocates of those afflicted with Lycanthropy have promulgated the dubious claim that if Werewolves are not allowed to work, they will be forced to seek out other, more deadly means of sustaining themselves, as if Werewolves were not already nightmarish monsters with a taste for human flesh.
What's next? Perhaps the hiring of Centaurs - well known for their carnal appetites, sated only by the ravaging of young girls - as Divination professors? Given Dumbledore's maniacal appointments, such may indeed be in the cards for the future of Hogwarts, soon to become a haven of depraved debauchery!
"It's all a pack of lies!" fumed Harry.
"So what if Hagrid is Half-Giant!?" Hermione snapped angrily, "It's just bigotry... they can't all be horrible - it's just like the prejudice against Werewolves... Look how Skeeter goes on and on about Lupin as well - and he's as sweet and mild-mannered as a lamb!"
Ron and Seamus looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief, unwilling to argue with Harry and Hermione, torn between their affection for Hagrid and their preconceptions about brutally savage Giants.
"How did that Skeeter cow find out anyway?" growled Harry, his blood boiling. "I thought she'd been banned from Hogwarts."
Seamus, Ron, and Neville all shared a shifty look, as if not sure to reveal a secret.
"Dunno," Ron muttered awkwardly. "Seamus and Neville and me - we overheard Hagrid and Madame Maxime chatting a bit about their childhoods while we were... erm... getting smashed during the Yule Ball. I suppose Rita Skeeter could've heard too, but we didn't see her anywhere."
"Mebbe she's got an Invisibility Cloak," Seamus proffered with a shrug.
Seeing the Gryffindors gathered around the newspaper, Malfoy swaggered onto the scene followed by his minions, gleeful to have something to throw in Harry's face.
"Whatever! Skeeter's just doing a public service! That should put an end to the Halfbreed Oaf's teaching career..." sneered Malfoy, "I can't see anyone wanting their kids to be taught by a savage giant - they'll be worried that he'll eat them. Haha...!"
Crabbe and Goyle sniggered sycophantically.
"Shove off, Malfoy!" snarled Ron.
Smirking smugly, Malfoy and his thuggish companions departed the scene laughing.
Bristling with outrage, Hermione waded through the snow to Hagrid's cabin, an infuriated Harry by her side, Ron and Neville trailing behind. Harry knocked loudly on the door, to be met only by Fang barking and howling on the other side.
"Open up, Hagrid!" yelled Harry, "It's us!"
"And we don't care if you're half-giant!" shouted Hermione.
But after five minutes of banging and shouting, there was still no sign of Hagrid...