Mirror Tricks

03/? - O.W.L.s and Altercations

The four of them lay on their backs on the grass in the central garden for the third day in a row, restlessly watching the brilliant skies. Not a cloud, not a pigeon disturbed the perfect blue of the London sky, and as the minutes dragged into hours, the anxiety built. The post-owls seemed to have abandoned this part of London, purposefully pressing the three teenagers who awaited their results into dreading silence.

They lay still, arms behind their heads: Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, each alternately holding a breath and letting it out slowly. Ginny sat up and look a long gulp of lukewarm pumpkin juice.

"God, I can't stand this. And I'm not even getting results."

"Don't worry. We'll sit through this with you next year," Hermione offered, closing her eyes.

"Cheers."

"Don't mention it."

"Why haven't they come yet?"

"They'll come when they come, Ron. There's nothing we can do, so just relax."

"I can't."

"Just try, all right?"

"What's the point? Honestly, I don't think I could open them even if they came right now."

"You'll be fine, Ron. We'll all be fine."

"We know you'll be all right, Hermione."

Harry said nothing as Ron and Hermione continued to bicker. He noticed that Ginny was unnaturally silent too. He sighed almost imperceptibly and closed his eyes. He wished it were over, that he knew his results and could make his subject choices for next year. Get it all over with. He prayed under his breath that he had got a high enough mark in Potions, though a nagging thought deep down inside assured him he had not.

Harry brought his hands down by his sides, trying to relax. The conversation around him came slowly back to his ears.

"Are we going to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"I think so, Mum mentioned it yesterday."

"Are you coming too, Ginny?"

"Yeah. Meeting Luna," Ginny mumbled sleepily.

"You all right, Gin?"

"Mmm. Tired. Comfy..."

"Think I'm lying on a root or something..."

"Stop wriggling, Ron."

"Stop nagging, Mione,"

"Is that an owl?"

"Don't do that Ginny, it's not fair."

"I think she's right, Ron."

Harry opened his eyes slowly, and sure enough, an owl was winging lazily down towards them, swerving around the taller trees.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!"

"Give it a moment..."

"Is it our results?"

"Looks like a school owl."

"Grab it!"

"Here we go."

The owl landed on the ground in front of them and released four envelopes of fine parchment, names and addresses scribed on them with emerald-green ink. Hermione picked them up and solemnly handed each of them their respective envelopes.

Ron stared at his, took a gulp of air and ripped it open.

Hermione held hers in her hand for a moment, then did the same.

Harry held his breath. His hopes of becoming an Auror depended on this. His fingers twitched unsteadily as he snapped the black seal and pulled out the thick parchment inside. He had squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled it out in case he read anything before he was ready. Okay, from the top.

Dear Mr Potter,

It is my pleasure to tender you the results of your fifth-year OWL examinations. Note that these results are final and that appeal can only be made under extenuating circumstances. Please find enclosed leaflets that may prove helpful upon choosing your sixth- and seventh-year subjects for NEWT level. Please return the completed form at the bottom of this letter informing us of your choices no later than the 31^st August.

Congratulations,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House

History of Magic Acceptable

Transfiguration Exceeds Expectations

Care of Magical Creatures Outstanding

Divination Acceptable

Herbology Exceeds Expectations

Charms Outstanding

Defence Against the Dark Arts Outstanding

Astronomy Exceeds Expectations

Potions Outstanding

Harry stared at the paper in his hands in utter disbelief. He sat down abruptly on the grass, oblivious to the laughter and tears from Hermione and Ginny and the whoops and chuckles from Ron. He just couldn't believe it. The relief hit him like a sledgehammer in the stomach.

"Harry? You okay?"

"How did you do, Harry?"

"Harry what's wrong? Is it your Potions? If Snape-"

"No, no it's fine, I just...look!"

He thrust the parchment at them, the grin finally bursting over his face.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" Hermione cried and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. "Well done!"

Harry held her back, aware of Ron punching the air exuberantly and Ginny patting him on the back, all laughing merrily.

"How did you two do?"

"Hermione got all Outstanding, which is a surprise."

"Ron!"

"C'mon, Mione, what did you expect?"

"Ron? What'd you get?"

"A few A's, some E's, and O in Defence'-"

"Well done, you deserve that."

"Cheers, mate."

"What are we going to do to celebrate?"

"We have to do something."

"I think Mum's planned a little party, or something."

"Great. Family."

"Oh my god."

"What is it, Ginny?" Harry asked, looking at the red-haired girl who was staring at her own Hogwarts letter.

"They've made me a prefect," she whispered, holding out the silver badge.

Ron groaned.

"Not another one in the family."

Harry laughed good-humouredly.

"Well done, Ginny." He gave her a quick hug.

Hermione eyed him for any hint of a crack in his smile, but found none. Either he was getting good at hiding his feelings from her or he was genuinely pleased for Ginny. They were still standing very close and she squeezed his hand gently. He looked at her and his smile widened.

An honest, authentic Harry-smile.

Hermione nearly trilled in delight. Harry was back, back for good, she hoped. Possessive thoughts swamped her. She had him and she wasn't about to let him go.

~*~

Diagon Alley the next morning was busy and hot; last minute shoppers for Hogwarts' equipment clamoured in the tiny wizarding street. Harry and Hermione wandered in and out of the teeming shops aimlessly, they had long since completed their shopping and had left their bags with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron.

Ron had disappeared some time ago with Mrs Weasley, who had dragged him off, berating him loudly for having grown again. Harry suspected they would find Ron in a terrible mood later after an afternoon of trying on robes in Madame Malkins.

Ginny had walked off earlier to meet Luna, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. Ginny had left with a sly wink in Harry's direction. He had returned it with an exasperated look, which disappeared as soon as he saw Hermione watching him curiously.

Now as they wandered the streets of wizarding London, Harry was grateful for Hermione's presence. He felt very comfortable walking next to her and chatting about unimportant things. It was good as a diversion; Mrs Weasley had accused him of looking glum at the party she threw for their exam results, as all Harry could think about was what Sirius would have said if he had been there. In the crowds of Diagon Alley, Harry felt himself relax ever so slightly. They paused for a moment outside Quality Quidditch Supplies where they met Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.

"Hi Harry, hi Hermione."

"Dean, Seamus, how's the summer been?"

"Good, how about you?"

"Not bad, how were your results?"

Dean made a face.

"Knew you'd ask that, Hermione. Let's say I won't be taking History of Magic for NEWT."

"Would you want to?"

"Well, no Harry, but, you never know."

"Dean, Ginny was down by Fortescue's a while ago. I think she was about to look for you."

"Thanks, Harry." Dean shot him a grateful smile, and he and Seamus moved off into the crowd, weaving in and out of people, Seamus complaining all the way.

Hermione was trying to hide a smile as she steered Harry towards a coffee shop and they sat down at a spare table outside.

"You're such a matchmaker," she accused him as they both were sipping refreshing tea the waiter brought them a moment later.

"What? Me?"

"Yes, you, Mr. Potter. A shameless romantic."

"Give over, Mione." But he was smiling.

"Have you thought about what subjects you're going to take next year? There's only a couple of days left to send the owl."

"Hermione, do we have to talk about-"

"Yes, it's important."

Harry rolled his eyes, but secretly didn't mind. Anything to keep his mind off-

"Well, Defence Against the Dark Arts, of course. Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms and Potions, I guess."

"Snape's not going to be happy about that."

"No, but I'll put up with anything to be an Auror."

"That's great. You'll be a brilliant Auror, Moody always said so."

"Yeah. He offered to give me extra lessons at the party last night."

"Oh, I wondered why he had cornered you."

"Should be helpful, though. How about you? Are you going to stick to five subjects like mere mortals like me and Ron, or go for the school record?"

Hermione grinned and aimed a soft slap at his hand on the table. He smiled back and grasped hold of it.

"Just the five, I think," she replied a little breathlessly. "Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Potions, Ancient Runes and I think Defence Against the Dark Arts is going to be pretty useful."

"Hmm, definitely useful. At least we'll have lessons together."

There was a slight pause.

"Harry, you know the other day?"

"Yes?" He said slowly.

"Well, I just wondered if...what you thought about...me."

"What I think about you?" He sounded confused. "What do you...? Oh," he said as comprehension dawned. "I like you, Hermione. Really like you."

Her smile widened again.

"Really like me?"

"Yeah. You mean everything to me."

"So it's official?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

For some reason, Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face. He found it hard to believe that someone would actually like him for him and not his name, but he was willing to believe it from Hermione, she didn't have a deceitful bone in her body. He was still holding Hermione's hand, and on impulse brought it up to his lips and kissed it, after all she had accused him of being a romantic.

A bright flash made them both look around in horror. A middle-aged wizard in a tall orange hat was still holding the camera in their direction.

"Daily Prophet, Mr. Potter! Any comment? Who is this charming young lady?"

Hermione and Harry were both still too shocked to speak, when a slow drawling voice supplied the photographer with his answer.

"Hermione Granger, of Gryffindor House, has Muggle parents."

"Thank you, young sir." The photographer noted Hermione's name down and bustled off into the crowd.

Harry's eyes had gone flat as he rose from his seat.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"What do I want, Potter?" Malfoy spat, advancing on Harry. "I want you to pay for putting my father in Azkaban!"

"He got what he deserved! He and the rest of those foul Death Eaters killed my godfather!"

Harry could barely speak he was so angry, the rage boiling through him, exaggerated by the latent pain and loss he still felt over Sirius.

To Hermione's frantic eyes Malfoy was just as furiously angry as Harry. No one in the street had seemed to notice how a seething Draco Malfoy had backed an equally livid Harry against the café wall.

"My father will be out of Azkaban in a matter of days and you will pay for what you have done to him!"

"Your father is nothing but a lackey for a pathetic parasite! You afraid to do something yourself? Better wait for Voldie to get daddy out of prison, so you don't get your hands dirty," Harry hissed through his teeth.

Malfoy growled low in his throat, and grabbing Harry around the throat, slammed him back against the café wall. Harry's head impacted the red-painted wall with a sick thud and sparks flared briefly in front of his eyes. He pushed Malfoy away with a violent shove, and leaned his shoulder against the wall, shaking his head to clear his vision. A rush of nausea brought saliva to his mouth.

Malfoy pulled his wand out of his jeans pocket and levelled it threateningly at him.

"One more word, Potter, and you'll regret it."

"Put it away, Malfoy, or I'll hex you into next week!"

Harry and Malfoy dragged their malevolent gazes away from each other and stared in surprise at a scarily calm Hermione, who had her wand pointing exactly between Draco's eyes.

"Why, Granger, can't Potter fight his own battles? Has to get his girlfriend to defend him?"

A small crowd of people had gathered around them by now, muttering in low voices. A waiter from the café was standing by, begging them to desist.

"Please, gentlemen, lady, stop this!" He appeared quite nervous.

"Hermione, it's all right," Harry said, who still hadn't drawn his own wand. He seemed quite calm now, although Hermione noticed his eyes looked slightly unfocused behind his glasses.

"That's right, Potter. Call her off. This can wait." Despite his words, Malfoy brought his wand back round to point at Harry. Harry straightened and faced the blond teenager squarely.

"Go on, Malfoy, it's what you want. A free shot, do your worst."

"Don't tempt me, Potter. You'll get what's coming to you."

"I'll bet," Harry muttered, shoulders slumping as Malfoy sheathed his wand with a snarl and flounced off into the gathered crowd. The assembled witches and wizards grumbled, but began to dissipate. The waiter breathed a sigh of relief and fled inside with a squeak.

"Harry, are you all right?" Shakily, Hermione stepped over to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured her, although his voice was as pale as his face.

He put a hand behind his head to feel the sharp bump he knew was forming there. His knees buckled slightly as he stepped away from his support against the wall. As he reached out his hand to Hermione to steady himself she saw his hand was sticky with blood.

"Harry! Sit down, here."

She inspected the back of his head and then looked into his face with worried eyes. Saying nothing she picked a napkin off the table and wadding it, held it against his head. Harry took off his glasses throwing them on the table and rubbed his eyes, his head was throbbing and he felt sick. He became aware that Hermione was talking to him.

"- c'mon, let's get back to the Leaky Cauldron. We might have to take you to St Mungo's."

Hermione frowned in concern when Harry didn't argue with her or insist he was fine.

"Can you stand, Harry?"

"What? Yeah." He levered himself up, apparently with difficulty. Hermione picked up his glasses and made him put his arm about her shoulders as they weaved unsteadily through the thronging people.

~*~

"That Malfoy git!"

"Give it a rest, Ron."

"But he attacked Harry!"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, in fact you look about to throw up, again."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Hey, I live to serve."

"Just keep the noise down, you lot," Mrs. Weasley instructed as she bustled into the private parlour at the Leaky Cauldron with a bowl of hot water and a cloth.

She sat down next to Harry, who was sat with his head against the wing of a comfortable chair. It was true, he did look awful. His face was ashen and his eyes were still unfocused and vague.

"Turn you head, Harry dear."

Harry looked up as if seeing Mrs. Weasley for the first time. He turned his head the other way, resting his cheek against the other wing of the chair.

Mrs. Weasley began dabbing the back of his head, trying to clear up the worst of the clotted blood. She flicked her eyes up briefly to Hermione who shook her head imperceptibly: Harry wasn't flinching at all, however hard Molly pressed with the cloth.

Harry was drifting. He was aware that everyone was around him, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna, but felt sleepy and detached. At least the pain had stopped. He was feeling very sick still. He closed his eyes and the roaring in his ears crescendoed.

Someone was slapping his cheeks.

"Harry! Harry, please wake up!"

It was Hermione's voice, desperate and afraid.

He tried to reassure her but all that came out was a faint moan.

"I've sent a owl to St Mungo's. They're sending a Mediwizard to Apparate Harry to the hospital. He'll be fine once he gets there," Mrs. Weasley seemed to be trying to reassure herself as much as the rest of them.

"How can a simple bump to the head be this bad, Mum?

"Don't worry, Ginny. But are you sure that was all that happened, Hermione? That Malfoy boy didn't jinx Harry, did he?"

"No, I'm sure he didn't. He just slammed Harry really hard against the wall outside the café."

"I'm going to kill him next time I see him!"

"Don't be so silly, Ron."

Ron subsided under his mother's glare.

Harry was dimly aware of a hand holding him firmly, and of being lifted, then the hand was taken away. After a brief feeling of weightlessness he let go of his consciousness and drifted again.

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