Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 17 -- The Metamorphmagus

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By the time Harry and the others entered the Gryffindor common room they were exhausted. With the large number of new students, the sorting lasted forever. Ron thought they would never eat, and yet when meal time did come, he mostly just sat with his eyes closed. He was clearly not enjoying himself in the Great Hall. Harry thought it might be the voices again. It was all Ron could do, as Prefect, to direct the first years into the Gryffindor common room. Ron immediately fell into one of the large soft armchairs by the fire. Hermione was concerned.

"Ron," she said, "you don't look well at all. You didn't eat much of anything, and that's not like you." She held his hand. "You're cold. Do you want to go to the hospital wing?"

"It'll be a madhouse in there," he whispered. "I'll be fine; it's just a headache." He turned to Dean Thomas. "Hey, Dean, would you get the first years straightened away?"

"Sure thing, Ron." Dean smiled back. "Take it easy." Dean stood and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Okay first year boys!" he yelled. "Quit gawking. You'll have plenty of time to look around in a year or two. Now it's time you get to bed. Follow me!" And the first year Gryffindors stepped behind Dean like new recruits at boot camp.

Hermione sighed. "Well, Ron, I'll see you tomorrow. And Harry, perhaps we can have a little talk tomorrow too, okay?" Harry nodded as she called to the first year girls. They disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

After they had left, the common room grew very quiet. Everyone was looking at their new special guest. The result of one of the changes Dumbledore was instituting this year: an exchange program between the houses.

From each house, was selected an individual to spend the term with a different house. They would represent both the house they were visiting and the house they were from in loosing or winning house points. If they participated in competitions, like chess or Quidditch, they would represent the house they were visiting. Seamus Finnigan of Gryffindor had been sent to Ravenclaw. Taylor Watson of Ravenclaw was sent to Hufflepuff. Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff was sent to Slytherin, remaining a Prefect. Gregory Goyle of Slytherin, fresh from the hospital wing after a rather sound round of jinxes by Ravenclaw, was now in the Gryffindor Common Room. All eyes were trained on him, as he stood motionless, and a bit pale, looking into the fire.

Finally, Harry spoke out breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Ron, do you know where he's staying." Ron nodded, but wouldn't look at Harry. "Finnegan's bed?" Harry sighed. Ron nodded again. Unhappy, but not willing to be the reason for problems, he turned to Goyle.

"Okay, Goyle, follow me. You'll be sleeping in my room." He started up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Goyle stayed planted on the spot. "Look," Harry said, "Your trunk will be up these stairs on your right. I don't care where you sleep. I'm exhausted." Goyle was clearly distraught. He scanned the room.

"You're not going to make me sleep in the same room with Potter are you?" He was looking for anyone who would come to his aid. "He'll... he'll kill me!"

"Look Goyle, nobody's going to kill you," Ron said trying to calm him.

"Did you see what he did to Draco? Did you see his face?" The blood was beginning to pool in Goyle's large feet. Clearly without his mentor, he was at a loss. "They can't fix it. Madame Pomfrey, and all the others tried. He'll kill me, I tell you!"

"Alright, Goyle," Ron stood up still shaky and casting a glance at Harry who was at the top of the stairs waiting. "I'll keep an eye on him for you." And Ron pulled his wand out pointing it at Harry. "No funny business, eh mate?" he tried to say in as serious a voice as he could muster.

"Whatever," Harry shrugged rubbing his eyes.

Within seconds of hitting the pillow Harry was asleep. Whatever happened to Goyle he didn't know and he didn't care. When he woke the next morning, Goyle's bed was empty. In fact, it barely looked slept in. Neville and Dean had left, and Ron was just getting up. Harry stretched as the first sunrise in October splashed across the Hogwarts grounds.

"How are you doing Ron?" Harry asked.

"Better, mate, much better." He rubbed his face with his hands. "It was bloody awful last night. They weren't voices," he whispered, "they were screams. Everybody smashed together. It didn't start to settle down till everybody cheered for Jim Chang." He yawned. "I'm going to the shower."

"Where's Goyle?" Harry asked.

"He was sitting on the edge of his bed staring at you when I fell asleep. He was totally terrified." Ron shook his head half smiling. "I don't know where he is this morning. I wonder how Seamus is doing?"

"Well, let's get ready and ask him."

As the two departed through the portrait of the Fat Lady groomed and ready for the day, Hermione called from behind.

"Ron! Wait up," she called. She ran down the steps carrying two books with her. The three continued down to the Great Hall. "Harry," she asked, "have you read the fifth chapter in Advanced Transfiguration?"

"Hermione, why do you ask questions you already know the answers to?" Harry asked.

"Because she wants to tell you that she has," said Ron with a smile. Hermione looked cross for an instant, then smiled back.

As they sat eating their breakfast, they scanned the tables looking for the Gryfindors that had transferred to the other houses. Seamus was just finishing at the Ravenclaw table. He looked a bit distraught as he walked by Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I'm goin' to die," he moaned.

"What?" Harry cried standing to his feet. "What did they do?"

"I feel like such an idiot, and it's only breakfast." He plopped himself down next to Ron. "Do yeh know what they were doin' this morning in their common room?" Seamus asked, and Ron shrugged. "Quizzin' each other on facts from their books! Advanced, eh... somethin' er other." He stood. "I don' think they're used teh Ravenclaws losin' points fer bein' daft." His shoulder slumped.

"You're not daft, Seamus!" Hermione snapped. "And don't let them say you are. You may be sleeping in Ravenclaw, but you're still a Gryffindor! Don't forget what that means." Seamus straightened adjusting his robes.

"Right, Hermione." He took a deep breath, and off he went, a bit taller than when he sat down. Harry watched as Seamus left the hall. Then his eyes went to the head table. Tonks had arrived and was speaking with Hagrid. The night had softened her look, and a smile was on both their faces. Harry sighed, and looked down at his hands.

A voice started to whisper in his mind. "What's wrong, Harry?" A picture of red eyes flashed in his mind, and then Harry hit Ron on the leg with his fist.

"Ouch!" he yelped.

"Harry," snapped Hermione, "why did you..."

"It's alright Hermione," Ron interrupted rubbing his leg with one hand, and his temple with the other.

"Boys!" Hermione breathed exasperated. "Well, we better be off. First class is in the dungeons, and we'll be late if...." Ron began to push eggs around on his plate. "Oh, sorry Ron," she whispered. He too took a deep breath and exhaled.

"It's okay Hermione. You and Harry have a good time in Potions. I've got Professor Santos for Muggle Studies." A smile began to appear on Ron's face. "Give Snape a kiss for me, Harry."

"Professor Snape!" Harry uttered back, in his best Dumbledore voice. The three laughed. Hermione touched Ron by the side of the face.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay Ron?" she said with a warm smile. He looked at her and then at Harry. Hermione dropped her hand. "Potions, Harry?" The two left Ron still sliding his eggs from one side of his plate to the other.

The Potions N.E.W.T. included students from all four houses. From Gryffindor Dean had made it, but Neville had not. There were only two from Hufflepuff, about seven from Ravenclaw including Marietta, and eight from Slytherin. For the first time, Malfoy found himself in Potions without Crabbe or Goyle.

His face was covered in bandages as he sat at the back of the room as far away from Harry as he could manage. Only his right eye could be seen, with a small slit for a mouth and nose. The eye refused to look at his nemesis. For the first time, Harry wasn't the one everyone was taking quick glances at. Indeed the class seemed intrigued with Malfoy's new look. Quite enjoying the moment, Harry decided to go over and speak with Marietta.

"Is she okay?" he asked his voice tightening. Marietta slightly shrugged and then nodded.

"I think so Harry." She held his hand. "They made me leave right away." Her lip began to quiver. "She was coming around when we brought her in though. The nurse outside said that was a good sign. Just as I left, she asked if you were okay." The steel door to the dungeon burst open and slammed shut as Professor Snape strode in, robes furled in his wake.

"I understand that you expect some special privilege, Potter. But remember that in this class you will receive none." In the back Draco sniggered. "And, if you intend to stay in this N.E.W.T., I expect you to be ready for class before I walk through the door. Can you wrap your rather large head around that?" Harry was already walking toward his seat when he looked back at Snape. The first thought in his mind was that the only person with a large head in this class was Malfoy, sitting in the corner covered in bandages.

"Yes, sir," he said with a pleasant voice. "Sorry, Professor." And Harry sat back down next to Hermione. He was determined not to let Snape goad him and he was successful. Indeed, the more insults that Snape cast Harry's way the more pitiful the man before him seemed. For once, Harry was not so irritated at Snape the man, that he couldn't hear Snape the Professor. And, except for stirring a bit too vigorously, his portion was nearly perfect. When the lesson was over, each student poured a sample and handed it to their partner. Harry gave his to Hermione, and she to him. In the back, Malfoy found himself alone. The Jailbreak potion, as it was called, was originally concocted to shrink you just long enough to squeeze through jail cell bars, after which you would regain your normal size and run away.

Padma sat next to Marietta whose mind had clearly been on the events of the day before. When Padma took the potion, only her head shrunk. It reminded Harry of one of the Death Eaters he had battled at the Ministry of Magic--the one whose head was that of a baby. Most everyone laughed including Marietta, and after a few moments her head re-grew to normal size. Professor Snape stood over the two of them.

"As humorous as you may find your failure, Ms. Edgecombe," he hissed, "realize that three such failures in this class and you will be removed. You now have one." His words were ice. "Do I make myself clear?" Marietta glared at him.

"Who you need to remove, sir, is that beast in back!" she snapped. She turned glowering at Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy? Well, let's see." He walked to the back of the room. "I see you have no partner, Mr. Malfoy. Very well, take your own potion." Through his bandages, Malfoy sipped the liquid. Immediately his entire body began to shrink in unison.

"As you can see Ms. Edgecombe, Mr. Malfoy's potion is once again..." There was a scream in the back of the room, and then the crash of a cauldron. Two Slytherins were backing away from Malfoy. Harry watched the whole thing. Malfoy's potion worked to perfection, but when his body and head shrunk, the bandages around his face fell to the floor. The blistering Harry remembered on the train had all but disappeared. But as his head re-grew the disfigurement became apparent to everybody. A dagger, wrapped with a snake, hung like a teardrop from the corner of his left eye. The blade plunging down his cheek and ending near his chin. Fruitlessly he tried to wrap the bandages about his face. Everyone, including Snape, stared in horror.

"Class is dismissed," he spluttered. Everyone stood in place gawking. "You heard me, leave!" he shouted. As Harry started for the door, Snape cast him a glance from the corner of his eye.

"Yes, professor, it was me," he thought leaving Snape alone with Malfoy who was holding his hand to his face trying to turn away.

As Harry and Hermione made their way up to the front doors of the castle, she began the questions in the most subtle of ways.

"So, did you see Malfoy's face?" she asked looking down at her class schedule as if she hadn't already memorized it.

"Not too well," Harry replied. "He was on the other side of the room and all."

"It's the same mark he had last night on the train, I'd say."

"Interesting," he said refusing to give an inch. "Well, it should give him a whole new appreciation for the word scarhead, don't you think?"

"Interesting choice Harry... that it should be a snake."

"It's NOT a snake!" Harry snapped. A few students turned to look, then went on about their business. Hermione continued to study her schedule. He lowered his voice and said, "It's more, much more."

"Is it?" she asked innocently. And in the sweetness of the question, Harry knew he'd been hooked like a fat fish in the lake. He pulled her aside, out of the flow of students making their way in and out of the front doors.

"You... you're a sly one you are," he said. "Yes, it's more. We can talk about it tonight. I've got class with Hagrid now, so it'll have to wait." She stared at his face, smiling, glancing from eye to eye.

"A sword and a snake appear on Malfoy's face hours before the Sorting Hat sings about them for the first time." Her smile turned to concern. "I... I can't seem to tell this year Harry," she whispered. "Are you, okay?" He nodded, but had to look away.

"Yes," he whispered in reply, and then louder, "but I won't be if I'm late for class, and neither will you if you miss Arithmancy." He left her looking at his back as he pushed open the front doors, and made his way toward Hagrid's Hut.

Students had already gathered around the half-giant near the paddock. Harry was surprised to see more than himself and Ron. Indeed there were a number of students including an odd pair, Padma's sister Pavarti and her friend Lavender. More stunning was the presence of Crabbe and Goyle. Even though Goyle was now in Gryffindor, it was clear he was keeping the old alliance.

"It's the only N.E.W.T. they passed," Ron whispered in Harry's ear. "I've got 'em in Muggle studies, too," he sighed dejectedly.

In front of Hagrid was a low table, and on the table were three small boxes. "Please don't let them be dangerous," Harry thought to himself.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid called to them all. Nobody moved. "Come on, they won' bite," he coaxed happily. Slowly Harry and Ron stepped forward. "Wha' we 'ave 'ere is one of the rares' magical creatures there is." He opened one of the boxes, and gently lifted a tiny black furry creature into his massive hand. Around it's neck was a small silver collar.

"A molamar," Harry gasped. Hagrid had to do a double-take when he heard Harry utter the words.

"Why righ' yeh are, Harry. Five points fer Gryffindor." Pavarti and Lavender were now coming forward ooh-ing and ah-ing. Lavender reached to pet the creature's shiny fur, but Hagrid pulled it away. "Not too fas' there Ms. Brown," he cautioned. "They may look pretty an' cuddly, an' there's the problem. The molamar is famous fer two things: Firs', when it's dormant, like yeh see here, they don' eat ner drink nothin'. A little warmth an' they'll survive fer years. Second, they're one of the greatest minin' creatures on earth. They're responsible for the London undergroun', the great diamon' mines in South Africa, an' the early coal mines in the States." His face turned grim. "Problem is, they're also responsible for the great Sahara desert."

"Hagrid?" Ron asked, "How can this little thing be responsible for anything more than diggin' up my mum's roses?" Everyone laughed. The idea that the little creature dwarfed in Hagrid's hand could do much of anything seemed absurd.

"When the molamar leaves the dormant state, it begins ter grow Ron. As quickly as it can eat dirt, it grows bigger. A full-grown molamar is about the size of a large whale, an' no bit o magic 'ill shrink 'em down. Once they're full grown, they can't stop eatin'. It's as if they're makin' up fer all the years they fasted. They tear through rock an' stone an' grind it teh dust tryin' teh find any organic material they can. If a niffler looks fer treasure, the molamar looks fer carbon--coal, diamonds, and oil. An' when that's gone, plants, animals... and people. Unchecked, these three, full-grown, would turn the Forbidden Forest inteh a dust bowl in abou' a month."

"Should they even be here, then?" asked Crabbe. "Aren't they dangerous?" Hagrid shook his head.

"Well, a lot of 'em have been killed through the years. There are maybe a hundred left on earth. Misunderstood is wha' they are." Harry and Ron looked at each other raising their eyebrows. "See here," Hagrid said rubbing the tip of one finger on the molamar's silver collar. "The collar can't be removed, an' as long it's around the critter's neck, it can't grow."

Hagrid continued on with a lesson, Harry thought, even Hermione would enjoy. With the cautionary note to stay away from the creature's collar, each of them was allowed to hold the soft furry creatures. It was amazing how well things went without Malfoy there to ruin everything. Before long it was time for lunch. As the rest of the class headed back to the castle, Ron and Harry stayed behind and helped Hagrid put the molamars back in their boxes.

"I see you're looking well," Harry noted to Hagrid. "Is Grawpy gone then?"

"Nah, he's still in there. Got 'imself a nice place now really. Tha's where these buggers came in. Used one teh make him a nice cave near Aragog.

"Aragog?" Ron screeched.

"Yeah, well, I know yeh had a bad run in with him and all. But I've talked to him about tha' and he said he's sorry, didn' know yeh and all. Besides he and Grawpy, they've become kinda friends yeh see."

"Friends?" Ron squeaked.

"Well, he was lonely. I didn' have a chance teh get him a partner yet. I was gonna go back this summer, but didn' have the time. Good thing is the Centaurs are leavin' him alone now. They won' go near Aragog and his family."

"No," Harry said, "I bet they won't." He handed Hagrid the last small box containing a molamar. "Well Hagrid, a brilliant lesson, really, but where's the big one?

"Ah, tha' one. Well, I had him shipped off teh China. Big dam they're buildin'." Harry shook his head and just smiled.

"Come on Ron, we better be getting on." Hagrid held Harry by the shoulder.

"Harry, wha' you did las' night, helpin' the kids. That was somethin'... somethin' special that was. It makes me proud teh see what kind of man yer becomin'.

The words were still echoing in Harry's ears when he sat down for lunch with Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall. Again he found his thumb rubbing the smooth flesh of his right forearm. "What kind of man am I becoming?" he whispered.

"Well, Malfoy came in late to my Arithmancy class," Hermione said. "The bandages were back." A few seats down Goyle was eating and actually carrying on a conversation with Dean Thomas about Muggle soccer. The three of them slid that way.

"Hey, Goyle," Ron called under his breath. "What's up with the bandages?" Goyle simply took another mouthful saying nothing. Ron turned to Harry. "I heard Malfoy's face was melted, and that his brains have started to ooze out of his left ear."

"They have not!" Goyle snapped. Hermione picked up where Ron left off.

"Someone from potions told me that he has the mark of a Death Eater on his face!"

"It's not the mark of the Dark L..." he stopped himself.

"What? What is it then?" she pressed. Goyle looked to Harry.

"Ask him! He put it there." For a moment Goyle paused. "They still can't get it off Potter. Snape's going to McGonagall, and she'll make you remove it." Harry looked at Goyle. His green eyes were hard and his face set like stone.

"I can't," he said. "There's only one person in this castle who can." Instinctively, everyone glanced to the head table. Dumbledore sat lunching with Tonks. They were both smiling about something. Harry shook his head. "If we're lucky, the day will come when you'll understand." He took another drink and left his seat. Ron stood as well.

"Hey Ron," Dean called. "Where's Ginny." It was as if someone had just thrown gasoline on a lit birthday cake. Ron's eyes instantly flamed.

"Do I look like her keeper?" he snapped.

"Hey, no big deal, I just thought..."

"You just thought what? That you could have your way with my sister?" Harry grabbed Ron by the arm.

"Come on Ron let's go." He began to pull him out of the Great Hall.

"Well you can't!" Ron called back. "I'll make sure of that!" They made it to the corridor.

"What's up with you, Ron?" Harry asked. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Ron snapped again. But to Harry, he looked tired. They walked silently toward the common room. Finally, Ron broke the silence. "She loves him, can you believe it?"

"Well I had an idea that she might..."

"No. I've seen it in her... well, you know. She is starry-eyed in love."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry spoke as they started up the moving staircases. "For what it's worth, I think Dean loves Ginny too." They stepped off on their floor, took a few steps, and then Ron nodded.

"He does," he spoke emphatically.

"Well, then," said Harry wondering if he should tell Ginny, "that really is excellent, isn't it?" Ron stopped, grabbed Harry by the robes, and darted his eyes up and down the corridor to the Fat Lady.

"No! It's not excellent. It's bloody terrible is what it is! What if, what if..."

"What if what, Ron?"

"He's... well, he's black, Harry," Ron whispered as if saying the Dark Lord's name himself. Harry was confused. Of course he was black. "They love each other, Harry. It's not just some kind of fling. This might actually last. What if they want to get married?" Harry was starting to take up where Ron was going, and he didn't like it.

"And if they did?" he asked slowly.

"Well, they might... have children," Ron explained as if it seemed so obvious.

"Yes?"

"They'd be... they'd be half-breeds, Harry," he breathed.

"Half-breeds?" Did his best friend just say what he thought he said? He could feel the temper rising from the pit of his stomach, but he felt cold. "I see. Half-breeds. I guess that would make you the uncle of a half-breed, wouldn't it?" He could see by Ron's eyes that Ron wanted to take the words back. But he couldn't could he? They were out on the table now. Now Harry knew why he'd been so angry about Ginny and Dean. It wasn't just that he was dating his sister, it was because he was serious about her, and she about him. And the problem with that--he was black. "What's that make me then, Ron? Or Seamus? It doesn't bother you that Dean's a mudblood?"

"That... that's different," he sputtered.

"Why, because I'm white and he's black?" Harry grabbed Ron's robes this time and spun him to the wall hidden behind a suit of armor. "What if I wasn't, Ron? What if I was a half-breed?" And as he held Ron tight against the wall, his eyes began to turn brown, and his skin began to darken. "Could I still be your friend if I looked like this, Ron?" Ron stared horror struck. "COULD I?" he yelled.

"You... you're a... how?" The green returned to Harry's eyes, as he released Ron from his grasp as if disgusted from the touch.

"None of your damn business!" he spat. "We're through, do you hear me?" Harry straightened his robes. "I wouldn't want to dirty your pure-blood doormat, Ron. It's far too white for my filthy shoes." And he turned and walked away leaving Ron gawking against the wall.