Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 18 - True Colours

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It was raining hard outside the castle as Harry made his way to Transfiguration. Students were running in from the front lawn trying to escape the sudden downpour. Harry strode through the corridor in a trance. "How could I have been so stupid?" he asked himself out loud. "A bloody racist is what he is. Why didn't I know?" A cluster of students burst through the front doors, soaked and laughing at each other -- Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Harry took no notice. He was searching his mind for a clue, some hint from the past of Ron's predilection; nothing came.

Suddenly, he found himself entering class; he was late. Professor McGonagall was at the front already discussing what was written on the board.

"Mr. Potter," she said, "so nice of you to join us this afternoon. Please take a seat. Five points from Gryffindor." Hermione, seated in the front, moaned. Harry scanned the room. The seat next to Hermione was already taken. He plopped down in the first chair he came to and immediately recognized his mistake; on his left sat Draco Malfoy. Professor McGonagall noted it, but made no effort to switch the pair. Harry briefly looked at the blonde whose attention was focused forward. A few students were casting glances backwards, but not at Harry. They were looking at the Slytherin, but Harry refused to look at him again and neither spoke to the other.

"As I was saying for those of you who arrived on time," Professor McGonagall continued, "the spell is a very difficult one. Those unable to accomplish it by the end of the first term will be dropped from this N.E.W.T."

"What spell?" Harry whispered as if Hermione were at his side. But the only sound returned was a small snort.

Professor McGonagall demonstrated the transfiguration of a pillow into a goose, and then untransfigured it back. "Today, however, we'll start with something quite similar," she said. She then explained how they would change a box turtle to a sphere and back again. Each pair of students had one stone box turtle to work with.

Harry reached for the box turtle. Malfoy grabbed it instead.

"I think not, Potter. Let someone who knows what they're doing have the first crack." He held his wand out. "You know, I ought to use this on you." He leered at Harry with his one exposed eye.

"Yes, Draco," Harry held the gaze. "You should."

"Stop it, Potter."

"Stop what, Draco."

"I don't know what you're playing at, but I won't have you call me..."

"Gentlemen!" called Professor McGonagall. "Perhaps a bit more concentration on the task at hand. Let's see you give it a try Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy turned his wand back on the box turtle.

"Orbista!" called Malfoy. The box turtle morphed into a solid ball and began rolling on the table.

"Exceptional, Mr. Malfoy! Now Mr. Potter, untransfigure."

"Quadrena!" called Harry. The sphere flattened its sides and became, again, a box turtle.

"Astounding!" congratulated Professor McGonagall. "I don't believe I've seen either of you two perform a transfiguration on the first attempt. Five points for Slytherin and Gryffindor."

Professor McGonagall continued to work around the room while Malfoy and Harry continued to transfigure and untransfigure the creature in front of them.

"What's this rubbish you told Goyle, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "You can't remove the hex?"

"It's not a hex and, no, I don't know how, Draco," Harry replied creating the sphere again. "And even if I did, I don't know that I'd want to."

"Oh, you'll want to, Potter. I can promise you that," Malfoy hissed.

"Tell me," Harry said feeling his pulse quicken, "if she dies, will you enjoy joining your father?" Malfoy was caught between hatred and fear.

"You... it, it was an accident, that's all. Orbista!"

"Accidents happen, I guess," said Harry, and the sphere slipped from his fingers and rolled off the table toward the back of the room. Professor McGonagall was discussing something with Hermione at the front of the class. When Malfoy went back to retrieve the sphere, Harry stood up. Malfoy turned and when his eyes met Harry's the sphere fell from his hands rolling across the floor. Harry reached down and picked it up. In its reflection Harry saw two red eyes staring back at him. He handed the orb back to Malfoy, leaning close. In the reflection of Malfoy's one un-bandaged eye, Harry again caught a glint of Voldemort red. "I don't care much for mistakes, Draco. Don't let them happen again," he hissed, shoving the sphere in Malfoy's chest. Malfoy, his mouth agog, took one step backward as Professor McGonagall dismissed the class. Harry held his hands to his face and then turned to pick up his things.

"Draco. Harry. A word please," she said, summoning the two to the front. Malfoy kept his distance. "I was very impressed with you two this afternoon. I expected to see sparks fly and you were both perfectly behaved. Further, your work was exceptional. I want to see you two sit together for the rest of the term."

"Professor McGonagall!" they called simultaneously. She held up her hands.

"Now, let's see how things progress. Ms. Parkinson was never much help to you Draco you know that. Nor was Mr. Weasley of great aid to you Harry. Perhaps the two of you, together, can discover yet unseen talents. At least, we can hope." She began to walk to her desk and then suddenly stopped.

"There is the one issue, Mr. Potter," she said clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. Malfoy here believes you placed a hex on his face. Much in the same way Marietta was marked last year."

"A hex?" Harry feigned bewilderment. "No I never hexed Draco." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "In fact, when Draco came in and tried to kill Cho, I didn't even have my wand on me. It was stuck in the cushions of the carriage we were riding, wasn't it Draco?" Harry turned as if asking an old pal to back him up.

"Kill Cho?" Professor McGonagall asked. "I don't understand. Mr. Malfoy, is this correct?" Malfoy was silent. "Well then... was Harry without a wand when you were attacked?" Malfoy's continued delay convinced her it was so. "Then perhaps someone else..."

"It was Potter, I tell you!" he cried out. "He's lying. I didn't try to kill... Okay, so... so maybe it wasn't his wand, he used his hands or... or.... You've got to make him take it off Professor!" And he ripped the bandages from his face. The scar was dark-red against his pale skin. "I can't walk around like this, I can't!" The look took even Professor McGonagall by surprise. Seeing her reaction, Malfoy slumped to the floor burying his hands in his face. "I can't." Harry had never seen Malfoy like this before. He was always so arrogant, so sure of himself.

"Certainly," Professor McGonagall continued, "you don't think Mr. Potter could do that with the mere touch of his finger do you? No wizard could." Malfoy looked up, rage filling his eyes.

"If you won't make him," he said, rising from the floor, "I will!" He stepped toward Harry and raised his wand. In the same instant that Professor McGonagall called for Malfoy to stop, a familiar pain, but now more intense, shot down Harry's right arm. He fell to one knee, grabbing his arm as a burst of red light flew over his head. An instant later Malfoy was on the floor writhing in pain, his hands pressed to his face.

"It's burning me!" he yelled. "Make it stop!" Professor McGonagall, her wand already drawn, turned from defender to healer.

"Harry, are you okay?" she asked briskly.

"I'm fine," Harry nodded.

"Very well, go on your way. I'll deal with Mr. Malfoy." She pulled Malfoy's hands from his face and her wand emitted a blue glow. Malfoy stopped writhing, but he was still in pain. Harry started to leave. Looking back he could see the grim face on Professor McGonagall as she tried to bring Malfoy relief. Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling.

"Professor McGonagall," he called, "don't punish him for that. He's just confused, that's all. Give him time... he'll learn." Harry left, running for his next class.

Again he would be late. Basic Apparation was going to be taught by Professor Flitwick this year in the Charms classroom. When Harry arrived, the room again was filled. This time Hermione had saved him a seat next to her and Ron. She waved, but Harry slid into a seat next to Anthony Goldstein.

"You're out of the hospital," Harry whispered.

"Just after lunch," Anthony whispered back. At the front of the class Professor Flitwick was discussing the fundamental theory and basis for apparation.

"Have you heard anything about Cho?" Harry asked.

"A healer arrived from St. Mungo's this morning. All he would say is that she's still not well... that they'd know in a day or two." Anthony feigned taking notes, and instead was doodling on his parchment. It was a sketch of a girl on a broomstick chasing a snitch. Seeing Anthony's other parchments, Harry noted there were many more such doodles, some from last year.

"Teaching a course like this," Professor Flitwick continued, "is very difficult since one can neither apparate, nor disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds." There was a general murmur in the class, as if this was the first anyone had ever heard such a thing. Hermione sighed with exasperation.

"Harry," Anthony whispered again, "I'm with you on this one all the way. We'll take out the lot you and me. Dumbledore stopped in the hospital wing the first night. Started going on about how we all needed to get along... find a way to unite... tottering old fool," he hissed. "The only way You-Know-Who's taking over Hogwarts is if the Slytherin vermin let him in through the front door. If Dumbledore can't see that, Harry, we'll have to make him, you and me." Anthony grabbed Harry's arm, the pain still there. Harry winced. "For Cho."

Harry hadn't said a word and somehow found himself in some sort of pact with a Ravenclaw prefect to wipe out all of Slytherin. Anthony kept whispering plans, but Harry wasn't listening. His eyes were at the front of the class, at the redhead with the freckles that ran down his back, now blended with scars that would put Malfoy's to shame. Scars put there in large part because of Malfoy's father. Ron was the one friend Harry had that didn't think he was a freak from day one. He was the one friend that had always stood by him.

Harry thought back to Ron's willingness to sacrifice himself at Wizard's Chess and how he stayed by Harry's side to face Aragog. It seemed so long ago. And yet, after all these years, why hadn't Harry seen it? Ron tried to duel with Malfoy after he called Hermione mudblood. What was it about the colour of one's skin? Why, of all things, would that bother Ron?

The redhead in the front row was rubbing the back of his neck. Hermione poked him trying to get him to pay attention. Well, it didn't matter to Harry. He'd seen enough hatred to last a lifetime and he wasn't about to be chums with a poster child for discrimination. He squeezed his right hand and flexed his shoulder. The ache had gone away and with it, Harry knew, the mark on his arm.

When the class was over Harry didn't wait to head back to his room. Anthony tried to whisper a few things in the hallway, but Harry told him they'd have to talk in private, and that appeared to satisfy him. As he passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady, he could feel his temper rising. How could this work, how could any of it work? "Hogwarts unity?" he spat to himself, heading up the stairs. "What a joke."

When he arrived, Goyle was sitting on the edge of Seamus' bed. He saw Harry and reached for his wand. "Sit down you idiot," Harry snapped raising his hand up and pushing Goyle back down on the bed, only his hand never actually touched Goyle. Flat on his back, Goyle looked over at Harry who was rummaging through his trunk.

"What... what are you doing?" Goyle asked nervously.

"Changing for dinner," Harry said frustrated. "Honestly Goyle, if you're going to have a heart attack every time I come into the room, maybe you should ask to go back to Slytherin." Goyle sat back up.

"I already have," he said and sighed dejectedly. "Dumbledore said no." Harry grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over his head. Outside it was raining again.

"Damn," he said. Goyle looked up.

"What do you mean?" asked Goyle again nervously. Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

"It's raining!" Harry exploded. "I wanted to send a letter tonight and it's raining!" Goyle sat confused. "She hates to fly in the rain!" He was screaming at Goyle when Ron walked in.

"Hey, what's up?" Ron called out. Harry spun on him.

"Oh, look! Mr. Prefect is back! Goyle, you're saved." Harry started to leave and then stopped just in front of Ron. "I know that silver badge doesn't mean anything on Malfoy's chest. I would have thought it meant something more to you." He descended the stairs and strolled across the common room, heading to leave, when Hermione caught him by the arm.

"Harry! Where are you going?" she asked.

"Dinner," he said, "if everyone will just leave me alone." She let go of his arm.

"Look, Ron's just gone up to change. He'll only be a minute."

"A minute for Ron Weasley is a minute I don't have," he fired.

"Don't tell me you two had another fight," she said with a sigh. "What was it this time?"

"Hermione, I don't have time to play twenty questions." Harry started to leave. "If you want to know so much... to know EVERYTHING, ask Ron." He looked back at her as the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. "But you two have been such exquisite liars lately I doubt he'll be able to tell you the truth. And if he did, would you believe it?" He left, Hermione calling after him.

Harry started toward the Great Hall, but he realized he wasn't the least bit hungry. He was headed down the first floor corridor when he changed his mind. Instead, a visit to see the only loyal friend he had was in order. Ten minutes later he walked into the owlery.

"Hedwig!" he called. The snowy owl flew down and landed on Harry's arm. "Hello, girl," he whispered. He sat on a bench stroking her feathers. "Tell me girl, what's it like to be the only white owl in here? Do the other owls tease you?" He looked up at all the different owls. So many colours, shapes and sizes. Erol buzzed down to see if maybe he could carry a letter somewhere. Hedwig cooed a reproach for the intrusion. "It's okay girl, he just wants to help. We need more Erols girl... a lot more." He stroked her feathers for quite some time, when he heard footsteps.

"Harry?" called a girl's voice. "Is that you?" It was Ginny Weasley, a pack hung over one arm and she held a parchment in her hand.

"Go on girl," he whispered to Hedwig, and she flew back to roost. He tried to muster a smile.

"Hi, Ginny! How was the first day back?"

"Awful and wonderful in one," she said whimsically. "I've already got more homework than I ever had before. But Dean says he'll see me through to the O.W.L.S. and something in his voice tells me he will." She smiled as Erol, hearing her speak, started buzzing madly about. "I hate to send him out in this weather, but I promised to write Mum." She attached the parchment to Erol's leg and he was off. "She'd only think the worst if I didn't write."

"I don't know," Harry said watching Erol disappear into the rain. "After last night, she may anyway."

"Well, I didn't really go into that much detail," she muttered looking down at the floor.

"Ginny Weasley! Perhaps you should be in Slytherin!" Harry joked.

"She'll find out soon enough, she always does, and with Dad where he is at the Ministry now there's not something unusual that happens he doesn't hear about." There was an awkward silence as the two began to look up at the owls overhead. "Dean told me about Malfoy's face. He saw it in Potions this morning." Harry sat back down on the bench and looked at his hands.

"You saved Cho's life Harry," Ginny said, sitting down next to him. "He deserved what he got." Harry shook his head. He wasn't going to have the one bright light in this school filled with rubbish.

"Ginny, that's a lie. I didn't save Cho's life. He goaded her in his own slimy way. She drew her wand on him first. If she would have just...." Harry took a long breath. "Well, she'd be having dinner with her brother in the Great Hall right now, instead of...." He buried his head in his hands. "He wasn't after her; he was after me! He's always been after me. Or, maybe it's been the other way around... I don't know."

"You did the right thing, Harry. Padma told me what happened. If she lives, it'll be because you took Malfoy down."

"If she dies, it'll be because I sat down next to her." He looked up, and tears were falling down his face. "I'm a walking disaster waiting to happen. Even you... you almost died last year, Ginny."

"Harry, I..."

"No! YOU ALMOST DIED! And why? Because I was an arrogant ass. Sitting with me right now, you put your life in danger. Don't you see that?"

"What? You don't think we all know you're Number One on Voldemort's hit list. Do you think we just hang around because you make a great Seeker?" she said, and then smiled. "Tell me Harry, if it were me, if Voldemort was flying through that window right now to come after Ginny Weasley, where would you be?" Harry looked up to the window. The rain had stopped as the moon broke through the clouds.

"Right here," he whispered. Ginny took his hand.

"Exactly. And that's where I am Harry. That's where over half the school is. Right here beside you." He wiped his face with his left sleeve. "You saved my life Harry, I'll never forget that." Harry tried to manage a smile.

"I'm sorry Ginny. I can't seem to get a hold of myself this year. My compass keeps spinning every which way trying to find true north." A Great Horned Owl flew in from outside just as the rain stopped. Harry took a deep breath. "I wish Sirius were here." He sighed.

The two remained for some time, Ginny content to sit with Harry and let him look out the window or watch the occasional owl swoop from one roosting spot to another. Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence.

"Ginny," he said, "you and Dean, you've got something special there." A grin broke out across her face.

"I think so," she said. "Why? What's he told you?" Harry began to smile back.

"He doesn't have to say anything. You can see it in his eyes every time he's with you, or talks about you." It was his turn to hold her hand. "Don't let Ron spoil it for you. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Don't worry about me, Harry." She grinned. "I can handle Ron just fine, thank you very much." Then her face turned down somewhat. "Have you noticed?"

"Noticed what?" asked Harry.

"Ron, he's, well, he's not looking too well. I know he was busy this summer and all with... well things. But he's gotten worse since we've been here. He looked dreadful at dinner tonight. I didn't say anything to Mum, but it's starting to worry me a bit. You'll look out for him, won't you?" Harry stiffened at the question. He stood and began to brush the white down from off his clothes.

"I think Ron can look out for himself. He'll be fine." The words were a bit sharper than he would have liked. He was sure she'd note the tone and he didn't want that. Ginny stood as well.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said. "Well, Dean will be wondering where I ran off to. I told him to meet me in the library an hour ago." She walked over to Harry. "You know," she said, her voice low, "when you're lost, and you need to find true north," she took his hand and held it to his chest, "look right here." He could feel his heart beat against her hand holding his.

"Eh, hem," cleared a voice from behind Harry. Harry turned to see Dean Thomas.

"Dean!" Ginny called. "I'm so sorry, I thought I'd only be a minute and, well," she walked over to Dean taking him by the hand, "I met Harry here and we got to talking and one thing led to another and..."

"I can see that," Dean said in voice that was a bit too cold. "Are you two finished with one thing and another?"

"Ginny was just leaving, Dean," Harry said apologetically. "It's all my fault. I started going off about Quidditch and our chances this year if we applied the right strategy and all. She was kind enough to listen to far too many game plans." Dean looked marginally satisfied with the explanation.

"Well, it's getting late," said Dean. "We only have about thirty minutes before we need to be back." The two started to leave.

"Ginny," Harry called, "do you have anything I can write with?"

"Sure, Harry," she said. She pulled parchment and a quill from her pack and handed them to Harry. "I'll need the quill back when you're done if you don't mind."

"Thanks," he said. Dean and Ginny left arm-in-arm each smiling at the other. Harry went back to the bench and started to write.

Gabriella,

One day has passed since we last saw each other, and already I miss you miserably. My mind has turned to Christmas. It's been a long time since I've been home for the holiday. I suspect Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will love the news when I tell them.

The first night back was bloody awful. A close friend was attacked and put in the hospital. They say some of the 'criminals' here are incurable. I hope I can change that in some small way. I was going to go to bed tonight angry and upset over what's happened here during the last twenty-four hours. But, how can I go to bed angry, knowing that I have someone I love so much waiting for me when I return. My only sadness is that you're not at my side right now.

I love you... always,

Harry

Harry walked Hedwig to the window and she flew off with the letter into a starry night. The clouds were thinning and the moon bathed the grounds with a faint glow. Smoke was billowing from Hagrid's cabin. "So quiet," Harry thought as he rubbed his right forearm. He scanned the horizon over the Forbidden Forest. Somewhere, out there in the darkness, the pieces were being positioned. Pawns in what might be the greatest war of the age. It seemed silly to think that love would be enough.