Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 22 - Salazar's Pride

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At breakfast the next morning, everyone looked exhausted. No one had slept the night before. Harry, Dean, Neville, Ron and even Goyle were huddled around their window looking for some sign of what was going on. It was early in the morning when wizards and witches began to appear on the grounds. The night sky glowed with a hint of the sunrise to come. At one point, Ron and Hermione had been called out by Professor McGonagall, only to return saying no one was to leave their dormitories. There was no more news to give other than all was safe. When the sun finally peeked over the horizon, the students were released to head for breakfast.

In the Great Hall, there was a frenetic thirst for information. In such an environment rumors grow exponentially. One common thread was that somehow Malfoy was linked to the Dementors. "Why else would he be in Hogsmeade," called Pavarti, "if he wasn't in on it?" Many echoed her opinions; even the Slytherins were thinking that Malfoy had summoned the Dementors to town.

Then there was the talk about how Harry, having heard of the evil that Malfoy summoned to Hogsmeade, brought the Slytherin down in the entranceway, dueling him while Dumbledore watched. Their only evidence... the witnesses that had seen Harry crouching over Malfoy like a lion ready to devour its prey. Some spoke of how James Chang had tried to stop it, but that he was sent away by the Head Master. Considering that every Slytherin ran in panic the moment they had heard the word Dementors, Harry was not surprised that they didn't have a clue as to what really happened.

Assigned initially to Gryffindor, James sat a few tables down from Harry. He was making a halfhearted attempt at eating. He seemed content to listen to Dennis Creevey tell him all the wonderful things there were to learn about Hogwarts. Seated next to Harry were Hermione and Ron. He had tried to leave when Hermione arrived with Ron at her side, but she grabbed Harry's robes and with surprising force insisted that he sit.

"I'll sit," he said, "but don't think I'm talking. Not with him."

"I don't know what you two are having a row about," Hermione chided, "but I want you to talk about it and get it out in the open right now." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I told you to ask him for answers, not me," Harry retorted. Then looking across the table he added, "Unless, Ron, you'd like to tell us all what you're upset with me about." Sitting to the other side of Hermione was Neville and Dean.

"Yeah Ron," chimed in Neville, "you've been in a pretty lousy mood ever since you got here. What's up?" Dean flicked Neville on the arm and shot him a glance that told him to be quiet. Harry caught it, but Ron had his hands to his forehead, and did not look well.

"Really, Hermione," Ron said, looking at his uneaten breakfast, "I'm too tired this morning, okay? Maybe tomorrow." When he looked back up to Hermione, his eyes had a look of fright in them. It wasn't there when the two had walked in. Harry looked around the room, then back to Ron. It was as if everyone's emotions were leaving an imprint on Ron's face.

As they were talking, a murmur fluttered through the Great Hall and it suddenly became quiet. Harry looked from Ron to the Head Table. Dumbledore had just entered and stood beside his chair, waiting for complete silence. When it came, he began to speak.

"Last night," he said, his voice clear and strong, "some two hundred Dementors rampaged through the town of Hogsmeade." There was a collective gasp. Many had heard it was Dementors, but the words coming from Dumbledore's mouth made them real and Hogsmeade made them close. "The Ministry, many local inhabitants, and many witches and wizards of the staff here went to repel the attack. By midnight, nearly one hundred Dementors had been captured; the rest fled. There were many injuries, and much damage, but no fatalities. Such is the way of the Dementor. There was one wizard, Mr. Silverton, who lost his soul saving the life of one of our own students."

There was a general murmur. The words "Malfoy" and "Draco" bounced off the walls like ping-pong balls. James Chang began scanning the room, looking for his nemesis. Dumbledore pressed on.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. He is recuperating in the hospital wing. He is well and will be returning to class shortly." There were more whispers. "No," Dumbledore boomed emphatically, "he did NOT have anything to do with the attack. He was unfortunate to find himself in Hogsmeade at the wrong time." Dumbledore's face did not move, but Harry was sure he saw a flash of blue glance his way. "The school is safe, as are the grounds." The elderly wizard seemed to age for a moment, and then stepped away from the Head Table and down among the students. It was most unusual, but as he surrounded himself with the students, he gathered strength, and years were wiped from his face. His stature straightened and he spoke as if holding the hands of each individual student. Harry noticed the fear begin to fade from Ron's face.

"We will not let terror rule our lives. We will defeat this evil on every front. We will push back his advances. We will deny his goals at every turn. The day will come when Voldemort is utterly destroyed." This time his eyes bore straight on Harry. Hermione noticed and held his hand. Dumbledore turned and took in the Great Hall. "By staying true to the principals this school was founded on, by working together for a greater good, you will lead the charge. Yes, each of you will have your hand in his ultimate defeat." The room fell silent for a moment as Dumbledore began to walk back to the Head Table. There were a few whispers weaving their way through the air like snakes.

Dumbledore returned to his chair, and spoke one last time wearing a broad smile. "We will continue as we have for centuries. The Hogsmeade weekend will not be canceled. We will fight fear with bravery, destroy hate with love." There was a loud cheer throughout the room. As the room quieted, Dumbledore smiled. "There is one thing more we have done for centuries... study hard, and do our homework." There was a collective groan. "You have only fifteen minutes before class. Finish your breakfasts!" He clapped his hands, and the sound of forks and plates clanging together returned to fill the room.

Ron turned back to see Hermione holding Harry's hand. For a moment his face flushed, then it lost all expression as he closed his eyes. Hermione pulled her hand away, slightly embarrassed, while Harry tried to kick Ron in the leg, but he was too far down the table. It was too late. Ron had read Hermione's mind, and now knew what she had been thinking -- the prophecy of Harry's fate. When Ron opened his eyes they were as big as silver dollars and focused straight at Harry.

"Why... why didn't you tell me?" he gasped. Hermione thought he was upset about her holding Harry's hand. She began to explain how she was just holding Harry's hand because of last night's trauma. But she was telling a lie that Harry knew Ron could see through. Ron now knew of Harry's ultimate confrontation, at least, Hermione's interpretation of it, and she was dead bang on. Harry didn't say a word. He stood up from the table and walked away.

"Harry," she called. But Harry was having nothing to do with Ron... ever. He was nearly out of the Great Hall when the sound of multiple screeches signaled the arrival of the morning post. He waited, but Hedwig was nowhere to be seen. Her absence only plunged his heart lower. He was about to leave when Seamus walked up to him from the Ravenclaw table.

"We've moved the timetable, Harry," he whispered, "for obvious reasons." He glanced over to the Slytherin table. "Late next week. I'll let yeh know." And before Harry had a chance to say a word, Seamus was back laughing at the Ravenclaw table.

"At least he's happy," Harry thought, and he left to make his way to Potions.

He was early. There was only one other student waiting for Professor Snape. In the back of the room, considerably cleaner than the night before, sat Malfoy. His blonde shoulder length hair was pristine and his robes pressed. He was certainly not the tatters and blood of just a few hours ago. For a moment Harry hesitated, then stepped back to leave when Malfoy turned his head to see who had entered.

Harry just stared. Malfoy had removed the bandage completely, the scar was revealed. It was the first chance Harry had time to truly examine the design up close. Save for the two lightning-bolts on the base of the sword that burned his forearm, the marks were identical. Malfoy just stared back, his lips turned in a slim smile. The mark was less red than the mark that appeared on Harry's arm. But against Malfoy's light skin it was clear to see from a distance.

"Well, Potter," he snapped, "what do you think? Your mudblood friend thinks it's 'exquisite', or am I simply some sort of freak?" He turned back facing the front of the classroom. "Well, either way, I'm not hiding it anymore. We'll see what the school thinks of your handy-work." Harry just looked at the back of Malfoy's head. Could this statue of ice before him be the same sniveling creature he saved from being torched? Harry simply walked toward the front of the class and sat down.

"I hope, Draco," Harry said, facing the front of the classroom himself, "you won't stun me in the back again." He turned to face Malfoy, a sneer slashing across his own face. "It would be a shame if you found yourself waking up in Voldemort's basement this time. But then, maybe you'd prefer..."

"You!" Draco yelled. "I knew it! How Potter? Damn you! You almost cost me my life!" He stood drawing his wand, the chair he was sitting in scraping across the stone floor and reverberating in the empty classroom.

"And YOU!" cried Harry. "You killed everything that made her Cho! Not nearly Draco. She's as good as dead!" And Harry stood, wand in hand.

At the same moment about six students walked through the doors, stopping instantly and gawking at the scene before them. An encore, they thought, to the duel from the night before. Harry pressed on.

"You've been a slug, Draco, and a ferret," he taunted. "What would you like to be this time?" Students were piling up on the outside of the door. It was a commotion that went unheeded by either of the two students inside.

"If it hadn't been for you Potter, Old Man Silverton would be having breakfast with his wife this morning. They took him because..." Malfoy took a deep breath as a pang of regret welled up inside him. "...because he tried to see me here safely." Malfoy's words were a stiletto slicing deep into Harry's innards. Immediately, the Gryffindor dropped his wand to his side, turned and slumped to his chair. He could hear the crowd outside collectively sigh and make their way into the dungeon classroom.

"Harry, what's going on?" It was Hermione, her hand on his shoulder as she sat down next to him. He was looking down to his hands, rolling over Hagrid's words of manhood in his mind. He looked over to Hermione.

"I killed him," he whispered. There was pain in his green eyes. "I killed her," he whispered again. "I'm death, Hermione. Death."

"Harry you're not..." The dungeon door burst open with a clang. They didn't need to turn to know it was Professor Snape.

"I'm glad you could find your seat today Mr. Potter," he sneered as he came to the front of the class. Then he looked to the back. "Mr. Malfoy please face the front of the class, you can..." his sentence broke for just a beat as Malfoy revealed his face, "...take these notes down." He waved his wand in the air and the class board filled with the morning's lesson. Throughout the lesson, Harry was an automaton. Mechanically, he read the instructions and mixed the ingredients. When the lesson was over, he'd made the best draught he'd ever attempted in Potions, but he didn't care. After he handed his flask to Professor Snape, he turned to speak with Malfoy, but the blonde had already left.

During Care of Magical Creatures he was silent, standing to the back away from Ron, away from everybody. When Hagrid tried to engage him with questions he would respond with a simple yes, no, or just shrug his shoulders. At lunch, Hermione and Ron were talking to Goyle and laughing about something. Harry deliberately sat with Colin so that he wouldn't have to say more than a word or two. Once again he had found his internal compass spinning. How could he possibly save the world when everything he touched turned to death?

When it came time for his Transfiguration lesson, Harry found himself arriving early. For some time he sat alone drawing his own doodles around the edges of his notebook. They weren't pictures of brooms, but of sunsets. Without invitation, Malfoy sat down next to him just before class was to start. He sat on Harry's right ensuring his partner would have a good long look at the mark on Malfoy's face. But Harry didn't need to look; he knew what was there. The two sat silently before the start of class as Professor McGonagall chatted with Hermione in the front.

Harry took his wand out and set it on the table in front of him. Without looking at Malfoy he said, "Draco, I'm sorry." Except for the soft murmurs of students in the class, there was silence. Then Malfoy pulled out his wand and began to twiddle with it in his hands.

"It's just that..." Malfoy started. With a finger he slowly stroked the grain along his wand's shaft, and then he shook his head. He set his wand down next to Harry's and brought his left hand to his face. Before he could say more, Professor McGonagall called the room to begin.

While she had most the class working on the previous lesson, a few students were moving on to more advanced efforts. Hermione along with Anthony Goldstein, and Harry with Malfoy were given a box turtle again, but this time they were asked to change it directly into another animal, a snake. It was the first time in class they'd attempted an animal-to-animal transfiguration. McGonagall showed the new spell and wand movement to both pairs. Harry wondered if it would be more difficult than when he was angry and turned Goyle into a toad.

After the professor left Harry and Malfoy, they grabbed their wands and began, neither wanting to be second best. It was as if the two were dueling. With each flash of the wand their transfigurations became better and better. At one point, Harry had turned the turtle into a rather squat snake with stubby legs.

"Pitiful Potter," Malfoy drawled. He untransfigured the creature back into the turtle and attempted the spell himself. "Quadrena Serpses!" The turtle stretched and lost its legs. The head became snakelike, but the shell remained.

"Not QUAD-re-na, quad-RE-na," Harry corrected. It goaded Malfoy, but Harry was right, and Malfoy nodded. Toward the end of class, it was Malfoy who succeeded first.

"Looks like a snake to me," the Slytherin snickered.

"You should know," Potter griped back. Two more attempts later, Harry succeed in the transfiguration. A glance to the front revealed that Hermione still hadn't mastered the spell. When he looked back to his desk, the snake was attempting to slither over the edge. Malfoy re-centered it with his wand. Then, an idea flashed across the blonde's face.

"Can you talk to it?" he whispered.

"I don't know," Harry said. "It was a turtle, after all." There was a mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes.

"Well, give it a go," Malfoy coaxed. "Ask it something." Harry glanced up to find McGonagall correcting Anthony Goldstein's wand movement. He wasn't sure why, but the tone in Malfoy's voice was compelling. He leaned down next to the snake.

"Hassa hayaheth?" he whispered. The snake raised its head and looked at Harry. "Hassa shessa rahess," Harry continued. The snake clearly looked at Malfoy, flicking its tongue then back at Harry. Malfoy leaned in close, transfixed.

"Well?" he asked Harry. The scene looked very conspiratorial: Harry and Malfoy shoulder-to-shoulder, forehead-to-forehead leaning down over the snake.

"She says," Harry replied, "you're better at this than I am." Malfoy leaned up grinning and punched Harry on the shoulder.

"Hah!" he shot. The smile curved the dagger that plunged down from his eye. Harry forced himself not to look.

"She also says," continued Harry, "the whole thing is making her dizzy, and could she be a turtle again? It feels safer."

"Simple enough," Malfoy smiled and flicked his wand, "Quadrena!" and she was back to being a turtle. He stared at her for a moment, and then looked back at Harry. He squinted his cold gray eyes. "Father says you learned it from him," he whispered looking slightly nervous, "when he gave you that." Malfoy's eyes shot to Harry's scar then dropped meeting Harry's. For a moment, eye-to-eye, the two were frozen in time, then Harry leaned back.

What was this about? Had he forgotten who he was sitting next to? Every word he said, every deed he accomplished would certainly be recorded and reported back to Voldemort as surely as he was speaking to a Death Eater's son.

"I don't know, Draco," Harry said at a distance but squinting his eyes to match Malfoy's. "I've left you with a mark; can you speak with snakes?" For a second Malfoy considered the possibility, but Harry didn't let the thought stay for long.

"Oops! I take that back," Harry smirked. "You talk with them every day... don't you?" He turned and watched Professor McGonagall as she began to clear the desks with her wand. Without looking at Malfoy he said, "I won't be your personal spy back to daddy, Draco."

"Spy?" Malfoy hissed. "I'm not a spy, Potter." For a beat Harry resisted the temptation, but he couldn't resist; he needed to be cruel.

"No?" he spat a bit too loudly; a few students looked their direction. "Then tell me Draco, whose side are you on? Are you with your father, in league with Voldemort or not?" Malfoy looked up to see far too many eyes on him.

"You're insane Potter!" he called out certain that those near would hear. "Simply insane." By now Professor McGonagall was at the back of the class clearing the desks there.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," she called from a few rows away looking over the top of her spectacles, "I've been watching you this afternoon. You both performed exceptionally. Ten points to Slytherin." The other Slytherins in the room cheered.

"What?" Harry called out. "You said BOTH of us!" He stood up out of his chair, half leaning on the desk in front of him.

"It was Mr. Malfoy who transfigured the turtle first, Mr. Potter." It was almost as if she were enjoying the words. Harry couldn't believe it. His own Head of House! "Perhaps next time, Mr. Potter," she said. Harry sat back down and shoved his wand back inside his robes. Malfoy slipped his in grinning all the while.

As class broke out into the corridor Harry deliberately stayed behind to ensure he was one of the last to leave, and giving Hermione a long head start. When he finally left the class and entered the corridor he was stunned to see Malfoy leaning against the far wall.

"Here to gloat are you Malfoy?" he said without stopping. "I noticed you didn't answer my question." Malfoy paced at his heel.

"Too many ears, Potter," he whispered. "Something you would have learned if you'd have been in Slytherin." The only students in sight were those well in front and heading to the second floor.

"You know, Potter," said Malfoy, "you should have been in Slytherin." The words, so close to a path that Harry often wondered about, prickled the hair on the back of the Gryffindor's neck.

"Never," he spat through gritted teeth still striding down the corridor.

"How did you do it? How did you get me to Hogsmeade?" questioned Malfoy.

"Playing spy again, Malfoy?" Harry turned to the stairs for the second floor.

"Somehow," Malfoy drawled, "I doubt you were playing by the rules. Were you?" Harry was silent and the smile of Malfoy's face widened. "You never play by the rules, do you, Potter?" And then he hissed at the back of Harry's ear, "Salazar would have been proud."

Harry could feel Malfoy's warm breath, but it sent a cold shiver shooting down Harry's spine. Harry remained silent until they reached Basic Apparation. Malfoy's words, however, kept bouncing off the walls in his mind, and kept resurfacing all through the day. There was a part of Harry, deep inside, that smiled at their retelling.

At dinner that night, Harry found himself sitting with Katie, trying to discuss Quidditch strategies. Once again, he had shunned Ron and Hermione. Sitting, talking Quidditch with Katie, surrounded by dozens of people Harry would have called friends, a sense of loneliness began to come over him.

"Where's your head, Harry," she snapped. "If I wanted to talk to the wall, I would."

"What? Oh, sorry," Harry said. "Can't seem to get my mind clear tonight."

"Well you better get it clear soon. We'll be playing before you know it. I don't know the playbook like Angelina did. I always flew the way I was told, and I'm going to need your help putting something new together this year. If we give the same look again, we'll be destroyed." She dropped her fork into her mashed potatoes splattering gravy on her robes.

"Here," Harry said sliding out his wand, "let me get that." He pointed at the gravy dripping down the front of Katie's dark blue blouse. "Scourgify!" he called. The gravy vanished, but then the blue began to turn white, and suddenly the threads on the front of Katie's skirt began to tatter and disintegrate. Katie quickly held one hand over her front while grabbing her wand with the other. Un-phased, she pointed the wand at her napkin.

"Vestio!" she called, and the napkin transfigured into a gray smock. She held it over her front. "Potter," she said, rolling her eyes, "you're a genius on a broom, but how you ever got in to six N.E.W.T.s is beyond me." She stood up and walked to the entrance of the Great Hall to the sound of claps. Fenton Clint of Hufflepuff let out a whistle and said something derogatory Harry couldn't make out just as she was at the doors. Katie flashed her wand his way, and a bowl of soup flipped over and landed in his lap. "Potter!" she yelled. "Clint needs some help!" And she turned and left the room. Harry held up his wand as if to offer Clint a hand, and Clint quickly covered up, which brought laughter to everyone watching.

"I told you to be careful." Harry turned to see Hermione. "Your wand's amplifying." Harry held his wand up and looked at it.

"Looks the same to me," he said and slumped down on the bench, his back to the table.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"What did you and Ron talk about at lunch?"

"I'm not going there, Harry," she said emphatically. "If you have a question for Ron, ask Ron yourself. I'm not playing envoy."

"Sorry," he said, and then he grunted a laugh. "Hmm... I've been saying that word a lot today; what a waste." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands to his face. His long black hair hung down hiding his expression. "I can't do this, Hermione." She reached her hand and slipped the hanging hair over his left shoulder. The silver lightning-bolt dangled down. She remained silent. Harry began to wonder if things would be better if he had parents he could talk to.

"Last year," Harry said, staring at the floor, "did you write your parents about Umbridge?"

"Well, sure," Hermione replied, "as best I could. She was reading the post, you know that."

"When you write, what do you write about?" Hermione turned a little on the bench.

"Well," she searched, "all kinds of stuff. I tell them about what's been happening, and what I've been learning."

"Did you tell them about Victor?"

"Victor?" she looked bewildered.

"Yeah, Krum, and the dance." He sat upright and looked at her. "Did you tell them how you felt, or ask them what they thought about you going to a dance with someone from a foreign school?"

"I guess you could say," she paused, "I asked for some advice about the dance." Harry could see she was sidestepping. Why couldn't she just tell the truth? What was she hiding? He stood up.

"Lies," he sighed. There was no energy left in him to be angry. "All lies." He wanted, no, he needed to talk to someone... to get it all straight in his head. For a second, part of him thought he could use Hermione, or maybe her parents. He suddenly felt that it was a stupid thought, and only made his sense of isolation build.

The Great Hall was emptying. At the teacher's table, locked in conversation, only Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore remained. Stars were breaking out on the ceiling above, a large, red glow shown bright in the center of the sky, almost mocking him.

"Harry," Hermione said, "I would never..."

"Stop it!" Harry snapped. His words echoed off the walls in the emptying room. He held his hand up, palm outward, and backed toward the wall. "Just... just stay away." When his back hit stone, he began to slide down coming to rest on the flagstone floor. "Just stay away," he repeated in a weak whisper.

Hermione was helpless. She looked around. Save for the two Professors, seemingly oblivious, there was no one in the room. Slowly, she made her way to the entrance of the Great Hall. She glanced back one more time to see Harry, in a heap, motionless against the wall, and then she left.

Harry sat on the ground with his head slumped against his folded arms. "Why am I here?" he said to himself out loud. "It isn't fair. It isn't right."

"No. No it isn't," a deep voice echoed off the walls. "But you won't find answers sitting on your bum, Harry." He looked up to see Dumbledore standing over him. "Get up son." His blue eyes were kind and he was smiling, but his face still bore a deep sadness. "I'm thinking desert is in order. Would you care to join me?" Dumbledore held out his hand and Harry took it, standing by his side.

They walked toward the chamber behind the teacher's table off the Great Hall. "I've had them fix up something my mother used to make." For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Dumbledore put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Far too much chocolate for an old man, but with your help, I think we might just finish it."