Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 41 - A Reason to Be

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Harry set his quill down on the desk next to the parchment. His hand was cramped, his back ached, and he was so tired he considered laying his head down and going to sleep. Still, it was as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. The sky was blue and the sun bright as it streamed into the classroom. An odd contradiction to the subject matter he'd just finished describing--astronomy. He had completed his last end of term exam and was sure that he'd passed. A smile creased his lips as Professor Sinistra summoned the papers to her desk. As everyone started to leave she raised her hand and asked for silence. Harry glanced over at Dean who deliberately ignored him as he put his things into his pack. The smile left Harry's face.

"I know this has been a tremendously difficult term for you all this year," Professor Sinistra began. Her voice was steady, but sad. "Particularly for you sixth years. You have lost two dear friends to the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Know this, however, as you begin your winter vacation. They are, at this very moment, reaching out for you. Keep them in your hearts and think of them at every turn. As are the heavens, so too are we all bound together, no matter the distance. Your thoughts may provide them the sustenance they need to survive." She straightened the papers on her desk for a second time, sighed, and mustered a smile. "Dismissed... and Merry Christmas."

Harry gathered his things and made his way back to Gryffindor tower. A day, an hour, hadn't gone by that he didn't think of Neville and Luna. They were suffering under Voldemort's hand because of Harry, and the Dark Lord's words, "We're all waiting for you... coward," echoed in Harry's mind day and night. But the Order was handling it, Tonks was still chasing them down and there was little to nothing Harry could do. Still, despite Remus' warnings, Harry continued to work with Ron and Hermione to try and determine how students were being captured and where they were being hidden. Hermione was convinced that a professor had something to do with the disappearances, and Ron was certain that, somehow, Draco Malfoy was to blame.

Above the din of thoughts of Dark Lords and Dementors, a tiny ray of light shone through. Tomorrow he would travel the Hogwarts Express, newly repaired, back to London, and from there catch the bus home. Thoughts of Gabriella swirled in his mind as he passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady. When he climbed the staircase to his dorm room, he found Ron and Goyle packing for the holiday. Goyle, however, was packing everything. In January he would return to Slytherin; there was a true sadness in his demeanor that Harry had not seen before.

"You know, Greg," Ron said, chewing gum and packing his bags for tomorrow's departure, "you've got top marks in Dark Arts. I'll bet Flitwick would let you have another go of it for the Charms N.E.W.T." Goyle shook his head.

"Nah," he replied dismissively, "I already told you, Ron. My ticket outta hear is Quidditch, not this." He tapped his head with his wand.

"Er, Ron," Harry interrupted. "I think they're about ready downstairs." Ron looked at Harry and nodded. Goyle looked confused.

"Ready for what?" he asked looking at Ron. The redhead sat down next to Goyle and slapped his ham-like leg.

"When you go back to your old chums, you'll have quite a few choices to make," Ron answered. "Do you want to be a Slytherin leader in Dumbledore's Army, or Malfoy's lap hound again? You've learned a lot of Gryffindor secrets and some of us around here don't think you should take them with you. It'll take true courage to hold tight to what you've learned here. Some don't think you have what it takes, but there's a couple that do. Come on, let's go." Behind Goyle's back Ron winked at Harry, who smiled back. The three made their way down to the common room and found it packed with every Gryffindor student at Hogwarts. The faces staring at Goyle were dark and sour. The scene was reminiscent of his first night as a Gryffindor, and a look of apprehension began to spread across his face as he looked at those he had come to call friends.

Lloyd Wade and Barbara McNulty, the Gryffindor Head Boy and Head Girl, stepped forward. Barbara carried a small mahogany box in front of her and the gathering of Gryffindors parted as they approached Goyle who was now standing at the fireplace.

"When you came to Gryffindor," Lloyd began, his voice deep and stoic, "we asked you remove the Slytherin signet ring from your finger. Now that you return from whence you came, it is yours to wear again." Ron dropped the ring in Lloyd's hand and he in turn handed it to Goyle. Goyle looked at the silver snake and emerald eyes glaring back at him and hesitated. "There's no denying that the Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin. Place it on your finger." Slowly, Goyle slipped the ring on. Barbara stepped forward, the mahogany box still in her hands.

"You have shown us a side of Slytherin," she began, "we would never have thought possible: the use of cunning, the application of strength and power, and a love for magic. In Gryffindor we prize, of course, bravery, but perhaps most of all loyalty." As she opened the box, the lid blocked Goyle's view of what was inside. "We would never presume that you wear the signet ring of Gryffindor, though many here called for it." Smiles began to seep into the faces across the room. "Instead, we offer you this." She pulled from the box a golden chain and as she lifted further she revealed a ruby encrusted pendent, the signet of Gryffindor. "We ask that you wear this where it matters most, close to your heart. For that is where you will remain for all of us here. If ever you are in need, know that a Gryffindor will answer your call." The room exploded in cheers and applause. Goyle took the pendent and placed it about his neck. For a moment he couldn't catch his breath, but as the room quieted he began to speak.

"Three months," he breathed, and then gathering strength to his voice, "the greatest time of my life. I will wear this where it matters." And he slipped the pendant inside his shirt, patting it against his heart. "I'll never forget this time. I know I'm going back to Slytherin, but I hope we can maintain our friendships." He cast a glance at Parvati who blushed ever so slightly. "Know too, that if ever a Gryffindor calls for help, Gregory Goyle will come to their aid." He smiled broadly. "Even Harry!" The room broke out in laughter and slowly everyone came to shake Goyle's hand and then start back on their packing. When the room finally cleared, Ron and Goyle began to make their way back up to the boys' dormitory.

"What do you say we go for one last spin out on the pitch?" Harry asked. At first, Ron's eager face looked like it would say yes, but then his face fell, or at least he looked uncomfortable.

"Well, erm..." the redhead began in a lurch. "Hermione and I were going to, er..."

"I'll go Harry," Goyle said, smiling.

"Great!" Harry grinned back. "We'll catch you at dinner Ron!"

Before you could say Snitch, Goyle and Harry were out on the pitch tossing the Quaffle back and forth, making occasional shots at the rings.

"You know I'll take your head off when Slytherin plays Gryffindor this spring!" Goyle shouted out.

"I'll be lucky to still have my head this spring!" Harry yelled back, firing a shot through the center ring. Goyle dove down to retrieve it, but Harry tilted on the Caduceus and grabbed it first. "Think you can keep up?" challenged Harry, and in a flash he was heading down to the far end of the pitch, Goyle in hot pursuit. Harry quickly swerved to the right and was headed straight for the stands, Goyle in tow. At the last instant, Harry pulled up, but Goyle's broom, coupled with his mass, could not negotiate the turn and he rammed straight into the wooden banister on the side of the stands. Harry was quickly at Goyle's side and as he regrouped and gathered his balance they both noticed a good sized gash on Goyle's right shoulder.

"You're hurt!" Harry called out.

"Not as hurt as you're gonna be when I catch you!" Goyle yelled, a devilish smile across his face. Quickly he shot toward Harry, who responded instantly. Happily zooming through the air, they were leaving the pitch as Harry tried, only half-heartedly, to lose Goyle. Without paying too much attention, they found themselves over the Forbidden Forest, Harry skimming the treetops and occasionally diving into open spaces. Still, Goyle was undaunted and followed Harry as if he were on a string. Suddenly, the forest opened up into a large clearing. The waterfall that Harry had seen with Cho was below, plummeting from between a crevice into a crystal blue pool of water.

"It's here!" Harry yelled out, stopping. "I knew it!" An instant later Goyle popped him on the back nearly launching him off his broom.

"Gotcha!" he called, spinning to face Harry. His sleeve was red with blood, but his face was all smiles. "Have you ever seen so many trees, Harry? Do they ever end?"

"What do you make of that?" Harry said pointing to the pools below.

"What?" Goyle asked turning to look. Suddenly a creature shot past Harry's shoulder heading straight for Goyle. It was a large Threstral.

"Look out!" Harry yelled, but too late. The creature careened into Goyle knocking him from his broom. Harry instantly dove to stop Goyle's fall. He was wrapping himself around Harry's broom when another Threstral appeared from the forest. Harry summoned Goyle's broom and handed it back to him.

"Merlin!" Goyle cried out. "What are they?" The fall had made his wound open and blood began to flow more freely.

"It's your cut," Harry answered hurriedly. "We need to get out of here. They think you're dinner!" Quickly the two shot back toward the castle some eight or ten Threstrals following behind. When they crossed onto Hogwarts grounds, however, the pursuit stopped, and the Threstrals climbed and turned back toward the forest. At the steps to the castle, breathing heavily they both dismounted their brooms.

"Let me see that," Harry said a bit heatedly. He held out his wand and blue light quickly healed the wound on Goyle's shoulder. "I've never seen them attack a human before. I don't suppose they'd eat you, but you do look sort of like a side of beef."

"What were those things?" Goyle asked.

"Well, if you hadn't been such a prig in Hagrid's class last year, you'd know." Then Harry's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you see them on the coaches at the start of term? One ran you down, as I recall."

"One of those?" Goyle exclaimed. "Never seen one 'till now."

"But you only see them if you've seen death," Harry said, almost asking the question with his words. At this, Goyle turned pale and took a deep breath.

"I saw you die, Harry," he whispered. "We all saw it; only I was the one that killed you." Harry silently nodded, and without saying another word the two returned to the castle.

The hallways were filled with students laughing, popping off crackers, and generally releasing the tension of the last few weeks. It was almost time for dinner and students were making their way down to the Great Hall. Harry and Goyle began to climb the steps to Gryffindor tower when an oily voice called from behind.

"Well, well, don't you two make the perfect couple." Malfoy's steel eyes were glaring at them both as he leaned against a pillar obviously, at least to Harry, waiting for them to return. "I thought," Malfoy drawled, "you would be dashing back to Slytherin tonight, Goyle. But instead you're out playing tag on a broomstick... with a madman no less." The words raised the hair on the back of Harry's neck, but it was Goyle that stepped in front of Harry and toward Malfoy.

After his attack of Seamus, 'Madman' was the phrase Harry was labeled with as he walked the halls on his way to meals, or class, or anywhere. While the words were more painful than most knew, things might have been much worse if Seamus hadn't come down to the Great Hall the morning after. In front of the whole school, he started laughing with Harry, patting him on the back. It was deliberate and loud on Seamus' part, for which Harry was extremely grateful. Still, there were a few, particularly in Slytherin, who hissed Harry's new moniker whenever they had the chance.

"The only madman I see," Goyle said, glaring menacingly, "is you, Draco." Unphased, Draco, simply smiled and began to clap in a slow rhythmic beat.

"Very good, very good," Malfoy sneered. "Potter, I'm impressed. You've trained him well." Goyle began to lunge toward Malfoy, but Harry grabbed his shirt.

"Hang on, Greg," Harry said calmly. "Look, let me take care of this. Go on back and clean up. I'll meet you and the guys later in the Great Hall for dinner." Goyle stood frozen, fire pouring from his eyes. "Really, Greg, go on." After a moment, Goyle finally began to walk away, and then looked back over his shoulder.

"If you're not there in twenty minutes, Harry..."

"I'll be fine," Harry answered, pulling his wand. At that, Goyle seemed satisfied and strode off toward Gryffindor tower. Then Harry turned to Malfoy. "Why must you be such an ass? Is it genetic or something?"

"This won't work, Harry," Malfoy sneered quietly, if people think we're..."

Harry held up his hand stopping Malfoy in mid-sentence. He shook his head and looked around, then motioned to Malfoy to follow him toward a classroom. Cracking the door he shoved Malfoy through then slipped in himself and then locked the door.

"Can house elves go through walls?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Malfoy answered, a bit befuddled.

"Damn," Harry hissed, his eyes darting around the room. Malfoy began to understand and pulled his wand.

"Tego," he whispered. A white light burst from his wand in an ever-expanding ball. When the light hit the walls, it lingered and for a moment the walls glowed. When the light faded, Malfoy spoke again. "Father would send Dobby to my room to spy on me, and report back. The spell lasts only a few minutes, but it was long enough for Dobby to decide it was more important to start cleaning. You're being followed for attacking Seamus, aren't you?" he asked. Harry searched the room once again looking for the slightest movement. On a desk was a text -- Runes of the East. On its cover were three runes, one that looked identical to the crossed lightning bolts on Harry's forearm.

"Come on, Harry," Malfoy called out. "We only have a few more minutes."

"Viswa Vajra," Harry whispered, touching the picture on the book's cover.

"What?"

"Draco, you said you were being protected somehow. Do you think it's the mark on your face?"

"Hardly a mark, Potter," Malfoy replied rubbing the red scar that ran from the corner of his eye. "But yes, twice, maybe three times I've avoided spells or enchanted items I didn't know were coming. If it's not this bloody scar, I don't know what it is. Now get on with it!" Harry turned to look at Malfoy.

"You're being followed, Draco, not me. I've been hexed with a protection charm meant for Muggles, not wizards. They believe I've passed the same hex on to you."

"So what?" Draco asked flatly. "You're protected and I am too. How can that be bad?"

"Because this Muggle hex, or whatever it is I've passed on to you, drives wizards mad. They come to believe that they're being attacked at the slightest provocation. The protection kicks in and they kill all who threaten them."

"That's why you attacked Finnigan?" asked Malfoy, a hint of concern flushing his face.

"Yes... maybe. He's not the first I've wanted to... to hurt. They say I'm going crazy, Draco. They say I've become, or am becoming a madman because of the mark. At least they think I am, and they believe... they hope... you'll be one too."

"Hope? What are you talking about? Who's they? Why would..."

"Let's say you are, Draco, infected that is. Let's say that in, oh, I don't know, a day or two you decide to attack someone that taps you on the shoulder. Tell me, what happens if little Mr. Malfoy goes home for Christmas and gets in an argument with daddy? What happens if Auntie Bellatrix tells you to leave the room and you don't want to? Boom! That's what happens."

"That's madness! Dumbledore would never..."

"Dumbledore's dying!" Harry shot back. "What was it you said, Malfoy? The Ministry's growing concerned about that tottering old fool of a Headmaster. Dumbledore's not running Hogwarts and Lupin has his own plans filled with hate for those that killed Sirius." Harry clenched his fists and kicked over a chair; he could feel the anger roiling inside him again. "Me, they put a hex on so that if I get angry, I whistle. The house elf follows you and makes sure the madness doesn't consume you here at Hogwarts, but when you go home, they don't care! Worse, we can't discuss our plans with a house elf running about, waiting for an opportunity to chatter back to Lupin."

"You are insane, Potter!" Draco cried out with a bit of a tremor in his voice. The oh-so-smug veneer was stripping away. "We leave tomorrow! And you're telling me I'm a freaking, walking, time-bomb! If it's true, you won't see me again. They'll see to that." Malfoy began to tremble, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall. "You've... you've seen them! You know what they'll do. They'll kill me if I so much as look like I'll raise my wand the wrong way, Potter."

Harry had seen Malfoy scared before, running in the Forbidden Forest, or hiding behind Crabbe and Goyle. But he'd never seen him like this. The last time they met in a classroom, Malfoy revealed there was humanity buried beneath the surface and now... vulnerability. Harry walked over and put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"Nobody's going to die, Draco," Harry said calmly. "They're wrong. He's wrong... I hope. I... er, have a theory." Harry glanced over at the book on the desk.

"A theory?" Malfoy cried. "A theory?"

Harry turned Malfoy's shoulders and sat him in a chair. Then lowering himself on one knee, he pulled back his right hand and punched Malfoy square in the face knocking both the blonde and the chair backwards onto the floor. Harry winced as a shot of pain exploded from where he had been skewered by Goyle's broom. The injury had still not completely healed. Still, his blow landed true. Malfoy crumpled off the chair, shook his head to clear it, and instantly pulled his wand pointing it at Harry.

"Relash..." Malfoy tried to call out, but before the spell could leave his lips, his face burst into pain. "Argh!" he cried, holding his hands to his left cheek and dropping his wand. At the same time, Harry's arm flared and he doubled over to the floor.

"You felt that," Harry spat through clenched teeth. "Don't you see? We're linked, you and me, but what was placed on me is not the same as what was placed on you. Look!" Harry pulled up his sleeve revealing the scar blazing on his forearm. "Do you see?" Malfoy stumbled over to Harry's side and sat on the floor. He grabbed Harry's arm and held it, staring at the scar. His finger traced the blade down to the wrist where it stopped. There Malfoy tapped twice on the two lightning bolts that crossed at the tip of the sword. "Exactly," Harry said.

"Viswa Vajra," Malfoy muttered.

"Geese!" Harry cried with exasperation. "How is it everyone knows what the symbol is but me?" Sitting back, Malfoy smiled.

"Elementary school, Harry," chided Malfoy. "Elementary school." Harry simply rolled his eyes, and shook his head. Malfoy's smile had contorted the scar on his face, which was now a deep scarlet. Harry held his hand to it.

"I'm sorry for this, Draco. If I had to do it over..."

"I know... you would have blasted me out the window," said Malfoy smugly. Harry shoved him on the shoulder.

"The point is it's not the same protection. I meant it for you, a wizard, and somehow it protects you against magical attacks, not Muggle ones. You won't threaten your Death Eater friends. You won't go mad... just me." Harry pulled down his sleeve and stood, but Malfoy's eyes clearly doubted his words. "Hermione checked!" Harry lied.

At this, Malfoy seemed satisfied and Harry took his hand and helped him stand. There was a rustling at the door and the two students knew they were now no longer alone. Malfoy looked at Harry.

"My father always taught me to turn disadvantages to advantages, Potter. Deficits to attributes. I will deal with this," he shot a glance to the door, "in the same way."

"You'd better have that face of yours looked at, Malfoy." Harry sneered, trying to act angry. "Although most people are used to you having a swollen head."

Harry started for the door with Malfoy close behind. For an instant, as they passed into the corridor, their knuckles touched in a silent, secret handshake and then they split apart, each heading in opposite directions.

When Harry arrived at the Great Hall for dinner, it was bursting with energy and laughter. Students were eating, and talking, and every now and then a cracker or sparkler would light off. Seamus was having his last dinner with the Ravenclaws and at the Gryffindor table Goyle sat next to Ron, Hermione, and to his surprise Parvati.

"I didn't see that," Harry whispered to himself with a smile. Hermione waved him over.

He passed by the Ravenclaw table when someone grabbed his arm. He almost pulled his wand, before he realized it was Cho.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

Looking down at her eyes, Harry's heart skipped. "Hi," he said, smiling back.

"I wanted to thank you for watching over James. He idolizes you, you know." She ran her hand through her black hair and smiled broader. "Are you going home for Christmas?"

"Erm, yeah," Harry muttered, "to see the family and all."

"No," Cho's eyes narrowed, "to see her." Harry blushed, and said nothing. "There are things witches can do, Harry, that a Muggle girl could never even dream of, let alone a wizard boy. You do know that don't you?" Harry suddenly became aware that Marietta was listening intently, as were three other girls sitting around Cho at the Ravenclaw table.

"Things?" Harry asked, and they all broke out in laughter.

"You'll see... sooner than you think, Harry Potter," Cho answered slyly. "I promise." Marietta and the other girls howled, but Cho's eyes were frozen with confidence. "Merry Christmas, Harry," she said, standing on her own two feet and kissing Harry gently on the cheek. A blast of tingling frost seemed to spread across his face. "Have I got a surprise for you," she breathed into his ear and a cold shiver ran down the back of his neck, although he was sure his face was flaming.

"M-Merry Christmas," Harry stammered, and then turned and continued to the Gryffindor table. Sitting between Ron and Parvati he just looked into space for a moment rubbing his face.

"What was that about?" Ron asked. When Harry told them, Ron shook his head in agreement. "Well, she's right on that point, Harry. Why, just the other day... ouch!" Ron reached down to his shin and looked across the table at Hermione whose eyes were flaming sparks in his direction. "Yeah, er, well... want some turkey?"

The group ate and shared plans for their vacation. Ron was returning to Grimmauld place, where Charlie and even Percy were going to be home for Christmas dinner. Hermione was going home with her parents, but planned to spend time at Grimmauld for the New Year. It also appeared that Goyle and Parvati were trying to figure out a way they could meet over the holiday. Everyone was coupling off and for no reason, Ron's face fell. He looked down at Ginny who was sitting next to Dean. She'd been crying earlier in the morning just thinking about how she'd be away from him for two weeks. But Dean had insisted he was not going to the Weasley home without everyone's approval, and everyone meant Ron.

"Dean!" Ron called out. "Can you rip yourself away from my sister for a sec?" Dean just glared back. "Come on," Ron beckoned. Ginny tilted her head for Dean to see what it was about, and Dean walked over and sat between Harry and Ron.

"Potter," Dean said shortly toward Harry, and then he turned to look at Ron. "What is it Weasley?" Ron shifted his weight and took a deep breath.

"I think you should know that I've been an arse, and I'm sorry. I think you... no, I... I insist that you come to our house over the holidays." There was an awkward silence. "Maybe a day or two. It's a big place and I think we can place enough protection charms to keep you from accidentally sleepwalking into Ginny's room at night." At this Dean smiled and slowly began to nod his head in agreement.

"Okay," Dean said, shaking Ron's hand. "I, er, well... thank you, Ron."

"Don't thank me, thank Harry," said Ron. "It's his place. I'd never invite you to stay at the Burrow. It's too small. You and Ginny would be cramped up next to each other all day." Dean looked at Harry who was looking kindly back.

"Thanks, Harry." Then he turned back to Ron. "How do I get there?"

"Ah, yes," Ron stammered. "Well, that's a bit tricky really. We need to ask Professor Lupin, but I'm sure he'll say it's okay." Hearing these words, a rolling thunderhead loomed dark across Harry's eyes.

"What!" he exclaimed. "You'll have to ask who?" Ron lowered his head shooting glances up and down the table. "It's my bloody house!"

"It's normally Dumbledore's job," Ron whispered. "You remember, Harry?" The words spun Harry back in time to when he first met the Order of the Phoenix... a simple piece of paper with narrow handwriting, stating where the Order might be found -- number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Sirius offered up his home to help fight Voldemort, a home now left to Harry, and with Dumbledore ill, or worse, Harry felt a deepening sense of remorse and anger welling up inside him, and it was all targeted at Remus Lupin.

"What do you mean? Who put Remus in charge?" With each passing moment, the anger and guilt swirled with his already unsteady emotions, growing more intense, almost beyond his control. It was all he could do to keep his voice low when he grabbed Ron by the robes and pulled him close behind Dean's back. "Is he... is Lupin also in charge of the Order?" Harry snapped. Ron reluctantly nodded.

"Until Dumbledore gets better, Harry."

"But why didn't he say?" Harry shot back. "Why didn't he tell me? It's... it's my house, right? And... and why is it you know, and I don't?" Dean, sitting between the two, was caught in a ping-pong match of words that was more ping than pong. "Is it my bloody house, or isn't it?" Now everyone around was looking at Harry and a few were looking concerned. Ron sheepishly nodded.

"Dean," Harry spat, standing from the bench, "you're coming for the holiday! I don't give a damn what Remus Lupin says." Harry stormed up to the head table where Remus was eating and leaned in to the Professor's ear.

"You want him to die, don't you?" Harry hissed. "You're waiting for the old buzzard to croak, so you can have it all! Is that it Remus?" cried Harry, feeling the rage swell within him. "Kill 'em all, eh, werewolf?" Professor Lupin furled his eyebrows in either anger or concern. "Don't play dumb with me!" Harry shouted at the top of his lungs pulling his wand and all heads turned in the Great Hall to the front table in a great gasp. "I know what..." suddenly Harry's stomach lurched and an insatiable urge to whistle took over. In the next instant he was whistling to all of Hogwarts a tune he'd heard over the summer. A few bars in to the song, the room broke out in laughter and applause. Harry, unable to stop, felt the anger fade to embarrassment and returned to the Gryffindor table, where Hermione took him gently by the arm.

"Breathe, Harry," she said calmly, "deep breaths." Harry sat back on the bench and a moment later regained control. Seeing Harry a bit disoriented, Hermione smiled nervously. "Well, I guess we know that works."

"I won't w-wet him do w-it..." Harry sputtered in a half-whistle. Dean shook his head in confusion and walked over to Ginny telling her the news that he'd be seeing her over the holiday and she grabbed Dean and squeezed him tight.

"Really, Ron?" she yelled out. When Ron nodded, she rushed over and kissed him on the cheek, causing his face to match his hair. "You're the greatest, you know that don't you?" She kissed his other cheek and ran back to Dean racing on about all that they would do in London.

"I'm tired," Harry said flatly, finally gathering his composure. "I'm going to bed."

"But they're having a dance after dinner, Harry," Hermione said, trying to encourage him to stay. "It might lift your spirits." Harry spread a false toothy smile across his face.

"Yeah, right, so everyone can stare at the madman, Harry Potter." He took one last look at the head table, and while his eyes blazed at Remus, his heart felt nothing but contempt. "You're not Dumbledore," he breathed.

When Harry passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady into the common room, he found it nearly deserted. Most everyone had decided to stay at the dance and only a few first years were scattered about chatting. One, a boy with blonde hair Harry had seen but didn't know, stood staring out the window. Not really knowing why, Harry walked over and looked out with him. It was snowing again and the castle grounds were lit by the waxing moon. Icicles fell off the eves and plummeted to the ground shattering in a spectacular flash of coloured light.

"Excited about getting back home?" Harry asked. "Chance to tell your parents about your first term at Hogwarts?" There was a moment of silence before the young boy spoke.

"No," he sighed, "I'm stayin' at Hogwarts this Christmas."

"But what about your family?" Harry questioned, turning to face the ten year old.

"Me ma an' da died in a car crash last year." There was a long pause as Harry tried to understand, but couldn't. The young boy was used to the expression hanging on Harry's face, much as Harry had come to expect the stares at his forehead. "They were Muggles," the boy replied to Harry's questioning eyes. "I walked away from it." The boy held his hand to the glass and then tilted his forehead till it too met the pane, and looked blankly out into the night. "Just, walked away. If I'd a known what I could do then, maybe I could a saved 'em." The boy shuddered and Harry heard the splash of tears on the floor.

"What's your name?" Harry asked quietly.

"Patrick... Patrick O'Riley," he sniffed, his head still against the glass. Harry nodded and stood there looking out the window at his side.

"I spent the last five years of Christmases here at Hogwarts. It's great, you'll see." There was a long pause. "I... I don't know if you heard, but I lost my parents too." Patrick wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked up at Harry.

"When I heard I was teh be in Gryffindor... in the same house as Harry Potter... someone who might know... know what it felt teh..." he burst out crying and put his arms around Harry who held him tight. Holding Patrick, sobbing in his arms, Harry looked out at the beauty of the falling snow and the occasional bursts of colour shattering in the night. Once again, his mind turned to Luna and Neville, lost somewhere out there in the darkness and as the moon rose in the sky, a tear tumbled down his own cheek.

From the day he first walked into the Wizarding world, he had endured the stares at his scar, the gawks, and hushed whispers. How many times had he been praised or jeered as The Famous Harry Potter? He loathed his name; he detested his scar; he despised his history. And yet, here, for the first time in his life, on a chance meeting with a kid he'd never thought of twice... his name meant something... something of value. Harry let go and lifted Patrick's chin with his hand.

"It gets better," he said smiling, "you'll see; friends make all the difference." Harry held out his hand, opened his palm, and conjured a handkerchief. Patrick's eyes grew wide. "Here." Harry grinned and handed the handkerchief to Patrick. "How 'bout I make you a deal... I'll watch your back, if you watch mine. What do you say? We orphans... we've got to stick together, eh?" Harry held out his hand and Patrick, with the slightest of smiles, shook it. Harry took in a deep breath.

"You know," Harry said, "there's no point in sulking around this dull place. I hear there's a dance tonight in the Great Hall; how about we go check it out?" Wiping his eyes with the handkerchief, Patrick smiled fully.

"Sounds great," he said with a much lighter voice. "James told me there might be a live band."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," said Harry, putting his arm around Patrick and heading to the door. "Let's go see." Together, the two orphans passed through the portrait of the Fat Lady, leaving their troubles for tomorrow.