A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 10

"Choices"

"Looking everywhere, only to find

That it's not the way I had imagined it all in my mind

So what am I?

What do I have but negativity?

'Cause I can't justify the way everyone is looking at me

Nothing to lose

Nothing to gain

Hollow and alone

And the fault is my own"

--Linkin Park, "Somewhere I Belong"

******************************************

On Monday, classes were cancelled and there was a memorial service for Cho and Michael in the Great Hall. Harry was surprised at the degree of grief he felt over Cho's death, but he supposed a lot of that was guilt, and he had to keep telling himself that he couldn't be expected to save everyone.

The next day the school tried to get back to its normal routine. Everyone seemed a bit more subdued, especially the Ravenclaws. Most of the Slytherins were sulking, presumably since they were now in last place for the house cup. Dumbledore had given fifty points to each student who had fought the Dementors, and the only Slytherin who qualified for the award was Blaise Zabini. Harry heard that most of the Slytherins hadn't gone to Hogsmeade, and he couldn't help wondering if some of them had been warned of the attack.

Stories about the battle spread through the school like wildfire, many of them surprisingly accurate. All of the students who had fought the Dementors to the end were regarded as heroes. Ron and Neville especially seemed to be enjoying their new status, and Harry relished the relief of sharing the limelight.

Almost twice the normal number of students showed up for the Defence Association meeting on Wednesday. Harry had heard that more students were interested in joining because of the attack, so the meeting place had been changed to the Great Hall. Harry spent the first few minutes of the meeting time in hurried last-minute conversation with Professor Shacklebolt in front of a shabby-looking wardrobe. However, he had to keep asking the Professor to repeat himself as the quiet background conversation steadily became a roar.

Harry saw the cause for the angry voices when he turned to face the students, holding up a hand to quiet them. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the front row only a few seats away from Ron. The Slytherin gave him a defiant look, as if daring him to try to send him away, and Harry dearly hoped he wouldn't cause any trouble.

"Okay, let's get started - we're going to try something different tonight." Ron's hand shot up in the air, demanding attention. Harry's heart sank as he saw Ron's eyes darting toward Malfoy; he knew what was coming.

"Yes, Ron?" he said in his most professional voice.

"I don't think we should allow Death Eaters into our meetings, Harry," Ron answered, nodding toward Malfoy. Harry heard titters of agreement from all over the room.

Malfoy's cheeks began to flush, and his defiant expression became more stubborn. But he only said, "I am no Death Eater."

"Your father is," Ron protested. "I think you're here to report to him and his Death Eater friends about what Harry's teaching us."

Malfoy clenched his fists, and his face flushed even deeper. When he spoke, it appeared he was forcing himself to remain calm. "Oddly, I haven't been talking to my father much lately. He's been unavailable."

"Oh, that's right," Ron said sarcastically. "Your father's in prison."

Malfoy moved as if to stand, but Harry held up his hand to stop him. "Wait," he said in a commanding voice. The Slytherin glared at Harry for a moment, but stopped, to Harry's amazement. "Malfoy, why are you here?" Harry suspected he wanted to learn the Patronus Charm, and if he was right, he thought it might diffuse the tension if it was announced aloud.

A flicker of surprise crossed Malfoy's face before it hardened into defiance again. "I want to learn the Patronus Charm," he said in a voice the entire room could hear.

Harry looked into the grey eyes and nodded slowly. "I have no problem with that." He glanced in Ron's direction and had to suppress a wince at his friend's stunned, angry expression.

"But, Harry..." Ron began.

"Look," Harry interrupted, 'I'll repeat what I said in the first meeting. I have no problem with anyone who wants to come and practice defence. I do have a problem with anyone who tries to cause trouble." He gave Malfoy a pointed look, and hid his surprise when the Slytherin nodded. He gave Ron what he hoped was a pleading look, begging him without words to drop the subject.

Ron started to rise to his feet, but Hermione pulled him back and whispered frantically to him, shooting Harry angry glances. Harry scanned the other faces; most of the other students appeared angry or slightly fearful. A few only appeared amused, including Zabini and the professor.

"If no one else has a problem, we need to get started." Harry paused, but everyone stared back at him in silence. Malfoy was giving him an odd, calculating look. Harry swallowed and began the lesson.

"Many of you who were in Hogsmeade on Saturday found out that there's a world of difference between casting a Patronus in a room full of classmates and casting when facing a real Dementor. We can't practice with a real Dementor, but we can do the next best thing.

"Professor Lupin taught me the Patronus Charm in my third year. Dementors are my worst fear, so we used a boggart for me to practice on. It had the same effect on me as a Dementor - making me relive my worst memory. Professor Shacklebolt is going to charm the boggart in this wardrobe to stay in my form. Then we can all get some realistic practice.

"For those of you who are new, the Patronus is essentially an incarnation of your happiness. In order to cast one, you have to be totally focused on a happy memory. It takes extreme concentration to do that when a Dementor is trying to force you to relive your worst memory."

He looked around the room. He had planned to use Ron to demonstrate, but that seemed like a bad idea now. "Neville, will you come up here?" Neville gave Malfoy a nervous glance, but rose and walked self-assuredly to the front of the room. Harry continued, "We know Neville's worst fear is not Dementors." There was laughter from those who remembered the story of Snape dressed as Neville's grandmother from three years ago. Neville blushed, but chuckled a little and shook his head. "Neville, when we open the wardrobe, the boggart will see me and appear as a Dementor. After Professor Shacklebolt casts the charm, you can step forward and cast your Patronus." Neville nodded at Harry and gave him a confident smile.

Harry glanced at Shacklebolt, who stepped forward and nodded once to show he was ready. Harry stepped in front of the wardrobe, counted down from three, and opened the door with magic. However, what emerged from the wardrobe was not a Dementor, but Voldemort.

Harry gasped in surprise. He knew he would have to face him, but he didn't know it would be quite so soon. However, he had no choice; he had to protect all the students behind him. He raised his wand and moved to a duelling stance, ignoring the screams behind him, and Voldemort did the same.

As Harry opened his mouth to deliver the killing curse, Shacklebolt shoved him out of the way, yelling, "Riddikulus!" There was a crack, Voldemort disappeared, and a duplicate of the professor appeared in his place. Harry shook his head, feeling stupid, and then stepped forward to help Shacklebolt wrestle the boggart back into the wardrobe, wondering briefly why the professor's worst fear was himself.

Harry turned to face the students who without exception looked pale and frightened. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I think my worst fear has changed since third year." A few students gave nervous laughs, and the tension in the room lessened.

"Could someone help us with this?" Shacklebolt asked. "Is there anyone here who's worst fear is a Dementor?"

Blaise Zabini stood up, said, "Mine is," and walked to the front. Harry was impressed; Remus had once told him that fearing Dementors suggested your worst fear was fear itself.

Neville moved to return to his seat, but Harry grabbed his arm and said, "I'd really like you to cast the Patronus."

Zabini's boggart was indeed a Dementor, and after Neville demonstrated the Patronus Charm, other students lined up to practice on the boggart. Harry took the new members aside to teach them how to perform the charm. There was a little bit of panic when Malfoy's Patronus turned out to be a Common Welsh Green, but otherwise the rest of the meeting went smoothly.

When Harry dismissed the meeting, Ron gave him one last angry look before quickly leaving the room. Harry winced at the look of hurt and betrayal he could see behind his friend's anger. Hermione gave Harry an apologetic glance and then flicked her eyes toward Ron's retreating form, telling Harry wordlessly that she would talk to him about it. Then she turned and quickly followed her boyfriend from the room.

Harry stayed in the room until all the students were gone, taking time to have a few words about the lesson with Professor Shacklebolt. Finally, the professor exited through the side door, floating the wardrobe in front of him, and Harry slouched through the main entrance.

Malfoy was leaning against the wall in the Main Hall with his hands in his pockets and one ankle crossed over the other. Harry nodded once in his direction and said, "Malfoy," in acknowledgement.

"Potter," Malfoy replied, falling into step beside him.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin with a raised eyebrow. "Sleeping in Gryffindor Tower tonight, are you?"

"Not likely," Malfoy said with a snort of derision. "I need to talk to you." His tone was commanding, which made Harry a little resentful, but he didn't feel like arguing. He just wanted to get upstairs and make things right with Ron as soon as possible. Harry shrugged to show he had no objections, but kept climbing the stairs toward the seventh floor.

"I don't like this - owing you," Malfoy said in a bitter tone.

"Owing me?"

"Owing you - being indebted to you," Malfoy said, throwing up his hands. "You got me my wand back, you stood up for me tonight, and you haven't told anybody about..." he trailed off and gestured with his hand.

Harry glanced around before finishing Malfoy's sentence in a low tone. "The attempted murder?"

Malfoy flushed crimson; Harry wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment. "Yeah," he said in a bitter tone. "Malfoys always repay their debts. I especially resent being indebted to you, Potter."

"You really don't get me at all, do you?" Harry asked, stopping at the third floor landing and turning to face the Slytherin. "Please listen, because I'm not going to tell you again. I don't want anything from you, Malfoy."

"That's unacceptable," Malfoy said, crossing his arms defiantly.

Harry was starting to get angry; he really wanted to get upstairs. Ron's face loomed at the forefront of his thoughts, and that gave him an idea. "Look, Malfoy, I don't have time for your guilt trip, or whatever this is. If you really want to do something for me, be decent to my friends, especially Ron and Hermione."

The Slytherin balled his fists at his sides and sputtered a few times. "You're joking! You expect me to be nice to - to them?" He shook his head and leaned toward Harry. "No, I won't do it. Give me your Gringotts vault number, and I'll make a transfer tomorrow."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't want your money?" Harry yelled in frustration. He realized how loudly he was talking and looked up and down the hall. It appeared to be empty, but he continued in a lower tone. "Why can't you just be civil to them?"

"You don't know how hard it is for me just to carry on a conversation with you! I can't completely change the way I act around those Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods. It's too hard!"

"Harder than it is for me to forget you tried to kill me?"

Malfoy looked away in anger, apparently having nothing to say to that.

"Look," Harry said, trying to sound reasonable, "I didn't say you had marry them - you don't even have to like them. Just - just lay off the insults, especially 'Mudblood', okay?"

Malfoy gave Harry a long look; Harry couldn't discern what he was thinking, but he seemed to be having an internal struggle. After almost a full minute had passed, Malfoy said, "Fine. But that ... thing ... with the We--Weasley tonight wasn't my fault. He started it. How do you expect me to be civil if he has that attitude?"

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. "Don't look so shocked - you're right. I'll talk to him. If you're going to continue coming to DA meetings it would be easier if we all got along."

Malfoy gave Harry another calculating look, nodded once, turned, and headed back down the stairs. Harry watched his retreating back for a moment before hurrying upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Ron was in their dormitory lying on his bed, fully dressed. The room was otherwise empty, for which Harry was grateful; he didn't want an audience. He took a deep breath at the doorway, walked boldly to Ron's bed, and sat at the foot. Ron frantically drew his legs up to his body as if Harry had a contagious disease, but he couldn't ignore Harry's presence. "What do you want?" he barked.

Harry took another deep breath and clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to control the frustration that was welling up inside him. He knew if it showed in his voice Ron would never talk to him. "Let's talk about this, please? I don't want a repeat of fourth year."

"You want to talk about it?" Ron asked in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes and sitting up. "Fine. I'll talk. You publicly humiliated me. You chose Malfoy over me in front of half the school." His voice had grown in volume with every word, but suddenly he stopped, his expression changed from angry to hurt, and his tone grew pleading. "God, Harry, it's Malfoy! Have you forgotten all the things he's done to us over the years? What is going on with you?"

"I just think anyone who wants to learn to defend themselves should be allowed to," Harry said in a small voice, unable to look at Ron. "I thought you would understand that - you didn't have much trouble accepting Zabini."

"Zabini didn't spend five years doing his best to make our lives hell," Ron protested.

"I know, Ron," Harry said, gathering the courage to look his friend in the face, "but you've got to understand the position I'm in. As leader of the group, I've got to be able to put aside petty house rivalries and treat everyone the same."

"This goes beyond simple house rivalry," Ron said with a sulky expression. "Everyone knows his father is a Death Eater, and everything he's done over the years suggests he'll follow in daddy's footsteps -- if he hasn't already. I think it's dangerous to allow him at meetings."

"I disagree," Harry said, making Ron's eyes widen with surprise. "Shacklebolt's going to be at every meeting from now on, and he can handle any trouble that I can't. Remus is always close by. And Dumbledore isn't going to allow anything to happen at Hogwarts, anyway." Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry continued before he lost his nerve. "Look, I've talked to him a couple of times. He's actually been ... okay to me. And he's agreed to try to get along with you and Hermione. Please give this a chance."

Ron's mouth opened and closed a few times; it appeared he was having trouble deciding what to say. His face grew redder and redder, and finally he spat, "Fine. If you insist, I'll try not to hex your new best friend."

Harry sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "Ron, you're my best friend, and nothing will ever change that. I chose you over him when it really mattered - on the train when we first came here."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I get tired of being your best friend," Ron said, studying a spot on his bed intently. "Sidekick to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' - I'm expected to stand in your shadow, quietly supporting everything you say and do. No one notices Ron Weasley. I'm just the red-headed kid that hangs around with you all the time. I've been Harry Potter's best friend so long I'm not even sure who I am."

The frustration Harry had fought down earlier bloomed into anger and sadness in his chest. Was Ron going to end their friendship? Harry didn't know if he could take losing Ron. He felt guilty about the constant suffering he put his friends through, but he knew from past experience that he desperately needed the support and love of his best friend.

"I can't change who I am, Ron," he whispered, unable to look at him. "And you know I would give anything if I could." Harry quietly took a couple of deep breaths and focused on his Transfiguration essay; there was no way in hell he was going to let Ron see how much his words had cut.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Ron said. Harry looked up; Ron's expression had changed to remorse. "I didn't mean any of those things I said. I really ..."

"Yes, you did mean them," Harry said sharply, cutting him off. "And I feel badly about the hell being my friend puts you through. But you need to realize you're also your own person, not just my mate. You're a prefect, Ron - Dumbledore chose you for that over me, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. And Hermione - Hermione chose Ron Weasley over Viktor Krum, the famous Quidditch player!"

Harry had to smile as Ron got that dreamy expression that he often got when he talked about Hermione. "Yeah," he agreed. "You know what? She told me she was writing to Krum last year to get my attention - to make me jealous." Ron's eyes began to glaze over, and Harry shook his arm a little to regain his attention.

"Hey, remember me?" Harry asked with a grin. Harry laughed as Ron's eyes refocused on him and asked, "Are we okay, then?"

"Yeah," said Ron, grinning and giving Harry a playful punch in the arm.

"And Malfoy?" Harry questioned, his smile disappearing. He hated to push this when he had just diffused Ron's anger, but he knew if it wasn't settled now, it would come up over and over again.

Ron sighed, his smile disappearing as well. "Okay - I'll try to restrain myself from hexing the ferret."

"That's the spirit," Harry said with a smile of relief.

*********************************************

As they walked down to breakfast the next morning, Hermione looked nervously back and forth between Harry and Ron, apparently trying to decide if they had settled their argument. She finally relaxed when Ron passed Harry the eggs without incident, and they settled into their normal discussions of classes and Quidditch. Harry was grateful she didn't ask about it; he just wanted to forget it had ever happened.

The flutter of owl wings diverted everyone's attention to the ceiling. It seemed there was more mail than usual this morning. A tawny owl delivered a bright orange envelope to Harry, and he examined it curiously. He looked around and saw that most of the older Gryffindors had them, as well as some students from other houses and a few teachers.

"What do you figure?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione, who were also holding orange envelopes.

But Ron was watching Ginny, who was looking very smug. "They're from Fred and George, aren't they?" he asked her.

Before she could answer, the envelopes burst open and each showered its recipient with a substance that looked like glitter. Harry suddenly felt his clothes get tighter as they transfigured into a close-fitting white jumpsuit studded with rhinestones. His eyesight grew dim as his spectacles changed to mirrored sunglasses. Trust the Weasley twins to think of a humiliating costume for him, dressing him in the most conspicuous way possible. He looked around to see how the others had fared.

Ron and Neville were clowns, complete with bright red hair (brighter than usual for Ron) and red rubber ball noses. Hermione actually looked pretty in a blue gown similar to the dress robes she had worn to the Yule Ball in fourth year. Her hair was slicked back into the same elegant bun, except this time she was wearing a sparkling tiara. In contrast, her two roommates were dressed as hags, and they didn't look the least bit happy about it.

"Damn! We have to go to class like this!" Ron exclaimed, ripping a piece of parchment in half. Harry hadn't detected the note in front of him before, but now he picked it up and read:

We thought you might need a little fun after what happened on Saturday. The spell will wear off in a couple of hours. Happy Halloween!

Fred and George Weasley

Owners

Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes

P.S. These Mystery Costume Missives will soon be available in our catalogue as well as our Diagon Alley location.

"Look at Malfoy!" Ginny squealed, pulling Harry's eyes away from the letter. Harry looked up just in time to see a giant white ferret leaving the room in a hurry.

"How do you know that's Malfoy?" asked Ron suspiciously.

"Who else would it be?" Ginny asked with a shrug.

Ron narrowed his eyes dangerously at his sister. "You were in on this, weren't you?"

"I may have made a few costume suggestions," Ginny admitted with a smirk. "Do you like yours?"

"No!" Ron and Neville said together.

"Then it was Fred's idea," Ginny said with a giggle. She was dressed as a professional Quidditch player; Harry guessed she got to choose her own costume in exchange for her help with the prank.

A disturbance from the teacher's table drew the eyes of the entire hall. Snape was hurrying from the room, muttering expletives. He was dressed exactly like Neville's boggart had appeared during their third year, including the vulture-topped hat.

"I'm glad we don't have Potions today," Harry muttered.

"I do," Ginny said with a heavy sigh.

"Good," said Ron, "and I hope he finds out you were in on this!" Ginny paled, making Harry feel a little sorry for her. Snape would certainly be in a murderous mood today.

When breakfast was over, Harry rose with his friends to leave. Ginny gave him a cheeky wink and said, "Lookin' good," making Harry forget all about feeling sorry for her. In fact, he started wishing Snape would poison her, especially when he noticed all the looks he was getting as he walked to class, especially from seventh year girls. At least they weren't looking at his scar for once, but the location of their eyes was making him most uncomfortable. He couldn't wait for Defence Against the Dark Arts to be over so he could hide in his dormitory until the spell wore off.