Blood Magic

The End of Summer

Hagrid returned on Saturday morning, and Harry spent much of the day following him about the grounds, talking and helping him. Sunday he spent entirely with Snape, though neither of them mentioned it.

On Monday, Harry found himself waiting anxiously for the arrival of the train. In mid-afternoon, he went up to Gryffindor tower, which he had been avoiding since his return. The fat lady looked startled.

"A bit early, aren't you?"

"I've been living downstairs all August," Harry told her. "Just thought I'd come up before everyone else got here."

"Very well. Password?"

"Gloria."

The fat lady nodded. "Go on in, then." The portrait hole swung open.

Harry had become accustomed to the dark colors of Snape's rooms and lab, and the sylvan ones of his own private room. Gryffindor's explosion of red and gold caught him as if he was seeing for the first time. The common room was clean and quiet, and the grate unlit, but even so, the room shone with riotous life about to wake.

"Glory," Harry murmured. "Every bit." He walked through the common room and up the stairs, to the dormitory at the top of the boys' tower. The room was just as he remembered, only cleaner and lacking personal items. One trunk, his own, was the only student property visible. Harry wondered when the house elves had moved it up. It had been in his room in Snape's quarters this morning. He wondered if his room was empty, now. Suddenly, he pictured it with the furniture gone, and the door moved back to the hallway. He felt a surge of panic. Without even opening his trunk or looking out the window, he turned and left for the dungeons.

Snape looked up from "Alchemical Review" as Harry entered. "I thought you were going to survey your golden tower," he said sourly.

"Is my room still here?"

Snape looked puzzled. "I don't think it would have gone anywhere."

"Why not? It wasn't here a month ago." Harry crossed the room and went into the kitchen. By concentrating on the right section of wall, he could dimly see the door to his room. Quickly, he darted over and opened it. He stood in the doorway and looked around. Everything was in place, except for his trunk. He relaxed, and felt suddenly exhausted. He was aware of Snape walking up behind him, but that didn't seem to require him to move.

"Harry? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just ... my trunk was in Gryffindor, and I thought, what if he'd moved everything back? The door, even? I had to see if it was still here."

Snape's hands gripped his shoulders. It reminded Harry of the night he had arrived, except Snape wasn't shaking him now. He froze, waiting for Snape to start yelling at him.

"You will have a room here for as long as I am here, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, glad he was facing away from Snape, and his dizzying relief would not show.

"Thank you, sir -- Father."

Snape's grip tightened briefly, then he let go and backed away. "It's not going to be an easy year, is it?" he asked wryly.

"It never is," Harry returned. Content with the room, he stepped back out of it and looked aimlessly around at the kitchen. "But, yes, this one is starting in a mess. Usually it's at least November before things are this complicated."

"You're a very cynical young man, you know."

"Practice," Harry returned, with amusement. He looked wryly at Snape. "I'd claim it's genetic, but I think we both earned it."

"Are you dreading telling your schoolmates of our kinship?"

"Not really. There'll be some trouble, but I can get through that. No, what I'm dreading is lying to people for months."

"Gryffindor," Snape sniffed.

"'Fraid so."

"You will lie to them, though."

"Oh yes. Though Ron and Hermione will figure it out, probably before you would like them to."

Snape snorted contemptuously. He leaned against the counter, his attention seemingly on his fingernails. "I would rather they never found out."

"Oh." Harry's throat had turned into one big lump, making it difficult to say anything. "Sorry."

"It's hardly your fault."

"Well, bye, then." Harry edged toward the door. "You can move it back if you like."

"Harry!" Snape bellowed. "Get back here!"

Since Harry was only two steps into the living room, the volume was hardly necessary. He returned quickly.

"That was not what I meant." Snape glared at him a moment, then sighed. "Do you have any idea what this will be like?"

"Yes. First, it will be my yearly press scandal -- well, my second one, I guess. I hate those, but I'm getting used to them. All of Slytherin and all of Gryffindor and some of the other students will be offended. Some of them will be mad at me, some at you, and some at both of us."

"What will young Mr. Weasley say?"

"Oh, he'll be fine -- at first. Sympathetic. When I finally manage to convince him I don't mind, he'll be awful. We may end up not speaking to each other, again."

"What do you mean, you 'don't mind?'"

"I mean you're okay, as a father. If I was miserable, he'd be fine with it. Like you say, that's not my fault, but liking you...." Harry shrugged. "Maybe I'm being too cynical, again. Ron does care about me, you know. He'll adjust, eventually, I'm just not sure whether it will be in a week or in several months."

Snape considered him thoughtfully. "And Miss Granger?" he asked.

"She'll get hysterical, then be over it."

"Despite the way I treat her?"

Harry glowered. "I am not responsible for your behavior."

"Good." Snape nodded. "That is an important thing for you to remember."

Harry grinned at him. "Yes, Father," he said demurely.

When Snape went back to his work, Harry went back into his room and looked at himself in the mirror on the wardrobe. His hair, like his body, had been growing fast, thought not unbelievably so, and he might be able to claim that it was straighter and better behaved due to being longer. His fringe had grown down past his eyes, but would stay to the side for a little while, if combed there. He wondered if there was a spell which would help. Cutting it would keep it out of his eyes, but make the change in the hair itself more pronounced, as it was completely straight near the roots.

He was back in school robes, though better dressed beneath them than he used to be. He took off his glasses and looked around. He still couldn't read a class blackboard without them, he was pretty sure, but he would probably be able to recognize most of the people in the classroom.

"Back to school, dearie?" the mirror asked.

"Well, this is school. The term is starting, though. I guess school is back to me. I'll be living upstairs."

"Well, remember I'm here. And stop worrying; you're furrowing your brow."

"Thanks. I'll try."

On the way out, Harry stopped to look at the bookcases. He picked up The Limits of Control: Legal, Ethical, and Magical Considerations of Spells of Compulsion, which he had looked at before, but never read.

"May I borrow a book, sir?" he asked cautiously.

"What for?"

"Because the train won't be here for hours."

"Couldn't you find something more suitable in the library?" Snape asked sourly. He looked over to read the cover of the book Harry was holding. "I warn you," he said, "the text is almost as unwieldy as the title."

"Any other warnings?"

"Just the usual -- don't try any of it, and come and discuss it with me, afterwards."

"Okay." Harry decided not to ask when and how he was supposed to come to talk to Severus. Without instructions, he was free to improvise as he saw fit.

"Here." Snape scanned the shelves, picked out another book, and handed it to Harry. "Take something you can read in public, too."

Harry looked down. The book was titled Freed or Abandoned? The Influence of Wizard/Muggle Segregation on the Native Muggles of East Africa.

"Since you seemed interested," Snape commented.

Harry nodded. "Thanks."

Harry fretted about whether or not to go down to the train. He saw the thestrals, in a rangy herd, coming up from the forest to the forest side of the castle. Curious, he went out to see what was drawing them, and found Hagrid with a staggered line of dead cattle, standing in front of a carriage house built against the castle wall.

"Hello, Harry!" Hagrid boomed. "Will yeh want a ride down ter the station?"

"That would be great," Harry said.

"Don' suppose yeh'd want ter help me harness this lot?" Hagrid said questioningly.

Harry smiled bravely. "Of course I will," he said.

Two hours later, Harry was riding in the lead carriage down to the train station. Hagrid was fetching the boats, but had said he would meet him on the platform. As promised, he arrived only a few minutes after Harry and the carriages.

"Ready ter have your friends back, are yeh?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry admitted. Despite his reservations of the last few days, he found himself eagerly straining to see the first puffs of steam down the track.

"Heard from Minerva that yeh'll still be takin' Care o' Magical Creatures."

"I wouldn't miss it."

"And yeh shouldn', Harry. I've got some interestin' creatures lined up fer the advanced classes, I do."

Harry repressed a reflexive surge of foreboding. "That's great, Hagrid," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure it will be an exciting class."

He was saved from continuing in this vein by the distant wail of a train whistle. He and Hagrid both jumped, then smiled at each other.

"Tha's it, then," Hagrid said. "Got ter lead in the firs' years. See yeh at the feast, Harry."

"See you," Harry echoed. Hagrid began to stride nervously up and down the platform. Harry stood by the steps and waited.

He saw Ron, first. The redhead was climbing down from the train a step behind Andrew Kirke, one of last year's new Beaters. Jack Sloper, the other Gryffindor Beater followed, with Neville behind him. Harry hurried up to them.

"Hi Ron, everybody," he said. "Where's Hermione?"

"I don't know," Ron said. "I don't care, either."

"But...." Harry remembered suddenly that Hermione had said Ron was angry with her on his behalf. Obviously Ron was still angry. He should have written to Ron, as well..... Harry dug his fingers into his hair and tugged on it. "Ron," he said, "you shouldn't --" He spotted her then, getting off the train a car further down, in the company of Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. He waved an arm up in the air. "Hermione!"

She started toward him enthusiastically, then slowed at the sight of Ron by his side. Harry turned to Ron, who was scowling darkly.

"You shouldn't let her treat you like that, Harry," Ron said. "She's pretty enough, but you could do better."

"Look," Harry said, "Let's get a carriage together -- the three of us -- and talk it out, okay? I'm not upset with her."

"Well you should be." Ron turned away. "Ride with her, then. I don't intend to ruin my evening. I'll catch you later."

Ron walked off with the Gryffindor Beaters trailing him. Neville, who had been watching the exchange in confusion, paused a moment.

"Good to see you, Harry," he said. "Later?"

"Sure, Neville. Later."

Harry wove his way through the students to where Hermione was standing. Ginny, Dean, and Seamus had joined her, now. Harry stopped in front of them, feeling awkward.

"Er... hi."

Hermione smiled, dimpling her cheeks. "Hi, yourself."

Harry reached out and managed to catch her hand without fumbling too much. Hermione's hand squeezed his confirmingly. He smiled at her, then looked around at the others, being sure to make eye contact with each of them, so they'd know they were not excluded. "Let's get a carriage, then, shall we?"

"All right, Harry," Seamus agreed amicably. They moved as a group down the steps. "Any particular identical carriage you like best?" he asked.

"Pick one of the ones I harnessed," Harry replied cheerfully.

"You harnessed?"

"I was bored."

Seamus shuddered. "Better you than me. I wouldn't be touching a thestral for that."

---

Chapter 27: Social settling in...