Shattered Trust and Wounded Prides

Chapter One

A faint echo of whispering reached Harry Potter’s ears, so light that he could not hear what was being said, but that did not stop him from trying. He sat alone in the corridor just outside the hospital wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, desperately trying to find out what was going on while trying to push away the horror and guilt that threatened to close in on him.

He looked across the hallway out the window, his gaze fixing on the small sliver of moon that was visible. There were no clouds to hide the many stars that were brightly shining; the gateway to a bigger, unknown world. Harry wished more than anything to be far, far away from Hogwarts and from everything he knew.

Everything that had just happened in the last six hours had all been his fault. He had known. He had known and thought he could handle it alone. Now the foolishness of what he had done struck down on him hard, threatened to squeeze every last breathe of air from his lungs.

Ginny Weasley passed him, her eyes wide and bewildered. Their eyes met and he could see the blame she placed on him. The malice in her eyes was unmistakable, but he did not blame her. He felt the same way about himself as she did.

As she passed, he stirred in his seat anxiously, wishing that he could follow her into the hospital wing and find out what was going on. His best friend was in there. Harry angrily shoved away the tears that had pooled up again; he hated crying more than anything and just having those tears hovering made him even angrier with himself.

“Harry,” a soft voice beckoned to him from the doorway. The teenager jerked his head towards it and saw the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore, looking back at him gravely.

Harry jumped to his feet. “How is Ron?” he asked immediately, stepping towards the professor.

Dumbledore held up his hand, motioning for silence. “He is alive,” he replied quietly. “For now that is all I can say. But there are some other things I must speak with you about. Come.”

As Dumbledore led him away from the hospital wing, the teen looked back anxiously, frustrated at the complete lack of answers he was getting.

Several minutes later the two were sitting in Dumbledore’s office. Harry always liked the headmaster’s office; it had a very cozy and welcoming feeling to it. That night, however, he barely noticed it. The headmaster was not happy with him and there was no one in the world Harry wanted to upset less than the kind, gentle old man. The teen sat in his seat waiting for whatever the headmaster was going to say. The expression Dumbledore was giving Harry was very severe.

“You knew what was going to happen tonight.”

Harry’s heart lurched. “Yes,” he admitted, his head hanging. “But I didn’t know that Ron and Hermione would be caught in the crossfire. I promise, Professor, if I had known they were going to be there--,”

“Harry, you had absolutely no business keeping what you knew to yourself. You should have come to me or to one of the other professors immediately. Keeping quiet put the lives of all the students in danger tonight, not just Ron and Hermione.” Dumbledore’s voice was on the edge of fury. “As headmaster of the school, I had a right to know what was going on. And since you know about the Order of the Phoenix and will doubtless be a member in less than a year, you should have known to come to me or Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape.”

Harry’s face contorted but Dumbledore cut him off. “I do not care how you feel about Professor Snape; he is on our side and you know this. Tell me, Harry. Just what were you thinking in staying silent?”

Harry was breathing hard and deep, working up the nerve to answer Dumbledore’s question. The headmaster was looking at his student expectantly and Harry gathered his thoughts.

“The fight with Voldemort is mine, Professor. He was coming for me, it was for me to deal with. I didn’t want anyone else involved; I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.” His voice faltered at the end.

“Well,” Dumbledore replied quietly. “It appears that plan failed. Just why did you think that Voldemort was yours alone to deal with?”

Dumbstruck, the teen stared at his teacher incredulously. Was he not the Boy Who Lived? The only person to ever have survived the Killing Curse? Voldemort had killed his parents and tried to kill him several times, killing people Harry cared about along the way. And Dumbledore dared ask this question?

“If you think,” Dumbledore went on, “that you are the only person to ever have suffered at Voldemort’s hands, you would be wrong. You would also be very self-centered and not very observant.” There was an awkward pause and then the old man sighed. “We are done for tonight, I suppose. I want you to go back to your dormitory, and nowhere else.”

Harry nodded numbly, feeling worse than ever, as he stood up and headed for the door. He wanted to go back the hospital wing to see what he could find out, but he figured Dumbledore would be heading there shortly, since Ron’s parents would be arriving soon.

The thought of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made Harry’s heart jump to his stomach. Arthur and Molly had gone out of their way countless times to care for him, to protect him, to make sure he knew that he was loved. He was Ron’s best friend and that was all they needed to know to welcome him to the family. What would they think about what happened? They would know he was to blame and they would probably never forgive him for it.

The common room to Gryffindor House was quiet. Harry felt the tension as he entered just as he felt the staring eyes of everyone there on him. He forced himself not to look directly at anyone but instead searched for Ginny. He found her in the corner by the fireplace, curled up in a seat. Luna Lovegood was sitting next to her, rubbing Ginny’s forearm comfortingly.

Ginny heard Harry’s soft footsteps and looked up as he approached, her red, puffy eyes filling with anger. “What do you want?” she barked.

“I just want to see how Ron is—,”

“Don’t talk to me,” she cut him off loudly. “Everyone knows that you knew, Harry. You knew Voldemort was going to attack the school and you didn’t tell anyone. You didn’t even tell Ron or Hermione! Some best friend you make. I’ll bet you knew they would be the first people he went after.”

“No!” Harry protested, feeling sick. “I didn’t know that, Ginny, honest. I thought he was just coming after me.”

“You really are arrogant, aren’t you? And just what were you going to do, fight him alone?”

“I’ve done it before,” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“Oh no you haven’t!” Ginny leapt to her feet. The whole of the common room was now shamelessly staring. “You had help each and every time. Where would you be without Ron and Hermione? How far would you have gotten? What a way to repay them.”

Her final words were harsh and she knew it. Knowing she didn’t need to say any more, the fiery red-head stormed up to her dormitory, her heart-wrenching sobs slowly fading before cut off by the heavy slam of a door.

Harry quickly headed up to his own dormitory, unable to take the accusing glares of everyone in the common room. He walked in to find his roommates, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas, already there. The three were sitting on Neville’s bed talking.

When they heard the door open the three turned to Harry. He sttared back at them, none of them saying anything. Harry quickly glanced at Ron’s bed; the only one of the five that would be empty that night.

“How’s Ron?” Dean asked coyly.

Harry shrugged. “No one will tell me,” he replied sourly. He walked slowly towards his own bed, fatigue hitting him suddenly.

His three roommates continued talking in hushed whispers as Harry changed for bed. Seamus and Dean finally returned to their own beds as Harry reached up to draw the curtains around his four-poster bed. Again his eye caught on Ron’s empty bed and he stared at it painfully. With a start he realized his other roommates were staring at the bed as well.

The other three looked at him again. Seamus looked sympathetic, for which Harry was surprised, but also relieved. At least someone wasn’t expressing extreme anger with him. Dean looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know what to think about the situation, but with one final worried look at his friend’s bed, he drew his curtains.

Neville was glaring at Harry with cold fury. Harry knew he should have expected it but it caught him quite off-guard. He quickly said goodnight and drew his curtains. As he lay back in his bed, his mind drifted back over the horrors of the day and he shuddered.

Sleep did not come to him that night. The thought of the empty bed to his left distracted him. And knowing that in one of the girls’ dormitories there was another empty bed where a student should have been gnawed at his mind even more.

TBC