Tangled Fates

Chapter Number: 06
Chapter Name: Free as a Bird

 

 

Pale early morning sunlight filtered through the heavy navy draperies that covered the wide windows of the Ravenclaw common room. Harry squinted as the light him, illuminating the lines of his face. He sat up groggily, feeling as if there was an ice pick being driven into the backs of his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose; sitting with his eyes closed and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. A soft sigh came from beside him and he spun, almost falling off the couch as he caught sight of Cho Chang, curled up beside him, sleeping deeply despite the tearstains still marring her cheeks.

The events of the past night came rushing back to him—Cho breaking down in his arms, crying until they both fell asleep. Harry peered though sleepy eyes at the giant sundial that hung on the far wall; it read four-thirty. He groaned, learning over to gently rouse Cho. She sighed as she opened her eyes, grasping a sense of her surroundings.

"Wha—what time is it?" She asked through a yawn.

"Four-thirty. We had better get to our dorms."

"Yeah, you’re right." She turned, walking towards the staircase that led to the girls’ dormitories. "And, Harry? Thanks again." She smiled weakly and disappeared up the staircase.

Harry smiled in return, but as soon as she left, his smile faded quickly. His head was swimming and dots were dancing in front of his eyes. He sank back on the couch, rubbing his temples fitfully. There was a sharp pain lancing through his forehead, centering around his now-invisible scar. Breathing deeply, he lay back on the sofa, closing his eyes, trying to escape from the pain.

Visions danced across his subconscious.

A now-familiar voice, whispering... "Well, now, you are the interesting one, aren’t you? Tom Riddle, hmm? Ancient blood flows through your veins; very powerful, too. You could be great you know? It’s all here in your head." Another voice, vaguely childlike, sounding absolutely thrilled. "I could? How?"

"Slytherin...Slytherin...Slytherin..."

"You could be great you know. It’s all here in your head."

"Slytherin!"

The world shifted. A tiny cottage—a wooden door—screams—"Avada Kedavra!"—green light--pain beyond pain—a baby’s cries—

"Please! Have mercy! Have mercy!"

"Slytherin—"

"Not Harry, not Harry, please!"

‘You could be great you know, it’s all here in your head."

"...take Harry and go! Run! It’s him! I’ll hold him off!"

Green light, so sinister, and yet, so simple.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Harry jumped up, tears falling steadily from his eyes and mixing with the tiny droplets of crimson blood falling from his forehead, creating a pale pink ribbon that rippled over his neck.

His hands clasped tightly to his forehead, he sank down on the floor, trying desperately to block out the throbbing emitting from his forehead. Why was this happening to him? He hadn’t had another "vision" since that first night, and frankly, it was beginning to get scary.

He could feel the outline of the familiar scar on his forehead, sending the smooth skin on either side into sharp relief. He pulled his hand away, staring blankly at the crimson smears on his hand, a reminder of his inescapable past.

Harry stumbled up the staircase, fumbling into the small bathroom that adjoined his dormitory. He found his way over to the tap and let the icy cool jet wash over his hands, rinsing away the wet blood. Cupping his hands, he splashed the cold water over his face, feeling the sting as it trickled over the tender area on his brow.

He gazed into the overhanging mirror, feeling a distinct feeling of déjà vu as his eyes scoured his reflection—his extremely pale countenance, his green eyes, misted over with tears and worry, and his scar—puffy and red, slowly weeping blood. Pulling out his wand, he murmured a quiet, "ferula!" sending crisp, white bandages out from the wand’s tip and arranging them carefully on his head.

Sighing with fatigue and fright, he crept into his new dormitory, finding the unused bed, and settling down, vowing to find Remus first thing the next morning and sort this out.

* * * * *

Harry awoke the next morning with a face full of navy blue pillowcase. His hands immediately flew up to peel off his bandages and inspect his scar. His forehead was once again smooth, and for this Harry was relieved. He was definitely not in the mood to explain everything today.

He could hear the scurry of moving feet outside his closed draperies. Carefully stowing his bloodstained bandages under his pillow, he flung the curtains aside.

Everything stopped. Harry smiled widely, getting up from his bed, still dressed in his uniform from the night before. "Hello." He said cheerfully.

The boy in the bed next to him grinned back. "Hullo. You’re that new boy that got sorted last night. Harry, wasn’t it?"

"Yep. I’m Harry Dursley."

"Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Will Jones, and these two are Mike Stone and Joe Brooks." He said, gesturing to the two other boys who were inhabiting the dorm as well.

"Hi." Harry smiled awkwardly at his new roommates before bursting out laughing. "I feel like a right bloody wanker just standing here. I’ve got to see Professor Lupin quick, but I’ll see you guys at breakfast, okay? We’ll be seeing a lot of each other, so we had better get well acquainted early."

"Why d’you have to see Professor Lupin, Harry?" Will asked, immediately feeling comfortable with Harry’s easy-going manner.

"Oh, just something about class. I’m rather in the dark about all this magic stuff still. Can one of you tell Cho that I’ll be a bit late?"

"Cho? Cho Chang?" Joe gasped.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, that’s her. I told her I’d meet her outside the Great Hall, but I can’t, and well, can’t leave a lady waiting."

"You’re seriously friends with Cho Chang?" Mike asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. Why?" Harry questioned as he pulled fresh robes out of his trunk.

"Cho hasn’t really talked to anyone since..." He trailed off.

Harry sobered. "Oh, right."

"She can’t even fly anymore. They told us all at the end of last year to practice our flying because we need a new seeker."

"Are any of you trying out?" Harry asked.

"I might." Will said slowly. "I kind of wanted to be a chaser, but any position would be good."

"I was actually thinking of trying out, too."

"Really? What kind of broom do you have?" Joe asked.

"Firebolt."

"No way!" Will cried. "Are you serious? Can I see it?"

Harry laughed. "Sure." He said, reopening his trunk and pulling out his prized broomstick.

The three other boys’ jaws dropped in amazement.

"Wow..." Joe breathed. "I’ve never seen one up close before!"

"Here," Harry said. "You can hold it if you want."

Joe looked at him, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

Harry thrust the broom out again. "Of course!"

Joe took the broom, his eyes reflecting the shining golden finish. "It’s amazing. You know the Irish international side’s ordered a full set of these for the World Cup next year?"

"What’s this World Cup?" Harry asked.

The guys stared. "Only the most incredible Quidditch tournament ever!" Will cried. "It hasn’t been played for a couple years because of the war and everything, but next summer, it’s being held in England! My dad’s gonna get me tickets!"

"Sounds fun. Does England have a very strong side?"

"Eh, England’s okay, but Ireland! They’re so good! Bulgaria is pretty tough, too! Viktor Krum, their seeker, is only the best flyer ever!"

"I’ve never actually seen a Quidditch match." Harry remarked thoughtfully.

"What?" Mike cried. "It’s only the best game in the world!"

"I bet it is, but I really only found out I was magic last month."

"Are you kidding? Where were you all this time?" Will asked.

"In New Zealand."

"No, really." Will said sarcastically. "How could you not know you were a wizard?"

"Long story. Most of it involving Professor Dumbledore and my aunt and uncle."

"Sounds fascinating." Joe remarked.

"Oh, you have no idea." Harry replied, hiding a grin.

"Well, you just wait until Quidditch tryouts. I’m gonna play for England one day!" Will said jubilantly.

"Now that I think of it, Professor Lupin said something once about my father playing for England." Harry said thoughtfully. "Didn’t really understand what he meant, though."

"Your dad played for England?" Will cried, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, at least, that’s what Professor Lupin told me."

"Seriously? What was his name?"

Harry froze. He couldn’t reveal anything about his family for fear of being found out. What was he thinking saying stuff like that? "Um." He stalled, all the while feeling a burning sensation centering on his brow once more.

"Hey, what’s that on your head?" Mike questioned, staring at the slowly forming lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead.

Sweat dripping down his neck, Harry grabbed his robes and sprinted for the bathroom, calling a hasty, "see you later!" behind him.

Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and changed, Harry thundered down the Ravenclaw staircase and into the common room, making sure he’d strengthened the spell concealing his scar.

He smiled at a group of third year girls clustered by the fireplace, making them giggle wildly as he passed them on his way out the door.

Getting his bearings, he trekked about the corridors, searching for the Great Hall and hopefully, Professor Lupin.

* * * * *

"Professor Lupin!" Harry called as he made his way to the head table, once again ignoring the giggles and stares that followed him on his approach.

Remus turned away from his conversation with Professor Gudgeon and looked at Harry in mild anticipation. "What is it, Harry?"

Harry shot furtive looks at both Minerva, who was sitting to Remus’s right, and to Remus himself. "Can I speak with the both of you quickly?" he asked, staring at Remus with imploring eyes.

Minerva and Remus exchanged glances. "Certainly. Follow me to my office." The headmistress said, getting up and leading the small parade out of the great hall.

Once settled in Minerva’s office, Harry took command. "Last night, I had another vision." He paused, taking a deep breath. "He was getting sorted—into Slytherin—and then I could see—I could see him killing my mum and dad. And my scar was hurting so bad and it bled again; it reappeared, even though the charm was still on it. I strengthened it this morning."

Minerva looked shaken. "How can this be happening? I mean—Albus defeated him; you saw it, we all saw it! How can he be affecting you in this way?"

"The sorting hat—it said that there was something in me. And in Professor Dumbledore’s letter, he said he thought Voldemort transferred his powers to me, right?"

"Right." Minerva looked uneasy.

Harry steeled his courage, determined to get out what he had come to realize. "Then that’s it. I’m seeing Hogwarts and everything after through his eyes. It happens when I’m exhausted and nervous—and it’s getting worse."

Lupin was deadly pale. "How can we fix this?"

Harry closed his eyes, tilting his head down. "I don’t think we can. It’s like he’s sending me a message. He wants something—and it’s not going to stop until he gets it, or kills me in the process."

Minerva’s jaw was set, resolute. "I refuse to accept that, Harry. He will not be getting anything and you will not be dying anytime soon; not if I have anything to say about it."

Harry cracked a smile. "Thank you," he said softly, looking up slightly.

Her eyes shone as she spoke again. "This creature will not take another innocent life. I will swear this to you now. Harry, are you willing to do all you can to help?"

Harry looked up, eyes burning with a cold green fire. "Anything." He said, his voice radiating strength.

Minerva and Remus looked proud as Harry sat tall, willing to unknowingly accept whatever was to come.

"I have to be honest with you, Harry. I do not know exactly how to fight this. We will need to work hard—researching and training. You need to build your strength in order to possibly control these visions. It’ll be tough, but I know you can handle it."

"If I may make a suggestion?" Remus cut in. "We’re going to need all the help we can get—someone who knows the library like the back of her hand."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confused.

"Hermione Granger." Remus said simply. "Finest student I’ve seen in a long while."

"Miss Granger? She’d certainly be an asset—God knows she’s smart enough. We’ll talk to her this afternoon. Harry, we’ll be calling you back down here later, okay? And don’t worry—we won’t tell her exactly why we’re looking these things up." Minerva said primly.

"Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate all this secrecy—I just don’t want people to flock around me because of something I can’t even remember."

"I understand, Harry. It’s very admirable that you wish to make your own name for yourself. But now, I believe that we are missing a delicious breakfast, so if we’d adjoin?" Remus said, smiling slightly.

Minerva nodded her assent, nodding as Harry and Remus stood and exited. She turned to the window, staring out the thick pane and onto the grounds below. Her manner was serene, but her eyes alone showed the internal anguish she was repressing. She knew it was farfetched, but in light of the present circumstances could not help thinking: Could Harry Potter be the next dark lord?

She shivered, dispelling the thought from her mind. He was a great kid—bright and witty; very outgoing—not the evil overlord type at all.

But then, she thought, her mind drifting back to her own Hogwarts days, you didn’t think that Tom could fall that hard, either.

* * * * *

Harry sat quietly next to Cho, still internally deliberating over his current situation—he didn’t like to admit it, but frankly, he was scared. These dreams were physically and mentally traumatizing and seemed to be getting worse each time.

Cho was looking at him, a worried expression on her face. He hadn’t said two words since he’d sat down, and although they hadn’t known each other very long, his sudden silence did not hold with his usual extroverted personality.

She had asked him if he was all right, but he merely nodded his head, immediately returning to wherever it was that he was thinking about. Harry was important to her already; it was like they had just instinctively connected.

Professor Flitwick stopped by then, distributing the Ravenclaws’ schedules for the year. The tiny little professor paused for a moment next to where Cho and Harry were sitting, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he spoke. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Harry!" he squeaked, his voice brimming with awe. "I look forward to having you in class!"

Harry smiled weakly at the professor. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick. It was good to meet you, too." He said quietly, shaking the professor’s outstretched hand, making Flitwick emit a small squeak of enthusiasm.

As Flitwick moved away, Harry noticed the questioning looks directed his way from Cho and his roommates who were sitting nearby.

"What was that about?" Will asked loudly. "You would think you were royalty or something."

Harry shrugged, flushing a little bit. "I guess he knew my parents a long time ago."

Will and the other boys accepted this readily, but Cho was still looking at him suspiciously. "Really, Harry? Is everything all right?"

Harry swung his emerald eyes to meet hers, forcing a smile. She stifled a gasp; there was such an extraordinary amount of pain and anxiety hidden in the jade depths. "I’m fine, really I am. Just a little nervous about starting classes, I guess." He glanced down at his schedule, scanning it quickly. "I had better get going, though. Got Potions in ten minutes." He motioned to Will, Mike, and Joe, who got up as he did and followed him out of the hall.

Cho stared blankly after him. What could have happened to him in such a short time to depress him so fully?

* * * * *

The day passed uneventfully, classes came and went, and Harry was pleased to find that he was, in fact, much more advanced than many of his classmates. Most of his lessons were with the Gryffindors, and seeing Ginny Weasley’s familiar face was comforting. They had spoke briefly, exchanging pleasantries and opinions on particular hooked-nosed Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

Harry couldn’t understand why Professor Snape seemed to hate him so much. Ginny had echoed what the other girls had said: that Professor Snape was brilliant, and not exactly nice per se, but perfectly amicable to all of them. Harry was glad that he didn’t have Defense until Thursday, anyway.

Over dinner, a tawny owl fluttered down to where Harry sat, depositing a letter on his lap before flying swiftly away. He opened it quickly. Inside was a short note listing the password for Minerva’s office and the time when to meet. He crumpled it up quickly, tucking it inside his robes before anyone nearby could ask too many questions.

Scarfing down a baked potato, he said a quick goodbye to Cho, promising to meet her in the common room shortly and sped off towards Minerva’s office. When he arrived, he found himself alone with the headmistress to await the arrival of Professor Lupin and Hermione Granger.

As they waited, Harry and Minerva spoke a bit about different things, just generally getting better acquainted. During this time, Harry felt it necessary to tell her about the transformation he had undergone on his way to school.

Not particularly knowing how to tell someone that you turned into a Phoenix in order to make it to school on time, he just blurted it out. "I flew to school yesterday. I was a phoenix." He said quickly.

Minerva’s jaw dropped. "What?" she said quietly.

"A phoenix. At least, I think I was a phoenix, anyway. I just meant to turn into a bird, to fly from the station so I wouldn’t be so late, you know, and I—my God, Minerva, I was magic."

"A phoenix?" Minerva asked, her voice trembling. "Can you do it again?"

Harry stood up, nodding. "I think so. At least, I can try."

Minerva shot a locking charm at the door, sealing it shut. She nodded at him. "Go ahead, Harry."

He closed his eyes, drawing to focus a picture of a bird in flight, falling in graceful parabolas over the light clouds that dotted a clear blue sky. He felt the now-familiar magical burst envelop his body, calling forth the change that was now imprinted in his consciousness. Red-gold plumage spurted forth, exuding magnificence. Unearthly music filled his brain, intoxicating him with its beauty and serenity.

He was light.

He was the air.

He was magic at its very essence.

And he loved it.

The world seemed to be covered by a golden shroud, blanketing everything in his line of vision with a luminescent gilded tinge. He flew higher; creating his own airborne waltz to music only he could hear.

Through his euphoria, he could see Minerva, standing stock-still near her desk, just watching him in his flight.

Seeing her brought him back to his senses. For a moment there, he was no longer Harry Potter (or even Harry Dursley)—he was something older than time, something transcendent and ethereal, something that simply was. Coming to a rest on the chair in which he once sat, Harry focused on the transformation that brought him back to himself. He slumped against the wooden backrest, feeling his own magic surround him like a palpable cloud.

He looked up, feeling alone and incomplete. "That was amazing." He whispered, running his hands lazily through his hair.

"Amazing..." Minerva echoed, still looking on in disbelief.

They sat in silence, both contemplating the same event, both coming to their own conclusions.

Finally, Harry spoke. "It’s not supposed to be like that, is it?" He looked like he was thinking hard, "I’m not supposed to be able to turn into a phoenix, am I? I’m not supposed to have that much energy when I transform—Minerva, what’s going on? I’ve pretty much taken your word for everything, because I sure as hell don’t have any explanation for what’s been happening to me, but I’m really beginning to suspect that there’s something more—something more you’re not telling me. Maybe you don’t even know what else there is. Maybe no one does. God, I’m scared." He said this all very quickly, tugging anxiously at the hem of his shirt.

Minerva stared at him silently, before speaking slowly. "To my recollection, there has never been a phoenix animagus, really, there has never been anyone who could transform into a truly magical creature. There has, however, been only one other who had multiple animagi forms, and that was Godric Gryffindor."

"So—the only reason I can transform like this is because I’m the heir of Gryffindor?"

"I believe so. I have to admit, I do not know much more about what’s going on with you than you do. These research sessions with Remus and Miss Granger will, hopefully, be as beneficial to me as it will be to you."

"So we’re all basically in the same boat then, huh?"

"Precisely." Minerva pressed her lips into a slight smile. "I must tell you, Harry. It is quite intriguing to discover all these new things you can do. Highly educational—not to mention absolutely incredible."

Harry laughed. "I guess I’ll never be exactly normal, will I?"

"Never. Although, who are we to say what normal is?"

"True, Professor. Too true."

A sharp knock thudded on the door. Remus’s voice called in, "Minerva? Are you in there?"

"Come in, Remus. Have you got Miss Granger with you?"

The door swung open and Remus and Hermione stood in the threshold, Remus looking somewhat amused, and Hermione looking plain confused, especially when she noticed Harry sitting in the chair across from the headmistress.

"Um, yes, Professor McGonagall, I’m here." Hermione said, her voice betraying the nervousness that her countenance masked.

"Please. Take a seat." Minerva said, motioning to the empty chair next to Harry, who smiled reassuringly at her as she sat down.

"I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on, Miss Granger—" she broke off as Hermione cut in.

"I swear, Professor, I wanted to stop him! He just thinks he’s so funny sometimes and simply will not listen to reason, no matter how many times I tell him, it’s always the same old thing:" her voice took on a mocking tinge, "nah, Hermione. It’ll be okay. Trust me. We won’t get in any trouble." She frowned. "Whatever it is, I swear I can make up for it. I’ll do extra-credit—you know I’m good for it. I really don’t want this to get in the way of my chances of being head girl. I simply couldn’t stand it if I was completely out of the running." She looked pleadingly up at the headmistress.

"As much as I would like to know exactly what you are speaking of, something devious, no doubt involving Mr. Weasley and his little band of merry men, we have called you here tonight for a different reason." She raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who had the grace to look embarrassed, her skin flushing red.

"Oh. Um. Yes?" she asked.

"We are embarking on a project, Professor Lupin and I, and we are in need of some assistance. Before you accept, please know that this project will invariably entail quite a lot of time spent in the library, and the utmost need for secrecy. You will not tell anyone what you are doing or what you are researching is this clear? Can you abide by these rules?"

Hermione Granger sat up stiffly in her seat, smiling widely. "Of course, Professor. I would be honored to help in any way I can. Although, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What exactly are we researching? And why is he here?" she asked, looking pointedly at Harry.

"Mr. Dursley is going to be assisting, as well. I would not underestimate him, Miss Granger, he has a sharp mind." Harry fought a smile at the headmistress’s praise. "As for your other question, we will be looking deeply into the rise and fall of the Dark Lord and the use of power-transfer, its effects and symptoms, that sort of thing. Harry can explain it to you more in detail when you get to the library. I can assume you understand why we want to keep this as quiet as possible, right?"

Hermione’s face was pale, but her eyes were shining brightly with anticipation. "How fascinating, Professor!" she exclaimed. "I’ve secretly been wanting to study You-Know-Who for the longest time, you know, just how could someone become that evil? What makes him tick, so to speak."

"I’m sure you will find this project quite to your satisfaction then." Remus interjected. "Please, if you do find anything worthwhile, come to us immediately. Harry, I believe you know what to look for as well?"

"Yes, actually. Min—Professor McGonagall and I already spoke about it, and I do have some ideas of my own that I’d like to look into."

Remus smiled. "Very well. We’re counting on you, don’t let us down."

"Really, Remus, you sound a cheesy motivational speaker." Harry laughed.

Hermione looked shocked. "I really don’t think you should be talking to Professor Lupin like that."

Harry grinned innocently at Remus, who was fighting a grin of his own. "Quite all right, Miss Granger. Harry and I are old friends, and although I do not recommend his insubordination, I must say, his father would be quite amused indeed if he did not speak to me in such a manner."

Hermione looked confused.

Harry leaned over, whispering, "he went to school with my dad. They were good friends."

"Oh." Hermione said.

"Now that things are explained, why don’t you two head off to the library and begin. We all have a lot of work ahead of us." Minerva interjected.

Harry and Hermione rose and made for the door.

"Oh, and Miss Granger, I wouldn’t worry about not being head girl, if you catch my drift."

Hermione broke out into a huge grin. Harry laughed in spite of himself at her expression.

Together, they left, heading down the staircase to the immense library.

* * * * *

Harry wandered alone amongst the twisting, book-filled, shelves of the Hogwarts library. He scanned the titles, looking for anything remotely dealing with power-transfer, Voldemort, and Godric Gryffindor himself.

Randomly selecting an armload of books, Harry made his way back to where Hermione was sitting, surrounded by thick tomes, reading quietly.

He plopped down next to her, smiling as she looked up. "Hello again, Hermione." He said cheerfully.

She raised her eyebrows before returning to her book.

"Well, anyway, since we’re going to be working together, we might as well be friends, don’t you think?"

Hermione looked at him sternly. "This is a really important project. We don’t have time to mess around."

"Trust me, I know exactly how important this is."

"Then why aren’t you working?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do you ever relax? Ever? I think, and it’s always worked for me in the past, that people work better together once they’re acquainted and comfortable with each other. It makes the working environment less stressful."

Hermione set her book down. "Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

Harry smiled. "Well, how about telling me a little bit about yourself?"

Hermione set her lips in a straight line. "Right. About me. Well, I’m Hermione Granger, no nickname, never had one, will never answer to one. I was born in London to John and Helene Granger, both of whom are dentists, thus making me very, very, Muggle-born. I take pride in my work, whatever it is I’m doing and once wanted to be a doctor. Now, my plans have changed and I am thinking about full-time research, perhaps even a teaching position somewhere." She paused. "Oh, and I’m going out with Ron Weasley." She added, almost as an afterthought.

Harry looked at her. She stared right back, not once breaking his gaze. "Yeah, okay, that’s all fine and good, but really, who are you?"

"What?" Hermione asked, her tone quite cross.

"You’ve told me what you are, now tell me who you are. What are you really like? What do you want in life? What are you looking for? Who do you want to be?"

"I don’t think I understand."

"All I want to know is who you really are. You’re too smart of a person to let yourself be described by your birth and who you’re currently dating."

"I really don’t think I need to sit here and listen to this—especially not from you!"

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means? Why should I tell you anything about my private life? I don’t even know you!"

"Fine. I guess that’s fair. I’m Harry Dursley. I live in Sofeba, New Zealand, which is a little island off the coast where it’s warm all year round and everybody gets along, with my aunt and uncle. We own a sugar plantation where I spend a lot of my free time helping out in the fields or doing the paperwork. My uncle trusts me with that, and that means a lot to me—to have his trust. I never got along very well with my aunt, something I’m sure I’ll regret later, but since she’ll barely look at me, I can’t very well remedy it. I love sports and being outside. I’ll run for hours around the plantation and down by the cove, which is on the western end of our land. I play basketball and baseball and run track, too. Doing my best is always important to me because I like to know that the reason people look up to me is because of something I did, something I accomplished."

"Schoolwork is second nature to me. I always enjoyed learning and reading—it’s like finding your own special world, as I’m sure you can relate. I love music of all kinda—I play the piano a bit, too. I just found out I was magical at the beginning of August, so all of this came as quite a shock to me, as I’m sure you can also relate to."

"Oh, and I’m a Leo and I like fine Italian foods and long walks on the beach." He finished with a colossal grin.

At this, Hermione cracked a smile. "That’s lovely." She said amusedly. "So you’re Muggle-born, too?"

"Well, not exactly. My parents were magical, but they died in a car accident when I was little, so I’ve lived with my Aunt Petunia, who’s my mother’s sister, and my Uncle Vernon, who are Muggles."

"Oh." She paused, looking at her hands. "Did you say you like school, too?" she asked timidly.

Harry’s eyes lit up. Finally, a chink in her armor! "Yes, I mean, I love reading and learning new things. I can assume from your assignment to this project that you’re a kindred spirit?"

She smiled. "Precisely. Ron always makes fun of me for getting so enthused about school. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to just hide away in your room, curled up with a classic."

"One of my favorite pastimes, actually."

"You like Muggle literature? Oh, of course, why wouldn’t you? Any favorites in particular?" she asked, intrigued.

"I’ll read just about anything you put in front of me, really. Of course, I love the classics—Salinger, James, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Tolstoy, Bronte, Austen—all the best."

"You know, this is the first intellectually stimulating conversation I’ve had in all my time here at Hogwarts."

"Good to know I’m of some assistance."

Hermione laughed aloud. "You know, you’re really not that bad, Harry." She said, looking at him appraisingly.

Harry grinned toothily. "Again, good to know."

"You’re a rather cheeky fellow, aren’t you?"

"Hmm. Yes, I would say so."

Hermione laughed loudly again, earning a disapproving glare from Madame Pince, the librarian. Looking sheepish, Harry and Hermione settled down and began the lengthy task of getting through the thick volumes piled up between them.

As Harry stumbled back to the common room (extremely) later that evening, he couldn’t help but think that in spite of everything that was going on, Hogwarts really wasn’t so bad.