The Temple of Le Fay

Chapter Thirty: Talking Sense

There was a rushing sound, and the Great Hall swirled around Harry, Fawkes and Dumbledore in a vortex of light and colour. As fast as the swirling was, Harry still felt as though his feet were on the ground.

If this is travelling by phoenix magic, he thought, I definitely prefer it to a Portkey.

The swirling seemed to lessen slightly, and Dumbledore looked around them.

"Nearly there, Harry," he said. Harry realised that there was no sound from the swirling vortex.

The vortex slowed still further, before gradually dissipating like a morning mist in the midday sun.

"Headmaster! Harry!"

The swirling gone, Harry turned, slightly disoriented to see the unmistakable creamy-yellow walls of a hospital around him. He looked up to see Lupin, standing beside a heavy looking door with a look of slight surprise on his face.

"Good evening, Remus. I received your letter a few moments ago. I deemed it best that Harry should see yourself and Sirius now, rather than delay matters any further."

"Of course," Remus said, a small smile lighting up his weary face. "Harry, you're looking... injured. What happened to you?"

Harry followed Remus gaze to his ripped jeans. He pulled aside the torn material, and looked down at the grazes that ran the length of his legs.

"Er, nothing," he said. "I fell."

Lupin looked at his former pupil blandly, but a part of him was faintly impressed by Harry's newfound ability to lie convincingly. James Potter, he remembered, had been good at it as well.

"Well," he said, not questioning Harry's lie. "You'll want to see Sirius, I imagine."

Harry nodded immediately, then blushed slightly. "It's good to see you too," he said. Lupin grinned.

"It's alright, Harry. He's eager to see you too. I'll show you up."

Lupin pulled open the heavy iron door with immense difficulty. Air rushed in from their side of the door to the sterile white corridor beyond.

"Negative pressure," Lupin commented. "It stops anything nasty getting out. Of course, Sirius is the only one in here, and he's not contagious, but they keep the spell going anyway."

Lupin led Harry and Dumbledore up a flight of stairs. Harry was beginning to feel blinded by the bright whiteness, and noticed that there didn't really seem to be any corridors anymore. Instead, they seemed to just be walking through white, and Harry thought briefly of a film he had seen of Muggle astronauts in space, surrounded by a vast, black, emptiness.

"It's a cleaning spell," Lupin said, glancing over his shoulder and seeing Harry glancing curiously around. "It should kill germs, clean off any dirt, that sort of thing. It'll probably clean up your legs where you fell over, as well," he added carelessly. Harry didn't react, he noticed.

Harry was watching Lupin's wand, which was hovering over his hand. Every now and then, it would swivel, pointing left or right and Lupin followed the directions unquestioningly. At one point, it swiveled to point downward, and Lupin led Harry and Dumbledore down a long, sloping ramp.

Eventually, Lupin stopped, his wand pointing upwards. Harry squinted, and was just able to make out a set of stairs vanishing into the whiteness.

"Sirius is in a room upstairs," Lupin told Harry. "He's being debriefed - again - by one of the other Order members at the moment. I'll go in first and make sure they're done."

They trooped up the stairs, and Harry stood with Dumbledore on the landing as Remus unsealed the heavy looking door that stood between them and Sirius.

Harry felt nervous and sick. His stomach churned as he tried to imagine what he would say to Sirius.

It's been so long! I hope he's okay. Dumbledore and Remus never really told me what was wrong and I-

Harry swallowed with difficulty as Lupin undid the final lock on the door to Sirius' room, opened the door a little and slipped inside.

I didn't want to ask. God, what would I do if Voldemort turned Sirius?

There was a scream, and a loud yell from inside the room. They were followed by a loud crash and a string of ripe swear words that made Harry blink several times. Sirius' hoarse voice carried clearly through the thick door, and was joined by a female voice, lower and placating. Above it all was loud laughter that Harry recognised as Lupin's. The door opened again, and Lupin fell out, pottery shards peppering his prematurely grey hair.

He lay on his back on the floor, sniggering loudly, one hand over his eyes as his body shook. Harry and Dumbledore watched him carefully until the shaking began to subside, and then helped him to his feet.

"Wow," Lupin said, wiping tears from his face as lent back against the wall. "I suppose I really should have knocked."

The door to Sirius' room opened again, and a slight figure slipped through into the corridor. She looked around guiltily, her robes askew and her cheeks a fiery red. Harry vaguely recognised her as a former Gryffindor who had finished Hogwarts at the same time as Percy Weasley.

Lupin grinned at her.

"Miss Smith," Dumbledore intoned. "You have concluded your business with Sirius for this evening?"

"Er, yes," the woman said. "I should be going back to, um, back to headquarters," she said, without meeting anyone's gaze.

She turned to go downstairs, caught her foot on the hem of her loose robes, and nearly went flying head first down the stairs. Lupin caught her, and she nodded quickly to him before hurrying away, her footsteps clattering loudly as she rushed embarrassedly away from them.

Lupin sniggered as he opened the door once more. Harry stood behind him as the door swung open.

"You old rogue," Lupin said, his voice full of a cheery delight in catching Sirius in a delicate moment. "She's young enough to be your daughter."

"You misconceived, moon-fearing, doddering old git!" Sirius yelled. "It's been years since I..."

Sirius voice died away as Lupin stepped aside. Godfather and godson regarded one another for the first time in nearly a year.

Sirius looked worn and frail, obviously still feeling the effects of his exposure to the spell that had put him in the hospital. His hair was long and thick, though, and a jet-black colour that gave him an air of youth that Harry hadn't seen in him before.

He was sitting up in bed, the sheets strewn about him and his shirt lying on he floor. From the way Sirius suddenly clasped the sheet around him, Harry had a feeling that he wasn't wearing much beneath it. A smile blossomed on Harry's face that was every bit as wide and mischievous as the one that Lupin was sporting.

Sirius was shocked by the change in his godson. Harry was noticeably taller than he had been the summer before. His clothes now looked tight on him, and the jeans were much too short in the leg. Harry's eyes were where Sirius saw the main change, however. They were careworn, and tormented. Although Harry was only sixteen, lines were already radiating from the corners outwards. Looking at his godson standing side by side with Remus, Sirius was struck by the similarity between the two, and wondered what it was that Harry was worrying about that had created that similarity.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry said tentatively. "How are you?"

"I'd have been a lot better if you'd showed up fifteen minutes later," Sirius said automatically. He saw Harry flinch at the remark, and wondered why.

"What about you, Harry?" he asked, indicating the armchairs that surrounded his bed. "Pull up a chair. Remus says you've got a lot to tell me. How's Ginny? And Ron and Hermione?"

"I haven't told him, Harry," Remus said, his smile fading. Harry looked at him, and then sighed.

"Told me what?" Sirius asked. "What's happened? Is something wrong?"

"Not... exactly," Remus said, taking a seat on the far side of Sirius' bed and helping himself to an apple from the basket of fruit on the bedside cabinet. Dumbledore came fully into the room and shut the door, before taking a seat beside Remus.

"Harry's been having his usual interesting year," Lupin said. "I'm sure he's dying to tell you all about it."

Harry glared daggers at his former teacher, feeling as though he'd been set up. But Sirius was looking at him questioningly, and Harry sighed.

I had to tell him sometime.

He sighed, and took a seat across the bed from Remus and Dumbledore. Sirius looked from him to the two adult wizards with a growing look of suspicion on his face.

"So, is someone going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to start hexing people to get answers?" he growled.

"There is no need for that, Sirius," Dumbledore said, calmly. "Remus has decided it is best for you to hear about Harry's year from Harry himself. It would have done you no good to hear of it in fragmented form, considering your condition."

Sirius subsided into frustrated mutterings, scowling at Remus and Dumbledore from his bed. He turned to Harry.

"So, what have you been getting up to this year, Harry?" he asked.

Harry looked down at the sheets on Sirius' bed.

Where to start?

"I was having dreams about Voldemort again," Harry began. "I was tired, and I was getting worried about the Dueling Club. Nothing seemed to be going right, I couldn't teach the Patronus properly."

"Yeah, I remember," Sirius said. "We got that letter from you, asking for advice. Good code, by the way. 'Staggering achievements'. I liked that."

Harry smiled shyly at his godfather before continuing.

"You suggested a Boggart, and we found one in the school staff room. I hadn't been sleeping well, and when I went to tackle it, I..."

Harry tailed off, his eyes suddenly stinging with tears as he plunged back into the memories of that Halloween night. He dragged his arm angrily over his eyes before carrying on.

"I wasn't ready for it. It beat me. Ron found me unconscious, and I woke up days later in the hospital wing. I'd burnt out my ability to use magic."

Sirius' mouth fell open on hearing this, and he looked angrily at Remus and Dumbledore.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he barked. "I should have been there."

"This is why we didn't tell you, Padfoot," Remus said, meeting his old friend's ferocious glare evenly. "You weren't in any shape to rush off to Hogwarts. You've only just been cleared to receive visitors, remember?"

Sirius looked furious, but his features softened as he turned to look at Harry again.

"Go on," he said.

"It was... a shock," Harry said. "I was really horrible to everyone, started pushing them away. I broke up with Ginny-" Sirius' eyes sprung wide open "-and told Ron and Hermione I didn't want to be friends with them anymore."

Sirius sat bolt upright in bed and looked as though he were going to get out, when he flushed red.

"Close your eyes for a moment," he muttered. His three visitors obliged. When he said "Okay," they looked again and Sirius was clad in a shirt and pair of trousers. He knelt before Harry, and clasped him by the shoulders.

"Harry, what on earth possessed you to act that way?" Sirius demanded.

Harry winced, unable to avoid Sirius' searching gaze.

"You did," he whispered.

Harry wanted to look anywhere but at Sirius at that moment. He glanced at Dumbledore and Remus. The Headmaster was regarding Harry carefully, his hands clasped gently in his lap. Remus' hands were clasped tightly on the arms of his chair, and a tight frown knitted his eyebrows closely together.

Finally, Harry looked back at Sirius, who was watching him with a look of such unutterable pain on his face that Harry felt almost as though he'd placed his godfather under the Cruciatus curse.

"What do you mean?" It was barely a whisper from Sirius, but it cut Harry to the bone. He looked his godfather in the eye, and forced out the most difficult words he'd ever had to say.

"You were turned," he said. "You, and Remus, and you as well Professor. Everyone I know, even the Weasleys, even Ginny and Hermione and Ron. Voldemort took you all, and he turned you against me," Harry said quietly.

Then it all spilled out. He told them of meeting the Boggart, of seeing his friends hurt and dying, of feeling abandoned, of the horrible feeling of being alone and unable to prevent Voldemort's victory.

He didn't mention Cho. He thought he knew why she hadn't been among the dozens of people that he had feared aligning against him, but now that he was in the same room as them, he didn't want to say to Sirius and Remus that Cedric's death was more important to Cho than the deaths of James and Lily Potter had been to them.

Looking at Sirius' face, Harry felt shame burn hot inside him just at the thought of it. His stomach churned as he looked at his parents' best friend, the man he had just told that he had believed him capable of turning to the side of darkness.

"And that's why you've been pushing people away?" Sirius asked quietly. "You thought we'd choose Voldemort over you?"

He stood, and walked over to his bed, falling onto it with a sigh. He curled over, burying his face in his hands and muttered several words that Harry was glad he couldn't hear.

"I spent twelve years in Azkaban, tormented by Dementors, beaten by the guards, tortured by my own memories..." he drifted into silence and the feeling of shame intensified in Harry's stomach. How could I think that Sirius would betray me?

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Sirius said. "I should have been there. Instead of trying to avenge the death of your parents, I should have been looking after you."

Harry blinked. What?

"Harry, why do you think people will abandon you?" Remus asked quietly. "Do you really think that decent people like the Weasleys would really abandon you? Do you think that we would?"

He sounded horribly offended by the idea. Harry felt still more ashamed.

"He'd find a way!" Harry said, feeling as though he'd stepped off his broom a hundred feet above the ground. "He could bribe people, or offer them power, or threaten them or their families and they'd take it and join him because it's just me against him and what can I do? What can I offer people against whatever he can do?"

There was silence, and then Dumbledore intervened.

"We should remember, of course, that a Boggart shows us our biggest fears, regardless of how irrational they may be. I am sure that Harry does not seriously believe that Voldemort could convince anyone in this room to join him, nor that Voldemort could convince everyone Harry cares for to abandon him. Nonetheless, that is his greatest fear. Remus, you do not truly fear the moon itself; rather, you fear the changes it causes in you."

Remus and Sirius nodded, and turned again to Harry.

"Harry, you know that Voldemort could never convince us to turn against you, don't you?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked at the two of them, and thought of all that they had lost in the fight against Voldemort. The images of them in his head, with the Dark Mark burning on their arms and their faces obscured behind the Death Eater's hoods, flickered and died. He swallowed hard, and nodded.

Immediately, he felt the hot, snaking sensation of guilt that was twisting in his stomach dissipate and vanish. He smiled, a genuine smile, and felt a warmth wash through him that he hadn't felt in months. As he tried to place the feeling, Remus spoke up again.

"What about your friends, Harry?" he asked. "Do you still think that they would go against you?"

"What choice would they have?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling deeply weary again as the warm feeling disappeared as quickly as it had came. "You're different. You're adults, but they're not. I said it before: Given the choice between taking my side, and taking Voldemort's, why would they choose me? Hero worship of the Boy-Who-Lived seems fine when they're at school, but I can't seriously expect them to choose me when their life depends on it. In the end, they'd probably be well off without me. All I seem to do is bring misery to people and put them in danger. If they hate me, if it seems like I hate them, then they won't be put at risk and I don't have to face them. Everyone wins, right?"

Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, and stared at Harry over the top of them.

"Perhaps," he said. "Why, then, have you insisted on teaching people, and furthering their skills? If we follow your worst case scenario, surely teaching them spells to use in defending themselves and attacking opponents will not help you should you ever have to face them?"

"I can give them a chance," Harry said, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "If I teach them something that they can use to hold off Death Eaters... It's what people expect of the Boy Who Lived, isn't it? I have to be a great leader, saving everyone from the attacks. Teaching them what they can't or won't learn for themselves, learning with them and learning anything that they know that I don't.

"And in the end, when it comes down to me fighting Voldemort, I can't risk being distracted if he pushes Seamus Finnegan in my way, or Orla Quirke, or even Ron or Hermione. I have to know what they know. That way I don't need them, and I know how to beat them"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look loaded with meaning.

"That's a lot to take in, especially in one go," Sirius said at last. "First question: Why do you think you'll have to fight Voldemort?"

"Because..." Harry stopped, stymied.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "It has never been our intention for you to fight Voldemort. Certainly not alone, certainly not at a location of his choosing. If or, hopefully, when Tom Riddle consents to a wizarding duel, I shall of course accept the challenge."

Harry stared at him in surprise, amazed at his own stupidity.

"I..." he managed. Dumbledore smiled understandingly.

"Of course, I imagine that is only natural that you should think otherwise," he said. "It has almost become a catchphrase in recent years, but everything does seem to happen to you. However, when Tom deigns to indulge the Order then it will be I who faces him, Harry. We have taken great pains in recent years to ensure this, and to ensure your safety."

Harry nodded silently. Sirius grinned.

"And to think that I used to admire you for growing up without an ego," he laughed. "Turns out you had your sights set higher than just seeing how many girls you could get off with just by being the Boy Who Lived. The final duel with Voldemort? Merlin's beard that's arrogant."

Sirius threw back his head and roared with laughter. Harry smiled slightly in spite of himself. He felt his anger and frustration bleeding away, indeed, found it impossible to nurture any spark of negative feeling around Sirius as he watched his godfather laughing and healthy again.

"Your classmates, Harry, have benefited greatly from your efforts these last few months," Dumbledore said. "You have learnt a great deal as well, Harry. And yet it would appear you have forgotten one of the most important lessons that anyone, wizard or Muggle can learn."

As though responding to an unspoken cue, Remus picked up on Dumbledore's line of argument.

"Harry, friendships are vital for a happy life," he said. "On that Halloween night all those years ago, I lost two of my greatest friends when Voldemort killed your parents. The following day, Peter disappeared and Sirius was arrested. In less than twenty-four hours, I lost my four closest friends. Harry, I was devastated. No one should have to experience what I did," he said quietly. "To see you choose the life that I had forced upon me, no, I'm sorry Harry, but I won't let you do that."

It was Sirius' turn to speak.

"You say that you don't bring anything to people's lives? That's dragon's dung, Harry. You made Ginny happy, I could see that. You balance Ron and Hermione, and the three of you are capable of anything when you're together. You're one of the finest Quidditch players I've ever seen, and I know that your Dad would have been proud of you. You're a compassionate human being, kind, honest and loyal, and both of your parents would have been proud of you for that."

Sirius paused as Harry looked up at the ceiling, glaring at it as he furiously blinked back tears. The three older men waited while Harry composed himself.

"But I'm always going to be involved," Harry said. "It's not fair of me to drag people down with me."

"There's that ego again," Sirius growled. "Harry, how many children do Molly and Arthur Weasley have?"

"Seven," Harry replied after a moment's hesitation.

"And how many were conceived while Voldemort was around the first time?" Remus asked, with an air not unlike the one Ron wore when he announced "Checkmate in three!" during a long game of chess.

"All of them, I suppose," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore answered. "Although Molly and Arthur were not members of the Order last time around, that hardly made them safe from Voldemort. They would have had to think long and hard about bringing children into such a dangerous time. In the end, they clearly decided that love was the finest antidote to hate. And now they have seven antidotes, if you will."

"I know it must be hard for you to trust people, Harry," Remus said. "I wish I could have been there for you when you were young, but the safest place to be was with your aunt, because the magic that saved your life from Voldemort when you were a baby protected you while you were in her care as well. Unfortunately, she made it clear when I tried to visit you shortly after your parents' death that there was to be no attempt to contact you by anyone in our world. It must seem that you were abandoned," he got up and began to pace back and forth across the hospital wing. "I would have taken you in a heartbeat, but of course I was unsuitable. Once a month I became an uncontrollable beast, and even if I were fully human, the loss of my friends hit me hard, Harry. For a time, I was of no use to anyone, least of all myself or a helpless toddler. You were safest with your family, Harry.

"You can trust people, Harry. You may find it hard to believe, but take it from someone who knows what it feels like to be hated and feared for what I am. When you find acceptance and true friendship, Harry, you should know that it is the most amazing thing in the world. To know that there are people who care for you, and who will always care for you, is intoxicating. That's the sort of relationship you have with your friends, Harry. I don't think they would ever betray you, although it's a decision you have to make for yourself, ultimately."

"You could look at your parents as well," Sirius said, his voice sober and serious. "James always knew that Voldemort was hunting down the Potter family, and that he was the last of them. It didn't stop Lily falling in love with him, didn't stop her trusting him with her life. As for you knowing everything your friends do, and so you don't need them... Harry, your friends aren't just a grab-bag of knowledge. They're feelings ad dreams, emotions and desires and all individual. What they bring to your life isn't just the things they know, Harry. You can't reduce them to that, no matter how easy it makes it to walk away from them, because you know it's not fair and it's not true."

Harry sat, lost in thought, for a very long time. Eventually he said, "I have a responsibility, a responsibility to be the Harry Potter people expect me to be. And that means that I have to keep on teaching people, I have to keep helping everyone. That's difficult enough. I don't have time for friends. I can't do everything!"

"And what if you were to die, Harry?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Well I... What?"

"Supposing you're right. You keep on teaching everyone, you don't get close to anyone. You become this incredible, near-mythical figure. Then one day, despite all your power, all your skill, all your luck, Voldemort, or Wormtail, or even Rookwood or MacNair kills you. Who'll carry on your work then? Who'll be close enough to you to know what you would have done next? All the work you're putting in, spoiled by a Death Eater who got lucky and will dine out for the rest of his life on the story of how he killed famous Harry Potter. Wouldn't that be a pain in the arse?"

Harry looked at Sirius, who laid back against his pillows, staring at his godson unblinkingly.

"I..." Harry said. He looked at Dumbledore and Remus, who were regarding him evenly. Harry's gaze became unfocused as he fell into deep thought once more. Eventually he looked up at the three men once more. Before he could say anything, Remus spoke once more.

"Harry, I want you to be honest with us. It's been six months since Halloween. Six months that you've been pushing all your friends away from you. Now, who was the person you cared about the most on Halloween?"

"Ginny," Harry said immediately. He blushed slightly.

"And who is the person you care about the most today?" Remus asked gently.

This time the reply took a little longer. Eventually, Harry whispered: "Ginny."

"And do you feel any less strongly about her now than six months ago?" Sirius asked, surprisingly quietly.

Harry couldn't trust himself to speak. He simply shook his head.

"Then don't you think that you'd be a lot happier with her than denying your feelings for her?" Sirius said. "It's not a matter of whether or not you'll be hurt, Harry. It'll always hurt when people betray you. But it hurts even more if you betray the people you care about. And that's what you're doing. Think about what we've said, Harry. If you decide we're right, and that you've been completely wrong these last six months, well, you've got a lot of people to talk to for a start."

"That book you got from Fred and George Weasley on your birthday may help," Remus said with a smile.

And, finally, it was enough. The last of Harry's resistance gave way and, for a moment, he was overwhelmed by the flood of emotions he'd walled up and redirected and which now, at last, were able to flow freely. He cupped his face in his hands, and then scraped his fingers back through his hair, a fierce prickling sensation stinging the backs of his eyes.

Dumbledore stood, and after a few seconds, so did Harry. They walked to the door, Harry still lost in thought. Dumbledore unlocked and opened the door, and stepped through. Harry was about to follow him, when he remembered something. He turned, and looked back at his godfather.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?" Sirius said.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. I missed not having you around."

"I'm glad too," Sirius grinned. "Are you feeling better?" he asked pointedly.

"Uh, yeah, maybe," Harry said. "I think I'll be reading your book when I get back. I think I've got a lot of people to talk to."

"Look on the bright side, it's Sunday tomorrow. You can have a lie in. I forgot to ask, didn't you have a Quidditch match today?"

"Yeah, we were playing Ravenclaw," Harry said. "We lost, but it's okay. It's made me think about a lot of things."

"Glad to hear it, I suppose," Sirius said. "Maybe you'll win next year?"

"Yeah. Maybe you can try and come to some of the matches?" Harry asked. "It'd be fun to have you around."

Sirius regarded his godson carefully. They both knew that it wasn't possible for him to come to a Quidditch match, at least...

"Yeah, I should have thought of that!" he said. "I can come with Remus as his pet dog. It's a date!"

Harry grinned, and for a moment, he looked like a normal sixteen year old boy.

"Great," he said happily. "Well, I'd better get back," he said. "Lots of reading to do."

"Chapter Five," Remus said. "At least, if I remember correctly."

"Seven," Sirius corrected him. "Five's about table manners."

"We had a section on table manners?" Remus asked.

"Not a very long one. We stuck it in because of Cynthia Daniels."

"I remember. Peter's posh girlfriend!"

"Yeah, remember how nervous he was?" Sirius laughed

"And he asked us for advice when he went to visit her and her family," Remus reminisced. "What was it James said?"

"'Start at the outside of the cutlery, and work in,' which was good advice."

"Except Peter started so far on the outside, he took the cutlery off of the people either side of him," Remus laughed.

Harry smiled, and left the two old friends to their memories.

Outside, Dumbledore had Fawkes perched on his arm. "Ready to go, Harry?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Good. We won't have to pass through the cleansing field on our way out, so we can just go from here." Dumbledore double-checked the lock on Sirius' room, and then grasped one of Fawkes' feathers. Harry took another one.

"Gryffindor corridor!"

A few seconds later, Harry was saying goodbye to Dumbledore, and passing through the portrait hole. He walked through the empty common room and up the stairs to the sixth year boys' dormitory. By the steady glow of his wand, he was able to find his Invisibility Cloak and his copy of Practical Lessons: The Marauders' Manual for Life at Hogwarts.

Slipping the cloak over his head, he seized the book and set off for the hospital wing.

*

The hospital wing was dark and nearly deserted. Madam Pomfrey was sleeping peacefully in her room, and the wing had only two occupants.

Professor Trelawney slept fitfully in her bed. As Harry watched from beneath the cloak, she twisted and turned, mumbling slightly. To Harry's relief, she didn't seem to be in any obvious pain. He didn't know for how long she'd been under the Cruciatus curse, but she wasn't as young as Harry, and she was obviously taking time to recover.

Looking at Trelawney, shorn of her shawls and outsize glasses, and removed from her room with its footstools and incense, Harry couldn't help but think how normal she was. She had tormented him from almost the moment he first set foot in her classroom and her prophecy had been the source of a lot of misery over the last year, but he didn't feel the intense dislike for her that he once had.

Life's too short, he decided. I've got more important things to worry about than bearing a grudge against her.

Silently, he wished her a speedy recovery and walked further down the wing. He didn't notice her settling into a more peaceful sleep as he walked away.

Ginny was lying at the end of the room, her fiery red hair standing out starkly against the sterile whiteness of her bedding. Harry noticed a bottle of Skele-Gro on the bedside cabinet beside her, and looked at her chart. The Bludger had shattered Ginny's shoulder and Madam Pomfrey had given her a sleeping draught on top of the Skele-Gro.

Quietly, Harry pulled a chair into position beside Ginny's bed and sat down. He shrugged off the cloak, opened the book, and began to read.

Chapter Seven: Apologies

Before you apologise for something, make sure you mean it. There's nothing more worthless than an unmeant apology. Now, bearing that in mind, how do you convince someone that you really are sorry? Well...

To be continued...