The Temple of Le Fay

Chapter Thirty-Two: Life, Or Something Like It

"Harry?"

"Hi Hagrid. I wanted to-"

"Save it, Harry," Hagrid said with a whiskery grin. "Yeh thought yeh was doing what was right, an' that's what's important. We all make mistakes, from time ter time. If you're prepared to admit it, an' learn from it, well, yer'll do alright."

"Cheers Hagrid," Harry said, grinning.

"Now, what'd yeh think of class today?" Hagrid asked, his beetle-black eyes shining brightly.

"It was really, well, really dangerous, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Yeah," Hagrid grinned. "Ain't it great? Tha's the best thing about teaching you older kids. Ye're able to handle some of the more interestin' specimens."

Hagrid beamed with paternal pride as Ron, Blaise Zabini and Seamus succeeded in backing the last of the giant Arborantulas into a corner. Harry had taken advantage of the confusion to speak to Hagrid. The giant spiders, of whom Hagrid had somehow managed to obtain six adult specimens, were strongly reminiscent of Aragog and his family of Acromantulas who lived in the Forbidden Forest. This species was incapable of speech, however, and preferred to live in the highest reaches of the tropical rainforests of South America. Harry, Ron and Hermione had exchanged similar, somewhat exasperated glances on hearing this. It was just like Hagrid to obtain illegally imported animals, especially if they fit his definition of "Interestin' critters".

The last spider snapped menacingly at Blaise, catching the Slytherin's robes in its pincers and ripping them in two. Harry gasped in astonishment as Ron, seeing his friend in trouble, leapt onto the Arborantula's back. Ron's solid frame knocked the giant spider to the floor with a loud snapping of its pincers. There was a burst of applause from those students who'd had enough of the Arborantulas and were huddled behind Hagrid's hut. Seamus and Blaise quickly bound the spider's legs, and Hagrid scooped it up and deposited it in a roomy crate, slamming the lid and bolting it with a loud snap that yielded relieved sighs from the class.

"Right," Hagrid beamed. "Five points to everyone who 'elped pack the little beggars away. Ten points ter Ron, 'cos I know 'e don't like spiders an' that was a brave thing ter do."

The bell rang, and Hagrid yelled "Alright, calm down," over the clamour of the hungry students. "Homework is two foot on Arborantulas and other giant spiders. Anyone who can tell me where the nearest colony is gets ten extra points."

"Brilliant!" Ron said, as they headed back to the Great Hall for lunch. "That'll be the easiest essay ever. And ten bonus points on top of it, too," he grinned. "I'm actually starting to like spiders."

*

They were halfway through lunch before Harry remembered that he'd meant to ask Hagrid about the giants. He'd heard nothing new about them since the autumn, and was wondering if they'd been sighted. Professor Grubbly-Plank hadn't taken any of the Magical Creatures lessons that Harry had been in, so it seemed as though Hagrid hadn't had to miss any classes.

Harry's desire to leave the Gryffindor table intensified when Ginny arrived with Colin Creevey from their Defence Against the Darks Arts class. Colin was darting around Ginny, brandishing his wand like a sword. Ginny was humouring her friend, but Harry could tell that she would rather he left her alone. He felt a surge of angry jealousy that Ginny was choosing to spend time with Colin rather than him. He wanted to go over to the two of them and lead Ginny away, but he hadn't spoken to her since the Sunday night. Whenever he saw her, she was doing something else.

Sometimes Harry felt as though he was being watched, but whenever he looked around, he didn't see anyone watching him. Sometimes Ginny was nearby, sometimes she wasn't. Harry had a vague feeling that the bond between himself and Ginny was related to the feeling, but he didn't know enough about it to say for sure. It was another thing he wanted to talk to Ginny about.

He looked up suddenly, certain that someone was watching him. He was already looking in Ginny's direction, but she seemed quite uninterested in him. Looking past her, he saw Draco Malfoy regarding him with a slight frown on his face. Seeing Harry look at him, Draco nodded coolly, before turning to listen to Luna, who was reading from The Quibbler.

Finishing his flan, Harry got up and walked to the staff table where Hagrid was deep in conversation with Professor Skeeter.

"Hagrid?" Harry said quietly. "Sorry, I don't want to interrupt."

"Quite alright, Potter," Skeeter said, standing gracefully. "I should be in the library, anyway. I promised Mr. Lockhart that I would help him with his put down some rat traps. He says that they'll destroy the books if left to breed and, well, he's not exactly brilliant at pest control spells."

"Okay," Harry said, grinning as he thought of Cornish pixies. "Thanks."

"What can I do for yeh, Harry?" Hagrid asked, a small grin on his face as he watched Skeeter striding away. He chuckled, before turning his gaze fully onto Harry.

"Err, I was wondering if you'd heard anything more about the giants," Harry whispered, after making sure no one was in earshot.

"Oh, right, right," Hagrid said, looking a little surprised. "I think we should go fer a walk, yeah?"

Hagrid led Harry out of the castle and down towards greenhouse four.

"They're in Switzerland," Hagrid said. "Nice and easy to get to. I've been nipping over there mos' weekends. I stay a coupla days and come back. Gets a bit tirin' after a while, but Dumbledore can' really send anyone else. 'Course, Olympe can get to Switzerland an' back in two shakes o' a Skrewt's tail, so she's bin seeing quite a bit of them."

"And how's it going?" Harry asked.

"Not bad," Hagrid judged. "We take 'em plenty of gifts. Say lots of nice things about 'em, and hope like crazy that they don't get ratty with us. I mean, there's not much that the two of us can do against a pack of mountain giants."

"Are they talking to Voldemort's people as well?"

"If they are, they're doin' a good job of hiding it," Hagrid said. "We're dropping in at all odd times, so I figure we oughta run into them Death Eaters if they were showin' up. I dunno, maybe You Know Who ain't interested in the giants. There aren't but a coupla dozen of 'em left."

"You think he's after other races? The centaurs or something?" Harry asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Hagrid said. "But the centaurs wouldn' help him. They still remember him killin' those unicorns here, and they don't lower 'emselves to deal with men, not if they can help it."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad it's you going to talk to the giants, Hagrid," he said. "I don't reckon I'd want to."

"They're not bad folks," Hagrid said. "Jus' a bit different to you an' me, that's all."

Harry looked at Hagrid, and realised for the first time exactly why Dumbledore trusted Hagrid so much. Unlike someone like Lucius Malfoy, who would victimise people who were different, Hagrid always looked for ways in which people and creatures were the same. Hagrid, Harry suspected, saw even the most vicious of beasts as something that just needed a little care and attention.

I'm not sure if Hagrid's completely insane or the nicest person I know.

*

During Defence Against the Dark Arts the following Monday, Harry got a chance for his rematch against Dean. Professor Skeeter, who was reading a surprisingly small treatise on the life, works and times of Morgan Le Fay, paired them against each other for a sparring session. It was clear that she was a little exasperated at having been caught up in the research.

"Still, I suppose it will help hurt You Know Who," she said. "That's what I want to do," she added, grinning in a manner that Harry found slightly unsettling. "Just one chance..."

She seemed to come to, looking at Harry and the others in slight surprise at their being there. Then she grinned again.

"Feel free to kill one another," she said to Harry and Dean. "If you can avoid destroying the furniture this time though, I'm sure that Mr. Filch would be grateful."

She nodded to the two of them regally, and then added in a mischievous undertone "I understand that you put on quite the show last Saturday night. I hope that you're equal to the task today?"

She strode off, taking a seat where she could watch the whole class.

"Well, go on then," she said.

"Gladius!" two dozen voices yelled.

*

Harry and Dean faced one another over the points of their swords, chests heaving and their faces glowing from exertion.

The entire Defence Against the Dark Arts class had stopped to watch the fight. Skeeter, normally a hard taskmaster, was watching along with her pupils. Harry and Dean were prowling around the Great Hall, their duel already having taken them between the flashing swords of number of their classmates. Harry had narrowly escaped decapitation by Draco, while Seamus had barely escaped cutting off Dean's arm. Eventually, Skeeter had ordered the class to stand back and watch as Dean and Harry increased the tempo of their fight still further. Betting between the spectators flourished as quickly as Dean and Harry's strikes and parries. The general consensus was that Harry, his powers fully restored and his wand shining conspicuously brightly in the centre of his sword, would eventually defeat Dean. Only Ron, Hermione and Draco thought that Dean would come out on top.

"Harry won't use magic," Hermione said as Dean forced Harry backward with a flurry of quick strikes. "He's not used to having it available to him, not yet."

"Nah, Harry won't use magic 'cos it'd be cheating," Ron said toying absently with his own sword. "They've been going at it for the best part of twenty minutes. It'd be a bit daft to use magic now."

"He's too proud," Draco said. "Well, they both are. But Harry could end this fight in a heartbeat and there's nothing that Thomas could do about it."

"That'd be the Slytherin way of doing things," Ron said half-heartedly. At some point during the year, he had stopped suspecting Malfoy of being up to something, but he was still a little weary around the former Slytherin.

"The Ravenclaw way, actually," Draco said as Harry reversed the momentum with a swift counter. "The Slytherin way would be to hex your opponent while they cast their Gladius. Which would also work," he added mildly.

Ron snorted, and grinned.

"Anyway, Thomas has superior form," Draco said. "Class will always tell, eventually."

"You're probably right," Ron said, surprising himself slightly with how simple it felt to agree with Malfoy.

"Of course I'm right," Draco grinned, his eyes glinting as Harry and Dean's swords clashed loudly. "I'm in Ravenclaw, aren't I?"

"Why did you get sorted again?" Hermione asked, watching her friends battling furiously. "Couldn't you have stayed in Slytherin and tried to convince Goyle and the others that they shouldn't join Voldemort?"

Draco shuddered at Hermione's casual mention of the dark wizard's name. He shrugged. "Not everyone will listen to reason as readily as your house-elves, Granger," he said. "I transferred out of Slytherin to show my change of heart, yes, but also to ensure that I wouldn't get a knife through that heart while I slept. My current roommates may be messy, prone to snoring and they even engage in the occasional fight, its true, but to my knowledge none of their parents are Death Eaters and they have not been coached in the art of nocturnal murder."

This time it was Hermione who shuddered.

The bell rang for the end of the class, and for a brief moment Dean and Harry looked as though they would end their duel. Then they started again, grinning as they tore into one another with a new ferocity.

The doors to the Great Hall swung open and a huge mass of students and teachers pressed in. They stopped short at the sight of Harry and Dean locked in what appeared to be mortal combat, their robes billowing dramatically around them as they pivoted, thrust and parried.

"What is the meaning of this?" Professor Snape snarled, pushing his way to the front of the crowd and glaring furiously at Harry and Dean. The two faltered in mid-strike. "An impromptu meeting of the Dueling Club, perhaps?" Snape sneered sardonically. "You may consider yourselves both placed on-"

"Detention!"

Pupils and staff members alike jumped as Professor Skeeter yelled at Snape.

"This entire class has been acting disgracefully!" she bawled at him, her face an inch away from his. Skeeter was as tall as Snape, and she was carrying a long sword which was protruding in a menacing fashion from her hand.

"I have given them all lunchtime detention, Professor Snape, and I'll thank you not to intrude!"

"And your detentions involve your pupils fighting each other, I suppose?" Snape snapped, almost, but not quite, managing to appear unperturbed by Skeeter's invasive approach.

"Well spotted," Skeeter sneered. "Potter and Thomas were the ringleaders of the anarchic rabble, so I have ordered them to duel to the death."

"To the death?" Snape said, seemingly shocked. He recovered his composure with commendable aplomb. "I must applaud you on your remarkable approach to discipline. While I suspect that the Headmaster will prevent an actual killing, I would be content with a grievous wounding."

Skeeter smiled a smile that showed most of her teeth and no hint of amusement. "They will do their best to provide," she said, before turning to Dean and Harry and motioning for them to continue.

They needed no second encouragement. The growing crowd seemed to spur them on, and with Snape scowling at them like a vindictive gargoyle, they seemed determined to put on a show. Many of those watching, especially the younger students, gasped as they attacked with wild abandon, throwing caution to the wind. Dean especially was showing off, his long familiarity with swordfighting allowing him to use fancier moves than Harry, who was more workmanlike but at the same time seemed more determined. Word had circulated around the school that the two had faced off in a private duel that had almost demolished the Great Hall, and now the entire school was being treated to a rematch.

The betting ring expanded quickly to encompass most of the school. Much stock was placed in Harry's magical abilities, and in his desire to show that Dean beating him in their previous encounter had been a fluke. The bets flew thick and fast as the two duelists rained blows down upon one another.

Professor Dumbledore arrived, took one look at the fight, and muttered an incantation that brought the house tables, fully laden, back into the centre of the room from where they had been standing by the walls. Dean and Harry barely missed a step, mounting the bench beside the Gryffindor table and dancing back and forth along it, adding the challenge of balancing on the bench to the task of defending themselves against each other. However, with the entire school watching, and memories of their three nights of detention in the kitchens fresh in their minds, they refrained from climbing up onto the table and destroying the place settings, as they had done a week or so before.

Instead they advanced sure-footed on one another, blades shining in the bright spring sunshine that poured through the windows high above them. Harry flicked out at Dean, who blocked easily. He returned the strike, forcing Harry to jump back. He landed awkwardly, crying out in surprise as he stumbled off the bench and crashed to the ground.

For a second, Dean was torn. Then he looked up and into the crowd, smiled slightly, and got down from the bench. His sword disappeared with a hiss of steam, and he reached out to Harry, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet.

The two friends grinned at each other, and then shook hands to a round of applause from the watching crowd. Snape glared at them, and then turned to Skeeter.

"I though you said that this was a duel to the death?" he inquired, humourlessly.

"I changed my mind," she said, turning to face the deluge of students eager to find out the date of the next Dueling Club meeting.

*

April turned into May as the trees and flowers in the grounds of Hogwarts burst into full bloom. Ron arranged some desultory Quidditch practises, mainly as a way of saying good bye to Katie. Although upset that she had missed out on the Quidditch Cup in her final year, Katie took it in good heart and vowed to follow Angelina into the professional Quidditch ranks.

"Besides, Gryffindor won two cups while I was here," she grinned late one Sunday afternoon as the Quidditch team packed up after practise.

Of more serious note were the upcoming exams. Ron and Hermione had been revising since before the Easter break, while Harry had been revising almost since coming out of his coma six months before. The other Gryffindors were less well organised, however. The fifth and seventh years, including Katie, Colin and Ginny, were preparing for critical exams, and while Harry, Ron and Hermione were grateful for the grace period that sixth years were allowed between OWLs and NEWTs, they watched Katie and the other NEWT students with a feeling of growing trepidation.

The sixth years would be sitting their SKREWTs - Somewhat Kind-of Rather Evil Wizarding Tests - which acted as indications of how they would do in the NEWTs the following year. Anyone who got less than an 'Average' on a SKREWT would have to re-sit the exam during the summer. If they failed that, they would have to drop the subject. Harry was calm, Ron blasé and Hermione anxious about the idea.

Hermione drilled the two boys endlessly with SKREWT papers from previous years ("Practise exams to prepare us for practise exams which'll just make us worry about the real exams. No thanks," as Ron put it.) In the end, Ron and Harry mutinied, and threatened to throw Hermione's revision timetable into the fire unless she lightened up a little. She agreed to them taking their Thursday afternoon off from study, provided they didn't do anything too strenuous. After Hermione vetoed everything from "We could go and see Hagrid," and "We could go and sit by the lake," upwards as "Too strenuous," Harry and Ron consented, with bad grace, to spending the afternoon reading about Morgan Le Fay.

And on top of this, Ginny still hadn't said a word to Harry since his attempt at apologising weeks before.

Hermione had told him not to worry, that Ginny needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. Harry had tried to be patient, but he was beginning to worry that Ginny would never speak to him again.

I'm being selfish, he told himself, shoving away a dusty five-hundred year old book on Arthurian legends and picking up one that was six-hundred years old and even dustier to replace it. It's not fair of me to expect her to drop everything just because I'm ready for her to.

He scowled at Ron and Hermione, who were having an obviously enjoyable verbal sparring session. Harry bit his tongue, not eager to alienate his friends so soon after winning them back.

He looked up at the portrait hole a second before it swung open, admitting Ginny and Dean. They were obviously having a serious conversation, for Ginny wore a scowl that would have made Harry steer very clear of her. But Dean persisted in his side of the conversation, to the point that Ginny said something short but unmistakably harsh. She walked away, leaving Dean looking very hurt. Harry abandoned his research and walked over to him.

"You okay, Dean?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Water off a duck's back, right?"

Harry could tell that it wasn't water off a duck's back, that Dean had been badly hurt by whatever Ginny had said.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth," Harry said. "Ginny's not-"

"-herself," Dean finished for him. "Yeah, I know. It's not fair, though," he added.

"What isn't?"

"Well, just as you pull your head out of your rear end, Ginny..." Dean tailed off, seemingly suddenly realising what he was about to say. Harry grinned.

"She's got a right to be angry with me," Harry said diplomatically. "It's not fair of her to take it out on other people, but she's got a furious temper on her. I should know," he added with a rueful grin.

Dean blinked in surprise.

"Harry, she's not angry with you," he said slowly.

"Of course she is," Harry said.

"Not really," Dean said. "She's upset and confused, not angry. She needs time."

"She can take all the time she wants," Harry said.

"You mean..." Dean began, looking nervous.

"I mean I'm not going anywhere," Harry said quietly. "I'll wait for as long as it takes, as long as she needs. I made the mistake of giving up on her once before. I won't do it again."

*

Ginny had arrived in her room ready to scream at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, her roommate Beth had been curled up in bed with a headache. Ginny had to settle for a small groan as she realised that her bag, with all of her work, was still down in the common room where she'd left it when Dean had grabbed her and dragged her off for a walk.

Another walk where he told me how good it'd be for Harry and me to get back together. Thanks, Dean. I'll make up my own mind about that. Who I date is my business, not anyone else's.

She walked back downstairs, ready to go back to her room if there was the slightest sign of Dean - or Harry - waiting for her in the common room.

She opened the door at the foot of the stairs a few inches, and peered around the edge to see if Harry or Dean were still there.

They were, and they were talking to one another.

Probably about me, Ginny thought fiercely, suddenly furious at them both. Is Harry too scared to talk to me himself? Has he been getting Dean to sound me out?

Even as she thought it, Ginny knew that it was unlikely.

Harry's not a coward. Stupid, misguided, insensitive and a royal pain in the arse, but he's not a coward.

Still furious, but also somewhat curious, Ginny strained to hear what Harry and Dean were saying.

Dean thinks I'm not angry with Harry? What does he know? She thought angrily.

A lot, she admitted as Dean expanded on his reasoning. That's not fair. I need to keep Harry away from me until I can work out what I feel for him now. If Dean tells him everything that we ever talked about, Harry can just say what I want him to say, and I'll never know if he means it or not.

But Dean didn't say any more, didn't reveal what he and Ginny had discussed at length several times since Halloween. Instead, Harry simply said that he was prepared to wait for her, as long as it took.

That's only fair, Ginny thought with a feeble flare of anger. I've been waiting for him all this time...

It was a traitorous thought, at odds with the image that Ginny tried to project to the world and to herself. But it was true, she had to admit.

I never got over Harry. I have been waiting for him all this time. I can't hate him. And now he's leaving the next step up to me.

What do I do?

Confused, with her homework completely driven from her mind, Ginny walked slowly back up the stairs to her dormitory.

*

Lucius Malfoy sat unmovingly behind the defence table. His lawyer harangued and harassed, objected and retracted. It was a masterful performance and Lucius had felt at times as though he should have been applauding. Certainly the lawyer did not believe a single thing he had said.

Why should he? Lucius thought idly, as the lawyer brutalised Mad-Eye Moody on cross-examination. The man's been a Death Eater longer than I have.

For all of the man's vigorous performance, however, Lucius knew that the key to victory did not lie in his legal abilities. Neither did it lie in whether the Ministry could prove Lucius guilty of leading the attack on Hogsmeade a year before.

Lucius looked up at the rows of Ministry witches and wizards arrayed in the semi-circular amphitheatre above him. He wondered briefly who among them had been bribed by the Death Eaters, but knew that it wasn't important.

Everyone has their price, after all, Lucius thought, careful to keep any trace of amusement from his face as Moody limped furiously from the stand, his evidence against Malfoy thoroughly discredited. Briefly, Lucius wondered whether he would have been as well off in choosing not to hand over tens of thousands of Galleons in bribes, but one look at the front row of the gallery was enough to convince him otherwise.

The front row had been dubbed the Untouchables in Lucius' mind. They were people who, for whatever reason, would not accept the money that Lucius' allies would offer. People like Fudge, for example, who almost made up for in morals and integrity what he lacked in intelligence and courage. Arthur and Percy Weasley were others. Too poor to even dream of the sort of money Lucius could afford to spend on a new set of robes, they were also blinded by their unfailing loyalty to Dumbledore.

Amelia Bones... Lucius paused and smiled a private, internal smile. What is it now, Amelia? Thirty years? Thirty-five? A long time, certainly. You have lost your looks, but none of your passion, it seems. And you expected something afterwards. Silly girl, now a stupid woman.

Lucius looked along the row. He sincerely hoped that the Dark Lord would listen to him on his release. It had been a long, lonely year, but it had given him a lot of time to plan. And his greatest plan would see the removal of the Untouchables. They would sow further chaos amidst the ranks of the already fragmenting Ministry, and there would be nothing simpler than for someone - Me, perhaps? - new to be installed as the new Minister of Magic.

The defence rested. Fudge stood, and called for a vote. Malfoy projected a degree of worry onto his face as his eyes floated over the crowd. One or two people looked directly at him, coolly acknowledging some link to him, although whether that was his gold resting in their pocket, or their belief that they would play a part in his sentencing to life in Azkaban he didn't know.

The hands rose up. The Untouchables and maybe a third of the rest of the court voted for his imprisonment. Then Fudge called for a show of hands for those in favour of Lucius' acquittal. More hands rose, some quickly, some uncertainly. Malfoy's heart skipped a beat.

It was close.

But...

"You're a free man," his lawyer whispered. "Congratulations."

"I never doubted it," Lucius said, rising and nodding austerely to the court. Turning, he presented his manacled wrists to a guard, and the cuffs were unlocked. He rubbed his wrists, scowling at the worn skin that the manacles had left behind.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are free to go," Fudge announced. "Malfoy Manor will be reopened for you and your accounts will be unfrozen," he added.

"And my wand, Fudge?" Lucius replied, glaring at the Minister with a loathing he now didn't try and conceal.

"Your wand will be returned to you tomorrow morning," Fudge replied, earning himself a small amount of respect in Lucius' eyes for holding his gaze without quailing.

"I look forward to it," Lucius said, so quietly that no one else could hear. "I have some big plans to start work on."

To be continued...