Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch

CHAPTER FOUR

~ The Wizard life ~

"Had a nice sleep Harry?' Ron asked when they had awoken the next morning.

Harry grinned as he pulled on one of Dudley's old, grey and very large sweaters. "Yeah, sure beats sleeping at the Dursleys." he replied.

It was true. That morning, he had woken up feeling more refreshed than he had for ages. Granted, he had still woken up once from a nightmare with his scar throbbing, but with the comfort of being back in the wizarding world and near his friends again, Harry was able to get back to sleep quite easily - apart from the little problem of Ron's snoring, that is, Harry reminded himself with a snigger.

He voiced that thought aloud. "Though, your snoring sounds pretty similar to Dudley's." he said impishly, avoiding the wayward pair of knitted socks heading straight for his head.

Ron sniffed, almost sounding like Hermione. "Don't compare me to that quivering heap of lard," he complained, opening their door to walk outside.

Yawning widely and stepping over the socks, Harry made no comment, but just smiled as he followed Ron out their door for breakfast. Hermione and Ginny were already waiting for them halfway down the hall.

"Alright there Harry?" greeted Ginny, unfortunately at the same time Hermione asked, "Did you sleep alright?"

Ignoring Ron's soft snigger, Harry snapped indignantly, "I was alright after being asked the first time by Ron, but if people keep on asking me the same question over and over again, I won't be."

Hermione looked abashed but Ginny just shrugged non-commitedly, a movement that creepily resembled both Fred and George's mannerisms, and reminded Harry about her troublemaking tendencies last year at school.

"Ok, we promise we won't ask you again," said Ginny, smirking as she added, "Can't say the same for mum though. You know how she is-"

"-Especially when she's worried about Ronniekins little friend Harry." Fred interrupted, grinning as he appeared from behind them with George.

Ron grimaced at the hated nickname, and began to snap back loudly, "I AM NOT-"

"Oh, hush Ron," reprimanded Hermione, whacking him on the shoulder and frowning. "We don't want Mrs Black to hear us ... Especially after what happened last time."

To Harry's amusement, Ron snapped his mouth shut with a sheepish expression. Obviously, Ron had done some blunder or something in the past, which had involved that old hag. He'd have to force it out of Hermione afterwards, Harry promised himself silently, with a grin.

"Right then." mumbled Ron, his face reddening slightly. "How bout we go get breakfast?"

The others all nodded their agreement, and together they quietly made their way down to the kitchen. Mrs Weasley was already bustling about the kitchen as they walked in, and Mr Weasley was at the dinner table, reading the latest Daily Prophet newspaper.

With a start, Harry remembered the article he had sent to the newspaper. It should be in the newspaper in the next few days, he guessed, sitting down beside Ron and Ginny at the table. He bit his lip anxiously for a moment, thinking what everyone's reaction would be, before noticing the table's other occupants.

On Mr Weasley's right side, were Tonks and Remus; Remus as usual, looking bedraggled and tired, and Tonks looking quite colourful with her short, bright pink hair. On his other side, sat Moody, Kingsley, and a scowling Snape.

Harry raised an enquiring eyebrow at this, and shot a curious look at Ron.

"What the hell is Snape doing here, eating with us?" he whispered menacingly to Ron, but loud enough for Hermione to hear as well, who was sitting on the other side of Ron.

As Ron was too busy shovelling all the available bacon and eggs onto his plate, Hermione answered for him. "It all goes back to you Harry."

Harry was downright confused. "What do you mean? Does it have to do with him coming to get me?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "It does partly, but this all starts before he came to pick you up with Lupin."

"Why'd he come to get me anyway?" interrupted Harry, shooting a suspicious glance at Snape who was brooding over by the table. That had been a question lingering in his mind ever since he had calmed down enough from seeing the greasy git.

Ron laughed through his mouthful of eggs. "That's the thing. He didn't know he had to come get you."

"What do you mean?"

"Uh - since the - the ... thing at the Department of Mysteries, You-know-who-"

Harry interrupted in exasperation. "Voldemort, Ron."

"Yeah - him." Ron acknowledged with a nervous nod. "Anyway, his death eaters have kinda been in his bad books. Letting the boy-who-lived get away again and all that." he sent Harry a sly look.

"And?" Harry prompted impatiently. He really didn't care to dwell on that bit right then. It brought up too many unpleasant thoughts about Sirius and that darn prophecy.

"And as you know, Snape's one of them, so lately he's been lying low ... here at the order headquarters." explained Hermione, continuing the story on for Ron. "So being stuck here with nothing for him to do for so long, the next time the Order had a secret mission or so to speak, he immediately asked if he could go."

"Asked?" Harry couldn't help but repeat doubtfully. He didn't think the word 'ask' was in Snape's vocabulary. Ron seemed to catch his drift and he grinned widely.

"Well it was more like demanding to get out of this dratted house and take part," admitted Ron. "Then apparently, by the time he found out that his mission was to go get you with Lupin, he couldn't back out. He was desperate to get out of the house, and in the end it backfired on him."

"At least he could get out of the house," Harry mumbled darkly, absently playing with his food. "Sirius didn't have the luxury of choosing whether he wanted to be in hiding or not."

Ron gave an uncomfortable cough, and Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but was stopped by a glare from Ron. A silence grew between the three of them, and Harry turned back to his breakfast.

He played with his food for a little while longer, pausing only to take small mouthfuls of his eggs, and to glare at Snape. Snape was definitely putting a damper on things. After shooting everyone the famous Snape glare as they ate, even the twins were subdued for once and were only chattering quietly with Ginny in the corner.

Sighing inwardly, Harry continued to look around the room, feeling as though something was missing. It was only when he caught sight of the doorway leading out to the hallway that it finally hit Harry and he scowled, viciously spearing a piece of bacon.

"Where's that traitor house elf?" he asked, turning his head to look at Ron and Hermione again.

At that question, both Hermione and Ron looked uncomfortable. Eventually Hermione answered, "Well, obviously Dumbledore couldn't release him from this house, so - he - uh transferred Kreacher to Hogwarts, where he'll work with the rest of the house elves. It was really nice of him actually, giving Kreacher a second chance-"

"-Second chance," Ron interrupted heatedly. Obviously this had been discussed before, Harry guessed, watching as Ron dropped his fork in a huff. "Getting someone killed doesn't warrant a second chance, Hermione." Ron continued on. "He deserved to have his head put on a platter like all that other filth in the hallway."

Hermione looked aghast. "Ron! It wasn't his fault. It was the way he was brought up and treated. If you and everyone else had paid more attention to S.P.E.W.-"

Ron interjected. "-It still would have happened. Face it Hermione. He was a rotten egg. There was nothing decent in that filthy elf. Ask Harry."

They both turned to Harry, who narrowed his eyes.

"I agree with Ron, Hermione," he said darkly. "Dobby deserved a second chance in life at Hogwarts, Kreacher doesn't. He deserves to be treated the same way he treated Sirius."

Ron nodded, obviously satisfied, but Hermione looked ready to disagree again. In the end, she must have taken into consideration Harry's feelings because she settled for just taking an extra large bite of her toast, and then began talking to Ginny.

"Harry dear, you really should eat more." said Mrs Weasley suddenly, serving more eggs onto his plate as she re-entered the dining room. Harry shook his head wryly, his bad mood dissipating, as he heard Ginny stifle a laugh. Ginny and the twins had been right, but then again Harry should have known exactly what Mrs Weasley was like by now.

"I'm not feeling really hungry, Mrs Weasley," he replied politely, pushing his plate away from him. "But thank you anyway."

Mrs Weasley tutted in concern, and pushed the plate back. "Why, you must be hungry Harry. You're skin and bones!" she exclaimed. "Those relatives of yours must have been starving you again, by the looks of things."

Harry inwardly smiled at Mrs Weasley's sudden change in her attitude over the Dursleys. It was true that before this year, she hadn't thought much of them, but before she had refrained from ever saying anything negative about them. Now though, that had gone out the window, and she'd been freely talking about their neglect towards him since the day before, when she found out the Dursleys had kicked him out for the rest of the summer.

"Nah, they fed me fine this year," replied Harry, giving up and taking another bite of his eggs. "Just lost my appetite a bit, that's all."

He was careful to avoid Lupin's eyes as he said that, knowing that he and everyone else were discreetly listening in on the conversation. There was just no point in burdening everyone with his problems, especially with bigger fish to fry, like Voldemort. What does one boy's feelings matter anyway? He mentally nodded, now determined to shift the attention away from himself.

Harry cleared his throat purposely. "So what's been happening with Voldemort now?" he asked loudly, ignoring Ron as he spilt pumpkin juice all over his front. ("Oh really, Ron." Hermione huffed.)

It was Lupin that answered guardedly, after sharing a look with Moody who nodded in consent.

"Since the wizarding world have become aware of Voldemort's return," Lupin began, "he and his death eaters have been keeping a low profile. After all, he did lose quite a few of his most loyal death eaters to Azkaban again-"

Harry interrupted in confusion. "-Hang on, why doesn't Voldemort just get those death eaters back?" he asked. "I mean, he's got the Dementors on his side hasn't he?"

Moody nodded gruffly. "Yeah, but they aren't the only ones guarding Azkaban anymore." he answered, his magical eye fixed onto Harry. "Dumbledore has convinced the Ministry to place some Aurors around the prison as well."

"Like Tonks and Kingsley?" Harry guessed, looking in their direction. He wouldn't want to be in their shoes right now, with those Dementors walking about.

'Yes, I'm one of them.' Kingsley replied, smiling grimly. "But not Tonks, as her expertise lies with other things."

"Yep," Tonks grinned wickedly, almost toppling over a jug of milk when she reached for another piece of toast. "Thank goodness I'm not there. Those Dementors give me the creeps." she shuddered.

Harry himself couldn't hold back his own shudder as echoes of his parents, Cedric's (and then sure to be next), Sirius' voice shot through his mind and he closed his eyes momentarily. Each year, it seemed that the Dementors gained more ammo on his worst memories, he thought bitterly.

"Are you alright?" A voice asked, and Harry's eyes shot open in alarm. Lupin, (who was the one to have spoken) was looking at him across the table, as was the rest of the table.

"Yeah," he hastily replied, running a hand through his hair, then looking down at the table. He couldn't stand the way everyone was looking at him; mixtures of pity, and sadness. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Forcing back the lump in his throat that had suddenly appeared, he attempted to ask another question, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

"What else is the Ministry doing to help?"

"They've given the Order complete control over everything." replied Kingsley, "which means that everything goes through Dumbledore, instead of the Minister, which irks Fudge to no avail."

Harry scowled, remembering back to Fudge's letter. "Fudge is a fool," he grumbled darkly.

"Yeah, when are they gonna sack him?" Ron piped up excitedly.

"No one knows." Mr Weasley said quietly, "It's all just rumour at the moment, but they think one more scandal, and he'll be gone."

At that, Harry smirked triumphantly. After the article in the Daily Prophet, Fudge would be out on his butt for the whole wizarding world to see. And boy, did he deserve it.

"Whatcha smirking bout Harry?" Tonks asked. "You could give Snape a run for his money with that look."

Harry quickly wiped the smirk off his face and Snape, who up until then had avoided the conversation, scowled. "I'd appreciate it if you would not use any comparisons between Potter and I." he replied coldly.

"Don't worry, I think it was more of an insult to me than you, Snape." Harry mumbled, quiet enough for Ron to hear. As Ron began to choke with laughter, half-chewed pieces of egg began to fly over the table, and even Harry couldn't contain a smile.

Soon enough, the whole table was chuckling over Ron's antics, except Snape who stalked out of the room, snorting in disgust. Harry thought thankfully that everyone had forgotten about him smirking. It was a selfish action, but this whole incident with Fudge and the Daily Prophet would be a secret until it came out in the newspaper, and he would keep it that way.

When Harry wiped a bit of egg from the tip of his nose, Ron managed to choke out, "Bloody brilliant Harry."

Harry spent the rest of breakfast doing something he had rarely done in the past two months - laughing.

He laughed when Tonks finally succeeded in spilling the milk jug. He laughed when Hermione finally told him how Ron had made Mrs Black scream again. He laughed along with Ron, when the twins attempted to clean up the table with magic again, and ended up with flying plates and cutlery around the room. He even laughed when one of those said plates hit him on the upside of the head and created a large lump.

The wizarding life was so much more interesting than the Muggle world, was all Harry could think about, as he helped to catch one of the flying plates.

~*~

The next day passed in much the same way. Despite Order members going in and out of the house, and a meeting at night, the atmosphere amongst Harry and his friends remained light and he found himself enjoying every minute of it.

So far he had avoided many questions about school, other than Hermione demanding his OWL results, to which he had replied vaguely that he had gotten 7 OWLs. She seemed partly satisfied with that, but had attempted to hound him for hours on what subjects got what score, and what questions he thought he might have bungled. Thankfully, before she could ask about what subjects he would take as well, he was rescued by Moody and his magical eye, which had most likely seen them through the kitchen wall.

Unfortunately, his good mood couldn't last that long, and it was the next night just before dinner that the dreaded subject came up. He had just received his subjects list for sixth year from Lupin, and Hermione jumped onto the subject straight away.

"What subjects are you going to choose this year? You can't do Potions now, which means you can't be an Auror." she rambled on knowingly, not stopping as she moved on to suggest alternative options.

Ron groaned and placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry mate," he said, over Hermione's voice. "My hopes of becoming an Auror were shot down too. Not that I mind anymore. Having another year of potions ..." he trailed off, shuddering.

"Yes well, you wouldn't be able to handle Auror training Ron." Hermione cut in forcefully, and then added in an unusually sweet tone, "I've heard that Auror training involves dealing with every dark creature imaginable."

Harry caught on and he smirked as he nudged Ron. "Hear that Ron? You would probably have come up against an Acromantula at one stage."

Ron paled considerably, and Harry let out a bark of laughter. "Good thing we won't be doing the training then hey?" replied Ron. "I don't know about you, but maybe you can concentrate more on Quidditch now-"

"-Or you can try and keep as many options open as possible, like me." Hermione added firmly and a bit disgruntled as she most likely realised that Harry and Ron hadn't been listening to her, "I still can't decide on what career to take, so I'm taking every class I can take. Without having to use a time-turner that is."

"He shouldn't worry about that. He can just be a Quidditch player, or do some little job at the Ministry. That's what I'll probably end up doing anyway." Ron persisted. "Just do what I'm doing and forget about missing out on potions, 'cause in the end it's way too hard anyway."

"No, but you don't understand." protested Harry. "If I want to kill Voldemort I needed ALL those subjects to ..." he trailed off, realising he had said too much.

"Kill?" asked Ron, confusingly.

"I mean defend myself against him, you know?" Harry hastily corrected, giving a forced laugh. "I mean, me, kill Voldemort? No way. I just think I'm running out of ways to escape him each year."

Ron seemed to be satisfied with that and he laughed too. "Yeah as if you'd be able to kill - You-Know-Who. You're only fifteen."

Harry bit his lip, thinking how wrong Ron was, but not wanting to correct him. Hadn't he been only one when his parents were murdered? Hadn't he been only eleven when he had to face Voldemort a second time. Hadn't he been only fourteen when he watched Cedric die. Hadn't he been only fifteen when-

No, he wasn't too young, but he wasn't about to say that to Ron yet, so instead he forced another laugh, and turned to Hermione, who had been unusually quiet.

"I don't know what I'm going to do Hermione," he answered finally, which was true. Most likely, if he couldn't kill Voldemort, it wouldn't matter what subjects he did at Hogwarts, because he'd be dead. Of course he couldn't tell them that.

As luck had it, he was saved from the torture of choosing subjects as Dumbledore himself came to visit them at the order headquarters that night.

It was the first time since Sirius's death and being told about the prophecy that he had seen Dumbledore. After a feeling of overwhelming anger momentarily rose towards the man (but thankfully disappeared), Harry couldn't help but grimace as Dumbledore sat down next to him to join them for dinner. He felt as though he couldn't say anything other than a brief hello.

The whole dinner was spent remembering every detail of that time spent in Dumbledore's office, ... how he had destroyed all of Dumbledore's possessions, how he had screamed at him ... he had even made Dumbledore cry. What witch or wizard could say they'd made the great Albus Dumbledore cry?

It was with a shameful heart that Harry silently made his way through dinner and dessert ... eating and talking hardly at all. He was really dreading what Dumbledore would say to him the moment when they were alone ... that is if he still wanted to be near Harry at all, especially after what Harry had done.

Harry sighed heavily as he collected his plate and walked over to the kitchen sink. He spent quite a while there (even after he heard Ron and the others go upstairs), attempting to look busy, in the hopes that nobody would notice him gone.

Maybe Dumbledore would just ignore him, like he had done all of last year, Harry thought glumly, drying off his hands with a towel.

"Harry." A soft, commanding voice sounded by the entrance of the dining room, and he slowly turned around. Professor Dumbledore was standing alone, his arm outstretched for Harry to join him and the twinkle absent from his eyes.

Taking note of the absent twinkle, and how old Dumbledore was looking, was a bad sign for Harry and he reluctantly followed Dumbledore into the dining room. They both sat down next to each other, Harry looking determinedly over to the fireplace.

There was silence for a few more moments, before Harry couldn't stand it any longer and he blurted out desperately, "I'm sorry."

The last thing Harry would expect was for Professor Dumbledore chuckle, but that was what he did. "Whatever for, my child?"

Harry's mouth opened wide and he turned his head back to Dumbledore in amazement. How could he not guess already? When he answered, his voice betrayed his incredulity. "For - for destroying your office ... for yelling at - at you, and ..." he stopped in embarrassment,

"Yes?" Dumbledore enquired gently, his lips curling up into an encouraged smile.

"And for making you cry."

"My dear boy." Dumbledore laughed again, a loud laugh, which made Harry doublethink what Dumbledore thought of him. He didn't seem angry, and when he talked to him, it was as though nothing had happened.

"My dear boy." Dumbledore repeated firmly, gaining Harry's attention back. "Those items that you broke in my office mean nothing to me. They are nothing but material possessions. And I do not blame you for being angry. Not then, not now, not ever." he stopped to study Harry through his half-moon spectacles.

"But I hurt you." Harry insisted stubbornly.

"We were all hurting Harry, and it wasn't you that hurt me, nor was it you that made me cry." replied Dumbledore, beginning to search in his deep blue robes for something. With a cry of triumph, he pulled out a bag of lemon drops, and offered one to Harry, who declined politely.

"I cried because I know how hard your life has been Harry ... how much burden has been placed on you, and knowing that I was partly to blame for it. You have had a hard life without your parents - and now without your godfather Sirius. You have been denied many things ... becoming a prefect, having a normal life, the prophecy ... the list goes on."

"It wasn't your fault about the prophecy, Professor." Harry interrupted, feeling numb with shock.

"Alas, as I have said before, I should have told you about it straight away." Professor Dumbledore maintained sadly, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "Sirius may never have had to go to the Department of Mysteries if I had told you all this before."

"No!" Harry replied vehemently. "It wasn't just your fault. It was MY fault Sirius went there, and Snape's-"

"-Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore warned sternly, and then put away his lollies. "But never mind. I am not here for that matter tonight."

Harry nodded thankfully, knowing he tended to get a bit worked up about Snape these days. "Are you here for another Order meeting?" he asked.

"Yes, and no." Dumbledore answered cryptically. "I am here to see you first, then the Order."

"What about?"

"Your sixth year subjects." replied Dumbledore, pointing towards Harry's letter, which he must have picked up from the table. "Professor McGonagall has told me that you wish to become an Auror."

"I wished to become one." Harry corrected bitterly. "I can't now though, 'cause I don't have the right score in Potions."

"Aha, but Professor McGonagall has also informed me that she promised you that she would find anyway possible for you to achieve this goal."

Harry frowned. "But I thought she was only saying that because of Umbridge?"

"No, she believes in you, as do I, that you could become a great Auror," said Dumbledore, smiling as Harry gaped in shock.

"She - you - both of you think I could be an Auror?" spluttered Harry.

Dumbledore gave a faint nod. "That we do, Harry," he answered. 'And that is why we are going to overlook your mark in potions. It was still, after all, quite a good mark." He paused, and his eyes slightly regained their twinkle. "I daresay that you also must be prepared in every way possible when Voldemort comes after you again. These subjects and an Auror career path may be your best option," he added.

"So you mean, I can still become an Auror?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yes Harry, although it is a difficult path."

"As if my life hasn't been difficult already. I can handle it." scoffed Harry, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

"Very well. I am very glad you are happy with this. I will tell Professor McGonagall the good news in the meeting." At this Dumbledore stood up slowly, and embraced Harry's hand warmly. "Do not feel guilty for what has happened Harry. I once told you not to dwell on dreams and forget to live. This is the same. You must move on."

Harry nodded sombrely, but didn't dare say that he couldn't. "I'll try, Professor." He managed to say eventually.

Dumbledore smiled, seeming to notice Harry's inner conflict. "That's all I ask. Good-day."

Watching Dumbledore's back all the way to the Order meeting room Harry was in a state of shock. Thanks to Dumbledore and McGonagall, he could still become an Auror.

He grinned madly as he bounded up the stairs. No doubt, everyone had already heard their conversation with the extendable ears, especially when he caught sight of a red mop of hair skirting around the corner.

Sure enough, when he reached the corner, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins were waiting for him, smiling. Harry inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. He thought for a scary moment that Ron might be jealous that he got special attention again. Thankfully, all that was said by Ron on the matter other than a congratulations was,

"I don't envy you. Snape's gonna have a fit."