Harry Potter and the Chains that Bind

Chapter 4 - The Hat Sings

The sun had set, and the sky was relinquishing its hold on the last streaks of violet as Harry glanced through the window, watching the landscape of northern England fly by at a considerable place. He saw without seeing; lost in his thoughts regarding the past year and the one immediately to come. He was on the down-cycle now, still having problems coming to terms with Sirius's death, and his role in it, though he supposed that he was as over it as he would be for the moment. That realization allowed him to focus his attention on other things, which he knew would be necessary in the ever-increasing difficulty of his sixth year.

Being back with his friends helped, and Harry felt as relaxed as he had in a long time when he settled into the crowded train car with Ron, Hermione, Luna Lovegood, Ginny and Dean Thomas, and Neville. Neville was proudly showing off his new wand.

"Give it a wave!" Dean encouraged.

"In a bit...I want to get uh, used to it." Hermione leaned in and whispered so only Harry could hear her.

"He's afraid to find out if his magic will get better or worse." Harry looked to Neville.

"Say, Neville, do you have more of that potion you made for my eyes? I think it may be working."

"Really? That's great! I'm sure I've got more, and if I don't, I can make some...I've been making all the potions I can this summer, and I think I might be getting the hang of it!" Neville beamed at Harry, Hermione, and Luna.

Luna looked slightly more normal, at least by Luna Lovegood standards, and though she was still definitely an oddball; Harry had not forgotten their conversation at the end of last year. He'd asked her to continue with the D.A. as well, and she seemed as enthusiastic as she ever got. She was reading a Quibbler, only this time it was upside-right. Harry asked her about this as soon as he noticed.

"Well of course, silly! It's a Saturday." Harry didn't know what she meant by that, and he decided not to ask.

His every pocket bulged with dozens of chocolate frogs that the Weasley twins had given him. Based solely on their source, he was slightly concerned about whether or not to open them, and eating them was a fifty-fifty proposition that had him waffling between a bit of moribund curiosity and the near-certainty that they had been "adjusted" at some point in time. Ron had suggested giving one to an under-classmen first, and that sat well with Harry.

Across from him, Hermione was carrying on about the new Temporalism classes that were to be offered to select students. He had been mildly surprised himself to discover an entirely new discipline being offered to them so late in their schooling. He'd been able to find only one book that had mentioned it in Sirius's extensive library. According to Ridiculously Difficult Magic, and the Dolts Insane Enough to Try It; it was a very tricky and dangerous branch of magic. He knew a few of the students invited: Ron, Hermione, Cho, Padma and Parvati Patil, Ernie Macmillan, and a Slytherin named Theodore Nott. There had to be more, but Harry didn't know who they were. He wasn't even all to keen to learn a new branch of magic this late, but he didn't want to be left out of a class with Ron and Hermione. A voice inside his head, one he preferred not to believe was Dumbledore's, told him that he was invited into the class for a reason.

Motion at the edge of his vision drew him from his introspection. Malfoy and one of his goons...Crabbe, Harry guessed, though he couldn't tell from his angle, walked by, pausing slightly. Harry knew they wouldn't dare do anything to him with anyone around, let alone a group of D.A. peers, most of whom had participated in sending the sixth-year Slytherin home in a suitcase at the end of last year. His mental diversion now over, Harry returned his attention to Hermione, who was still talking. After a moment or two, he realized she had asked him a question and he had no idea what it was.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said why do you think they're allowing us to take this so late?"

Harry shrugged. The thought had often crossed his mind, but then, that really wasn't his decision to make. He had to accept or deny the class; it was up to someone else to offer it. "I suppose we'll find that out when we get there."

"What I want to know is why they even let me in," interjected Ron. "After all, it isn't as if I'm some super brain, or something, is it? What could I have that they were looking for?"

"I've been reading a bit more," Hermione said, leaning forward in her seat. "It's very heavily based on logic and causality. You should do loads better than most of us there, with all your chess."

"Mmmmaybe," Ron mumbled. Harry could see what had tripped Ron up. When Hermione leaned forward, they could get a fairly good peak down her shirt. Harry knew Ron was doing his best to look her in the eyes, and if he was anything like Harry, he was not doing well. Hermione leaned back quickly.

"Honestly! Get a good enough look?"

"Er...no?" Ron said unabashedly. He was turning red; mostly, Harry thought, because of the other people in the car. For their parts, it seemed as if they were trying desperately not to get involved, and failing just as miserably as Harry and Ron had on their end.

"Git!"

Ron took the opportunity to busy himself with a chocolate frog, which to Harry's surprise was pinkish-red.

"You're eating more chocolate frogs...and what is that?"

"It's new," Ron said. "Cherry!"

"It looks rather like you've got a mouthful of bloody bits," said Luna, in her characteristically blunt way.

"Well," Ron replied, "feel free to not watch, if it makes you nervous."

Harry closed his eyes and let the bickering continue. Unlike that of the Dursleys, his friends' friendly banter was calming. In the past, he'd yelled at them when they argued among themselves; now, as long as it sounded friendly, it was a source of comfort to him. Hermione and he talked about Temporalism, the D.A., and she hinted about his pending Occlumency classes, but overall, the trip was a lazy one. About half-way into the trip Hogwarts, Harry remembered his mother's wand. He pulled it from his inside pocket, and unwrapped the parchment around it.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione leaned forward again, looking at the wand intently. "Is that it?"

"Yeah, my mother's...I was afraid to do anything with it until I got here...I didn't polish it or anything." Hermione dug through her pockets, which on occasions resembled Hagrid's in that they were loaded with who-knew-what. With a smile, she produced a jar of Wendell's Wondrous Wand Wipe, and flipped the top with a practiced hand. A moment later, Lily Potter's wand was gleaming as it had the day it was new. Hermione handed it back, looking expectantly at him as he waved it experimentally. Luna, and Neville, were watching him as well, and Ginny and Dean managed to tear their eyes away from each-other long enough to see what he was doing. Harry was a bit suspicious that the only reason they were so engaged was because it made Ron furious.

"Go on then," Hermione said, "let's see it then!" Harry laughed, and Hermione scowled. "What? You don't have anything to worry about, I know it's not your wand!"

"It's not that," Harry said, "it's just that's the first thing you said to me, the first time we ever saw you."

"Blimey! It is, isn't it?" Ron said, smiling broadly. "That seems like so long ago. Well, go on then, give it a flick!"

"I'm not sure what to..." Harry started, then remembered that Mister Olivander had mentioned once that it was good for charms.

"Er...Wingardium Leviosa."

Dean rose into the air, looking around nervously at his friends below. Harry had never levitated a person before, even though Ron had once managed a troll's club that was probably twice the weight of the solidly-built Londoner.

"Looks like it works, Harry, but I can't say I like it up here."

Harry lowered him. The wand didn't feel like his, though it was hard to describe how it was different. As they rode along through England and into Scotland, he tried as many small spells as he could think of; though nothing bigger than a summoning charm that sent six quills screaming at him, only to lodge in the wall as he leapt away. He managed to bash his head in the process, and two of the quills pinned the side of his robe to the seat back.

"Great idea that, summoning a bunch of quills," Ron said. "It's a bit like summoning arrows, hey?" He was close to snickering, although Hermione still looked horrified and Dean and Ginny, shocked. Luna had what could have been a look of amusement on her face; it was certainly something different than the normal vacant mask. Neville had been sleeping, and was staring blearily, trying to figure out what happened.

Harry took this as a sign that he should stop casting magic. As near as he could tell, the wand was almost as good as his...good enough to use it in a pinch, anyway. He returned the quills to their various owners and spent the rest of the trip in and out of restless dreams. He couldn't remember them later; only that every time he awoke he was anxious.

When at last they arrived at Hogwarts, they took their seats and waited for the sorting to begin. Harry noticed immediately how different so many people looked, though he couldn't imagine they'd all changed in such a short time. As with Hermione, he must have simply not noticed until he'd spent some time away.

This was the fifth time that Harry had heard the Sorting Hat's song; his second year he missed it to a whomping willow. He was always a little amazed at the hat's creativity, but then he'd seen where the hat lived, and he suspected that things in Dumbledore's office got smarter simply by proximity.

The students hushed one by one as waves of "Silence!" and "Listen!" spread through the Great Hall. When at last the room was totally still, the rip in the brim curled as if in a smile, and then the hat's reedy voice rang out:

Oh, a thousand years or more ago, before our castle stood,

Some fine young friends decided that a school would be good,

They found a lovely lake and woods, they schemed and planned it out,

And that my friends, is how our dear old Hogwarts came about!

Then they added classrooms, and the hallowed Quidditch Pitch,

And the very finest teachers, for the finest mage and witch!

From every region, land and clime, our fellow students came,

And each one wanted schooling, but each was not the same-

For knowledge drove the Ravenclaws, the sharpest of the mind,

And Gryffindor was fond of saying "Leave no friends behind!"

Slytherin's ambition was the wind that drove the storm,

And Hufflepuff, the kindest heart; she kept the hearthstone warm!

Oh Hufflepuff! Oh Slytherin! Oh Ravenclaw and Gryffindor!

Some demanded fewer in, and some demanded many more.

They talked it out amongst them, but of course could not decide

So searched for some fair way that they could bridge this great divide.

But who should enter in our school, and learn within its halls?

What value should the four espouse? What banners top the walls?

How this problem vexed them all and needed to be solved!

And just to help them out a bit, that's when I got involved!

For when you place me on your head, I'll peek inside your ears,

I'll ferret out your fondest hopes and likewise deepest fears,

I'll open up the windows and I'll unlock all the doors,

So step right up and try me on - and I'll tell which house is yours!

Now, before I'm done I'll warn you, as I've warned you in the past,

It's only those who hold together, who in the end will last!

Please do not let the pride of your division start the year,

We were all divided, in our past, but we are all together, here.

As usual, the students clapped their approval, but Hermione turned to Ron and said quietly "I much preferred last year's. Do you suppose he re-used an old one?"

"Well," Ron replied, "after a thousand years I suppose you get to reuse things once or twice, don't you? I thought it went well. Nice little bit about sticking together at the end there, wasn't it?"

"Look," Neville said, pointing to the instructors' table. "There's that Auror from the Ministry...Shacklebolt, right?"

"Kingsley," Harry said, automatically. "I heard he was teaching Defense this year."

"It'll be nice to have a proper teacher for a change," Seamus remarked, "and none of this criminal in disguise, or fat mad cow, or werewolf." He caught the look on Hermione's face and quickly added "all though Professor Lupin was good, you know; the boggart and all." Hermione was looking at the handsome dark-haired professor between Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick.

"And that must be Professor Walken."

"Who?" Ron asked, gazing intently at Lavender Brown, who had changed nicely over the summer.

"Our Temporalism teacher! Do you pay attention to anything besides girls?"

"Well, you're a girl!" Ron said.

"That's hardly the response I was looking for." She turned her attention back to the staff table. "I thought he was older?"

"Doesn't look a day over twenty, if you ask me," Harry said, though he too was watching a girl, in his case Parvati Patil. He'd never noticed how large and green her eyes were. He'd gotten lost in Padma's hair during his O.W.L.s, and her sister's was just as mesmerizing now. He found himself wandering in his thoughts, drifting in the smells, murmurs, and sounds of the Great Hall. He was often mad: mad at Dumbledore, mad at the Dursleys, mad at Voldemort. He was mad that his ticket was already written. He was mad that other people ran his life. But there were times like this when Harry could not be mad. He could not let the peaceful chaos of the Great Hall become a thing of the past. He couldn't let the wizards and witches here suffer because he was selfish. They were cruel, yes, and many of them didn't even like him, but Harry supposed that's the way it was with the muggle police as well. He felt he had earned the right to be selfish, but he knew that he didn't have the ability. Selfish was just not in his nature.

He sat, idly sipping pumpkin juice and peacefully observing nearly everything around him. No individual voices jumped out at him, nothing caught his eye. Quidditch, the D.A., his Potions class, and a new and not entirely welcome interest in the girls around him danced through his thoughts. Before he knew it, the sorting was over and Dumbledore was speaking.

"Yes, yes, I'm excited too! I would like to take this opportunity to introduce our new Professors. Professor Ambrose Walken will be teaching Temporalism and will be handling your apparition lessons, and Professor Kingsley Shacklebolt has agreed to assist us with our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Yes, thank you, give them both a hand...I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is called 'Forbidden' because it is, and I encourage you to explore and take advantage of all student clubs and associations." There was a quiet wave of mumbling throughout the Great Hall, and Dumbledore raised one hand regally.

"I am aware that certain 'decrees' were handed down during the last school year. Since the High Inquisitor has seen fit not to return, I must assume that she no longer feels the need to impose such important restrictions." There were a few snickers among the students; though not, Harry noticed, among the Slytherins.

"Therefore," Dumbledore continued, "all bans, restrictions, and bad things imposed during the last year by our illustrious Inquisitor are hereby repealed." Harry could have sworn Professor Dumbledore looked directly at him when he said "all bans". He took that to mean he was allowed back in Quidditch, and that the D.A. was no longer illegal.

"I have nothing further to say, except that there are many new varieties of confectionary available to those of you with the desire, and I encourage you try them all!"

As soon as the feast was over, they filed to their respective dormitories, led by their prefects. Ron and Hermione were still prefects, but Harry didn't have any real first-night responsibilities, so he walked more slowly with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. They were discussing Divination, and Harry gathered from their conversation that Firenze was still teaching. Lavender liked Trelawney as a teacher, though she was still quite stricken with Firenze, and Parvati preferred the centaur classes. They both tuned on him just as they reached the Fat Lady.

"Who would you rather have?" Lavender asked, "Professor Trelawney?"

"Or Firenze?" Parvati added.

"Neither," said Harry. "I'm not even taking it." Lavender looked stunned.

"But...don't you want to see your future?"

"Oh, sure!" He said. "Excuse me, Voldemort, but would you mind holding off on that Avada Kedavra until I can get these tea-leaves read? Thanks old chum! Ooh, bad news, looks like you're going to burn your nose tomorrow morning."

"Harry!" Lavender said, "I'm serious! What if you could see something that could help you against You-Know-Who? What if you could see the future?" Later, Harry wasn't quite sure what made him do what came next. He leaned forward, between Parvati and Lavender so only they could hear him, and whispered.

"What if I told you there was a prophecy about me?"

"Don't be silly," Lavender said, "loads of people can claim that." She must have known that was true, but she nonetheless looked as if she were having a hard time concealing her excitement.

"Sure," Harry said, "but think of the things I've done already. Think of the things I might do." Lavender was now enraptured, and she stared at Harry with her huge, blue eyes. Parvati had a strange sort of half smile on her face.

"Tell me!" Lavender breathed.

"Oh," said Harry. "I can't do that...er...you might be the one in the prophecy." He looked at Parvati, who was smiling outright now. "Or you. I've got to...er...keep it to myself until I'm sure."

"When will you be sure?" Parvati asked, her voice a lilting laugh.

"I don't know! But you can't say anything about it." He leaned forward again; this time he could smell Lavender, who didn't, on the whole, smell bad. "You have to keep it secret. Who knows who could be listening?" Harry looked around rather theatrically, which was, of course, how Lavender did everything. Neville happened to be directly behind them.

"Hello, Harry. Hello Lavender. Parvati. What's up?"

"Nothing," said Lavender haughtily. "We're discussing private things."

"Right," Harry said, "the prophecy."

"You're telling them about the prophecy?" Neville asked, curiously. Harry took advantage of the girls' blindside by winking at Neville.

"I only told them that there was one," He said, "I didn't tell them what it was, yet. Because you know, it might be about them too."

"Good thinking," Neville replied. Harry was pleased that he'd caught on, and Neville continued. "It could be dangerous; if it's not really them it's about. They could go mad!"

"Right," Harry nodded, looking at Lavender and Parvati with what he hoped was a concerned and loving look on his face, "and I couldn't have that."

"But Longbottom knows!" Lavender wailed. Parvati looked as if she was having a very difficult time repressing a laugh.

"Of course!" Harry said. "He's in it!"

"Neville is...Now you've got to tell us!"

"We can't," Neville said, getting fully into Harry's game. "If you're not the...uh...the ones, it would be dangerous."

"Yeah," Harry added, "and you can't talk about it either. It's very important that you keep it to yourself. I mean, you know that, you've read all about prophecies; if you talk about one with someone who isn't supposed to know, terrible things could happen!" Of course, Lavender would never admit that there was something about Divination she hadn't read, and judging by the Divination books that Harry had seen; it was highly probable that someone had written that very thing. The chances were equally high that the same author had said the exact opposite shortly thereafter.

"Well, when can you tell us?"

"Oh," Neville said, really starting to relish his role, "only after we're sure you're the ones in it."

"The ones for what?" Parvati asked, containing herself admirably.

"We can't tell you that either," Harry said. "Not yet. We'll tell you when we're sure though. If we're sure."

"You...oh!" Lavender threw her arms up in exasperation, and spun on her heels, hurrying through the portal behind the Fat Lady's painting. Parvati followed, giggling under her breath. Harry and Neville made their way through the crowded common room and up to their dormitory.

"That was great!" he said, laughing all the way. "But er...why did you do it?"

"I dunno," said Harry. "It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Did you see Lavender's face?"

"She was fit to burst!" Neville laughed. "And I think Parvati fancies you."

"Me?"

"Didn't you see how she was looking at you? She thought it was hilarious!"

"You thought it was hilarious. That doesn't mean you fancy me."

"You're blind, mate," Neville laughed. "Are we going to tell anyone else about this?"

"Nah," Harry replied, "think they'll keep their mouths shut?"

"I think Lavender wouldn't dare say anything! I'm pretty sure Parvati knows it was a joke...I hope she keeps it to herself!" By then they'd reached their room, and mutually decided to let the subject drop around Dean and Seamus, who were animatedly discussing the Tornados' chance of repeating their championship run. They barely glanced at Harry and Neville, and their conversation never paused. Out of habit, Harry emptied his pockets on his bedside table, creating a large pile of chocolate frogs that he had forgotten completely about. Harry grabbed a few of those the Weasley brothers had given him, and borrowed one from Neville that he knew was safe, and returned to the common room.

"Hello Harry!" Colin Creevey shouted from across the room. Echoes of "Harry!" and "Hello!" flew from various mouths around the room, and Harry did his best to dutifully return them all. Ron and Hermione were busy with the new students, and Harry found himself wondering if he had looked that small and lost when he was a first year. He pulled Neville's chocolate frog from his pocket and opened it, making sure a few people noticed. When he was sure some of the lower classmen were watching, he pulled the other two from his pocket and offered them to a few second years he didn't know, shoving the empty packages back into his robe pocket. Ron caught his eye and smiled approvingly over Hermione's head. When nothing had happened to them after nearly an hour, Harry deduced that they were probably fit for consumption. He made it through the rest of the night, and trod wearily back to his bed long after he probably should have.

Harry Potter was back home.

The next day at breakfast, a student Harry had never seen stopped across from him, where Ron was sitting.

"Do you mind?" He asked, with a strong American accent.

"Uh, not at all," Ron said, motioning to his left. The American sat, and Harry couldn't help but stare. He was tall, even bigger than Ron and broader than the twins. He had light brown, nearly gold eyes and sandy blonde hair that hung on either side of his face and was tied loosely back. The stranger noticed Harry staring and extended a hand across the table.

"Connor Colier. Pleased to meet you."

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Connor simply nodded. It was odd for someone to be introduced to Harry and not make a scene about it, and Harry wasn't sure whether he should be thankful or miffed. He noticed what looked like scars running up the insides of Connor's arms, but he didn't want to stare. He knew how annoying it was to have a conspicuous scar. Connor merely smiled at him and turned to Ron.

"Ron, is it?"

"Yeah, that's right. How did you know?"

"You're a prefect, aren't you? I heard your name last night after the sorting."

Was he sorted last night? Harry cursed himself for not paying attention. If he'd have been watching at all he'd have caught it, since Connor was at least his age. He wondered where the boy was sleeping; since he hadn't been in the sixth-year dorm the night before. He was about to ask when Hermione arrived. She sat next to Harry, who wasn't paying a bit of attention, and whispered something in his ear.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said why is he sitting here?" Harry looked at Hermione.

"Why? Is there something wrong with him?"

"No! Not at all! I was just wondering why he was here with us." She looked around. "Every girl within forty feet fancies him."

"I didn't need to know that," Harry said.

"Well! Just look at him..." The look on Harry's face silenced her, and she squirmed uncomfortably.

"Are you ill?" Ron asked Hermione, trying his best to ignore Connor and the stares he was generating.

"I'm fine," she said, looking at the table.

"You don't look fine," Harry said.

"That's not something you ask a girl, Ron. And that's not something you tell a girl, Harry." Harry looked up to see Ginny, who was speaking to him but staring at Connor. Seamus Finnigan stood behind her, also staring at Connor, though probably for a different reason. The look on his face was clear. Harry felt that this was going to be a rough year for an American, at least among the boys at Hogwarts. Connor either didn't notice or didn't care.

Halfway through the meal, Hermione left. Harry was going to follow her, but she shoo'd him away. He spent the rest of the meal pushing food around aimlessly, and left before it was over, heading back up to the dormitories. When he got there, he went straight to his bed and immediately fell asleep.

Scraping and a bang awoke him several hours later. Connor was standing before a bed that wasn't there when Harry had fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry Harry," Connor said. "I tried to be quiet..."

"No," Harry said, "don't worry. I shouldn't be sleeping now anyway." Connor stared at him so intently that Harry got the impression that he was looking through him.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay? Seems like there's something going around."

"I'm fine. I just need...er...something. I don't know what."

"What's with all the plants?" Connor nodded at a bedside bureau that was covered with a variety of foliage. Harry was pleased to notice the Ghost Plant that he'd sent Neville earlier.

"Those are Neville Longbottom's. He's really good at Herbology."

"There are some American plants there. I wonder if he knows that."

"I gave him the Ghost Plant myself," Harry said. "He seemed to know all about it, after a bit of looking."

"I don't know much about Ghost Plants. There are some other American breeds there, though," Connor said, "goldenseal...leopard's bane...that's something I'm into myself. Maybe I'll run into him later. Those are some nice boots." Connor nodded at the boots the Weasley twins had given him.

"Yeah," said Harry, "I guess. I don't know if they're my thing, really."

"Are you kidding? Those are choice!"

"I dunno," Harry said doubtfully. Connor winked at him.

"Boots like that will get the women. You should give them a try. May I?"

"Sure," Harry replied, "But I don't know if they'll fit..." He stopped as Connor easily pulled them on and slide stepped backwards and forwards, almost as if he were dancing. He glanced at them appreciatively, and then dropped backwards onto his bed and pulled them off, handing them back to Harry.

"I'll tell you what, if you ever want to get rid of them..." He shrugged and turned back to his chest. Harry watched him go though his things absently until the merest flash of silver caught his eye. Anyone else may not have caught it, but Harry had the eyes of a seeker, and he recognized it right away. Connor didn't look back or give any sign at all that he suspected he was being watched; he simply continued to move things around. There was some quiet clunking that made Harry think of blocks of wood sliding around, and then Connor stood up, stretching impressively. He still had a pile of clothing on his bed, but it looked to be standard fare robes, trousers, shirts, jumpers, and the like. Harry was going to go back to sleep when a funny looking moth flittered into the window and rested on his shoulder. He looked at it curiously until it spoke to him, in Luna Lovegood's voice.

"Come outside, Harry, It's nice out here."

"Er...do I talk to you?" He asked it. Connor looked over his shoulder, pausing with some shiny green and blue robes in his hands. He wasn't the first person to look at Harry as if he was crazy, but he was the first this year.

"Excuse me?" the American said. Harry pointed to the moth on his shoulder.

"Of course you do silly!" the moth replied. "Why would I go to all this trouble to make a bug that didn't work properly?"

"Well, uh..." Harry stammered, looking at Connor. "Give me a few?"

"Okay," the moth said, "but you'd better come out! We're all waiting!" It flitted away lazily, and Harry and Connor stared at each other for a few moments before either spoke.

"So," Harry began, "you're sixth year?"

"Yeah. I'm seventeen, but I got started late."

"I see. Why did you come here from America?"

"I, uh, can't really tell you that, Harry. Sorry."

"Ah, okay then. What is it you do? What are you taking?"

"Well, I'm a Wind Dancer." Seeing the look on Harry's face, he explained. "It's a kind of magic for, um, people who aren't very good at magic."

"You mean squibs?"

"No, not really. More like people who are really good at one or two things and not much good at anything else. It's hard to explain."

"Well, what classes will you be in?"

Connor took a small piece of parchment from the table next to his bed, "Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Charms, Astronomy, and...uh...Transfiguration." He said the last bit as if he wasn't very happy about it.

"You don't want to take Transfiguration?"

"Does it seem to you that Dumbledore is a little to optimistic about students, sometimes?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said idly while he considered the question; he didn't know how to answer it. On the one hand, yes, he thought the old man expected entirely too much out of his students, believing that some of them were capable of extraordinary things with little or no evidence to suggest it. On the other hand, Harry desperately wanted to believe that Dumbledore was expecting things that he fully felt were reasonable. He had to, didn't he? His situation sort of depended on it.

"I don't really know. I don't think so. Why?"

"I am destined to fail most heinously. Transfiguration is the wrong place for a not-very-magical wizard."

"Well," Harry said, "there're loads of people who aren't in it. Couldn't you just drop it and take something else? And why History?"

"History is something I do well in. Better than Transfiguration! I'm afraid Charms may be almost as bad, although I'm pretty good at a few of those."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't speak, and Connor didn't elaborate, so he decided to change the subject.

"Can I ask you a question about something?" Conner nodded.

"This may sound stupid, but does it involve actual dancing? You know...the magic?"

"Yeah, it does. Well, sometimes." Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't nearly the political animal that some of the students were, and he was genuinely curious to find out what he'd seen.

"I saw it when you put it in your chest. Was that what it looks like?"

Connor thought for a bit before he answered.

"Probably."

"It's well hidden, I hope?" Connor looked at the ground for a bit before he spoke. Harry hoped he wasn't thinking of ways to dispose of him after he'd cut him into pieces.

"Yeah. There's a fake bottom. You won't tell anyone, will you? Dumbledore knows, but I think he'd be pretty upset if he thought anyone found out."

"I'll keep it to myself," Harry said. He now felt that he had something in common with the American, and it lightened the tension between them. That didn't mean, however, that he wouldn't ask Dumbledore about it the first chance he got. Harry knew enough about the old wizard to know that he would never hold it against Connor that someone else noticed something off about him.

"Bit dangerous, don't you think?" In what Harry would later find was Connor's style, the tall American replied.

"Well, that's the point."

Harry Potter and the Chains that Bind

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