Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt 12. Harry's Depression

October brought a brisk coolness to Hogwarts, in stark contrast to the weather of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match, but in sharp accuracy to Harry's mood. After their victory, he had become a little distant with everyone, including Ron and Hermione to some extent, and most stopped joking around with Harry when the habit of one-line answers formed. He didn't mean to come off as irritated, but he just didn't feel much like talking about Quidditch these days. After the match, his nightmares had weakened in their power over him, but they were there nonetheless.

It took the Palone twins to draw Harry out of his slight depression. Nobody could watch the antics of those two and be miserable for long. They had taken to wrestling in the Common Room, and even created a title belt. Once the rest of the first year boys and even some second years joined in on the fun, they created what they called the "24 hour rule", which meant that any participating "wrestler" could attempt to pin the "champion" at any time of the day, so long as a third party was present to confirm the victory.

"Those two," Hermione huffed on evening in midway through October. One of the twins (Harry thought it was Marvin) had used his wand to blast the other into the wall, creating a small hole. Hermione pulled Marvin up by the ear before Dennis Creevey could finish the three count and began to scold him. "Why don't you find something more constructive to do with your time?" she yelled, throwing mean looks at the group of fourth years who were laughing heartily.

The race for the Quidditch Cup had heated up, as Slytherin had absolutely flattened Hufflepuff, and played a very close match against Ravenclaw, in which Harry was happy to see that Cho had nearly beaten Malfoy to the snitch. Angelina started the daily training sessions again. Though nervous at first, Quidditch had once again gained the ability to take Harry's mind off his worries for a time. Fred and George returned to their goofing around in practice, teaching Harry how to deliberately fly past someone and send them into a stomach-churning twist. The first time they did this to Harry, it took them fifteen minutes to find his glasses.

"Got any Grim Reapers?" Ron asked Harry one day in Divination.

"Nope. Go fish," Harry responded. He, Ron, Dean, and Seamus had all combined their tarot decks for a time-killing game of "Go Fish", much to the ire of Professor Trelawney, who was annoyed that they didn't find tarot reading riveting.

"The planets tell me it is time to move on in our search for the truth," she said, casting a look in their direction as Seamus won the game. "In preparation for your O.W.L. examination, we will study what some would consider chance ocurrances. In actuality, when prepared and conducted properly, these instances can give us a view into the events that are to come."

She handed everyone a small bag tied off at the top. When Harry opened his, he was surprised to see it was full of uncooked rice.

"Ahhh," said Ron mystically, "a sure sign that one will wed a pigeon." Harry had to bury his face in his arms to avoid further scolding from Professor Trelawney.

"When you have properly summoned the Fates," she instructed the class, "toss the rice from your Power hand. We will read whatever shapes form, and determine what the Fates are trying to warn us about. It is similar to tea reading, but easier on my cup collection. Salt may also be used, but I found that I am allergic to it."

Seamus caused another fit of laughter by rubbing his bag of rice across his chest and chanting, "Chatta chatta tumbra yumbra" over and over again with his eyes closed. Dean, in turn, made very dramatic motions with his fingers and hands, and stared at his bag with one eye closed, the other open, and his mouth drooping. Ron, not wanting to be outdone, stuffed the rice in his mouth and pretended to vomit it all over his table, but really started to choke when a piece stuck to the back of his throat.

All three looked expectantly at Harry now. He had no idea how he could possibly top Ron, so he did the first thing that came to mind; he played hackysack with his bag of rice when Professor Trelawney's back was turned. He had found over summers of boredome at Privet Drive that Quidditch greatly enhanced his coordination, and he could easily make twenty passes with a real hackysack. His bag of rice, however, was not as well constructed, and by the fifth pass it broke, sending rice scattering all over the floor. Ron, who was still coughing, was easily able to hide his laughter, but Dean and Seamus had to stuff their entire fist in their mouths.

"My dear, whatever are you doing?" Professor Trelawney asked when she heard the rice hit the floor. She was busy instructing Lavender and Parvati with their crystal gazing, and peered over the top of her overlarge glasses at Harry. This kind of spooked him, as her eyes for the first time ever appeared normal-sized.

"I just felt that this was the way to read my future," Harry lied in an incredibly innocent voice. His years of rule-breaking at Hogwarts had increased his ability to lie dramatically.

"Oh," Professor Trelawney said in satisfaction. "Well, done, dear. Now, let's see what we have here..." She got up from her seat, much to the displeasure of Parvati and Lavender who were eyeing Harry suspiciously, and bent over to examine Harry's rice. Not wanting to hear another death omen, Harry took a stab at guessing some of the shapes.

"That looks like a scepter," he said, pointing to a narrow rod with a ball at the top. He didn't want her to jump to the conclusion that it was a scythe, which Harry knew meant death.

"Well done," said Professor Trelawney, who was very pleased at Harry's pretend enthusiasm. "A scepter is a sign of added responsibility to come. One can't argue that one such as yourself would encounter such challenges. But this cat," she said excitedly, pointing to the vague outline of an oval with four points coming from the bottom and one from the back. Here we go, thought Harry, not liking her increased mood one bit. "It worries me. A cat is a sign of treachery nearby."

"Actually, I thought that with the thick 'neck', it was a lion," said Harry in an attempt to divert her dire prediction. "What's a lion mean?"

"A lion means brave and loyal friends," she said in a rush, "but one cannot always try to swerve the signs into something more favorable for themselves. Do not fear the future, Harry. Accept what the fates portend and one may hope to prepare oneself."

Eager to bring an end to her speech, Harry only nodded and began to clean up his rice. He and Ron amused themselves by coming up with outrageous interpretations of Ron's rice, not daring to ask Professor Trelawney what a mad house elf symbolized.

After a particularly rough training session the week of the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff match, Harry returned to his dorm to find a school owl sitting on his bed. Curious, he removed the letter from the owl's leg and opened the window for its exit. He opened his letter, which was short and to the point, and his heart skipped a beat.

We have yet to speak so far this term. Would you kindly find the time after you read this letter to adjourn to my office so that we may talk? I look forward to your company this evening.

Professor Dumbledore

Though the letter was written in friendly terms, Harry knew that it was more of an order than an invitation he could deny if he chose. Cleaning himself up and wondering exactly what he could have done to earn an all-expenses paid trip to Dumbledore's office, Harry found his way to the gargoyle that guarded the door to his office. He stood there, realizing that once again, he didn't know the password.

"Open up?" Harry asked cautiously. The gargoyle remained silent. "Open says me?" Nothing. He thought for a moment, recalling that he usually used the names of sweets as a password.

"Sugar quill." The gargoyle just stared. "Hover gum. Acid pop. Liquid worms." He was getting desperate now. "Snickers. Mars bars. Baby Ruth." Still nothing. "Open now. Please open. Simon says open. Oh, just open up already!" he shouted at it, and the gargoyle sprang to life. Harry walked up the stairs, sniggering to himself over Dumbledore's sense of humor.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I see you still have no trouble figuring out my passwords. Perhaps I should consider letting someone else come up with one. It wouldn't do to let just anyone enter my office," he said. He had the familiar twinkle in his blue eyes that told Harry the truth; Dumbledore knew he'd get frustrated and order the door open. Dumbledore set aside the pile of papers he was reading and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Harry took a moment to stroke the crimson plumage of Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. He was very fond of Dumbledore's pet, as he had come to Harry's aid several times in the past. Fawkes had the ability to drain Harry of all self doubt and fear, and always reminded Harry that no matter how bleak things seem, there will always be a point when things will look up.

Dumbledore was now smiling down at Harry. "I regret that it's taken me this long to have a chat with you," he began, "but I'm certain you will understand. So tell me, Harry, how are things going thus far?" He know gave Harry that piercing look, the one where Dumbledore appeared to be peering into Harry's soul itself.

Harry knew better than to try to mask the truth, so he answered as honestly as he felt comfortable. "I'm okay, I guess," he shrugged, his gaze falling to his fidgeting hands.

"Looking forward to the Quidditch tournament?" Dumbledore asked kindly, and Harry silently thanked him for choosing this line of discussion.

"Well, we haven't won the Quidditch Cup yet, so I guess we'll see if we play in it," he answered.

"As I understand it, Gryffindor is in the lead," said Dumbledore with a slight smile. "I trust you've been training hard?"

"Yes, Professor," said Harry. "Professor, how many people are going to be here for the tournament?"

"Entire schools, as I understand it," Dumbledore said. "Five other schools, to be precise. It is still to be decided which nations will be competing. Do not worry, you will be assured of playing against the best the world has to offer your age group. I assume you believe this tournament is a good idea?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically. He was excited to be talking Quidditch with the aged headmaster and not speaking about what was plaguing his thoughts. "It'll be great playing against people other than Hogwarts students."

"Do not forget," Dumbledore said with a twinkle, "that the aim is also to further friendship throughout the magical community. At no other time has this been more important. Which brings me along to the reason behind our chat."

Oh, great, thought Harry. I knew it. He tried to head Dumbledore off. "Sir, may I ask what you know about what Voldemort is doing? I haven't heard anything over the summer about any attacks."

"I'm afraid nobody is certain," Dumbledore sighed. "What we do know is that Voldemort wants to assure himself that his followers are devoted before acting. I fear that he wishes to make a statement when he chooses to act. All I can advise is look for something big rather than something subtle. He is greatly insulted that everyone assumed him dead and wishes to leave little doubt that he has returned." Dumbledore said this last part to his folded hands, looking very careworn and weary. "Now, may I ask you how you are dealing with the night of Voldemort's return?"

Harry took a deep breath, not really wanting to answer, but not really wanting to remain silent, either. "I have these dreams," he blurted out before he could stop himself. "I see Cedric coming out of his wand..." Harry trailed off, and sat in silence for a few moments.

"I understand," said Dumbledore softly. "And have these dreams plagued you at any time when you were awake?"

Harry immediately thought of his last Quidditch match and wondered how Dumbledore could possibly have a clue. He nodded, wishing that the conversation would end.

"If I may pry a bit more," Dumbledore began, waiting for Harry to look up. "Have you tried talking to anybody about these feelings and dreams you're having?"

Harry nodded again. "Ron and Hermione," he said. "But all that really does is remind me that they're only dreams. It doesn't do much for me."

Dumbledore was now peering at Harry over the lenses of his glasses in concern. "I must say, that there are people who are concerned about you, and I see rightly so. I didn't ask you here to pry into your thoughts, Harry. I have no intention of asking you to reveal your feelings to anybody unless you're ready to do so. But Sirius wishes very much to speak with you."

Harry looked up again, wondering how on earth he could have forgotten about Sirius these past few weeks.

"There are people who are more than willing to help you through this," said Dumbledore. Sirius does regret not being able to speak to you face to face, but if I may say so, he is rather disappointed that you have stopped writing."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"I beg your pardon, but you should not be apologizing to me. It is not up to me to insist that you write. But I must advise that you don't cut yourself off from those who care about you."

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "But it's just hard to talk about it."

"I quite understand," Dumbledore told him, "and I do believe that Sirius will not hound you about it until you ask him. But he may be able to provide more help than any other I know if you are willing to allow him."

The meeting ended with Harry promising to write to Sirius, and thanking Dumbledore for his offer to listen anytime Harry wished to speak. Wandering aimlessly through the corridors, he picked up some writing materials from the library and made his way to the owlry. Finding a clean spot to sit and think, he put the quill to the parchment and let his thoughts guide his pen.

Dear Sirius,

First, I'm sorry that I haven't written in so long. I hope you don't think that I'm cutting you off, but I've taken some time lately to think and collect my thoughts. I've been having a lot of nightmares lately, and sometimes they make me lose track of things. They're really not anything to worry about. I just needed some time to try and figure out what they mean.

Hogwarts is taking part in an International Quidditch tournament this year, with schools from five other countries coming at the end of November. Right now, Gryffindor is in the lead for the Quidditch Cup. If we win, we have to take on a team of Hogwarts All Stars, and whoever wins that game gets to play in the tournament. We're all really excited about it.

Ron's our new keeper, and even shut out Hufflepuff our last match. I'm really glad he made the team and is doing well. He has trouble dealing with everything his brothers have already done, so it's good that he did something none of them have ever done.

Our first Hogsmeade trip this year is the day after Halloween. Can you make it? I miss talking to you.

Hope to see you soon,

Harry

It took Harry maybe five minutes to finish the letter. He reread it, but finding himself unable to find a better way to express his thoughts, he tied the letter to Hedwig's leg and sent her off in search of Sirius. He watched until she disappeared into the sky, and walked back to the Common Room feeling more lonely than he had in months.

Harry was surprised when Hedwig returned Monday morning at breakfast with Sirius's answer. During the Quidditch match, in which Harry was pleased to see Cho capture the snitch for the win, he had informed Ron and Hermione about his meeting with Dumbledore and his letter to Sirius. They expressed their interest in seeing Sirius as well, and Harry was grateful that he wouldn't be alone with Sirius, fearful he might try to question Harry about Cedric. Sirius agreed to meet him in Hogsmeade, and even said that Lupin also wished to see him, which Harry was very excited about. He hadn't seen Lupin in over a year, since he had resigned as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

They arrived at Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures to find Xander chopping wood with a large axe. Malfoy was already there, taunting him.

"Well now, I'm pleased to see you finally find your place around here," he shot at Xander with a malicious grin.

"Piss off, Malfoy," Xander retorted, stopping to take a rest. "I have work to do."

"Spoken like a true servant," Malfoy teased.

Xander picked up the axe and held it in front of Malfoy's face. "One more word, and I'll give your forehead a butt crack," he said, waving the axe between Malfoy's eyes.

Only when Hagrid came around the corner did he return to work. But Hagrid wasn't alone. To the surprise of the entire class, Hagrid had convinced a centaur to speak to the class. The centaur, named Surdar, lectured the class about the importance of showing respect to fellow creatures, stating that it was important for them to understand that every creature had a right to be on this planet and that it was not up to any one person to decide who lives and who doesn't. He allowed the class to ask questions, so long as they had nothing to do with the problems facing the world.

"Surdar," Hermione began, raising her hand. "We're studying a griffin this year..."

"Yes, I have noticed this creature in the forest this year," he said, and nodded for Hermione to finish her question.

"Well, they're supposed to be very secretive. Do you know why he lets us watch him?"

"Every creature has a purpose on this planet, though most choose not to find out what that purpose is," said Surdar. "Some, you will find, think it important to lead others to further understanding. This griffin, I believe, finds it important to teach honesty. It is important to understand the virtue of honesty, though you may choose not to follow it, or may even choose to use it to meet your own ends. Not only must you find honesty in the world, but you must learn to be find honesty within yourself. Once you understand honesty, you will find trust. Once you find trust comes courage. Courage leads you to a better life, better than you would be able to provide yourself otherwise, and better for those around you. Only the truly courageous have the power to change the world."

"But if they're so solitary," piped up Dean, "how come he stays here and doesn't carry on wherever he wishes?"

"He has a strong connection with one who resides within your school," Surdar answered. "It is by no mistake that he has come here this year."

"No mistake that who has come here? The person or the griffin?" asked Lavender Brown. Surdar refused to answer, instead commenting on how well Mercury, the ancient messenger of the gods, looked in the sky these days.