Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 26. Xander's Past

Harry's next recognizable thought was wondering how he had made it into the hospital wing. He had no recollection of anything since he heard Xander's voice in his head. Looking around, he saw Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny standing next to his bed. All at once, they began to talk when they saw Harry open his eyes, and he couldn't make out a word anyone was saying. Someone's deep, serenading voice in the background silenced them. Professor Dumbledore's face became visible to Harry.

"I'm glad to see you came back to us," he said with a weak smile, but he still looked worried. "You had us all worried."

Harry mumbled something incoherent, and fumbled around for his glasses. He wished he were alone. He didn't want to think, talk, or in anyway relive what happened with Malfoy. He didn't want to relive anything at all.

"You may be pleased to know that Mr. Malfoy has been stripped of all privileges, including his Prefect responsibilities," continued Dumbledore. "All staff agrees that there will be no punishment for you. Despite the fact that you lost control, nobody was injured. You gave us all quite a fright."

"Mmm," mumbled Harry. He really didn't care right now. He could be expelled and it wouldn't matter. All that he could hear in his head was Malfoy's voice. Dumbledore apparently could tell.

"Harry, do not wallow in your thoughts," he said sternly. "You know as well as I do that there is no truth to those accusations. Mr. Malfoy knows as well. He was only trying to get to you, nothing more."

"Mmm," said Harry again. Even if he could find his voice, his response would still be the same.

"I see that you're only going to believe what you want to believe," sighed Dumbledore. "I must excuse myself, Harry. There is someone here I must greet. I will return soon."

Dumbledore left, leaving Harry alone with Hermione and the Weasleys. None appeared to want to be the first to talk. Finally, Ron broke the silence.

"You were out for six hours," he told Harry, answering the very question that had just run through his mind. "Me and Xander had to carry you up here. It was almost like you were out cold, mate." He waited for Harry to respond, but Harry only looked at him, wishing that Ron would keep talking in order to drown out the silence that was causing his ears to ring. "Dumbledore was pissed."

Harry slightly raised an eyebrow, still not trusting himself to speak. Hermione picked up where Ron left off. "I thought Professor McGonagall was scary when she scolded someone. Malfoy nearly peed his pants. He wasn't even able to threaten Dumbledore with his father, but Lucius Malfoy showed up anyway." Harry's eyebrows continued their ascent into his forehead. "He kept trying to say that there was no way Dumbledore can strip him of his Prefect badge for speaking his mind, and that it was unfair that Dumbledore kicked him off the Hogwarts Quidditch team. Dumbledore said that Lucius was just mad that he lost a ton of gold by Malfoy losing his prefect badge, and Lucius was mad."

"Dumbledore threatened to have Lucius arrested after that," said Ginny. "Said if he ever heard Malfoy spreading lies again, he'd be expelled."

Harry wondered where Cho was, what she might be thinking right now. Hermione again answered his unspoken question. "Cho wanted to come see you, but Dumbledore told her to wait. Told her to come back after she slept."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Harry still not wanting to talk, and the others not knowing what to say. Harry was half afraid that he'd get another "It wasn't you fault" speech, but was grateful nobody brought it up. He felt lousy, and would feel worse telling someone off for talking about something they knew nothing about. He had never felt more guilty about Cedric than he did right now, and did not want to share his feelings with anyone just yet. He wished he knew someone who could possibly understand how he felt, someone who could tell him how to feel.

He heard someone walking down the corridors into the hospital wing, and turned his head to see who wanted to bother him now. Not that he wasn't grateful that his friends were there with him, in fact, it made him feel very good that Hermione and all the Weasleys wanted to be there with him. He just could do without the blank stares he was getting.

"Close off the Hospital Wing, Poppy," he heard Dumbledore's voice echo. "Under no circumstances are there to be any visitors until I come back out."

Harry could hardly believe it when he saw a large, black, shaggy dog sprint the length of the wing and stop at his bed. He was sure that Sirius would give him the speech that he didn't want to hear, since Sirius was the only person so far who hadn't given it to him yet. When the dog transformed into Harry's godfather, Sirius had a look of deep sympathy and utmost concern mingled in his eyes. He looked very relieved to see Harry awake, and Harry had a very difficult time faking a smile.

"It's good to see you," said Sirius. "I thought we lost you, kid." He had something clutched tightly in his hand, something very worn and wrinkly. Sirius noticed Harry staring at this. "I'm not going to give you the 'it's not your fault' thing, so don't worry," he said, and Harry felt grateful for it, as if a small weight was lifted off his head. "I wanted to talk to you earlier about this, but I didn't want to push you into it until you were ready."

"What makes you think I'm ready now?" croaked Harry, able to speak now that he didn't want to talk about anything.

"The fact that you nearly put yourself into a coma so that you didn't have to think about it tells me you're ready," answered Sirius. "If it weren't for your friends and that Majere kid, you would've been trapped in your own dreams, your own interpretation of guilt."

"How do you know that for sure?" asked Harry, a bit more resentful than he intended.

"Because I was there for twelve years," answered Sirius, not losing his kindly tone despite Harry's irritableness.

"How can you possibly know?" Harry snapped. "You never led anyone to their death."

"I knew you'd say that," said Sirius, still in the kindly tone that now irritated Harry. "I told you I wouldn't give you 'The Speech', I wasn't lying." Sirius now looked down into the piece of wrinkly, worn parchment that was clutched tightly in his fist. "Here," he said to Harry. "Whenever the guilt becomes too much for me, I read this. My godson wrote me this letter almost two years ago, and I often wake up finding myself clutching it so tight that my fingernails cut into my palm, so please forgive it's present condition," he grinned sheepishly.

Harry took the letter and opened it, finding that it was, in fact, his own handwriting. He hadn't had a second thought about it since the night he wrote it two summers ago, after he had found out about Sirius's innocence. His eyes immediately skipped to the middle section of the letter, where the ink was slightly smudged, as if someone's fingers were constantly run over the words. It read:

You can't blame yourself for my parents. I hold no blame against you. There was no way you could've known that Wormtail was the snitch. You did what you thought was best for my family, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have known that Wormtail was the snitch until it was too late and he had caused irreparable damage to the cause. I can guarantee that my parents don't blame you. Somehow, I can just feel it. Please don't think that I don't want to talk you. You were my Dad's best friend, and I want you in my life.

Harry dropped the letter before he could read anymore, covering his face with his hands before anyone could see the tears fall. It was several minutes before he regained control of himself. Sirius placing his hand on Harry's shoulder is what finally made him look up.

"You see?" said Sirius. "If it weren't for you, nobody would know that Voldemort had returned. We wouldn't be as ready as we are now. You didn't kill Cedric, Harry."

"No," said Harry bitterly. "I just delivered him. You didn't kill my parents."

"No," said Sirius gravely. "I just delivered them."

Harry looked into Sirius's eyes, and there was an unspoken understanding between them. He couldn't fathom how he hadn't realized Sirius's own guilt before now. He had someone near him all along who understood how he felt, but his own self-pity had fogged his vision. He had taken Sirius's presence for granted. Harry finally realized how stupid, how ignorant he had been. He had people trying to help him all along, and he had shut them out. Sirius was now rolling up his letter and placed it in an inside pocket of his robes with care.

"Don't ever think you're alone," said Sirius, "because so long as I am breathing, I'll be there. You made it possible for me to live with myself, and I owe my life to you."

Harry wasn't sure why he did it, but he pulled Sirius into a hug, much to Sirius's surprise and delight. If he couldn't have his father back, Harry knew that Sirius was by far the next best thing. Someone who cared more for Harry than he did for his own life.

They broke apart rather quickly, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of his friends. Sirius made to leave before Harry called him back.

"Sirius?" said Harry. Sirius looked back, and Harry could swear he was about to cry. "Thank you."

Harry couldn't describe how much better he felt after his meeting with Sirius. He was able to talk freely about Cedric, and he no longer felt guilty, though he still felt sorrowful anytime the name was brought up. His first meeting with Cho made him feel even better. She nearly broke into the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey finally relenting after telling her "No" about twenty times. When she asked Harry about his good mood, he simply said that he had gotten some very good advice from his godfather and left it at that. He felt a small pang of guilt by omitting Sirius's name, but recalled Dumbledore's warning about placing trust, and Harry thought it best to keep Sirius's identity a secret from as many people as possible.

"You're godfather sounds really amazing," said Cho after Harry finished his story.

"Yeah," said Harry, grinning broadly. "He is."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, occasionally stealing sidelong glances at one another, and blushing when they caught one another.

"Harry," said Cho finally, looking at the floor. "How come you always seem to be there when I need you?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "How come you always seem to need me?" he asked with a sly grin.

Cho blushed again. "Because it seems that you're the only one the world can always depend on."

Now it was Harry's turn to blush. He ordinarily didn't like it when someone reminded him of his fame, but she had a way of doing it that sounded much less like a reminder and more like fact, as if it were a common thing for a fifteen year old wizard to battle the Dark Lord every year and still find time to finish his homework.

"Anyway," said Cho once her color returned to normal, "did you hear about Malfoy getting booted off the team...?"

Harry found he didn't care much of what the other students thought about his incident with Malfoy, whether they believed Malfoy or not. The people he cared about were on his side, so any who didn't believe him could go to hell for all he cared. He found himself able to concentrate better in classes, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Krum was drilling them on their dueling defense relentlessly. After a particularly successful lesson where Harry had deflected every curse thrown his way, Krum held him back after class.

"Harry, may I haff a vord?"

Hermione wore an annoyingly knowing expression as she and Ron left the class. Harry walked up to Krum's desk, mystified.

"The Hogwarts team has an opening," he said, getting right to the point. "Ve need a Seeker."

"Yeah?" said Harry, though he was sure what was coming.

"I vould like it if you vould be our Seeker," said Krum. "I vanted you from the start, but you von the Cup for your house."

Harry, recalling his daydreams of his name on the back of an English robe, could barely contain his excitement. "Are you sure?" he asked, trying to downplay the offer. "I mean, everyone seems so impressed with Malfoy lately..."

"He has nothing on you," said Krum, looking slightly surly. "He is a show-off that knows a few tricks. You are a Seeker who vants to vin. That is vat I vant."

"So when's my first training session?" asked Harry, feeling it unnecessary to give a direct "YES!".

Hermione still wore her knowing look when Harry met up with them, and Ron grinned broadly when he saw Harry's smile.

"I knew you'd say yes," Hermione glowed. "He asked me if you'd be interested a couple of days ago."

"It's been hell not to tell you," said Ron, who was now slapping Harry on the back. "But Hermione insisted that Krum be the one to tell you."

"International Level, Harry!" said Hermione. "You'll be brilliant!"

Harry could hardly believe how little nerves he had as training sessions started. He thought that competing at such a high level would be nerve-racking, but he found it an immense relief from the rigors of his studies. Davies and the other Slytherins on the team seemed less than thrilled at his appointment, but Xander continually drilled him with his scouting report on the Americans.

"Their seeker has no chance with you on our team," he said matter-of-factly, "so they're going to be cranking out the offense. And I gotta tell you, their chasers are better than us."

"We need an early capture, Harry," said Harry, mimicking Oliver Wood's voice. "I know," said Xander. "No pressure or anything..."

"Don't worry, I've been there before," said Harry, grinning.

Xander continued his scouting report as they lounged around the lake in the middle of May, watching the giant squid use his tentacles to play with the seagulls that were flying about the surface. "They're not shy about fouling the Seeker when they feel they need to," he said, "but Krum will be watching your back for you, so keep your ears open and concentrate on the snitch."

"How come you're not captain?" asked Harry. He, along with the rest of Gryffindor, had wondered this for many months, since Xander had by far the most knowledge of the other teams in the tournament.

"Davies has the most playing experience. Besides," Xander paused, looking very bitter, "the team voted, not Krum. They felt it was proper for a wizard to represent the team."

"And since half the team was from Slytherin..." said Harry.

"Exactly," said Xander, looking more irritated than ever. "Y'know, I've only been around your community for a few years, and I'm already sick of all this pureblood bullshit." Xander lit a cigarette, the habit that he had recently started again after a vain attempt to quit at Alicia's request. He seemed to relax more with each drag, so Harry said nothing of it. "It's as if they've forgotten how it was when Muggles persecuted them in the Middle Ages. 'If it ain't pure, it's mud for sure'," Xander said, mimicking Malfoy's drawling voice and quoting one of Malfoy's favorite bigoted statements.

"It's rubbish," said Harry, now equally as disgusted as Xander. "Voldemort himself is only half blood. His dad was a Muggle, but I bet they conveniently forget that little fact."

"So I'm told," said Xander vaguely, and he stared into space for several moments. Harry wanted to take advantage of this time to ask the questions that had been burning since he first met the young man.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything," he started, "and you can tell me to go to hell if you don't want to answer, but how did you get into Hogwarts?"

Xander took an extra long drag before answering. "I expressed my interest in coming, and Dumbledore made it happen," he shrugged, still staring at nothing. "It really is as simple as that. No fantastic story behind it, if that's what everyone was thinking."

Harry waited a few minutes before posting his next question. "That thing with the Russians, when they arrived," he said cautiously, not wanting to annoy Xander.

"Yeah?"

"Um, what I mean is, what was that all about? The salute, and everything?"

Xander pinched off the lit end of his cigarette, folded the butt in half, and pocketed it. It was something he said he did so that the Hogwarts grounds weren't littered with garbage. "It's a show of respect," he said finally. "I got on well with them when I went to school there, though I still feel they don't need to treat all of their students as military soldiers."

"Did you have to wear the uniforms and everything too?" asked Harry, holding his last question back for the time being.

"Nah," laughed Xander, much to Harry's relief. "I still wore my 'Muggle' clothes. Stuck out like a sore thumb more than I do here."

"The girls here don't seem to mind," grinned Harry.

Xander laughed harder. "Yeah, it's weird," he said. "Only in the wizarding world am I considered good-looking. Around Muggles, it's like I'm Quasimodo. Sometimes it's nice to escape into the Muggle world, where no one knows you like they do in the wizarding world, and you just kinda become part of the ignorance."

Harry knew exactly what he meant. Privet Drive was the only place where people weren't constantly staring at his scar in amazement. "Do you ever go back to America?" he asked Xander, though half his mind was still on Privet Drive.

"Whenever I can," said Xander, who sighed in longing. "I still have family there, my mother and my brother. My dad took off when I was about four, so I don't remember much of him."

Harry felt terrible, not expecting Xander to answer so frankly. He had lost his parents at an early age, Neville was pretty much an orphan as well, but they had lost their parents due to unfortunate circumstances. He couldn't imagine how it felt to know that your father simply wanted nothing to do with you.

Xander continued talking, as if no one was there. "What I do remember isn't necessarily bad. He taught me football-American football, I mean- and would always play with me no matter how tired he was. He used to yell at my mother anytime she would punish me, and let me fall asleep with him on the couch watching TV, no matter how late it was. He was in the Army, you know," he said, now looking at Harry. "From what I gather, he was very decorated. Enough medals to cover a wall. My brother went into the Army too, so he could pay for college. He's about fifteen years older than me. Used to send home money for me and my mom so we could eat. Once I started to study magic, my mom moved in with him. I visit them whenever I can."

Harry sat silent for a while, not asking anymore about Xander's family, allowing him to volunteer whatever he felt comfortable talking about. He felt it rude to ask why his father left, or much of anything about his past. He already knew he was receiving privileged information, probably more than he told Alicia.

"Alicia's always asking about my family," Xander went on. "She wants to meet them. Kinda lucky they're halfway across the world right now."

"Why's that" asked Harry after several moments of silence.

"She has a... um... proper family," said Xander, with a hint of jealousy. "You know, both parents, money, the whole thing. Don't get me wrong, I like them and I'm glad they like me, but I feel... uncomfortable sometimes when they ask about my family. Not that I'm ashamed or anything, but they just don't know what it's like, growing up not knowing where you're going to sleep that night or knowing where your next meal is coming from. They wouldn't understand, they'd only feel sorry for me, and their pity is the last thing I want."

Despite himself, Harry was finding himself wanting to know more about Xander's family. Xander's sudden silence told him, however, that today wasn't going to be the day that he found out more. He had one more question that was burning inside him since September, but as he didn't care to talk about his own similar experience, he wasn't sure if he should ask. Xander, always able to seemingly read Harry's mind, asked it for him.

"How many people have been wondering about my Sorting?" asked Xander.

"Um... well... only the whole school, I guess," he answered truthfully, with a guilty grin.

Thankfully, Xander chuckled, and Harry thanked all that's holy that Xander had a sense of humor. "And you want to know what the Sorting Hat said to me, right?"

"Well, I know I'm not the only one... but, yeah, I've wondered..." he trailed off.

"But you're the only one with balls enough to admit it to me," said Xander. "It almost refused to sort me. I knew where I had to go, knew where I belonged, knew that I was right and the hat was wrong. It said I was too cunning for Slytherin to ignore, and wanted me there. The hat may be smart, but it has no clue how to distinguish logic from cunning. I argued with it, and won out in the end. The hat said I taught it something new, said I taught it that unwavering desire in the face of doubters is the most courageous act of all."

Harry dwelt on this last sentence for a long time. It reminded him of his own battles against the Ministry of Magic, who managed to convince themselves that they were right and he was only trying to stir up trouble. Xander's conversation hit home pretty hard, bringing to Harry's attention certain likenesses between the two. It was odd, really, that Xander had suddenly chosen to open up about his past and innermost thoughts.

"Well, I gotta get back," said Xander, standing up. "I gotta prepare a review on wand construction and usage for Krum for your O.W.L. Gonna be a late night," he sighed. "Don't wait up for me. Later," he said, and walked off to the castle.

Harry found that he had no desire to return to the castle and get to work, so he sat by the lake for a very long time. Xander had said some things that made Harry think about himself. His feelings about the whole Muggle-born bigotry, about his own family and how he could barely remember them, about his desire to leave his fame behind, about the Ministry of Magic not believing him. It was good to see someone with whom he had no other connection with than as a fellow student who held all the same principles he had. Night had already fallen when Xander left for the castle, so Harry had no idea how long he sat there until Ron and Hermione suddenly appeared out of thin air, scaring the wits out of him.

"Where'd you guys come from?" he asked, attempting to hold his heart so it stayed in his chest.

"We borrowed this," said Ron, holding up his Invisibility Cloak. "It's past midnight, and no one knew where you were. We came to find you."

"Xander said he was talking to you here, so it's the first place we looked. Harry, it's not exactly the smartest thing you've ever done, sitting alone in the dark when no one knows where you are," said Hermione reproachfully.

"I was just thinking, that's all," said Harry, feeling bad he had scared his friends so bad. "Lost track of time."

"C'mon, we've gotta get back," said Ron. "It's way past curfew, and Filch'll have a field day if he catches us out here."

They threw the cloak around Harry, and set off for the castle. Peeves held them up momentarily, as he was oiling up the arms on the suits of armor so that anyone who walked by fast enough would cause the battle-axe to fall. Waiting for him to leave, they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower without incident. Ron tossed the Invisibility Cloak carelessly onto one of the chairs, and pointed out Xander, who had fallen asleep at a table, his face resting on his journal.

"Should we wake him?" asked Hermione, moving closer. Xander was already dressed for bed, wearing his customary baseball jersey, which, due to his current position, was falling half off his back.

"Is that a tattoo?" asked Ron, and pulled the jersey down a bit lower to get a closer look.

"A phoenix?" asked Harry in amazement, but Hermione looked as if something had stolen her vocal chords.

"What? What is it?" Harry and Ron chorused, and they began to look around the Common Room. "What is it?" asked Ron again.

Hermione was pointing to Xander's journal, only it wasn't his journal. "No Way! I don't believe it!" she cried. The cover of the journal was now red, and in Xander's handwriting, in gold lettering, was the inscription:

I, Magus