Harry Potter and the Last Goodnight

Chapter Thirteen: The Dance

The next weekend couldn't arrive soon enough for Harry. Not only was it a break from his classes, but it also meant the beginning of Quidditch. Harry was actually anxious for their first practice as a new team when he woke up on Saturday morning. Ron had booked the Pitch for a few hours after dinner that night so that they could warm up. The two of them had spent most of the day going through Oliver Wood's old playbook, which had been passed down from Angelina.

Even though Harry wasn't the captain, he couldn't help but feel a certain right of passage as he and Ron stepped into the locker room, armed with their brooms and ideas for grueling practices. They were the oldest players on the team, and Harry was the most experienced.

Ginny had made her Chaser position, along with a girl in third year, Natalie MacDonald. The third chaser was Vicki Frobisher, who had tried out for the team the year before, but had said that Charms Club would have taken priority over Quidditch. She was still a pretty good flier, and she had since rearranged her priorities. The two beaters who had taken Fred and George's place last year, Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, had also proved to be the best beaters at the tryouts.

Ron stood at the chalkboard where there was a drawn outline of the Quidditch field. He cleared his throat. "All right everybody," he began, "I know that we're a young team this year, but that didn't stop us from winning the Cup last year, and I have no doubt that if we work hard, we'll be taking it again this year.

"Our biggest opposition will not be Slytherin," he declared. "I believe that Ravenclaw will prove to be the team to beat. It's Chang's last year, and as captain and seeker..."

And my ex-girlfriend, Harry thought.

"She will be out for blood. I had to fight her to book the field for tonight," he added. "We've only got a few hours, so I think it would be best if we run a few drills and get reacquainted with our brooms from the off-season."

After a few more encouraging words form Ron, the Gryffindor house team stepped out onto the Quidditch Pitch. The sun was setting in the west, casting long, hoop-shaped shadows onto the grassy field. It felt good to be back in the air. Harry could almost picture the Pitch full of spectators and hear Lee Jordan commentating. He wondered who would be commenting during the games now.

Ron gave them a grueling warm-up. Harry was almost dizzy from the diving and twirling. Afterwards, the balls were released. The Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch soared into the air. Harry brought his hand to his sweaty forehead to shade his green eyes from the sun as the golden Snitch disappeared from his sight.

He took the opportunity to look down on his fellow teammates. Ron appeared to have the confidence of a veteran player as he guarded the hoops from Ginny's advances. However, a few of her hits managed to get through. Natalie and Vicki were not as successful, though. Andrew and Jack were having some problems with the Bludgers, but by the end of practice, they seemed to have their game more under control.

By the time they hit the showers, Harry was exhausted. He stumbled back to Gryffindor Tower, wishing he could just fly up to his dormitory on his broom.

He noticed that the moon was full. His Moon Guide had been growing darker and darker ever since Professor Leurre had asked him about it. Harry felt a desire to look into the small orb, to make sure that Remus was okay, but he was also afraid of what kind of horror he might see. Harry didn't want to see him in pain.

After some mindless chatter with Hermione and Ginny, Harry and Ron both turned in at the same time. Harry's muscles were heavily fatigued and he had to walk off a leg cramp before he finally fell into bed and slept.

But he found no relief in his sleep. Suddenly, he was inside the Department of Mysteries again, as he had been in the dreams that haunted him over the summers. However, this dream was different. He was on stage in the amphitheater, where the curtains were drawn back. He could hear whispering coming from the veil.

Subconsciously, he knew he was only dreaming. He could see himself as though he were outside of the dream, looking down on the boy - no, the young man - on center stage. The young man with wild dark hair that stood up in the back. The young man with deep green eyes, sparkling behind an old pair of glasses. The young man with the lightening bolt scar on his forehead.

"Dance," commanded a voice. It boomed throughout the theater, reverberating off the walls.

Dance? Harry thought. There was no music.

Clear as day, a violin and cello began a distant duet, sweet music filling the theater. It was a song Harry had heard before. It had an eerie melody. The violin was playing low, throaty notes, and the cello was high, past its normal range. They had switched roles.

"Dance."

Dance? Harry questioned again. But he had no partner.

A phantom shadow of a woman appeared. He could see through the smoky figure. He couldn't make out any distinguishable features, but he could feel someone feminine beside him. He could smell her scent, gentle, yet fierce in its presence. It was a contradiction in one unmistakable scent that penetrated his nostrils. He could taste her.

"Dance!" The voice was more desperate than commanding.

Dance? Harry asked. But he didn't know how.

Suddenly, her scent was all over him. He felt her small body against his, her arms around him. His feet began moving to the slow ballad of the violin and cello. He could feel the music permeate through his feet, as though he were above a noisy party and sharing a dance with a beautiful woman.

And the Harry that was removed watched as he danced with this phantom girl. They were graceful together, never missing a step. It had not been like this at the Yule Ball where he was awkward and unpleasant. There was no leader or follower. It was like dancing with a reflection. Every way was the right direction.

But it was troubling. The music was harder to hear. The voices beyond the veil were getting louder and louder. Harry had a hard time distinguishing the eerie melody from the ghostly mumbling.

The shadow of the woman was slipping away. Her taste was gone, her scent fading. Harry's leg began to hurt from the dancing.

"DANCE!" the voice cried. It sounded as though it had come from the veil. As though someone was weeping. And then Harry recognized the voice - how could he have missed it before? It was Sirius. Sirius had been shouting at him from beyond the veil, from inside the theater. Sirius was weeping.

Harry let go of the figure of the woman. The pain in his leg was growing. "Sirius!" he cried. But he couldn't hear his voice over the shouts of the other people behind the veil. "Sirius!"

"Dance," Sirius whispered. The others' voices suddenly died out into the silence. "Dance, Harry, before you forget how."

And the Harry who had watched the all of the events unfold, like an omniscient narrator, watched himself collapse on the stage, his body slamming against the hardwood floor. His legs had given out, and the last thing he saw was the dark ceiling of the theater, an entire galaxy of stars sparkling down on him, and a full moon glowing in the darkness.

Suddenly, Harry was on his bed, clutching his calf. He gasped in pain, then quickly stood up, putting all his weight on the Charlie horse. He groaned as he paced back and forth along the dormitory floor.

"All right, Harry?" Ron asked sleepily, rolling over in his four-poster.

"Yeah, leg cramp," he replied. But Ron had already fallen back to sleep.

The sharp pain eventually went away, but Harry's leg was still tender every time he flexed it. He sat down on the edge of his bed, wide awake, and not entirely sure what to do.

It had been a dream, but it was not a vision of the present. Voldemort hadn't been there. It was just another dream about Sirius. Surely, he wouldn't need to write about it in the diary. The thought of Mrs. Weasley reading about the amphitheater and the dance was enough to make his insides churn. She would only feel sorry for him.

Or worse, what if Snape had the other copy of the diary? Harry shuttered to think what Snape would do if he knew about the dreams Harry had been having about Sirius. No, it would be best for Harry just to keep this to himself.

He lay back down on his bed, wondering if he should conjure up some sort of comforting spell for his calf, and trying his best to ignore the tingling of his scar.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Hedwig arrived with a letter for Harry. He recognized the handwriting. It was from Remus. He waited until he was back in the common room before tearing it open and reading it.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope this letter finds you well. Tonight is the full moon, and I must say that I am anxious for it to pass.

I had a great time at your birthday party. I hope that you have found my gift helpful in the loneliest of times. I know that I cannot physically be there for you, but I am always only a glimpse away. I am also very sorry about the bike; Hagrid told me it didn't go well. Don't be angry with him, Harry. It's my fault.

I hope everything is fine at Hogwarts. Have you started Quidditch yet? You must be anxious to play after a year off. I also heard that you've started Remedial Potions again. I know it's difficult, but keep studying Harry. It will prove to be very helpful in the end.

I look forward to hearing from you,

Remus

After Harry finished reading the letter, he resisted the urge to crumple it into a ball and throw it into the fireplace. Did Remus really think it would be that easy just to fill the void that Sirius had left? And now that Sirius's voice was so fresh in his memory from his dream the night before, he couldn't imagine running up to Gryffindor Tower every time something exciting happened to write a letter to Remus.

And even though he did say for Harry to blame him about the motorcycle incident, Harry just couldn't find it in his heart to not write back. What if Remus was truly worried about him? There was no harm in writing a short letter so that Remus would have something to read after the full moon. Perhaps it would cheer him up a bit after his transformation.

He found some spare parchment and a quill and quickly scratched out a letter. Harry said that he was fine, and that his first Remedial Potions lesson had gone very well. He also mentioned that he'd apologized to Hagrid and that he was sorry for the way he acted. He ended by writing that they'd had their first Quidditch practice the day before and that Ron, as captain, thought that they had a good chance at winning the Quidditch Cup.

He glanced over at Ron, who looked half-asleep over his Herbology book. He was sharing a table with Neville and Ginny. Neville seemed to be beaming with the attention he was getting. Ginny had been having problems with her Herbology homework, and Ron and Neville were working on a project together. Harry wasn't sure if Ron could really make it through this year. It was going to be hard. Between Quidditch captain, Prefect, and six N.E.W.T. classes, he was going to have his work cut out for him.

However, it was great to see Neville so happy. He seemed to have matured more over the summer. He was less clumsy, and he'd even managed to remember the Fat Lady's password, which he usually always forgot during the first few weeks. He had finally gained a little confidence.

Harry felt a little envious of him. Neville could have had the same destiny as he did now, if Voldemort had chosen Neville instead of Harry in the prophecy. But honestly, he was glad that Neville was able to enjoy his life. After all, his parents were crazy and locked up in St. Mungo's, and he lived with his batty grandmother. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Neville.

Suddenly, the burden on his shoulders didn't seem so heavy. He knew that no matter what, he would do everything in his power to protect Neville and everybody else from Voldemort. He was the chosen one. He would live up to his responsibility. He couldn't do anything less. He owed it to his friends and his family.

Family. The word felt odd to Harry, but he finally realized that he did have one.

After sealing his letter in an envelope, Harry opened the portrait door to run up to the Owlery to deliver it to Hedwig. Before he could close the door, Nora's kitten, Alley, snuck out of the common room and into the hallway.

Harry hastily shoved the letter into his back pocket and launched himself at the gray kitten. "Hey! Get back here!" he hissed. He didn't know if she was supposed to leave Gryffindor Tower or not. He didn't want it to get lost on his account.

But the kitten had moved out of the way long before Harry could catch her. He chased her down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. Every few paces she would glance back at him, as though she were playing an ironic game of cat and mouse.

Harry realized that the kitten was headed for the Owlery. He could hear hooting from the end of the corridor. The kitten stopped in front of the entrance to the Owlery and lifted a paw to casually lick while waiting for Harry to catch up to her.

He raised an eyebrow at the cat. "You're an odd one too," he whispered. He had always felt strange around cats, whether they were from Mrs. Figg's crazy clan or Crookshanks. Harry realized that Nora's cat was no different.

Harry sighed and opened the heavy door and followed the cat into the Owlery. The room reeked of hay and journeys to far away lands, and a little bit like owl droppings. There were skeletons of mice and moles near every cage.

Hedwig stuck out like a sore thumb, her head hidden beneath her snowy white feathers. She glanced at Harry as he approached her and pulled the letter out of his back pocket. She quickly stood at attention, waiting patiently for Harry to tie the letter around her claw. She ruffled her feathers a little to get Pigewidgeon's attention in the next nest. Apparently, she wanted to show him how it was done properly.

Harry pet her gently. "Back to Remus. No hurry," he added. The later he got the letter, the later he would write back, and the later Harry would feel obligated to keep him informed of the events unfolding in his life.

She nipped his fingers a bit and gave a soft hoot of acknowledgement, then took off out of the Owlery window.

Harry had been concentrating on his task so heavily that he hadn't noticed that the other owls weren't so happy that there was a cat in their territory. He wondered if he should leave the Owlery door open a jar so that Alley would be able to get out on her own. He surely wasn't going to wait for it. What business did it have in the Owlery anyways?

He thought he heard the kitten give a quiet cry, and he turned to look for her to make sure that she wasn't being attacked by any of Hogwarts' ferocious barn owls. But then Harry realized that the cry hadn't come from Alley at all.

Nora was leaning against the very last window, tears streaming down her face. Harry approached her quietly. He wasn't sure if she knew that he was there yet; he didn't want to startle her.

The kitten jumped up on the window sill and rubbed against Nora's quivering hands. She was holding a letter, and her eyes searched the paper as though she were reading it over and over again.

When Harry was only an arm's length away, he asked quietly, "Nora, are you all right?"

She jumped, and then looked relieved as she saw that it was only him. "I - I'm okay." She managed to smile and began wiping the tears away from her eyes.

Harry took a step closer. "Bad news from home?"

"No," she replied with a hint of her Irish accent. "Everything's all right. Well, as right as it could be."

He was curious what she meant by that, but he was afraid that questioning her about it would only upset her more. He was close enough to her that he could read the letter over her shoulder.

Dear Nora,

I miss you so much! It's so odd to wake up every morning and be alone. I miss your humming. I miss hearing you sing off-key in the shower. I miss your whining about breakfast. But most of all, I just miss you.

I found a new job. I'm working at an import/export flower shop. It's called Henry's Herbs. There are very odd herbs there; many of them I've never seen before. But it pays really well. I've been saving up a lot, especially now that I found that new flat. It's not on the best side of town, but rent is cheap. Who knows - at this rate I may even have enough money to take you to America for summer holiday! And I'll be sure to send you some pounds, although I can't exchange it into your kind of money.

I hope that you're not lonely. I hope you're making dozens of new friends. It must be such a wonderful place there, full of friendly faces and magical experiences. I'm so jealous. I wish I could be there with you. I even went to King's Cross and ran at the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten, but it was no use. I only ended up bruised and embarrassed. I think that it's very unfair that I don't get to visit you. How am I supposed to check up on you and make sure you're eating right? Or that you're doing all of your homework?

I guess I'll just have to trust you.

Nora suddenly folded up the letter and put it back inside the envelope before Harry could finish reading it. Tears were still streaming down her face. She held the letter against her chest, close to her heart.

Harry guessed that she was feeling a little homesick. He didn't know quite what to do. It was an awkward situation, but he really wanted to make her feel better. She looked so tiny, leaning against the window and trembling. He wanted to make her stop crying. "Is that from your mum?" he asked.

She shook her head. "My sister. She's a Muggle." She scoffed. "She said that she's tried to get to Hogwarts. Can you believe her? She's crazy. I told her that Muggles can't get here, not to mention that even unwelcomed wizards can't find the school."

Harry thought back to all of the things Hermione had told him about the book Hogwarts: A History, which discussed Hogwarts' impenetrable defenses.

"I wish she were here with me," Nora whispered. "I feel so alone."

Something tugged in Harry's heart. He felt terrible that Nora was having such a hard time at Hogwarts. He had been overjoyed to get his letter in the mail when he turned eleven. Nora, however, must not have been thrilled to leave her family and Muggle life behind. She was probably the only witch on Seamus's dad's side of the family.

"What about Seamus? He's your cousin," Harry offered, as though blood determined someone's friends. He, of all people, should know that blood sometimes meant absolutely nothing.

"We were never close," she replied. "We had only met a few times before I got my letter. I mean, he tries to talk to me, but he's got his own friends."

"Well," Harry said quietly, "I'll be your friend, Nora."

She grinned up at him. "Really?"

Harry was hoping he wouldn't live to regret it, but the smile on her face warmed him up inside. He could relate to her feelings of loneliness. He understood what it felt like to be so far away from the people you loved. Of course, he'd never felt that way at Hogwarts, where he was surrounded by all of his friends. But for Nora, it was just the opposite.

"Really," he replied, and ruffled the collection of dark curls on her head. He reached over and scratched behind Alley's ears. Maybe he understood this cat more than the others. She was only looking out for her master. "You know Nora, you should smile more often."