The Progeny of the Pure-Blood

Chapter Eight - Midnight Duels

Harry spent the next few days in a bit of a trance. He was struggling with all of the feelings that rippled through him. Mrs. Weasley was insisting that he spend most of his time in bed, but Harry was starting to become very restless. He needed to leave again, but he wasn't sure where to go next. Nevertheless, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing. He missed Ron and Hermione immensely and fairly often found himself wishing that he were with them at Hogwarts. There was so much to tell them when he did see them again. He knew that they were expecting an owl from him, so he'd scribbled a quick letter explaining that he was resting at Grimmauld Place and would be in contact soon. Hedwig had yet to bring a response.

Nightmares continued to afflict Harry, but now, not only did he dream about Dumbledore's death, but he relived the experience of his parents' murders, as well. Each night, he would struggle to put the day away, to clear his mind, to empty the questions and the dreadful, cyclic feelings. However, each night, it was in vain, for the visions never failed to return. Harry was grateful for the arrival of every single morning.

Members of the Order were frequently coming and going from the house. Harry hadn't seen Mad-Eye Moody since the day he'd taken the Horcrux, but he was greatly curious to know what had become of it. He needed proof that it had, indeed, been destroyed, before he could truly move on to the next one. He should have never let Moody take it, but the Auror had been very mistrustful of the circumstances, and Harry couldn't afford to explain them to him.

He was starting to get used to Luci, no longer feeling wary around her, but now feeling quite nervous. Eventually, he'd realized that it was the exciting kind of nervous, and he had started to like it. She was bright and expressive, and she did seem to cheer up Malfoy, who was, possibly, the dreariest person Harry had ever known, if you didn't count Snape.

Luci did have a terrible habit, however, of frequently criticizing herself, which Harry found a bit disconcerting. She would do it in subtle, self-deprecating ways, and she would always cover it with a joke. No one else seemed to notice this, but it irritated Harry, because he was beginning to grow fond of her. He had a gnawing suspicion, though, that she was truly herself very seldom and poured a great deal of effort into shutting out anyone who might want to get to know her. She was often locked away with Malfoy in his room, which gave Harry a very disagreeable feeling, but which also kept him from spending much time with her and stole any hope of him truly getting past her barricades.

One evening, well into the month of September, Harry admitted to himself that he'd been procrastinating about leaving Grimmauld Place, and that this was a luxury that he could no longer afford, unless he was doing something productive with his time here. In fact, he was starting to feel much like he imagined Sirius had felt when he was cooped up in this uninspiring place - bored, dispirited, like he hadn't seen sunlight in ages. But he had been letting his self-doubt dissuade him from leaving. Sometimes, Harry felt as if he could defeat Voldemort easily, driven solely by rage. Other times, he was mired in such all-consuming insecurity that he wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and never come out again. Sure, he had taught his classmates advanced defensive spells, but how much did he really know? Most of his escapes from danger had been only by the skin of his teeth and they had all involved some assistance from someone or something.

But now, Dumbledore was dead. He had always been there to see Harry through, but Harry was now left with no one to advise him or to protect him. He had no idea what tools he might need in order to fight a battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. All he knew was that he had to fight that battle and that he certainly didn't feel ready to face this looming truth on his own.

Harry was spending numerous nights alone in the drawing room, but on this particular occasion, Luci also wandered in, and the clock on the wall told him that it was almost one o'clock in the morning. He hadn't been prepared to see her, and his pulse began to quicken.

"Oh," she said, as she noticed him. "Sorry, I'll go..."

"No," he shook his head. "Up late again?"

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Look who's talking."

Luci came in and sat down across from him.

"You were right," he said.

"That's always nice to hear. What about?"

"I shouldn't have left here alone."

"You did what you thought you needed to do," she responded, after a thoughtful pause.

Harry shrugged.

"So you found what you were looking for?" she asked.

He glanced curiously at her.

She smiled and said teasingly, "It was just a guess. I don't know any of your secrets."

Harry must have looked relieved, because her expression altered and she said, "You really don't trust me at all, do you?"

"Well, you can't blame me," replied Harry, but he immediately regretted it. Had he no control over his mouth anymore? Good grief!

Bemused, Luci retorted, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Harry knew that he was blushing furiously, but he threw caution to the wind. "You spend a lot of time with Malfoy, that's all. Bolted up in his room. It's a bit dodgy, you have to admit. What are you up to, anyway?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her voice conveyed annoyance, but mostly hurt, when she answered, "What I do with Draco is none of your business."

"This is my house," growled Harry.

She narrowed her eyes. "You keep saying that, Harry. Do you want us to leave?"

"I want him to leave."

"Where Draco goes, I go."

This statement hit Harry like a sack of bricks.

"What? Why?"

Luci looked as if she wished she could take it back. She seemed to be struggling to find an answer.

"What are you doing with him? Is there something going on with you two?" Harry asked, accusingly.

"Oh. Wow. Absolutely not." Luci's voice was quiet and she was visibly stunned.

After a moment, she seemed to have composed herself and replied steadily, "Not that it's your concern, but I'm helping him to prepare for his N.E.W.T.s. Minerva said that, under the circumstances, if he took them and passed, he wouldn't have to repeat his seventh year. We're not doing anything dodgy, as you put it."

Regret unexpectedly swept over Harry, followed by an equally unexpected wave of relief.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just... You acted like you had something to hide. I was just..." He swallowed and said again, "I'm sorry."

Luci stood and said moodily, "I'm not hiding anything. I'm a private person, that's all. And now, I'm going back to bed. I'm sorry I came down here in the first place."

"Luci," he started, standing too.

When she gazed up into his eyes, he could see that he had deeply upset her.

Harry looked away and focused, instead, on the floor.

"You have to understand, I hate Malfoy. He's always up to something, and you're just... always with him..."

"We're going in circles here," said Luci. "I told you what we were doing. You don't trust me. That's fine."

"I do trust you," he responded weakly, though he didn't know how true it was. It came and went.

She sighed heavily. "I just... really can't believe that right now."

"What do you want? Proof?" exclaimed Harry.

"I don't want anything from you! Your trust issues are your problem, and to be honest, they're understandable, considering your past, so like I said, it's fine." But her tone didn't sound like things were fine at all.

Harry realized that she must know pretty much everything about him. He suddenly felt very exposed. Somehow, though, the feeling didn't bother him.

"Duel with me," he said abruptly.

Luci shook her head in confusion. "What?"

"I'll prove to you that I trust you. Ron, Hermione, and I always perform defensive spells on each other. Now that they're gone, I need the practice. And it'll help with the boredom."

She was looking hesitantly at him, studying his face, as if she thought he was joking.

"Seriously?"

He nodded.

Luci sighed again. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

He could tell that she meant it, but the idea of practicing defense with her was actually quite exciting to him. She was an Auror, and she could teach him all sorts of things! If she'd forgive him, that is.

"I want to," he replied.

"Well, I don't see how dueling builds trust," she said crossly.

"It does; believe me! When you're vulnerable to someone..." He stopped, because the sentence itself had made him feel very vulnerable indeed. "Well, if nothing else, it'll be... fun," he finished.

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know how much help I can be to you, Harry. I may surpass you in knowledge, but you greatly surpass me in real experience, which is a far better teacher."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Knowledge is what I need."

"I'm exhausted," she said then, though he was sure this was a lie. "Tomorrow night, same place, same time?"

Harry smiled. "OK."

She nodded, and without saying good night to him, left the room.

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The next evening, Harry arrived in the drawing room before Luci did. She had avoided him for most of the day, except when she'd asked him, very tartly, to pass the salt at lunch. He was sitting there, in the dark, still feeling rather remorseful about his accusations, when she waved her wand to turn on the light in the room.

With no proper greeting, she began coolly, "I've thought about it, and I've decided that I'm not a worthy opponent for you."

Harry frowned at her. "You know that isn't true. You're just still mad at me about last night."

"A little of both," replied Luci.

"Well, get over it," he said angrily. "I've apologized, and you're brilliant enough to become an Auror, so you can obviously duel circles around me."

After gaping at him for a moment, to Harry's surprise, she laughed.

He gave her a questioning look.

Still smiling, she said, "I love how you've just called me out, but you should know that I don't normally take criticism very well."

"Except from yourself." That had escaped his mouth without his consent. Everything seemed to lately.

Luci tilted her head to one side. "Touché, Potter, touché."

Her mood had changed so suddenly that Harry really didn't know what to make of it. He stared incredulously at her. "Potter?"

"Harry," she corrected, "but it's a duel. Last names in a duel. You should know; you call Draco 'Malfoy' all the time." She grinned. "So, where shall we begin?"

"I... uh..."

"Well, come on, Harry, this was your idea. You must have some routine," she said cheerily.

Harry watched her, perplexed, and finally said, "We just... throw spells at one another..."

"OK, prepare to be owned," smiled Luci, raising her wand at him. "Potter," she added impishly.

"I... what? Owned?"

She laughed. "Too foreign? Sorry. I was just saying that I was going to crush you, but it's not really true, of course."

Harry shook his head. "Whatever you say..."

He, too, put himself into the dueling position.

"Expelliarmus!" she said, before he was even ready.

"Hey, that wasn't fair!" he shouted.

"Oh," she smiled playfully, "I didn't know we were playing fair."

Harry grinned, retrieved his wand, and hit her with the Body-Bind curse before she could block it.

After he'd lifted the spell, the pair of them spent hours into the early morning, dueling and laughing. Harry hadn't had that much fun with anyone, other than Ron and Hermione, in so long that he couldn't even remember.

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The next day, Mad-Eye Moody finally returned to Grimmauld Place. His right arm was bandaged all the way up to his elbow, and he was more silent than usual. No one even bothered to inquire about this new injury, but Harry certainly intended to ask.

After lunch that afternoon, he managed to corner Mad-Eye as he was, once again, leaving the house. The entryway was narrow, and Harry was able to move past the Auror and step in front of the large oak door, blocking the way out.

"What happened?" began Harry, gesturing towards the bandages.

Mad-Eye grunted crossly and then replied in a hushed voice, "That's thanks to your Horcrux."

"How did it do that to you?" Harry continued, feigning ignorance.

The aged wizard frowned. "Very dark magic, Potter. That's all you need to know."

"Where are the wings now?"

"Back where they belong, as I said before."

"Professor," stammered Harry.

Mad-Eye gazed searchingly at him.

"That's not all I need to know..."

"I have a feeling you know more about these things than you let on, and if that's the case, you do know more than you need to know. Now, you can rest assured that I've taken care of it."

Harry had to ask. "So the wings are no longer a Horcrux?"

Mad-Eye gave him an appraising look, and, seeming as if he wanted to say more, simply stated, "No," and made his way past Harry and out the front door, leaving him standing in the entryway with his blissful relief.

On his way back up to his room, Harry encountered Luci on the landing. They didn't look at one another, but when she passed him, she whispered, "See you tonight?"

He grinned, his insides shimmying. "Yeah."

She continued down the landing and into Malfoy's room, which was three doors down from Harry's own.

Hedwig was waiting patiently for him, perched inside of her cage, which sat near the window. She had a piece of parchment tied to her leg. Harry rustled her feathers affectionately and then relieved her of the letter. He unrolled it and found a short note from Ron.

"Harry,

Glad to hear you're all right. Things are OK here. Two new teachers - Arnaud Finnister is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and Clares Todge is teaching Transfiguration. Neither of them is very interesting, and Hermione wants me to tell you that you could teach Defense much better.

I got Quidditch Captain! Brilliant, eh? Can't hardly replace you, but it's cool, anyway. Hermione is having far too much fun being Head Girl. Being Head Boy is OK.

Hagrid is Head of Gryffindor now! We talked to him and got the answer. We'll tell you when we see you. Be sure to stay in touch.

Ron

P.S. Keep a look-out for House Elves."

"House Elves?" Harry said aloud to himself.

An aching had filled his chest. He folded the letter and tossed it into his trunk. He missed Ron and Hermione, and he missed Hogwarts, and he missed Quidditch. Harry wasn't one to feel sorry for himself, but no one could deny that life had never been very fair to him.