Harry Potter and the Dark Mark

Chapter Three: Sixteen Candles

"Harry! Come on, mate! Hurry up! We're gonna be late if you don't stop muckin' about!"

Harry was halfway hopping towards his bedroom door as he tried to put on his trainers, zip up his trousers and calm his stubborn hair. "Coming!" he called to Dudley. As he was placing his hand on the doorknob, Hedwig flew into his window and circled his head, commanding his attention.

"Not now, Girl, I'm late--"

But Hedwig was adamant and nearly stuffed the envelope she was carrying into his hand. The bright green ink caught Harry's attention right away: a Hogwarts letter. At once forgetting all about his bellowing cousin, he quickly tore the envelope open and removed the letter:

Dear Sixth Year Student:

It is time for you to select the two classes you will be taking on as concentration courses this term. These courses are designed to aid you in your N.E.W.T exams during your seventh year and should be selected based on which fields you feel you are most interested in and likely to pursue. Please use discretion. For example: if you received an Owl in Divination, it would make sense to choose Your Inner Eye as a concentration course and not Herbology: Unearthing the Magic. Low marks in these courses will adversely affect your academic future. Please select carefully, as this is an important step in the advancement of your magical career.

Best Regards and Wishes,

Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

Harry stared at the options blankly:

Ancient Runes --- Archeology Meets Mythology
Arithmancy --- Logic, Reason and the Wizarding World
Astronomy --- Understanding the Infinite
Care of Magical Creatures --- The Monster's Role In Society
Charms --- The Science of Spelling
Defense Against the Dark Arts --- Why Good Wizards Turn Bad
Divination --- Your Inner Eye
Herbology --- Unearthing the Magic
History of Magic --- 2,000 Years of Oppression
Muggle Studies --- Coexistence
Potions --- Conquest of the Senses
Transfiguration --- The Magic of the Human Body

"Oh hell," said Harry, thinking out loud, "two extra courses we'll have to take this year! What, are they trying to kill us?"

His bedroom door flew open revealing a red faced Dudley Dursley. "No, but I'll kill you if you don't hurry the hell up!"

Harry laughed, stuffed the letter into his trouser pocket and the two friends were at once tearing downstairs.

*

Harry wasn't sure how he managed it, but Dudley persuaded Uncle Vernon to drive them down to London for the party. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have reckoned Dudley bewitched his father, because that seemed to be the only logical explanation for it! Either that or Dudley was far better at getting his way than Harry had given him credit for!

It was dusk as the three drove in through the leafy London suburb of Hammersmith, then into the equally as residential Shepherds Bush. He made a sharp left turn onto Almond Grove and their car crept up a rather steep hill, Vernon searching for house number twenty, muttering to himself along with the sputtering of the car engine.

"I hate London, damn house numbers, they never make any sense, and I can't believe I'm actually doing this--"

The houses were small, most of them two-up two-downs, with respectable front gardens and a car at the pavement. Number twenty was one such home: its white paint was noticeably newer than the others, their red front door shining. Vernon didn't even bother saying goodbye, he simply barked that he'd be back at half past eleven on the dot and if they weren't on the front porch waiting he'd leave without them.

"Idle threat," said Dudley as they walked up the red brick walkway to the front door.

"Marwick!" cried Harry, reaching down and gleefully scooping up the purring black and white cat that had been sitting at the front step. "Oh Marwick, we've missed you, girl!" Marwick snuggled against Harry's chest and Harry happily scratched her ears.

"You're getting cat hair all over your nice gray jumper!"

"I'll live, Dudley."

Dudley knocked on the door. He was wearing all black: sleek trousers and a flattering polyester shirt. He sniggered. "Yeah, well, you get that cat anywhere near me and I'll kill ya!"

The door flung open and Harry's heart stopped.

"Sophie!" He shouted.

The winsome brunette with those enormous, infinite brown eyes had thrown herself onto him. He laughed and lifted her up off her feet, squeezing her tightly, kissing her firmly on the cheek.

Never let go, Harry. Never let go. . .

(Oh how he wished Dudley hadn't been staring at them, or he would have greeted her properly!)

Sophie next latched onto Dudley with the same energy and Dudley landed her with a safe kiss on the cheek.

Her hair was longer than Harry had remembered and her skin was tanned as his was-- maybe it was that week she'd spent at the seaside. Her cheeks were flushed though, as she flashed her mega watt, dimpled smile at her friends.

"You're early! I was betting you'd be the last to arrive! Come in, come in! Dad! Harry and Dudley are here!"

They walked into the home-- it didn't smell of sugar cookies as their old house had when Imelda was still alive, but it still felt good. Roger Banbury came briskly down the staircase and landed both boys with a firm handshake.

"Boys! Delighted to have you! Delighted! We've both missed you so very much!"

"Good to see you as well, Mr. Banbury," said Harry, heartily returning the handshake.

"How are you getting on with Scotland Yard here in London?"

"Same old politics, you know. Same old politics. But I refuse to bore you with talk about me. This is your night! Sixteen comes only once in a man's life, you know! Come on! We've got plenty of food, so don't any of you be shy! The guests should be arriving shortly. Can I get either of you a drink?"

"Oh!" said Sophie with a wink at Dudley. "I've got some Butterbeer!"

Dudley nearly gave way to tears. "Really?"

"Yeah! Ginny Weasley-- she had some sent over to us specifically for tonight."

"Ginny?" asked Harry as they helped themselves to a bottle. "Really?"

"Oh yes-- her and I have been keeping in quite close contact, actually. Lovely girl."

"Oh she is, absolutely," said Dudley, savoring the drink he loved so much. "You know, Harry," he said quite seriously, "We all know she fancies you. I mean. . . I'm a Muggle and even I know that. She's quite the pretty thing too. . . why don't you, you know, ask her--"

Harry tore his gaze away from Sophie and cleared his throat, not about to let him finish that sentence. "Right, Dudley. My best friend´s little sister. Be serious!" He was getting rather warm and took a long swig from his butterbeer. He threw a worried look at Sophie, but she was smiling at him. (Had those eyes ever been anything but kind?)

She squeezed his arm supportively, winked at him and did the best thing anyone could have done at that moment: she changed the subject.

"Dudley? Call me crazy, but I think you've actually grown since last I saw you!"

Dudley's face lit up. "I know! I'm so relieved!"

"Well, your Mum is tall, so it's only natural."

"I know, but she's the only one in her family that is. The rest are all quite short, so I was certain I was doomed."

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, you can say that again. I haven't grown an inch since last summer. And for a minute there I was getting excited I might actually have a chance at catching up with Ron."

"You mean Goliath?" said Dudley with a snort. "Fat chance of that!"

"Dudley," said Sophie with a shake of her head, "Nonsense. I think that Harry is a perfect height!" She straightened up tall. "See? We're practically eye to eye!"

Harry grimaced. "Don't remind me."

Dudley laughed, "She's wearing heels, mate. It´s really not that bad."

The doorbell rang at that moment. Roger opened it and in walked . . .

"Hermione!" Harry cried, rushing over to her. She beamed upon sight of Harry and ran to greet him. "Happy Birthday Harry!" She glanced past him at Dudley. "Happy Birthday, Dudley! Sophie, where should I put the presents?"

Sophie hugged Hermione and showed her where to drop off the gifts. Her sun-kissed tendrils were cut short cut as they had been the previous year, and she wore black Muggle dress shoes, slacks, and a flattering three-quarter-length blouse. It was impossible not to stare at Hermione Granger those days.

The fireplace erupted into three blasts of green smoke, and everyone ran to help the arrivals out of the fireplace.

"Seamus! Dean! Neville!" Harry embraced each of his friends. The three boys dusted themselves off and showered Harry with "Happy Birthdays" and then made a point of being just as civil towards Dudley.

"Hermione, where's Ron?" asked Seamus, whose radar had spotted the butterbeer and was already finishing off a bottle.

"He's coming. You know the Weasleys-- fashionably late."

"Wait till you see Ron, Hermione," said Harry. "He got toasted when we were in Ireland."

"Oh I know, he sent me a photo to prepare me for it! Poor bloke."

As if on queue, there were four more mini-explosions at the fireplace and out stepped the Weasleys Ron, Ginny, Fred and George.

Hermione was at once at Ron's side, dusting off his clothes, taking off his robe for him and greeting him with a quick peck.

"Ah, there the lovebirds are," said Dean. "It's still gonna take me some time gettin' used to it."

"Get used to it, mate," said Ron, beaming, holding Hermione closely at his side.

Ron's burn had faded somewhat, thankfully, but it was still visibly burnt. Ginny, on the other hand, was quite pale-- as though she hadn't seen daylight in a very long time...

"All right there, Ginny?" Harry hugged her and brushed her hair back from her face, concerned. "You don't look quite well."

"Oh," she said quietly. "Yeah, well, I was kinda sick for a while. . ."

Fred, George and Ron tried to suppress their giggles. Sophie shot them all a warning shake of the head. "Being Sophie's brothers, I'd expect you'd be a bit more considerate to her feelings!"

"Exactly, we're her brothers," said George. "It's our job to be inconsiderate."

"Hey, what exactly did happen with that Margaret woman?" asked Harry, still looking concerned.

Ginny was frowning. "That psychopath. She blamed me for her garden being overrun with garden gnomes. How stupid is that? I can't bear even looking at the nasty little creatures and she blamed me for dumping ours into her garden? I still dunno where she got that crazy idea. So. . ." she paused, shaking her head. "Her and I went back and forth one day, and I basically called her something along the lines of a crazy, dirty old hag. She didn't like that too much."

"No, I should think she wouldn't!" said Harry.

"So . . . so she pulled out her wand and . . ."

"Turned her into one," Ron exploded, laughing. "Turned her into a flippin' garden gnome! Can you imagine it? Can you believe it?" Fred and George were by now howling with laughter, while everyone else stared at Ginny in disbelief.

Hermione gasped. "Oh Ginny! Not really. . ."

"Yes," said Ginny desperately, "oh Hermione, it was terrible. I was stuck like that for a whole week! Do you know how hard a spell something like that is to reverse? Especially the complex sort that Margaret put on me!"

"She showed up in our front garden," said George through heaves of laughter, " and I thought she was a real gnome and yelled at her to get the hell off our front porch and picked her up, well, you all know what to do with gnomes. . ."

Harry covered his mouth, desperately vying not to laugh at the distraught-looking Ginny.

"Er. . . sorry, I'm the Muggle here, remember?" said Dudley. "What exactly is a garden gnome and what do you do with them?"

Ron put a hand on Dudley's shoulder. "Garden gnomes are really foul looking, savage little monsters that love to besiege gardens and eat up the roots to all the plants. The only way to really get rid of them is to take them by the ankles and spin them around really fast and then throw them as far as you can. They get so dizzy that it takes 'em weeks to find their way back to the garden again."

Dudley gasped. "George! You didn't do that to your own sister!"

"Well, she bit me really hard before I was able to chuck her over the fence! So I dropped her and she was able to get out the words "I'm-Ginny-You-Stupid-Idiot!"

By now the entire company was laughing, Ginny was burning from embarrassment.

Harry hugged Ginny. "Poor thing. Don't feel embarrassed-- that could have been any of us."

"See Ginny?" said Hermione. "I'm always telling Ron to watch his temper! That's where that Weasley temper will get you!"

"Oh come off it, 'Mione," said Ron dismissively. "I'm famished. Let's eat, everyone!"

They stuffed their faces, practically emptying the great table of food that the Banburys had assembled for everyone. The company sat in the Banburys living room and between all the chewing and drinking, throwing out jokes and jibes that kept the company in stitches for most of the evening. (Harry was keenly aware of Dudley´s attempts to sit beside Sophie, but made certain that he occupied the empty spot next to her on the sofa.)

Hermione, bless her, was quick to discuss their soon approaching start of class. "Everyone get their concentration letters?"

Everyone nodded, and excited murmuring began amongst the sixth years.

Harry turned eagerly to Ron. "Which ones did you pick?"

Ron looked at Harry as though it were a silly question. "Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "Why?"

"Why? Harry, really, why do you think? Hagrid will be teaching Care of Magical creatures, so I'll get full marks in that class, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts is the only other thing I'll be able to tolerate."

"Ron," Herimone snapped, "That is no way to go about such an important decision!"

"Oh come off it! Sixth year is the hardest year as it is-- I'm not gonna pick something like Arithmancy and make my life harder than it needs to be. Unlike you."

Hermione paused momentarily-- it was obvious that she had picked Arithmancy.

She quickly turned to Sophie. "How about you?"

"Mmmm. . . not quite sure. Big decision, you know. But I'm leaning towards Defense Against the Dark Arts, for sure. And maybe Astronomy."

"And you, Harry?"

"I . . . I don't know. I'm not really sure what I should pick."

"Well," Hermione prodded, "what did you get your OWLs in?"

Harry felt embarrassed. "I. . . only got two. Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione betrayed a slight shock at the fact he only received two OWL certificates (even Ron got three certificates) but was remained pensive. "Those are both promising subjects. What is it you want to do after Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked. After Hogwarts? Was there a life after Hogwarts? In two years he would be eighteen years old and legally an adult-- in all likelihood, the Dursleys' would give him the boot the very second the clock ticked twelve am on 31st July.

And then what? What could he do? Spend his life running away from Voldemort? He wouldn't have the safe haven of Privet Drive anymore-- his only hope of not getting zapped would be to stay on at Hogwarts. . . unless . . .

Harry shook his head. "I haven't really thought about that."

"Then my advice is to go with your strengths. Or better still," she said with a wink, "go with your gut."

Harry knew Hermione's gut: Arithmancy and Muggle Studies. Ron was quite vocal about his. But . . . on his own?

"Oh! And Harry," said Hermione, "speaking of classes--"

"Sheesh," said Seamus Finnegan, "don't you ever think of anything other than school?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Seamus as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. "Have you seen this?"

She passed the parchment to him and he unfolded it:

Get Your Certificate!
Why settle for being an average Wizard?
Become certified in select fields and take that first step of rising above the rest!
The Ministry of Magic Department of Educational Development is once again announcing the opportunity
for Wizards to take classes in several select magical fields including Apparition, Divination and Transfiguration.
Classes are open beginning the first of September. Register now!
(You must be eighteen years of age or older to take the test required to receive your certificate.
Students sixteen years of age or older may take the courses for extra school credits, but may not take the tests.)

Harry blinked and then looked up over at Hermione who was visibly eager about the idea. Apparently Sophie was equally as confused, "Hermione? You need help in pulling up your marks?"

"No. But Ron here does. And it wouldn't hurt Harry either."

"Hey," said Ron defensively, "I'll have you know that I did quite well last term--"

"Barely passing isn't what I'd call 'quite well.'"

"I already told Hermione that there's no bloody way I'm doing that. Besides, Harry. . . I've actually been meaning to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" asked Harry, hoping this would lead to a change of subject to get away from Hermione's idea.

"See. . . now that Fred and George have graduated, Angelina will be holding tryouts for House Beaters, right?"

Harry smiled. "That's right."

"Well . . . I've been. . . thinking about trying out for it."

Harry nearly jumped to his feet! "Really?"

"Yeah. . ."

"Ron, that's fantastic!"

"Ron," said Hermione, "you didn't tell me you were thinking of joining the house team."

"Well, because I know you were just gonna give me the spiel about how it's going to take too much time away from my studies and how I need to devote every second of this term to bringing up my marks."

Hermione nodded, "yes, and you forgot the part about how it won't fit in with the extra classes that you'll be taking with Harry and I at the Ministry!"

"No, pudding, I didn't forget that part. Those classes aren't even a part of the equation."

"Well they should be."

"I want to be on the team, 'Mione. You know I've always wanted to, and now I have the opportunity."

"And you have the opportunity to bring up your marks! And in the future that's what's going to matter, not being on some silly team--"

"HEY," cried Harry, Fred and George.

"No disrespect intended," said Hermione quickly, "but Ron, you really should weigh this decision before you make it."

"I have. And I've made the right one."

Hermione folded her arms in defeat. "Okay. Fine. But don't come crying to me when it comes time to graduate and your marks are bottom of the barrel."

"That's a bargain," said Ron, which won a smack in the arm from Hermione.

Ron grinned and pulled her in close to him. "I love it when you're angry, pudding."

"And don't call me pudding!"

Ron kissed her on the cheek and, just like that, Hermione calmed down and practically melted into his arms.

"Right then," said Sophie loudly, clapping her hands. "I hate to break up this beautiful love scene here, but the rest of us are gonna be sick and we still have an entire cake to eat!"

Half past eleven came much too quickly. They'd been at the Banburys good five hours, but it had been such a wonderful evening, it felt like it had been a mere five minutes! After gorging themselves with the abundance of birthday cake (it had to be big to fit all the candles on it) they had all gone a bit overboard with the butterbeer. Ron was talking very loudly and Harry was having difficulty holding all of his presents and walking a straight line towards the front door at the same time.

The friends bade their farewells, Ron going about the traditional business of setting up the dates to meet up at Diagon Alley.

"Twenty-fifth of August it is," said Ron triumphantly after a frustrating five minutes of comparing schedules. "And we'll be seein' you at Diagon too, right Sophie?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh!" said Dudley, piping up, "I'd like to come too! You're always talking about this place. Can I come, Harry? I can, can't I?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't see why not, Dudley! It'll be fun!"

"Fantastic," said Sophie. "Don't you two worry about anything, I'll have Dad pick us all up and we can all go together."

"Ahhh," said Ron with a wink at Harry, "now this is what I like! All this togetherness! Me and Hermione-- you and Sophie-- isn't it just the greatest thing?"

Any haze from the butterbeer was completely cleared away with Ron's last words. Harry went tense-- Ron had most definitely stuck his foot in his mouth. Out of Harry's peripheral he could see Dudley staring at him, mouth thin and solemn. The sudden quietness was terrifying.

Harry turned slowly to completely face his cousin. Dudley didn't look angry, but he certainly wasn't amused either: he hadn't taken Ron's remark as a joke because he knew that it hadn't been one.

Do something, Harry!

Harry laughed nervously and patted Ron on his back (enough to make Ron give out a quick yelp of pain).

"Enough butterbeer for you, mate." He smiled hopefully at Dudley. "Best be going, then. Don't fancy the idea of walking all the way back to Surrey. Good night everyone!"

Harry and Dudley left the house and went back out into the strangely warm night air. It was 11:28 and Uncle Vernon was sitting in the car, his engine sputtering, raring to go.

"You know Dudley, I reckon he would have left without us," said Harry as they approached the car.

Dudley was staring down at the ground and merely answered with a muted "yeah." He climbed into the passenger seat and Harry slid in the back, anxiously following his cousin's every move. They were soon on the motorway again, heading for Surrey, and to Harry's complete dismay, Dudley made no further attempts at conversation.

Back at Privet Drive, their usual journey upstairs to their bedrooms would have usually been filled with laughing and joking. But tonight? Nothing.

"Goodnight, Dudley," said Harry as Dudley walked towards his bedroom.

"'Night," Dudley responded, closing the door behind him. He didn't slam the door. No, it was worse than that. He closed is slowly, very quietly, the soft click of the bolt reverberating through Harry just as though he'd slammed it with all his might. Harry shuffled sadly into his room, set down his at his desk and threw himself on top of the bed, sighing loudly.

Hedwig was perched at the window, staring at him with her concerned amber eyes. Harry lifted up his head and met her gaze.

"Hedwig? Your master is an complete moron."

Hedwig kept her stare.

"I should have told Dudley weeks ago. I should have told him weeks ago about Sophie and myself. . . but I knew how much he loved her and I couldn't bare to break his heart. . ." he heaved himself up and took a seat at his desk next to Hedwig and scratched her head. "I know, I know. I know what you're thinking: I've certainly succeeded in breaking his heart now. And not only that. . . I've really hurt something that we've both been working so hard at creating. Oh Hedwig, what should I do?"

Hedwig nibbled affectionately at Harry's fingers and rubbed against his arm, cooing softly and contentedly.

Harry smiled at her. "You're my best girl, you know that Hedwig?"

Hedwig seemed to, and answered him with a loud purr-like coo.

"But your master is still a complete moron." He threw himself back on his bed and tried desperately to get some sleep.

*

Things appeared to be somewhat normal in the morning. Harry and Dudley were able to speak about the party the night before and showed off their presents to one another. The one unnerving thing was that Dudley seemed to make a point of not giving Harry a great deal of eye contact.

The air was different between them and Harry wasn't about to go the entire summer putting on the appearance that everything was fine, when it most obviously wasn't. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, Dudley was lounging on the sofa reading a magazine and Harry made up his mind that he was going to corner him and get out in the air what both of them had been avoiding.

"Dudley, listen, you and I really need to talk."

"Oh? About what?"

"Now, come on, let's not pretend. You know what I'm talking about. That night at the party--"

"Oh yes, the party."

"Yes," said Harry. "Yes, and. . . I just wanted to tell you that--"

"You know, I've been meaning to apologize to you about that."

Harry's voice caught in his throat. "Erm . . . sorry?"

"Yes, you know, I realize now that I must have seemed like a terrible friend that night."

"You?"

"I mean, when I think of how I hadn't told you about myself and Sophie being together, well, I just cringe! And knowing how very much you cared for her, I mean, knowing that you practically god damned worshipped her and then to find out that I'd been with her the whole time, well, I can only imagine the anger you must have felt."

Harry was speechless. His heart was racing, his forehead was sweating, and he felt like everything around him was closing in.

"Yes," Harry whispered, "Yes, you're absolutely right . . . " Harry couldn't stand it anymore. "Oh Dudley, I am sorry. I can't tell you enough . . . I know how I must have hurt you, but. . . the reason I didn't tell you sooner was because I was scared." "You were scared--"

"I didn't know what your reaction would be and I didn't want anything to come between our friendship--"

"If you really didn't want anything to come between our friendship, you should have told me about this the minute that you realized you had feelings for her instead of waiting and lying to me--"

"Now wait a minute, Dudley, I never lied to you--"

"You lied to me! Holding the truth back and leading me on to believe that everything was just right as rain is called lying, Harry! Grow up, already!"

The words weren't coming. He wanted so desperately for Dudley to understand, but didn't know how to get him to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What, you think that by saying 'sorry' I'm going to be okay? Would you be okay if the situation were reversed and I said 'sorry'?"

"Dudley, our friendship is very important to me and I will do anything to keep things they way they've been."

Dudley stood up from the sofa and stared his cousin down. "Like I said Harry, if our friendship means as much to you as you claim, you wouldn't have put it into this position in the first place."

Dudley turned and marched out of den, and up the staircase to his room. A door slammed shut upstairs and Harry closed his eyes. It was going to take much more than wishing to get him out of this nightmare.

* * *