The Inadequate Life

“I still say you’re crazy,” Katie told Harry as they all stepped out of the conference room together. “If you hadn’t offered us unlimited access to your vaults, I’d have said flat-out that it couldn’t be done.”

Harry shrugged. “I know that it might take something like a bribe to pull it off,” he said, “or maybe something that you three think up that we haven’t even thought of yet. But if we can’t make it work, then our plans for the final battle are shot and we’ll pretty much have to start over. If the money in my vaults is what it takes, it’ll be a small price to pay.”

“True enough,” Angelina said. “Are you sure we can’t bring Fred and George in on this? It’s right up their alley.”

“No,” Harry said flatly, shaking his head. “This needs to be as secret as possible. I don’t want anyone knowing about it except me and the three of you—well, and Hermione, Ron and Ginny, since it’s part of the plan. Besides, Fred and George are too busy with their own work, which is just as important.”

“Sorry, Ange,” Alicia said with completely transparent false sympathy. “You’ll just have to find time in between your work and Fred’s to shag.”

“Eh,” Angelina said dismissively. “We’ll manage. It’ll still be more than you’re getting. You haven’t shagged anyone since Wood left Hogwarts.”

Alicia reeled as if stung. “Are you going to let her get away with that?” she asked Harry.

“Er… what do you expect me to do about it?” Harry asked nervously.

“Shag me right now to prove to her it isn’t true,” Alicia answered promptly, and started undoing her robes.

“Wait a second!” Harry yelped, backing away.

Alicia stopped de-robing, and the three girls all laughed. “Relax, Harry,” Alicia chortled, “we’re just having you on.”

“You really are tense, aren’t you?” Katie put in with a smirk. “Obviously Ginny’s not doing her wifely duties. You should go find her and shag her brains out.”

Still chuckling, the three girls headed downstairs for a snack. Harry watched them go. “That’s a good idea,” he muttered. “But I think we’d better talk first.”

Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t find Ginny anywhere. After searching all over the house, Harry found Luna in Hermione’s room, collaborating on an interpretation of an old spell. Luna, looking slightly disheveled—Harry guessed with embarrassment that she and George must have just had a shag—told Harry that Ginny had decided to go visit her parents, and Hermione added that Ron had gone with her. A bit put out that Ginny hadn’t told him she was going, Harry thanked Luna and Hermione and backed out of the room.

Harry stood in the hall trying to decide what to do. He didn’t have anything on his schedule for a few hours—actually, not even until after supper. He’d intended to use the time to practice spell-casting with Ginny in one of the practice rooms, but Ginny’s spontaneous visit to the Burrow left him with no one to spar with. And Harry had grown strong enough and skilled enough at dueling that most of the D.A. were reluctant to take him on, even in a mock duel, so he couldn’t just find a random person who had some free time and wanted to get in a bit of extra practice.

I should probably make a point of dueling each person in the D.A. , Harry thought grumpily. I won’t be worth much against Voldemort if I’ve only faced off against people I’m evenly matched with. Actually, I’m going to set up a rota so that everyone in the D.A. gets to face everyone else. That way we’ll all get the experience of dueling against lots of different skill levels—we’ll probably all learn more that way.

Harry made a mental note to rearrange the practice rota, but it didn’t help him decide what to do with his suddenly free time. What he really wanted to do was talk to Ginny about why she was so angry at him. He couldn’t fathom why she would be acting jealous, and of Hermione of all people. Ginny knew that Harry would never have come between Ron and Hermione, even if he wasn’t married to and in love with Ginny—which he was—and even if he was attracted to Hermione—which he wasn’t.

He supposed it had been a bad idea not to confide in Ginny about his idea regarding Hermione’s role in the final battle—actually, if he’d just brought it up with her then Ginny would probably have convinced him to talk to Hermione a lot sooner. And Ginny was right—it wasn’t usual for Harry to keep secrets from her. It meant more to him than Ginny knew that he felt he could tell her anything… there had been things over the years he hadn’t been able to tell Hermione, or Ron, but Ginny was different.

Just before she’d gone off to deal with Parvati and Lavender—Harry wondered vaguely what she’d done—Ginny had essentially demanded that Harry explain himself the second he was done. He wanted to, very badly—he hated being at odds with Ginny. Ever since they’d gotten married, Harry wanted everything to be perfect between them—a feeling that grew as the inevitable showdown with Voldemort drew closer. But for some reason Ginny had either forgotten about her demand (not likely), or she wasn’t quite as intent on it as she had been.

Grumbling to himself, Harry made his way down to the kitchen. Despite it being well into the afternoon, a few D.A. members were snacking and chatting happily, including Angelina, Alicia and Katie. When Harry saw the three girls, he glanced at his watch; “It’s been over an hour since you came down here,” he said in amazement. “Are you still eating?”

“We’re chatting and socializing,” Alicia corrected with a sniff, gesturing toward Lee, Ernie and Sally-Ann, who were seated across the table. “Taking advantage of some of that free time you promised us, remember?”

Rolling his eyes at the laughter, Harry went over to the table, and to everyone’s surprise sat down. “What?” he said defensively when he noticed their looks. “This is my house, you know…”

“I, um… I think we’re more surprised that you’re taking the time to sit down and eat,” Terry admitted.

Harry grimaced. He had recently gotten into the habit of having his meals during meetings, or having Dobby bring him something to eat after practicing his spell-casting. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down at the kitchen table and just chatted about non-D.A. stuff while he ate. “Well, maybe I need a bit of that free time too,” he retorted with an ironic nod at Alicia.

“Couldn’t find Ginny, then?” Angelina asked lightly, and the others laughed when Harry blushed.

For a while, at least, Harry forgot to worry about Ginny. He chatted, teased and laughed with the others, relaxing and having a good time. He hadn’t felt like a normal person—well, as normal as a wizard could be, as Harry could be—in a very long time… certainly not since before Dumbledore died, and probably not even since he first learned about the Horcruxes. He didn’t get to sit and have a conversation just for fun hardly at all any more, so he enjoyed it while he could.

After about half an hour, the fireplace flared up. The conversation halted as everyone turned to see, and Cho Chang came out of the Floo, ending up sprawled a bit indignantly on the floor. Dressed in her Medi-Witch trainee robes, she flushed when she saw everyone looking at her. “H-Hello,” she stammered slightly.

Harry got up and helped Cho to her feet. “Er… Cho,” he said, remembering something, “we still haven’t met about the healing training I want you to give everyone.”

“Oh…” Cho nodded nervously. “I’ve got a list together,” she offered. “I—I suppose we can talk now.”

“I didn’t mean it has to be right this second,” Harry said. “If you want a bit more time we can schedule a meeting in a day or two. You did just get off shift at St. Mungo’s, after all.”

“No,” Cho said, sounding a bit more firm. “No, we can meet now. But all my notes are in my room, so we’ll have to go up there.”

“All right,” Harry agreed, thinking that maybe Cho would feel more at ease in her own room. He knew she was nervous about having such an important task assigned to her. Harry waved goodbye to the others and followed Cho up the stairs.

Neither of them said anything on the way to Cho’s room. Harry felt kind of awkward, partly because he knew that Cho was a bit timid—especially since she’d joined the D.A. again. He wondered if she thought that Harry still blamed her for her friend Marietta’s betrayal of the first D.A. He didn’t, of course—he hadn’t really blamed her for it before, except right after they’d had a row about it during Harry’s fifth year. But he wasn’t really sure what to say to her, so he kept quiet until they reached the third floor.

Cho lead the way into her room, and headed straight for her desk, dropped her bag beside it and began searching through the neat stacks of parchment. She looked up in surprise when Harry shut the door. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Er… I just shut the door,” Harry said, confused. “To give us a little privacy while we talk?”

“Oh,” Cho said, blushing again. “I thought you would want to go back down to one of the conference rooms.”

Harry shrugged. “Here is fine.”

Nodding, Cho pulled the chair out, and gestured to another one; Harry turned it so it was facing the desk, and sat down when Cho did. “Um, so where do you want to start?” Cho asked.

“You have a list of spells and potions that you think might be useful?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Cho confirmed, holding up two sheets of parchment. “I made two lists, one for potions and one for spells.”

“Good. Let’s start with the potions first. How about you explain each one to me, and why you think it’ll be useful.”

Cho went through each potion carefully, explaining the purpose of each one, and in what circumstances they would be used. Harry was impressed; he’d never heard of half of what Cho mentioned, and even some of what he had, he’d never actually seen. “This is a great list,” he said enthusiastically once they’d reached the end.

Cho went red again. “You should probably know,” she said hesitantly, “that the ingredients for some of these are restricted by the Ministry.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “Dung—Mundungus Fletcher—is still getting us supplies, and if he can get his hands on a Last Rites plant, he can get anything.”

“Speaking of the Last Rites plant,” Cho said, “it would be a key ingredient in…” she ran a finger quickly down her list. “…in four of these potions.”

“Neville should be able to take care of supplying what Pansy needs from the plant,” Harry said confidently. “I think we need to trim the list down a bit; everything would be useful, but there’s just too much. Let’s pick the potions that are most likely to be needed, and make certain those get made—if Pansy has time later then maybe we can get the rest done as well.”

They went through the list again, talking about the applications of each potion, and decided that almost two thirds of the potions weren’t useful enough to warrant making unless there was free time to do so later on. That left eleven potions. “Pansy will be thrilled,” Harry said sarcastically.

Cho laughed nervously. “Um, well you can give her the list then.”

Harry chuckled. “I will, don’t worry. At least she shouldn’t have to make too much of each. I mean, we can’t have everyone carrying these potions around, can we?”

“Well… “ Cho started, but then stopped herself, as though she wasn’t sure she should continue. “I was thinking about that,” she said finally. “There may be a way for a few of us, at least, to carry several potions around each.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about what I would do for myself,” Cho said, getting up and heading over to a shelf. “I certainly couldn’t try to get around the b-battlefield while juggling a dozen vials of potions. And then I remembered that some field medi-witches in the past used to carry little kits with them. So I kind of put one together.”

She walked back over, carrying with her a flat satchel covered in leather, with a wide leather shoulder strap. She sat down and handed it to Harry. “This is dragonskin, isn’t it?” Harry said, amazed. “This must have cost a fortune!”

“It would be a bit expensive, yes,” Cho admitted with embarrassment. “I couldn’t afford it myself. But the benefit of dragonskin is that it’s impervious to almost anything—rain, snow, sharp objects, even most minor and a few major spells.”

Harry flipped open the satchel’s flap. Inside was a long row of twenty specially padded holders, each containing a vial. The vials were all empty. “This is meant to be worn across the hip, right?” Harry said. Cho nodded. “But… you’ll be moving so much, and it would be so easy to bump into things. Won’t the vials break?”

“I thought we could put Unbreakable Charms on them?” Cho said hesitantly. “I heard that Hermione was good at them…”

Harry smiled, remembering the jar with the Unbreakable Charm that had held Rita Skeeter prisoner. “Pretty good, yeah.”

“If—if you think it’s not worth it…”

“No, not at all,” Harry said quickly. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Having the potions right at our hips? If a bunch of us can carry them, it may end up saving someone’s life! Did you make this?” he asked, holding up the satchel.

“N-no,” Cho admitted. “I don’t know how to work dragonskin, and I can’t really sew anyway.”

”Where did you get it then?”

Cho dropped her eyes. “I—I stole it,” she whispered.

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You what? From where?”

“The display room at St. Mungo’s,” Cho said. “This is one of the satchels that medi-witches used two centuries ago—it’s a valuable antique. But I didn’t know how to explain what I was thinking about unless I could show it to you, and no one ever goes in the display room so I figured no one would notice, and no one has yet—”

“Cho, it’s all right,” Harry interrupted. “Really. I think that if this is an antique then we should return it, but it’s a great idea. I’m going to see if I can find someone who can make some of these for us… maybe even one for every D.A. member.”

Cho ducked her head. “I don’t know if that’s necessary…”

“I think it is,” Harry said firmly. “Especially after you’ve taught everyone those basic Healing skills.”

“A-about that,” Cho said. She was trying to sound casual, but she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “I w-was thinking, you’re such a great teacher… maybe I could show you and then you could teach everyone else…?”

“I don’t have the time for that,” Harry said. “Look, I’m sure you’re going to be fine at it. If you’d like, you can teach me first—that way you’ll have the chance to practice everything and make sure it’s all clear before you have to start with the others.”

Cho paused, but then nodded slowly. “I—I’d like that,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Cho,” Harry said earnestly. “I know you’re nervous about this, but I know you’re the best person for this.”

“Only because I’m training to be a medi-witch,” Cho muttered a bit bitterly.

“No,” Harry protested. “Medi-witch training or not, I wouldn’t have given you this task if I didn’t think you could handle it. You’ve dealt with much more difficult stuff than this before.”

“I’ve never had people’s lives in my hands before!”

“Well, maybe not,” Harry conceded. “But you knew that you’d be dealing with life-and-death situations as a medi-witch, right?” Cho nodded cautiously. “If you were confident enough in your own abilities for that, why wouldn’t you be for this?”

“Because as a medi-witch, it’s what I know and how I apply it!” Cho exclaimed. “But you’re asking me to be a teacher, and I’ve never done that before!”

“I had never done it before I started the D.A.,” Harry pointed out. “The first D.A., I mean. But that went pretty well. Besides, you have taught before. I know you coached a few of the Ravenclaw Quidditch players.”

“But that’s not the same thing!”

“Sure it is. It’s just a different subject. Teaching is up to the teacher—if you’re good at it, then you can teach anything, whatever the subject matter is. And it works the other way, too… That’s why Snape was a lousy teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts and for Potions.”

Cho smiled shyly. “I don’t think I’ll be much of a teacher, though. Not as bad as Snape, of course, but still…”

“You did fine with Quidditch—Ravenclaw was really tough to beat while you were on the team. Don’t sell yourself short, Cho. Like I said, I wouldn’t have given you this job if I didn’t think you could do it.”

“Thank you,” Cho whispered. “I—I wish I could tell you I won’t let you down, but—”

To Cho’s surprise, Harry chuckled. “I never understood that, to be honest. If you tell someone you won’t let them down, you’re just asking for trouble. Just tell me you’ll try your hardest, and that’ll be enough.”