Brave New World

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Chapter Twelve

Something was different about Harry today.

Neville didn’t quite understand what had changed but if the smile on his face was any indication, it was a good change this time. Over the past weeks, he noticed several changes in Harry. At first, Neville thought it was because of his godfather’s death last spring in the Department of Mysteries. Sometimes, when he looked at Harry, he could still hear that strangled cry the other had given as Sirius fell through the veil. It was the worst sound he had ever heard, like Harry’s entire heart had broken and would never mend again.

They were similar that way, he and Harry. Each knew the depths of grief most of their friends could never comprehend. How could they? They had never lost a parent, the person who was the most essential person in a child’s life. While he had his grandmother, she could never replace the parents who were trapped within themselves in St. Mungo’s. He would forever be without a mother’s arms, his father’s regard and Harry knew what that felt like. Luna knew.

So after watching Sirius fall, he couldn’t imagine Harry’s heartache. Couldn’t imagine losing his Gran, no matter how strict she was at times, or how she always compared him to his father. So he thought the changes in Harry were based in grief. Perhaps they were in the beginning. He returned to school with a cold edge that seemed to further separate Harry from the rest of their year mates.

They all knew Harry’s home life wasn’t best, especially when he returned to school looking ten pounds lighter and usually with dark circles under his eyes. No one mentioned the barely eaten meals or the broken glasses with taped frames or even the second hand clothes that were several sizes too big.

It had all become apart of Harry’s identity.

When classes started, a light had brightened in Harry’s eyes. A determination. It was still cold edged and at times intimidating because Neville knew Harry had focused all of his energy into defeating Voldemort. At some point during the summer, Harry had turned inward and made the leap from child to adult while everyone else was still enjoying adolescence.

Hermione and Ron had no clue, or they preferred to pretend they hadn’t noticed the changes in their best friend. Mostly, Neville thought it because they were too wrapped up in themselves and their new relationship to give Harry much thought. Oh, Ron still tried to talk him into playing chess or exploding snap, or discuss the latest quidditch news and Hermione still hovered and nagged about school work. Even Ginny it seemed was trying to etch out her place in Harry’s life.

Harry was barely giving them a passing glance. Whereas before Harry might have put off doing his work to hang out with Ron, this year he focused on his studies. Especially the ones that had him up every morning at six exercising and watching what he ate and taking strange vials of potions. Hermione didn’t have much to complain about, so she had taken to studying Harry as though he were a difficult book she needed to interpret.

No one else understood what Harry was doing but Neville had figured it out the night he came down in those ‘muggle exercise clothes’ looking better than he had in a very long time. Harry was training. Honing himself into the weapon he needed to become to defeat Voldemort. Preparing for War.

“Morning, Neville.”

Harry slipped into the chair next to him in the Great Hall, freshly dressed in a clean and pressed uniform barely a minute after him. He had obviously tried to tame the lion’s mane of hair of his but it was already rebelling in a few different directions. It was the first time they arrived at breakfast at the same time and after yesterday’s altercation with Ron, Neville had thought perhaps Harry would be arriving alone.

“Morning Harry, you’re looking well.” And he did. Harry’s magic was practically shimmering around him.

“I feel great actually. No nightmares. A great workout. Never felt better.” He grinned as he settled into his seat. “Hey Neville, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I was wondering, since, well I’ve seen you and I think you’re the only Gryffindor who does. I thought maybe you and I could-”

“Perform morning blessing together?” He filled in for his rambling friend. He had hoped Harry would ask. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of following the old ways but there were so many instances when the Gryffindors would look at him askance when he said the morning blessing that he had begun practicing silently.

“Yeah,” this smile was shades of the old Harry. Shy, a little hesitant even. It was good to know the boy Neville met years ago for the first time was still inside the man. “I didn’t know your family practiced the old traditions. I’m not saying that you didn’t, I just meant I hadn’t even heard of the old ways until Tracey gave me the book, so even if I had noticed you performing the morning blessing I wouldn’t have known what it was.”

“But Harry, the Potters-”

“I know,” he interrupted; the anger in Harry’s voice was palpable. “I’ve heard a great deal about the Potters over the last couple of days, Neville. Things I had never heard before. It really bites that so many people are aware of my family while I sit here the clueless Gryffindor people want me to be. I had to send a letter to Gringotts to even confirm what I finally discovered because I can’t seem to trust the people in authority here to tell me the things I need to know.”

“If you like, I could help you a little with that?” Neville hesitated, measuring Harry’s reaction for a moment, before adding in a stronger voice, “The Ancient and Noble house of Longbottom would be honored if you would accept our assistance.”

It was a proposal set forth in the traditional sense and Neville saw from the light in Harry’s eyes that he understood. “The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter would gladly accept your aid. Neville, I don’t know if I ever thanked you for what you did for me that morning after my nightmare.”

“It’s alright Harry, I didn’t”

“But you did,” Harry interrupted, “And I appreciate it. I do. So, thank you Neville.”

“You’re welcome.”

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Things were better between him and Ron with the secret of Hermione’s party out in the open. Now that it was finally the day, Harry was starting to get a little nervous. Hermione was certain to wonder where he had found the information regarding the Coming of Age ceremony. He wasn’t sure he could contrive a believable lie because he still wasn’t ready to give over his secret of the book from Tracey. Hopefully she would be too busy enjoying the remainder of the party to corner him for a question and answer session.

The two arrived shortly after he and Neville completed their blessings, a good thing, for he didn’t want to get into another argument with Ron about how he was changing. Probably for the worst in the redhead’s opinion.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Mione,” he smiled as they sat down across from him in their usual seats. Ron looked a bit self-satisfied while Hermione’s face was flushed a pretty rose telling him there had been some birthday snogging going on before they arrived at the Great Hall.

“Thank you Harry. I’m so excited about the party tonight. Are you certain Professor Dumbledore gave permission for us to use the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes,” Harry sighed for perhaps the tenth time. Hermione had been making sure they wouldn’t get in trouble for the party since she had discovered it. “You just make sure to wear a pretty dress and show up at seven.”

“I’ll make sure she gets there on time,” Ron confirmed, getting into the spirit of the party now that he knew harry wouldn’t tell how he had argued against the party in the beginning.

“Harry are you always going to head down without us now?”

“It just isn’t right,” Ron added, more focused on the food he was placing in front of him than the actual conversation. The two seemed to argue for his presence more for the habit of than truly wanting him around. He didn’t mind, it had been like that since the two of them became something more than friends. This simply gave the two more time alone together.

“I’m not doing it to hurt your feelings. It’s just the way things are now.”

“You didn’t even ask if we wanted to train with you in the mornings. I know you want to wait to restart the DA and we can’t take your classes during the day with you but in this we could join you.”

“I’m not purposely excluding you ‘Mione. If you want to get up at six and join my morning run, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Six! You’re insane Mate.” Ron’s reaction was typical for someone who was sometimes the last one out of bed. There was no way Ron would ever get up so early for anything except for perhaps Quidditch. “No thanks. I don’t get the point of running around anyway.”

“It’s good cardiovascular conditioning,” Hermione explained the health benefits that Ron wasn’t paying attention to. As her parents were doctors he knew she would be familiar with the purpose of exercise.

To be honest, he enjoyed running alone and didn’t want the company. During his runs he was able to think through homework problems or work through anger he didn’t want to carry around for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to mar the experience by having to act a certain way because of his best friends.

The morning owls flew in with a great flurry of wing and feather as he was finishing his milk. Most dropped off the day's edition of the Daily Prophet before returning to their origins. An elegant brown eagle owl flew toward him and Harry lifted his arm allowing the bird to settle gracefully.

“Aren’t you handsome,” he murmured and it preened under the compliment, ruffling speckled feathers. The owl extended its clawed foot so Harry could detach the crisp folded parchment it carried.

“Do you require a response?” He asked after feeding the bird a piece of bacon from his plate. The owl finished its treat, alighting from his arm to settle comfortably on the back of his chair. “I guess that’s a yes.”

“Who is that from?” Ron gestured to the letter in his hand. “Looks like the Gringotts seal.”

“It is,” Harry mused, turning the letter over in his hands, trying to settle his racing heart and appear calm so his friends wouldn’t suspect something was wrong.

“Well, aren’t you going to read it?”

Ron had no idea why he was hesitating. No idea this letter had the ability to change his life irrevocably. He wanted to open it, to know his family and the heritage he had been without for sixteen years. Yet he was terrified of what he would find. If he was even capable of living up to the expectations that would surely come, on top of the prophecy connecting him to Voldemort.

Was he prepared for this? Since coming to Hogwarts responsibilities had been trust upon him, one after the other. Was he ready for more?

“It will be alright Harry.” Neville placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and it helped to know he had someone who would be there and could understand. Someone who not confuse this with their own personal issues.

He pried the seal open and began reading the document, his hands gripping the parchment tightly. With each word, each confirmation he felt a knot twist then untangle deep in his chest.

Yes, he was the head of the Potter family and his assets had been in trust under a steward, Seymour Colfax, arranged by his father, James Philip Potter, more than twenty years ago. His father’s parents, Philip Alexander Potter and Margaret Maeve Potter, nee Roarke, had passed during James’ sixth year of attendance at Hogwarts and he was forced to instill a trustee until he finished school. Unfortunately his graduation came at the height of the war and the steward remained in place with strict appraisal by Gringotts each quarter.

The inheritance department of Gringotts had been waiting for him to contact them after his sixteenth birthday. There were several documents that needed his signature and items that were placed with the goblins by his parents for him to claim, including the Potter ring which was added later after his father’s death. He was also expected to arrange future financial arrangements concerning the Potter estate.

A meeting on Sunday afternoon at one was suggested to give Gringotts time to contact both the steward of the Potter estate for his required attendance as well to notify Gringott’s Ireland branch that the Roarke scion needed an accounting of his assets. He knew this came from his grandmother’s family but had no idea the Roarke house originated in Ireland.

Also, as the reading of the will of Sirius Black had taken place earlier during the summer, he would need to sign for the inheritance left by his godfather. This last part infuriated him because he had no idea Sirius even had a will. The only person who could keep such knowledge from him was Dumbledore.

‘Another burden,’ he sneered inwardly, remembering the Headmaster’s excuse for not telling him anything, about his family, about the prophecy and now this probably applied to Sirius as well.

“So?”

He looked up at Ron’s question wondering how he would explain this latest piece of information without alienating his friend further. The year had started off on shaky terms for them when Harry has simply rode the train back to school with Blaise, Tracey and Daphne. Followed by being ignored by Ron and Hermione because they were so caught up in dating that a third wheel was barely noticed. To complicate matters, Ron still held on to his old jealousies, beginning with labeling him a Malfoy copy and finally boiling over because of a simple party for Hermione.

“Just something about Sirius,” he replied in a low voice so no one would overhear. “They’re sending someone over on Sunday so I can sign some papers.”

The confusion on Neville’s face told Harry he could clearly see the salutation of the letter was to Harrigan James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and had very little to do with Sirius. A slight shake of his head seemed to help Neville understand he wasn’t sharing this information with his best friends yet.

“I thought Sirius was disinherited, Harry,” Hermione leaned over to whisper, “Isn’t that what you told us?”

“Yes, but I don’t think his family had a chance to go through the proper legal channels to finish it.”

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about him but Harry in order to grieve properly you can’t hold those feelings inside. You need to talk to us Harry, we’re your friends, we’re there for you, you know.”

“I’m fine ‘Mione and I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” He did, though the concern was too little too late. The worst of his grieving took place during his isolated summer. His godfather was gone and nothing but time would make the pain lessen. He wasn’t going to bare his pain for them so they could feel he was moving on properly and to their expectations.

“What about Quidditch practice?” Ron asked around a mouthful of food.

“Practice?”

“Yes, uh, Professor McGonagall told us at dinner yesterday the team should hold tryouts for the new spots. Told us your Quidditch ban was lifted too, so you can take your spot as seeker again. Ginny agreed to try for a chaser position so you don’t have to worry about her being angry. Katie was named captain.” Ron paused in his ramble of information remembering suddenly, “That’s right you missed dinner last night, where were you?”

“Taking care of some things with Septima,” he frowned down at the papers in his hands. There were more important things going on right now and he didn’t have time for Quidditch no matter how much he enjoyed playing.

“Harry! Professor Vector is a respected member of Hogwarts staff.”

“Who has repeatedly told me to call her Septima,” he finished for her. “Look, it’s strange even to me but if that’s what she wants, isn’t it more disrespectful to ignore her wishes?”

“I suppose,” she trailed off clearly not liking him addressing an authority figure with such familiarity.

“Besides, Ron, I don’t know if I can practice, you know I have detention this month. I’ll speak to Professor McGonagall later to see what she says.” And to get his broom back as well.

“What things were you taking care of?” Hermione spoke up, a quirked eyebrow clearly wanting answers. “Did it have anything to do with that magical surge we all felt last evening?”

“Something like that,” he hedged, knowing if he didn’t give her some information she would keep digging until she uncovered all his secrets. That he really wasn’t ready for. “I don’t know if Septima wants me to talk about it yet before I speak to Dumbledore. So I can’t tell you much but it was about my Occlumency instruction. Or rather finding away around it.”

He wanted to rub a hand across the runes but didn’t dare draw attention to it. It was mostly concealed beneath the collar of his shirt and the last thing he needed was a Death Eater in training to send the information back to Voldemort about strange markings on the back of Harry Potter's neck.

It was amazing how clear he felt today, as if something had been restricting not only his mind but his magic as well. While he was running, the breeze had danced across his skin, like he usually felt when he was riding his Firebolt at full speed with all caution forgotten. He could feel his magic simmering, mostly deep in his belly, just before it would wash through his body leaving him warm and just at the edge of pleasure. He couldn’t wait until after Charms to speak with Septima and ask if she knew this might be a product of the ritual.

“After you speak to Professor Dumbledore then.” Hermione relented but only to make sure he knew she would want answers later.
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“Professor, you wished to see me?”

The Headmaster smiled upon his entrance, looking much as usual dressed in his flamboyant robes of bright purple with golden snitches racing across the surface. At first he thought it only one until four met on his right shoulder circling each other before moving on.

“Ah, yes, Harry. I did. Please, have a seat.”

“Sir, I have class this morning in ten minutes.” He wasn’t sure he was ready to have an in-depth conversation with Dumbledore but it seemed his wishes were to be denied yet again.

“I’m sure Professor Flitwick won’t mind if I borrow his student for a few minutes. You have a double period this morning if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes, sir.” The man practically wrote his schedule, he should know exactly which courses he had this morning and how long it would last.

“We’ll get you back in plenty of time then.” Dumbledore waved to the chair across from him and Harry lowered himself to sit as it would be rude to protest more. “So, Professor Vector tells me the two of you found a solution to your Occlumency difficulties?”

“Yes, sir.” He knew what the man wanted to know. After the conversation he had with Ron and Hermione, the entire castle was aware something happened last night that involved a lot of magic. Only a select few knew he was right in the midst of it. Dumbledore was one of them.

He couldn’t understand why the man never simply asked direct questions for the information he wanted to know. Why play so many word games?

Dumbledore’s facial expressions went through a variety of changes before settling for a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. If Harry didn’t know better, he would swear the man had tried using Legilimency on him. Dumbledore wouldn’t sink to such a level, would he?

If so, he would be sorely disappointed. Nothing was getting inside his head. He still felt the connection to Voldemort but the days of using mental magics to penetrate his mind were over. Septima’s ritual was very effective.

“Should I presume your efforts were successful?”

“Yes.”

It was fun keeping his answers to one or two word phrases, and he would continue to do so until Dumbledore stopped playing games with him.

“The surge of magic in the castle and your absence were noted by several students.”

“Septima said she explained yesterday to you why I missed dinner and the aspects of the ritual we used.”

“Professor Vector, Harry,” Dumbledore remonstrated lightly. It wasn’t worth it to argue that she had given him permission to address her otherwise.

“Yes, the surge of magic and my absence were connected to the ritual.”

“And you believe carving runes into your body and using old magic that you aren’t familiar with was the only way to achieve your aims?”

Hadn’t the man expected Harry to trust the old magic protections his mother’s death gave him to keep Voldemort and his Death Eaters away from Privet Drive? He couldn’t have it both ways, advocating one branch of old magic and scorning another, especially when they were so closely related.

“I trust her and it’s better than Professor Snape torturing me.”

“I know you believe-”

“You trust him, I understand that now. That’s fine and your choice. But I think you’re aware he hates me. He hated my father, Sirius, and he takes that hatred out on me as well.”

“There are reasons you are unaware of for Severus’ anger Harry,” his voice though resigned was filled with a silent entreaty for tolerance.

Harry would never reveal what he had seen in Snape’s pensive but he knew the Marauders were horrid to Snape during the years they attended Hogwarts. Sirius’ poor defense of them being kids didn’t justify their behavior. It didn’t excuse Snape either, for Harry had never known James Potter. So avenging himself on a dead man’s son was daft.

“I also admit I didn’t study Occlumency as well as I should have and the reason for Snape’s refusal to instruct me further is my fault as well. But I was a fifteen year old who had Voldemort in his head, was being lied to by people I trusted and tortured by one of my instructors.” He wasn’t trying to deny his culpability but this was more than Snape was willing to admit to.

“Professor Snape is an adult who is in a position of authority over me and regularly takes advantage of that fact, regardless of who is around. He belittles me, degrades the memory of my father, especially when no one is around. You tell me who is truly at fault.”

Judging from Dumbledore’s expression, he realized there was truth to his words. “Professor Snape is a complicated man.”

“Professor Snape is a bitter man and much of it is warranted. But he hated me on sight without even knowing anything about me other than I look like my father. You can stop trying to explain Professor Snape to me because I really don’t care about him or his difficult life, or his complications. He doesn’t care about me either. I don’t have the luxury of being benevolent as you are.”

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, folding his hands atop his desk. The customary twinkle in his eyes was diminished. A small frown played around the edges of his mouth. His demeanor of kindly grandfather figure was diminished. He was the epitome of the disappointed mentor. The illusion failed to impress Harry this time.

“Have things truly degenerated between us so, Harry? I know I have wronged you but is there no trust left?”

“I trust you sir.” Dumbledore’s face brightened at the admission but he probably should have waited until Harry completed his thought. “I trust that you wish the best for the Wizarding world and that you want Voldemort stopped.”

“And for you Harry? Surely you know that I care for you as well.”

“Yes, I know.” In his way and as much as Dumbledore allowed himself to care for the person he was willing to sacrifice to win a war.

“Somehow I don’t believe we are speaking of the same things.”

“Probably not, Professor. If that’s all, I really should get to class.”

“Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t’ be averse to accompanying me to a gathering this Sunday evening.”

The Headmaster was inviting him to an Order meeting? Why?

“I said last year that I wouldn’t keep things from you. I believe the best way to keep this promise is for your involvement with the war efforts to increase.”

Did Harry truly want this? The Order was the only organization actively resisting Voldemort’s efforts to take over the Wizarding world. They would have information he couldn’t glean from the Prophet and he wouldn’t’ have to guess about what was going on. The Ministry would be just as ineffective as before as long as Fudge was in office and postured for the press and voters to save face for his actions last year.

“You wouldn’t become an active member until you come of age but I believe it essential not only for you to be present but for the others to become accustomed to your attendance as you are the most vital factor to our war efforts.”

“I have a meeting with a representative from Gringotts Sunday afternoon at one o’clock but we should be finished before dinner. Will that conflict with the meeting?”

“Mrs. Weasley is fond of assuring our attendees are well fed. Instead of dining in the Great Hall, we will head over then so you may be introduced in a less formal atmosphere.

He made a valiant attempt to conceal it but Harry could see Dumbledore’s displeasure at the goblins coming to Hogwarts.

“That’s fine.”

“Good. I will speak with you again on Sunday. You should come to my office after the start of dinner hour. You may go to class now, Harry. Oh, and I hope Ms. Granger has a pleasant birthday.”

“I will pass along your well wishes, sir.”