Unlikely Beginnings

@>*~

Chapter Twenty Four

He\'d made it back in time to catch up with Hermione and Ron before he lost
them in the hallways, and they made their way up to Charms. It had been
arranged that they\'d have extra Charms classes when Professor Lupin was
indisposed. There had been a vote for what class everyone would rather have,
and Potions came in a great smacking last, with only two votes from Merlin
knew who. Snape could have voted for himself. Twice. That was all who they
thought of that would be nutty enough to want more time in Potions.

When it came down to it, it was between Transfiguration and Charms, and the
latter won out, because McGonagall had came to one of the voting sessions
with extra lesson plans. That certainly didn\'t win her many votes,
especially since most students were hoping for basically free time. Harry
sat between his friends at a table about half way into the room. They
weren\'t right at the front, and weren\'t right at the back, so it wasn\'t too
conspicuous, which Harry was thankful for. He still didn\'t feel much up for
conversations lasting longer than three sentences, but he\'d relaxed a bit
through the class.

Telling Draco had lifted a bit of weight from his shoulders, but it seemed
to only settle in his stomach, making him wonder about other things. Like,
what were they going to do? That was, if Draco even wanted it, or him, for
that matter. It still didn\'t feel right to say \'baby\', since the concept
hadn\'t quite sunk in, yet, but it was getting there. As lucky as he was to
have friends like his, they\'d seemed to calm down over the matter, though
there was still noticeable tension.

Never did Harry think they\'d not want to be friends with him anymore, but
when he got up into his dorm that day to find out they knew, he had to admit
it had been the first thing that came to mind. Even if he\'s sleeping with
the enemy, or was, they were still by his side, despite not agreeing. Harry
was busying himself by drawing spirals in the margins of his papers, happy
to be in Charms, and even happier it was the last class of the day. Learning
was too much to comprehend at the moment, and he frowned at the half assed
notes he\'d managed to take during the course of the class.

One good thing about extra Charms classes every month, they had less work to
do in each individual class, which allowed more time for goofing off, if one
so chose. Knowing that, Harry wondered why he was even trying to pay
attention to what Professor Flitwick was saying. Since his mind was on other
things, none of which remotely concerning charms, he was glad to have good
enough marks in Charms (A average) that he didn\'t have to be all there
during classes.

He already thought he\'d do well enough on his NEWTs, but if he\'d get a bad
mark on anything, it would be Herbology. Harry almost grinned to himself at
taking tutoring from Neville, who really was at the top of their Herbology
class with an O average. Transfiguration wouldn\'t be too hard, and Defense
Against the Dark Arts would definitely be easy for Harry. He\'d already been
taught a lot of the spells before they were introduced in class due to his
occasional extracurricular training for the war.

It wasn\'t much of a war, though, Harry thought. And if it ever escalated to
what he\'d heard about the Muggle wars (though he\'d also found out that a lot
of those leaders were Dark wizards), he thought he could handle it. He\'d
already successfully won duels with Voldemort, and he knew considerably less
than the Dark wizard. It sometimes made him wonder if the Dark Lord had no
life at all, and had to get his kicks from attacking Harry year after year.
What was the point, really?

Harry didn\'t see such an alluring coating on the power that so many wizards
and Muggles alike sought after. All he saw was red tape and stress, and that
wasn\'t worth it to Harry, but maybe that was what he secretly was striving
for in his extra defense training. He wanted power underneath his good
intentions, but it was undoubtedly a power struggle. No matter who won in
the end, one of them, Harry or Voldemort, would have power. Over who, and
what they chose to do with said power, that was what mattered, not that
power was the problem.

Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he yawned was what he\'d planned on
doing, but when he\'d opened his mouth, trying to let the air out, he felt a
sickening taste slide up into his mouth. Harry gagged, and covered his mouth
for an entirely different reason. Ron looked at him and brought a hand up
and slapped him gently on the back, not really knowing something was wrong,
just as more of a type of reassuring gesture. It really didn\'t help.

Harry shot his other hand up into the air, trying to swallow as another bit
of vomit tried to lurch up his throat. \"Yes, Harry?\" he heard Professor
Flitwick ask him. He tried to swallow, and slowly lowered his hand, and the
one covering his mouth.

\"Harry?\"

Hermione asked quietly beside him, trying to turn him by his shoulder to
look at her; he\'d drawn the whole class\' attention. Merlin, he hated when
that happened. He would have sighed, but feared that he\'d make a mess of
Hermione\'s hair, makeup, lap, books and anything else in the immediate
vicinity of his mouth. He managed to swallow, and he looked up at the front
of the room, where Professor Flitwick was starting to hop down off of his
desk to come and find out what was wrong. \"Sir?\" Harry began unsteadily. The
teacher nodded, allowing Harry the floor. \"May I be excused?\"

\"Oh! Certainly, Harry. Certainly,\" Professor Flitwick gestured towards the
door, tottering back to his desk, still motioning for Harry to go ahead.
Harry stood, stomach lurching as he did so in such a rapid fashion, and he
swallowed again, trying to hold back the bile beginning to rise in his
throat. He was eternally grateful that he wasn\'t in Potions right now, or
else Snape would have taken ten minutes deciding whether to let him go or
not. Harry would have glared back at the man, got out of his seat, walked
calmly to the front of the room, and heaved up the contents of his guts onto
the hem of Snape\'s robes.

If he wasn\'t too sick, and was still overly cocky after tossing his cookies,
he\'d grab part of the Slytherin professor\'s robes and wipe his mouth with it
before returning to his seat. Detention for sure, and Harry grimaced,
holding his stomach as he finally made it to the door and out of the room.
He didn\'t say a word as he left and now he was almost blindly making his way
down the hall in a pretty much random direction that he hoped a lavatory
would be located in. He spotted a drinking fountain up ahead, and was glad
for it, a signal that a bathroom would be right beside it, like it was on
most floors.

He\'d walked through the open door and had walked around three shelves of
books before he couldn\'t hold it any longer. He scrambled to make it to a
waste basket before throwing up, letting the disgusting half digested mess
come surging up his throat. He wanted to lick the chunks of whatever the
hell it was out of his mouth where they were stuck up between his gums and
cheek, but didn\'t want to taste it at all. He opted for wiggling his mouth
around and then spitting a great gob of gook into the garbage before getting
up and making his way out of the library.

Casually using his foot to slide the basket under a chair, Harry took the
most likely route so as not to run into Madam Pince in one of the aisles,
and found the door back into the main hallway. He turned down the right hand
passage from the library, and wondered how he\'d gotten four floors up from
the dungeons. Definitely detention for this, he thought, starting down the
first set of stairs he came to.

@>*~