Half Blood Prince

*AN* Thanks for the review! I\'m glad you enjoy my writing style; it\'s a lot less descriptive than other writers, which isn\'t usually good. Still don\'t own \'em. *AN*

Chapter Three-War

“Ambush!” Dean roared. Harry’s head snapped up in alarm, green eyes wide, but a smile spread over his features just as a body tackled him to the ground. This action was followed by false screams of attack as Ron, Ginny, and Neville came running down the hall, faces covered with colorful war paint.

Harry glanced at the person who had him pinned to the dusty floor and nearly choked to death laughing when he saw Seamus’s face caked in brown and purple paint.

“I’ve killed him!” Seamus announced to his accomplices, and seconds later, he found himself being sat on by The Boy Who Lived.

“Oh. Oh no. He’s still alive. Help!” He said nonchalantly, tilting his head to look at the rest of them.

“Should we help?” Ron asked, smudging his war paint further by itching at his face.

“Nah,” the others chorused.

“Hey! He’ll murder me. Slash me up into itty bitty pieces and feed me to his bloody owl,” Seamus protested, lacking the muscle to do as Harry had done and switch positions.

“Yep,” Harry said, “But I’ll do that after I kill the rest of your army!”

The group of four looked unimpressed by this declaration until something behind them let out a wild shriek. Dean let out a startled yelp as a stream of freezing water hit the back of his neck, turning to find a triumphant Hermione standing there. It didn’t last long, though, as Ginny retaliated and got Hermione right in the face with another blast of water.

As chaos broke out, Dean found himself being very thankful that the spell they were using didn’t work exactly like muggle water guns did. It would have hurt like a bitch to be hit in the face by a water gun blast, but with wands it seemed that the water didn’t have as much punishing force behind it.

While he was pondering this, Harry had gotten off of Seamus and walked directly behind Dean. In a series of fluid actions, the seeker pulled back the collar of Dean’s shirt, aimed his wand at the skin on his back, and shouted the spell, successfully dousing Dean’s back in water.

“Potter, you sneak!” Seamus cried, aiming his wand and hitting the dark haired boy in the stomach. As he surveyed the chaos, bubbles of laughter erupted from his mouth. Hermione, soaking wet and giggling like mad, looked quite hysterical as she tried to drown Ron, who was laughing too hard to even get the spell out to wreak revenge on her. However, as he felt an arm encircle his waste, his laugh turned to horrified gasp half way from his mouth.

“Cease and desist, you rascals, or the leprechaun here gets it!” The water war came to an abrupt halt as each teen present turned to see who had dared to interrupt them. Seamus, having a good idea of who it was, kicked and flailed and shouted about not being a leprechaun.

“Frorge!” Ginny yelped, apparently unable to decide who to greet first. Seamus felt the body holding him laugh.

“I thought you two were working on the shop,” Ron said, pocketing his wand.

“We are, but we still like to see what everyone’s up to. Besides, we thought it might be nice to test out some of our new products on our dearest siblings,” Fred replied.

“Yeah, and anyway, they want you downstairs. Something important,” George added solemnly. There was grumbling as they dried themselves off and pocketed their wands, shuffling towards the stairs. George glanced to Fred, who released Seamus and immediately soaked him in water.

“Hey!” He protested, blinking away the water to see Ginny and Dean get the same.

“Boy, you guys are still idiots,” George crowed, dancing away as his little brother sent gushing water towards his chest. The war, now more even with the twins aiding Harry and Hermione, raged on until a bemused Dumbledore appeared at the hall’s entrance.

“While I’m certainly glad to see you enjoying yourselves, I’m afraid I need to speak with Harry,” he told them, and later the twins were to swear that the headmaster soaked them as he and Harry left.

The two of them walked down the stairs in silence, though there wathinthing awkward about it. Harry thought of how long he had known Dumbledore now, and it was rather reassuring. It felt like he’d always be there, gentle and clever as ever, no matter how Harry was feeling or acting. After last year…

He winced inwardly, red flushing his cheeks and tears stinging his eyes. It had been such an awful year. He had been moody and rude, and everything in his life had seemed to spiral out of control. It had barely been a few months since then, but he already felt much older. After dealing with Sirius’s death and a few long talks with Remus, he felt as if he was much an adult as anyone in the Order. Dumbledore did, too.

“I think you’ll be pleased to hear, Harry, that this has very little to do with you,” Dumbledore said, ushering him into the kitchen. No one else was there, but half a dozen cups were littered around the room, all partially drunk.

“Then why are you talking to me?” Harry asked.

“Oh, don’t you want to chat with me?” Dumbledore quipped, feigning hurt. He chuckled and pressed on, “I’m talking with you because you’re disturbingly used to it, and I do not wish to alarm those who this does concern. I shall leave that up to you.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, flopping down into one of the seats.

“At any rate, this is about the three newest members of the Order,” Dumbledore said, noting Harry’s reaction. “While we certainly would have taken in any of your friends who ne hel help, it would not have happened so quickly. As you may have noticed, every member of the order agreed to it and set about preparing things within the time span of an hour. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit remarkable?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I should have been suspicious when Professor Snape agreed,” Harry said. Dumbledore chuckled.

“Yes, your professor agreed because it has come to our attention that your three friends have something of an important role to play in Voldemort’s scheme, not not only because they share a dormitory with you. You are aware, Harry, that is impossible to apparate and disapparate within castle grounds?” He nodded, thinking of how many times Hermione had lectured on it.

“Well, there is a way that one could, and that is by means of a potion. Every ingredient is difficult to obtain, but we have been told that Voldemort is now lacking only one. The blood of the other person who that prediction could have pertained to.”

“How much blood?” Harry asked, feeling sick.

“A fatal amount, naturally. Voldemort never does anything in moderation,” Dumbledore said darkly.

“Well what-”

“Let me finish first, Harry. Naturally, if he had the ability to enter and leave the castle at will, or if any of the Death Eater’s did, there would be total chaos. But this is not our only concern. Has professor Trelawney ever mentioned her lineage to you? Yes, well, her mother was also a Seer, though only a little more talented than her daughter. On her deathbed she made a prediction. I do not know what she said specifically, but I’m aware of what the major points are.

She claimed that in time that Voldemort would seek an heir. It would not be someone who wanted the position, but someone that he felt a certain connection with. Those who know of this prophecy refer to the heir as the half blood prince. And, as the prophecy goes, if Voldemort was to remain alive, then the chosen heir would have no choice but to act as a prince to Voldemort’s king. The prophecy said the chosen heir would be born to one muggle parent, one pureblood parent, in the year 1980 in the month of April during midday. Your two friends, Dean and Seamus, both fit this description.”

“But Dean’s mum and dad are both muggles!” Harry interjected.

“No. His father is not. Both he and the rest of us were not aware of that until recently, so it was assumed that Mr. Finnigan was the one spoken of in the prophecy. Now we’re unsure, but it’ll become more apparent this year. It was said that six months after their 17th birthday they would be chosen and a series of dark spells would be cast to put them under Voldemort’s control,” Dumbledore said, seeming to be finished for the moment. Harry gaped at him.

“So either Dean or Seamus is going to be under Voldemort’s complete control this Halloween?” He asked.

“No. It won’t happen that fast, at least that’s not what I believe. It’s a very subtle sort of power, nothing like one of the Unforgivables. For him to have complete control…” Dumbledore stretched the word, carefully choosing how to phrase his next words, “Would involve Voldemort having complete access to either Dean or Seamus for an entire day.”

“Why’re you telling me all this? They should be the ones to know,” Harry said.

“While I have been having these long conversations with you since your first year, I assure you that this is not typical for my student’s. For some reason, students seem to go to pieces when I want to talk with them, so it’s not very easy to tell someone something like this if they’re worrying over what I’ll do to them. Beside, I thought it may be informative for you to be able to feel like me. Informative for both of us, really,” he added, stroking at his long beard. Harry stared down at the floor of the house. Sirius’s house.

“What do you want me to tell them?” He asked desperately, unable to meet the unflinching stare of his ancient headmaster. Dumbledore didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to. Harry knew the answer was ‘whatever you decide’, and it only annoyed him. He was already going through so much and it was cruel to drop this on him.

“Well, I must be going, Harry. Do try and look at least a little cheerful; I think your team is winning upstairs.”

Harry stared after him as he swept from the room, his robes so long that they hid his feet. He had the fleeting impression that this must be a dream because Dumbledore had just floated from the room. He didn’t want to know about Voldemort’s plan. He didn’t want to think that Dean or Seamus could be made to kill him, or that he might wake up one morning to find Neville’s corpse, drained of blood. How was he supposed to tell them that that might just be their fate?

“Damn it,” he hissed, standing so quickly that the chair he was sitting on toppled over. Harry stooped and wrapped his hand around the splintery wooden bars that made up the back of the chair, lifting it up again. The seat cushion, decorated in flowers and ladybugs, slipped off and Harry swore, bending to put it back on again. He stormed back upstairs, but managed to keep his tantrum to a minimum. There was no screaming or crying, no slamming of doors, no stomping, just complete anguish and annoyance. There was a tiny part of him that told him he’d appreciate it by the end, but he was too busy being a teenager to listen.

“Har-ry!” Seamus’s singsong voice chanted from outside his room, “Where are you?” Apparently he had an idea, because the next moment, he swung the door open. His hair, which he’d been growing out, lay dark and wet against his skull, the rest of him looking relatively dry.

“Oh,” he was all he said when those dark green eyes glared at him. He stepped into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. “What’s up?”

“Leave me alone, Seamus.”

“now!now! Is that how you talk to a close friend?”

“I talk to Ron that way,” he growled, and Seamus grinned.

“Well, yeah, but he’s stupid enough to believe you mean it.”

“I do mean it, Seamus.”

“You can talk to me about it, you know,” Seamus said, voice softened, “I realize I’m not Ron or Hermione, but I thought-we thought-that all six of us were on the same level, now.” Harry glared at his pillow.

“We are, but-”

“Then go ahead and tell me!” Seamus prompted.

“Voldemort is going to pick either you or Dean as his heir, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Harry snapped, looking back to Seamus, who had fallen off the edge of the bed.

“What?!”

“There was some prophecy, and apparently you and Dean both fit the description. This October one of you will be Voldemort’s bitch,” Harry said, wincing when he registered what he had said. Seamus was staring at him with those wide hazel eyes that seemed too innocent to be real. He bowed his head, then glanced back up, eyes glassy with tears. It was that expression that put Harry Potter back in reality

“I-what-”

“Oh, Merlin, Seamus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. Dumbledore told me for some bloody reason, and-I just wasn’t sure how to say it and…” He trailed off, watching Seamus’s face.

“Well, you could at least tell me what the fuck he said. I don’t much care for your paraphrasing.”

So they spent the next five minutes with Seamus listg ang and Harry talking when Dean walked in, ready to douse them both in water. Moments later, they’d started all over again and Dean looked severely unhappy. During that time, Seamus asked many questions, all of which Harry could not offer answers.

“Aha! Got you!” Neville cried, bursting in the room with wand held high. His happiness and excitement fell away like glass, shattering on the floor as he noted the gloomy atmosphere.

“Should I leave?” He asked tentatively, only to be waved in by Harry.

“Nah, it concerns you, too.” Neville gulped.

“So,” Dean said softly when no one had spoken for a while.

“It must really suck to be you, Harry,” Seamus said and they all smiled.

“C’mon, I bet everyone else has drowned by now,” Harry said.

They trooped up stairs to find the twins, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron completely dry and laughing over something in one of the spare rooms. Dean nudged the door open and they filed in, all wearing matching smiles.

“Hullo,” Neville said, flopping down besides Ron. The rest of them followed suit and they were soon exchanging crazy stories about their professors. Neville seemed clumsier than usual, Harry grinned less than usual, Dean didn’t look for any inspiration for sketches, and Seamus wasn’t glowing like usual. Naturally, everyone noticed but never mentioned it.

“Oh, by the way you lot, guess who’s escorting you to get your school things?” Fred asked as he stood up.

“The Weird Sisters?” Ginny quipped.

“Nah, better! Us!” George exclaimed, standing up as well, “So you’d better get to bed on time.” The twins left the room, laughing together all the way down the hall. As everyone else made towards their respective rooms, Neville turned to Dean.

“I don’t think they’re better than the Weird Sisters,” he confided.