How They Fell

Chapter Forty Three


Harry returned to Hogwarts with a feeling that things were closing in around him. He had a month and a half left of Hogwarts and he didn’t want to leave, but at the same time he had his NEWTS and he wanted to get them over a done with as soon as possible. He felt as though there were too many conflicts going on inside him.

He sat looking around the Gryffindor common room that night and he realised that he knew every single face in the room and was friendly with at least half of them. He knew every single armchair and which were the squishiest. He knew and loved this place and he felt utterly comfortable here.

He jumped when he felt someone place a hand on his knee.

“Harry, you always knew it was going to end.” Hermione said sympathetically.

He smiled wryly; he had forgotten how well Hermione could read his thoughts. “I know, it was just that I thought I had seven years, it feels more like four. I hadn’t expected it to come this soon.”

“Neither did I. It seems unfair that it doesn’t go on for longer.”

They sat in silence for a while surveying the beloved common room before Ron sat down opposite then loudly arguing with Ginny.

“No you are not allowed to date a Slytherin!”

“Not even if he was good looking – coz he is Ron, you’ve got to admit it!”

Harry had to hide his smile at Ginny’s skill at winding up her brother, almost everyone knew she was going out with a sixth year Ravenclaw and she was effectively throwing Ron right off the scent.

“No! No! EW! I do NOT have to admit that any Slytherin is good looking!”

“Oh come on Ron! All that yummy dark hair, really ask any girl and they will agree that Zabini is utterly gorgeous!”

“I don’t care if he has ‘yummy dark hair’ you are NOT dating a Slytherin!”

No one noticed that Harry had stopped smiling until Ginny turned to him and with a wink said: “Fine then I’ll go out with Harry instead, he has lovely hair too.”

Ron spluttered with indignation and horror, but his reply was interrupted by a loud bag going off. Neville was standing holding a burnt cardboard box with ash and soot covering his face, but not his sheepish grin. With trepidation everyone raised their eyes to the ceiling only to find about forty Cornish pixies already starting to cause havoc.

As one the seventh year groaned, although many Gryffindor’s looked confused.

“What the fuck have you done Neville?!!” Demanded Dean. “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

Neville’s sheepish grin spread. “It’s the latest from Fred and George, there called Pixie Packages. They sent it to me specially.”

Everyone looked up and watched as the paintings were pulled of the wall one after another, people’s inkpots were overturned over their homework, books were destroyed and Pravati’s skirt was pulled up. The seventh years sprang for their wands to start to immobilise them, they all looked dumbfounded when nothing happened. Before they could think to do anything else the pixies started going backwards; Pravati’s skirt was where it should be, books were lying calmly unmolested, ink was wiped off and the paintings were put back. Then everyone watched as the pixies were sucked back into the box with a small pop!

There was utter silence, only broken by a small buzz as a red light flashed on the box, ‘Reusable.’

Harry couldn’t help his guffaw of laughter at the stunned look on everyone’s faces, especially Neville’s, and he decided that it was defiantly a good thing that he had never told Hermione or Mrs Weasley that he had given Fred and George the money to set up the company.

* * *

It was mutually decided by the entirety of the Gryffindor common room not to breathe a word of the latest creation by Fred and George. Instead the box was safely stored away under Neville’s bed.

Everyone had been revising as if it was the only thing that mattered and it came as a bit of a shock to everyone to come to their last lessons. Harry was sad when he walked out of the doors of his final Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson and only mildly relieved when Charms and Transfigurations were over. But the sensations he felt at the arrival of his last potions lesson could not be put into words.

Every single Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who had taken NEWT level potions were eagerly counting down the lessons left, Hermione only managed to hide it better than everyone else. The Gryffindors and Slytherins walked into the classroom for the final time with a mixed feeling of dread and euphoria. Harry purposefully strode up to an empty desk in the middle of the room with Hermione following, got out his things and sat down, careful to keep the large cardboard box hidden under the cloak. Harry knew that Hermione was sulking but she hadn’t made that many objections and she had been over ruled.

The only way Harry got through that final lesson was by jogging up and down constantly. Snape had declared that the students should spend the lesson making the potion they most wanted to practice. The idea of a practical lesson made Harry smile wolfishly, but he patiently waited until everyone had finished their potions and were just about to start to tidy up before he levitated the box to the front of the classroom. He then waited until Parkinson walked passed it on her way to the potions cupboard to flick the box in front of her, causing her to trip and spill whatever she was holding all over the floor.

He watched with anticipation as Snape made his way ominously towards Pansy. He waited until the perfect moment then put his Omnioculars to his eyes and pressed the ‘record’ button.

“Miss Parkinson.” Snape hissed, complete frustration evident in every line of his body.

“Professor, I’m so sorry sir.” She gushed. “It wasn’t my fault at all, this stupid box got in the way!” She emphasised her point by kicking the box which went whizzing across the floor to hit the leg of Snape’s desk with a loud thwack!

There was a pause long enough for Snape to draw in breath and open his mouth, but before any sound came out there was a bang and a whoosh as the lid of the box exploded open and the pixies flew out.

Harry watched in near euphoria the look on Snape’s face when he grasped what they were. By the time he had grabbed his wand and made his first attempt to try to stop them all of the papers, files, potions, registers, everything that he kept on his desk had been either ripped to sheds, poured everywhere or mixed together. Snape looked almost apoplectic with rage as the pixies eventually overturned the entire desk. He kept pointing his wand at them and yelling spells but with no effect.

In the mean time the rest of the students had screamed and had either run towards the closest exit or were hiding under the desks as cauldron upon cauldron were upset, as their files were torn up, as Daphne Greengrass’s shirt was ripped off her. But Harry’s attention on the other students was broken by the howl that came from Snape. He turned to find that a number of the pixies had found their way into Snape’s store cupboard and were happily overturning shelves.

Then, with the same speed as the pixies had used going forward they started to go backward. The shelves were put back, with the bottles on them labelled and correctly ordered. Homework was stuck back together, Daphne Greengrass’s shirt was back on her, Snape’s desk was the right way up and the potions were being pored back into the flasks. Then there was another whoosh and a small pop as the pixies were sucked back into the box.

Dead silence reigned in the classroom as everybody’s eyes turned to Snape in trepidation and horror. He seemed to deflate as the air rushed out of his body in a massive sigh of relief, but everyone was waiting to see what he would do with the breath of air he was now drawing in and most of the students were already wincing in anticipation.

But the yell of retribution never came, instead he said very calmly; “If I ever discover the student who brought that box into my classroom I will kill them, pickle them and use them in class. Is that understood?”

There were mute nods of understanding around the room.

“Well then.” He said drawing himself up, “you may go. And,” there was a sigh, “just try to do well in the exam.”

The disbelieving students bolted out of the classroom amazed that they were still alive. Harry was no less astounded, but his astonishment was quickly interrupted by Hermione.

“I told you it was pointless.”

“It was so not pointless Herm! I mean did you see that!”

“Yes it was pointless Harry, you wanted to piss him of for God’s sake, all you did, I suspect, was amuse him.”

“Herm you have got to be joking!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What else would stop him from ripping the class to pieces? I bet he keeps it quiet and sets it off in the staff common room later.”

“Hermione that’s just wrong!” Harry wined, but she only smirked and turned away.

By the end of the day every single student knew of the brave but suicidal student who was stupid/ heroic enough to pull such a stunt. Of course the Gryffindor’s had not been able to restrain from boasting that it was one of their own and so it was widely assumed by the end of the day that Harry had done it.

In the Gryffindor common room that evening he was hailed as a hero. A large bed sheet was levitated onto the wall and with Hermione’s help the scene from the Omnioculars was projected onto it and put on repeat so that everyone could watch. It was a beautiful day and one that Harry knew he would remember forever, and he and Ron had emphatically agreed that Hermione was completely wrong about Snape.

* * *

The night before his first exam was spent with Ron trying to convince a franticly panicking Hermione to realise that she had learnt almost everything she could do, and that she needed to relax.

“RELAX! I have a NEWT tomorrow in case you’ve forgotten and I’m not sure that I can remember the methodology behind the bubble head charm!”

“Hermione, you’re just panicking now, that’s why you don’t remember it!” Harry said desperately looking at Ron for help.

“Yeah, that’s it, once you’ve had a good rest and breakfast then you’ll remember everything.”

“But I’m not panicking!” She yelled loudly causing the people in the library to either look at her with sympathy or glare in annoyance.

“Ron! Do something!” Harry muttered.

“What?”

“Anything, just go and find something and I’ll stay here with her.”

“Right, fine! Back in a mo!” Ron whispered back. “Now Herm, I’m just going to find the right book so that we will all know the correct methodology behind the bubble head charm, alright?”

Hermione nodded once and Ron sped off out of the library. Harry then spent a frazzled twenty minutes trying to convince Hermione that everything would be just fine and rest was what she really needed now. Eventually Ron returned and Harry could have kissed him.

“Here Hermione.” Ron said smiling brightly and talking to her as through she was five years old. “I brought you some coffee, it will help you stay up extra late so that you can be sure that you learn everything.”

In a second the cup was snatched out of Ron’s hands and Harry watched stunned as Hermione downed the whole cup. She then turned back to her books for long enough for Ron to wink at Harry before she turned on Ron with a deathly cold gaze.

“Ronald what did you put in there!” She asked, each word pronounced perfectly.

“Sleeping potion Mione, and don’t yell, you need it.”

Hermione opened her mouth to yell, but a yawn came out instead.

“See! Now we’re going to get all your books and help you up to your room, ok?”

“Nmmmmnurg!” Was the only response that came from Hermione as Ron grabbed her under the arm and started walking her towards the door. Harry took the books and followed, slipping one arm around Hermione’s other side and together they both took her to her room.

When she was happily snuggled up under her covers and they were walking up to their dormitories they both breathed sighs of relief. They were both so used to relying on Hermione’s steady head, that when it was unsteady it was rather traumatic.

“What did you do?” Harry asked as they both crawled into bed that night.

Ron yawned. “Well I ran around like an idiot for a while, then bumped into Dobby and asked him if he could steal a sleeping potion from Snape’s store cupboard and get me a decaffeinated coffee.”

“Genius.” Harry replied with an answering yawn.

“And it has the added bonus of pissing Snape off.”

“Yay!” Harry said half heartedly before following Hermione’s example and dozing off.

* * *

The NEWTS were ten times worse than the OWLS had been. They were longer for a start and demanded that the candidate showed a vast amount of detailed knowledge. This resulted in frantic writing for almost the entire three hours and left Harry feeling utterly drained when he finally walked out of the exam room.

Only in Defence Against the Dark Arts did he feel remotely confident that he had done well. He had known every single block the test and asked for (plus a great many more), had known how to defend himself against most of the dark creatures and had gone into detail on the correct procedures behind many of the wards. He left the exam satisfied and oddly happy, knowing that he had been given three hours to write about what most interested him and that he had written it well. Unfortunately he could not say that about the other exams. He thought Charms might have been ok, but his written Transfiguration exam seemed to be largely guess work when he looked back on it. Luckily most of his practical transfigurations went well, something which he was very proud of. Harry knew he had, miraculously, produced the right potion in his Potions practical, it had been the correct colour and almost the correct consistency, but the written exam! Harry groaned to himself when he was forced to hear Hermione fly into her usual discussion over the exam, he knew he hadn’t done very well but the theory was just so boring! He had revised it hard but it just refused to stick in his memory.

As the number of exams between him and the freedom of the summer lessoned Harry watched with envy as his friends grew more and more relaxed. The same could not be said for him. Nothing had happened outside Hogwarts. The war which had seemed to be just about to start, hadn’t. There were no reports of Voldemort or Death Eaters and it was making Harry increasingly nervous. He even went to Dumbledore about it, who insisted that everything possible was being done, but that there was nothing for the Prophet to report and all attempts to find out what the enemy was planning had met with dead ends. But this did not relieve Harry. Knockturn Alley was still under the control of the Death Eaters. There was no way that such a threat would just fizzle away.

As the last exam (the Charms Practical) drew closer Harry’s nerves increased. He knew it was stupid to expect that the same thing to happen as during his OWLS, but it still preyed on his mind. He was more nervous walking into that exam than all the others combined and more relieved than he could possibly hope to be when he walked out of it.

He saw his friends shoulders relax, saw bright, relieved smiles fix on their face and for the rest of that day was able to do the same. But that quickly stopped, the feeling that the world was hanging off the edge of a precipice, with the line connecting it to land just about to snap would not dissipate. As his last days at Hogwarts began to pass he found himself getting more and more uneasy. He would try to laze around in the sun or in the common room with the other seventh years and Gryffindor’s but he was unable to. Almost frantically he began practicing his blocking and cursing again, he even asked if Hermione would help. When he wasn’t going over Moody’s teachings he was either flying or running through the forest full pelt.

It maddened him that his last few days of Hogwarts were being ruined this way. That he was unable to spend the time chatting to his friends, enjoying the fact that they were altogether for almost the last time. It was his last fourteen days at Hogwarts, his home and family for seven years and he couldn’t even appreciate them. Instead all of his thoughts were spent considering what was to come once he had left. When the attack would take place. When he would have to face Voldemort.

He hadn’t seen Dumbledore in the last six days, no one had, which only made his worries worse. The headmaster hadn’t attended any meals and seemed to be spending most of his time out of the castle. McGonagall was now acting like an unconfirmed Headmistress, and Snape was so tense that even the Slytherins were avoiding him.

All this added to Harry’s anxiety and sense of helplessness, which in no way improved his temper. After a week of having nothing to do Harry finally snapped. It was mid afternoon and Hermione had been casting curses at him for the last half hour before she suddenly lowered her wand.

“I think we should stop now Harry.”

He looked at her blankly. “Why?”

“Because I’m tired and you must be exhausted and we should go and talk to our friends.”

“Hermione.” Harry tried to start patiently. “Do you think that they will stop after half an hour? Do you think they will call time out so that I can socialise? No! And I have to be ready for that!”

“But Harry – ”

“WHAT Hermione?” He yelled, not quite realising he was shouting. “Do you really think that I shouldn’t be ready for them? Really? I should just wonder in unprepared as I have done every single bloody time before and count on luck and good fortune to get me out vaguely alive? I should risk everything else so that I can relax with my friends? I can’t! You know this. I have to be ready! I don’t get a choice! I don’t get to…” But his throat closed up before he could finish.

“You sound like Moody.” She said in a low voice.

Harry stood looking at Hermione resentfully.

“Maybe he’s right. Have you ever thought about that?” He practically spat. “How many other Aurors of his generation are still alive? None! How many of the original order? Very, very few. Which would you rather I be?” He demanded.

As his eyes fell over Hermione he felt a moment of satisfaction. There was no answering retort, no argument, just the muteness of someone who didn’t know what to say in response.

Half triumphant and half ashamed Harry wheeled around and strode from the room.

Raging at everything and himself, half blind Harry paced through the corridors. He wasn’t sure what he was angry about anymore but he kept on going; that is, until by accident, he reached the corridor that he and Malfoy had eaten lunch in after a similar training session all those months before.

He halted abruptly as soon as the location registered in his mind and realisation hitting him he lent against a wall and sank slowly to the floor, blankly looking at the place they had sat all those months ago.

He shouldn’t have taken it out on Hermione. He knew that. Had known it even when he was shouting at her.

Oh God! It had felt so much like fifth year! All those times when he lost his temper and full of self pity, took it out on his friends. All that Hermione had wanted to do was to do what everyone else was doing, relax and have fun. The fact that that was the thing that he so desperately wanted yet couldn’t do had caused him to lose his control.

Violently he rubbed his eyes and hair, hating himself for longing for that feeling of peaceful isolation that those short weeks with Draco had given him. It was wrong and irresponsible of him to want to shut everything out, but he couldn’t help the desire.

But sitting still for so long finally got the better of him. He could feel the energy build in his legs and arms, making him feel restless, making him feel the need to run, to fly, anything.

Finally it was too much, and pushing himself up suddenly he walked swiftly down the corridor knowing where he would go next, but also knowing it would only worsen all his current worries.

*************
Author's note: Happy Christmas guys! Thank you all SO much for your continued reveiws, again I hope you like...and remember, even if part one might end soon, part two will be on its way. :D