What Shakes The Elephant

What Shakes The Elephant

Chapter 48 – But I’m Not A Miracle

It was not possible. It was not possible. There was no realm of the world, living or dead, where that was possible. None. That was the simple and sharp truth.

Though as much as Harry told himself this, as much as he reminded himself that he must clearly be insane, his mind failed to believe him and his body seemed to side with his brain.

It wasn’t possible!

It was… what time was it? One-thirty. It was only one-thirty. Classes were still in session. No bell had tolled to mark the end of lessons. Furthermore, James was in third year. Just third. They had no free periods during third year: Harry remembered the seemingly endless workload clearly enough to know that much. There you go. He had to have been in class.

Plus, the only class that was held in the dungeons or anywhere near there was Potions and as the Potions Master had been otherwise occupied, no class could have taken place. James could not have been down in the dungeons because he had to have been in class.

He had to have been.

It was a hallucination. It was a dream. It was his mind playing tricks on him and trying to ruin his life. It was something other than James having witnessed his father and Draco Malfoy making out like adolescents in the hallway.

Harry’s mind was racing and his heart was pounding so hard against his chest the sound was deafening and he was sure the rest of the school could hear it. He ran his fingers through his hair for a moment trying to think. He tried to find a solution to a problem that did not exist. He was trying to find an answer to a rhetorical question. Finally, without thought or word of any kind, he bolted.

Harry simply ran down the hallway to where he thought he had seen James (for he was still not sure that it had been a real and solid version of his son that had been standing there). He heard Draco’s distant voice calling from behind him but did not stop nor make any effort to reply. He trusted that Draco would take care of the bottles of poison and bring them along. He trusted that Draco would follow him, would find him. He trusted this so completely because he needed to. He needed to trust this because he could trust nothing else at that moment.

And so he continued to run. He looked down every hall and every corridor. He examined and studied the alcoves and the recesses, wondering if he might catch a glimpse of red hair or the blur of a cloak but he saw nothing.

As he ran he heard a voice calling behind him and yet it did nothing for him. He did not stop but continued to run in hopes of finding James and setting things straight… or perhaps he secretly hoped he wouldn’t find his son at all and thus his fears might be assuaged.

Finally, once he knew he was quite lost in the school he had once known so well, he halted and leaned on his knees to catch his breath. He had not seen James anywhere. In fact, he had not seen hide nor hair of any student along his way.

He sighed heavily and leaned against the wall for support and rest. His head against the stone, he wondered vaguely when everything had gone awry. When he had lost sight of his priorities, when he had begun leaving Lily with friends for days while he gallivanted off on one adventure or another. He wondered when he had refused to speak to his best mates for more than a week at a time and when his family had taken a second seat to his career.

Then he remembered: when Draco Malfoy had casually strode into the picture and fashioned himself a seat amidst all the other organized chaos that made up Harry’s life.

Those molten silver eyes bored into his soul and demanded so much of him. Harry had made himself ready and willing and felt a strange exhilaration to comply to Draco. But had that been the right choice?

--You love him, you bloody idiot. He loves you too. Even if that doesn’t justify the way you’ve acted in the past month that doesn’t mean that he was entirely to blame either. This is your responsibility. You will deal with it.--

His own judgment and condemnation was far harsher than he would have expected anyone else’s to be but he knew that was the only way he would get anything done.

He finally sighed his final sigh and got to his feet again.

“Harry!” a voice called to him. He looked up, half expecting to see Draco though he knew the voice had a different timbre.

When his green eyes did meet the source of the call, however, Harry stood dumbstruck for a moment. A very thin man who was not much shorter than Harry himself was striding quickly up to him, his face beaming and his eyes bright as he walked alongside Neville Longbottom. The other man had sandy hair and very familiar features but, try as he might, he could not place a name.

“Harry, it is you!” Neville called to him as they reached him. Harry smiled and nodded. “The Headmistress warned us you and Malfoy were running around the school but I didn’t expect that to be literal. How have you been?”

Harry took a moment compose himself and catch his breath before responding.

“As well as can be, I suppose,” he replied as nonchalantly as possible. He knew his cheeks were red and that he still had not quite caught his breath. He then wondered what had happened to his athletic stamina.

--Ah, yes, kids.--

“Ah, I imagine so,” Neville answered simply. He was smiling brightly and Harry then realized how much he missed the man’s company. How much he missed everything from his Hogwarts days, in fact. Well, excepting his rather volatile rivalry with an unnamed Slytherin. He was much happier with their situation now than then. “Ah, you remember Dennis of course.”

Harry’s attention was brought back to the other man and then things slowly began to fall into place.

Dennis… Dennis…

“Hiya Harry.”

Dennis Creevey.

“Dennis!” Harry burst out suddenly. He felt the heat rise steadily to his face again. How could he have forgotten? “How are you? You’re teaching here as well?”

Dennis smiled in exactly the same way he always had, a smile that was precisely reminiscent of his late brother Colin. Harry further questioned how it was he hadn’t recognized him.

“I just started this year,” he admitted, apparently very humble. “I took the Defense Against the Dark Arts position after old Professor Freida retired.”

Harry stood slightly in awe. He almost couldn’t believe it. Dennis had taken part in their sessions as Dumbledore’s Army throughout fifth year, yes, and Harry had always had faith in him but he had never expected this.

Not to say he had any other solid report of what he had indeed expected.

“That’s great, Dennis,” Harry congratulated him. He was smiling and yet felt an odd sadness in his stomach.

“Thanks, Harry,” he replied calmly. “It means a lot.” His eyes became slightly glassy. “I had never considered teaching until Colin was killed. Then I couldn’t think of anything else. He was happiest when we were all practicing in the Room of Requirement and I those were my fondest memories of him. I thought the best way to pay homage to his memory was to go on teaching other kids just as you taught us.” Harry swallowed hard, the pent up grief that he had always kept in reference to those he had lost during the final battle stirred in his stomach. “His portrait hangs in the classroom now. Along with pictures he had taken. The students seem to like them.”

Harry lowered his head slightly, the smile still in place on his lips though a calmness washed over him that he could not quite explain.

“I’m sure he would have loved it,” he told Dennis pleasantly. They shared a moment of silence before a number of students began filing through the halls. Harry looked up abruptly, almost sure he was going to see James, but his son was not there. “Class is over?”

“Lessons ended just a bit ago,” Neville explained. As he spoke, the group of students began to cloister around a doorway and a scraggly old professor broke through them to open the door. “Ah, Professor Lancaster got locked out of his own classroom again,” the Herbology professor said in an undertone to Harry.

The other students filed into the room and disappeared behind the door. Harry sighed again.

“Why were you running through the halls, Harry?” Neville asked suddenly.

“Mm?” he hummed noncommittally. “Oh, I thought I had seen James. You don’t know where he was about twenty minutes ago, do you?”

“Sure,” Dennis answered. “He was in class with me.” Harry stared. “Why?”

James had been in Defense Against the Dark Arts? That classroom was on the upper floors. Even if James had left to go to the toilets he could not possibly have made it to the dungeons and back without anyone taking notice of his prolonged absence. Furthermore, why should he need to be around the Slytherin dormitory in the middle of the day while everyone was in class?

“I just wanted to say hi before we left,” Harry lied quickly. “And Al, naturally.”

“We?” Dennis asked. “So you really are here with Malfoy?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Draco’s voice hissed from behind the two men. Neville and Dennis turned around to see the blond standing calmly behind them with a very smug look on his pale features. “I’m not all that dangerous.”

“Hello, Draco,” Neville greeted him kindly. Harry blinked. Neville?

“Nice to see you, Neville,” Draco replied before pressing through them to stand next to Harry. He smiled at the other men in a non-threatening manner and Harry only managed to stand even more dumbstruck.

Draco wasn’t really being friendly to Neville was he? And vice versa?

What??

“Ah, I need to get to the library,” Dennis said abruptly. “I promised Pince that I would help her arrange some new texts. Fool that I am.” He shook his head. “Nice to see you all again. I would say ‘see you at dinner’, but I’m afraid that might not happen judging by where I’m headed. See you again soon, anyway.”

Harry, Draco and Neville bid farewell to Dennis in a very odd manner (to Harry’s eyes anyway) before Neville offered them tea in his office. They agreed and went to tea. Soon, before Harry had even realized it, the academic day had ended and dinner was being served in the Great Hall.

Despite the odd situation he had found himself in, Harry had quite enjoyed his time with Neville and it brought out more memories of what life was like when he was back in Hogwarts. He sorely missed it all and, though his life now had many different perks, he was sure that if he were ever offered the chance to go back, he would take it in a heartbeat.

Neville left them to tend to some business he had to deal with in the greenhouses and Harry walked with Draco into the Great Hall. As soon as they passed through the doorways, they each had the impulse to part ways and go sit at their respective house tables. Taking a moment to reacquaint themselves with their timeline, they each laughed softly before stepping down the centre aisle towards the staff table.

The Hall had not changed much since Harry’s days at school, either. The ceiling was still bewitched to look like the sky outside and the tables were still arranged in the same manner that they had always been. The only difference, in fact, were the two massive plaques that hung at the head of the Hall. Each had a number of names inscribed upon the stone but they were for different reasons.

The first plaque read “Here named and so lain to rest the valiant souls for the side of Good in the war against Lord Voldemort and the Eaters of Death”. Below the title were inscribed the names of every victim that there had been over the near-twenty years that marked Voldemort’s rises and falls from power.

The other plaque read “Here named are the brave warriors that risked their lives, suffered and contributed to the fall of Terror and the Restoration of Hope that ended with the Battle of Hogwarts”. And there, in what seemed to be a list far longer than Harry remembered, were the names of every witch and wizard that had fought, even in some small measure, against Voldemort’s power and brought about his downfall.

Perhaps the list seemed long to him because he had fought most of that battle on his own. Perhaps he had spent far too much time alienated from the world and seeking so deep within himself that he had ignored all the hundreds of people who had given their help to further his cause.

His eyes scanned the list and then he realized that the people there named were not only those that fought openly and in clear alliance with the Order of the Phoenix, but also those that fought individual battles against Voldemort.

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were each listed amidst the others. Scanning the other list, Harry saw Regulus Black’s name just under Sirius’. He smiled.

Years ago, he might have thought that the Malfoys did not deserve to be on that list. But time had given him wisdom and the serenity to understand the meaning. In their own way, each of the Malfoys had actively acted against Voldemort.

Draco had saved Harry’s life at Malfoy Manor when he refused to identify him and hand him over to Voldemort. Lucius had, through his failed negotiations, attempted to stop Voldemort in his last attempts to gain control of the Elder Wand. Narcissa Malfoy had, also, saved Harry’s life and ultimately brought about the final fall of Tom Riddle.

Harry glanced at Draco to see his reaction but there was no pride, no amusement in Draco’s eyes. His lips were pulled into a tight line and his eyes were hard as stone as he looked upon the plaque that bore his name. He supposed that, in some ways, Draco was reacting in much the same manner that Harry had reacted when he saw the statue of himself out on the grounds.

Harry did not believe he deserved that kind of tribute. He had not been, as the plaque illustrated, the only one to fight, nor was he the only one to vanquish Voldemort. Draco, similarly, must have felt that he did not deserve mention on the plaque next to those that had bravely offered up their lives to stop the Dark Lord.

Each survivor had black marks on their souls from what had been done during the war. Each of the warriors that were involved had horrors looming over their heads that they would not soon forget, nor forgive themselves for.

Harry would perhaps never understand exactly why Draco was glaring so openly at his own name on the stone, but he did at least understand the idea behind the feeling. He nudged Draco softly with his elbow just as the students began filing loudly into the Hall for dinner.

They smiled at one another for a moment before walking up to the staff table. Harry seated himself and looked out immediately for signs of James. But he did not see his eldest son.

Sighing, he ate his meal as calmly as possible, conversing occasionally with the other teachers, with Professor Sinistra or Hagrid who still at with the staff. Draco spoke mainly with Theodore (much to Harry’s dismay) and they finished their dinner in good time.

He missed Hogwarts meals. Harry had heard horror stories from Hermione about what muggle boarding schools offered as meals to their students and wondered how it was possible. Then, of course, he remembered that not all schools had the benefit of magic or of House Elves to serve the masses of pupils.

But no matter what Harry did, his thoughts always returned to James. What if he was wrong? What if it was possible for James to have made it to the dungeons and back before being missed? What if he had seen his father snogging (or, rather, being snogged) by Draco Malfoy??

What then??

“Dad!” a happy voice chirped from nearby. Harry looked up and his eyes met Albus Severus’ smiling face. He was standing at the Slytherin table next to Scorpius and a number of other students that Harry had clearly never met nor seen before.

Harry smiled back and got to his feet, walking down quickly to meet his son. As soon as he stood, much of the attention in the Great Hall shifted to him. Draco had followed him down to see Scorpius and many eyes in the room were now trained on them.

He had to admit, they were an unmistakable pair. Add to that the fact that Albus and Scorpius were near exact replicas of their fathers and the whole image must have been rather disconcerting.

“What are you doing here?” Al asked suddenly, the smile on his face still as clear as ever. Harry hugged his son, ignoring the odd looks from his fellow house-mates.

“Just dropped by for some business,” Harry explained simply. “I thought I’d stick around to pay you and your brother a visit. You haven’t seen James have you?”

Al shook his head.

“No, I haven’t seen him all day,” Al admitted rather sheepishly. “He’s been acting kind of weird lately, dad. He keeps to himself a lot and stays quiet more often than he used to.”

“Al has been terribly worried about him,” Scorpius added softly to Harry. Harry looked at the Malfoy heir and smiled. There was still something about this boy that soothed Harry in an inexplicable way.

“Have you?” he asked, turning back to his son. Al nodded. “You needn’t worry. I’ll go find James and talk to him, alright? You just make sure to take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Alright,” Al agreed with a small smile. Harry ruffled his hair and bid him goodnight as he and Scorpius ran off down the hall and back towards their dormitory.

Harry sighed, well aware that many eyes were still on him. He turned back to Draco who was gazing intently at him.

“We are going to go looking for James, aren’t we?” he said rather than asked. Harry did not smile though he felt he wanted to. He nodded simply to Draco and they walked out of the Hall and towards Gryffindor Tower.

Harry had already asked Professor Sinistra for the password to the Tower, hoping to see his son before he left. She had been reluctant but finally conceded to give it to him. They walked in silence up the stone steps towards the Tower, though it was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, their silence was just the wonderful comfort that an intimate relationship and a lasting friendship could offer.

Harry wasn’t sure when that had happened between himself and Draco, but he was glad it had. He even found that sometimes the silences were awkward when he sat with Ron.

At the thought another guilty stab hit his stomach and he pushed the thoughts from his mind. He had to worry about James at the moment. He needed to find his son and make sure he was ok. They only had a precious half hour before they needed to leave the grounds for the night.

“Carpe diem,” Harry proclaimed to the Fat Lady who sat with a bemused smile on her face.

“Indeed,” she replied. “You certainly know how to seize the day better than anyone, Harry Potter.”

The portrait flung open and the two of them were admitted into Gryffindor common room. Draco stood quite still for a few moments, examining every angle of the circular room as he did. Harry watched him briefly, taking note of the few students that sat silently near the fire.

“Somehow, this is not what I expected,” Draco finally admitted upon completing his observations of the room.

“What had you expected?” he pressed.

“More red,” he proclaimed with a smirk. “And possibly a monument to you as their king.” Harry snorted.

“That’s ludicrous,” he shot, rolling his eyes. Draco snickered.

“Of course,” he admitted. “I forgot. That’s Weasley’s position.”

Before Harry could answer, a young girl with curly brown hair walked up to the both of them and folded her arms.

“What are you doing here?” she asked rather rudely. Harry blinked and Draco immediately became colder in his demeanour. No one spoke to a Malfoy like that.

Ok. That was a lie.

They had taken to doing so immediately after the war, but Draco had clearly never become comfortable with it.

“I’m looking for James Potter,” Harry told her, knowing he would need someone’s help. He tried to be kind but the petulant look in her eyes told him it was going to be a difficult task. She reminded him of a very young Hermione… except meaner.

“He’s up in his dormitory,” she proclaimed with an air of superiority. “Who wants him?”

“His father,” Draco shot back curtly. The girl turned her attention to him instead.

“You’re his father?” she asked rather incredulously.

“Pride of your House,” Draco sneered in Harry’s direction. Though James did not look as much like Harry as Al did, he certainly did not resemble Draco in the slightest.

“No,” he cut in. “I am. Can someone fetch him for me, please?”

“I’ll go, Mr. Potter,” a young black boy agreed immediately. He ran up the stairs.

“Who was that?” Draco asked.

“Sean Thomas,” the girl proclaimed, still rather rudely. “I’m Lucretia Umbridge.”

Harry started. WHAT?

“Umbridge?” he asked in shock. “As in Dolores Umbridge?”

“She’s my auntie,” Lucretia said proudly. Harry tried not to upturn his lip in distaste. He forced a smile and wondered how it was this girl was in Gryffindor.

Just then, James appeared from the doorway to the boys’ dormitory. Harry turned and smiled at him but James caught sight of his father and immediately tried to turn around.

“James, wait,” Harry said stepping towards him. James stopped in his tracks, a habit of typically obeying his father. “What’s wrong?”

James turned slowly and licked his lips, looking from side to side. Al had been right. His demeanour was subdued and listless. He was unhappy and exhausted and Harry knew that there was even more than that just below the surface of his expression.

“Nothing,” he answered hoarsely. “Just tired.” He looked away. “Why are you here?”

Harry stood straighter, his face having fallen. James was not right. There was something wrong and he wasn’t sure if it had to do with what happened (or didn’t happen) in the dungeons or not.

“I came for business,” he explained simply. “And wanted to check in with you. Are you alright?”

James looked at him with turbulent eyes.

“I’m fine,” he lied clearly. Harry frowned. “Just been thinking about mum lately.”

Harry felt his heart tear slowly. He put his hand on James’ shoulder.

“You’re still having trouble dealing with it all, aren’t you?” he asked rather lamely. James’ eyes met Harry’s and they were piercing. The same hazel and Ginny’s.

“Yeah,” he answered oddly. “I’m still grieving.”

And then Harry knew. Whether or not James had seen him with Draco in the dungeons, he knew that Harry was not feeling quite the same way. Harry frowned and got to his knees as Draco carefully tried to divert the attention of the room. Harry paid no mind to that. His mind was solely concentrated on James.

“James, I’m sorry,” he told him in earnest. “I know everything seems to have fallen apart,” he went on. “But I’m here, yeah? Never forget that. No matter what I am here and I love you. I love you, I love Al and I love Lily. No one could ever, nor will ever replace your mum, but we’ll get through it, alright? It will get better.”

James did nothing but nod for a moment. It was an empty gesture but Harry supposed that it was all that he could offer his father in that moment. He was still hurt and it would take time for him to heal. No amount of soothing words or reassuring pats would shorten that. Nothing would cheapen his grief and nothing would simply wash it away.

“Ok,” he said finally. But nothing more. Harry hugged him though James did not hug him back and he held his son for a few moments.

There was still something wrong but no time then to fix it. It was already time for them to leave the school grounds.

“I have to go now, James,” Harry explained. “But I’m only a letter away. Write to me whenever you need to. Don’t be scared. And you can talk to your brother as well.” He looked into James’ hollow eyes a moment longer. “You’ll be alright.”

James nodded and Harry got up to leave though he didn’t want to. The last words were perhaps meant for himself more than his son but there was nothing he could do. Their time at Hogwarts was up and he had to leave. His son watched him go and then walked back up into his dormitory.

Harry and Draco left the grounds quietly as Harry lost himself in his own worry and concern. Draco led him into Hogsmeade and got them a room at the Inn. Harry took no notice of anything at all except what was going on in his own mind.

He hardly noticed when Draco wrapped his arms around him and pulled Harry into a warm embrace. The blond pulled away finally and lifted Harry’s gaze so that he might see Draco’s eyes.

“He will be fine,” Draco soothed. “He’s as strong and stubborn as you are.”

Harry sighed and sat on the bed, running his fingers distractedly through his dark hair. He wished it were that simple.

Though Draco was indeed right. James was just as strong as Harry had ever been. He was headstrong and he was determined. They would both make it through the rough times ahead and they would simply grow from the experience. It was the nature of all Potters to do so. His father had been that way as well, he had been told.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked softly. Harry looked up at him suddenly, as if seeing him for the first time.

“Yeah,” he answered simply. “Answer a few questions.”

Draco paused and considered him for a long moment. Harry could see that he was stiff and that his demand could mean a million and one things. He finally took a deep breath and sat down next to Harry.

“Go ahead.” Draco’s voice was smooth and calm but Harry could feel his apprehension. He shifted and looked at his lover (though the term was still new and odd) in the eyes.

“Alright,” he began quietly. “First tell me what happened in the holding cells at the Ministry after the war.”

-------

A/N: I keep writing! YAY! And a LONG chapter! Very! Wow. I’m glad I did that. There are lots of issues now here that need to be resolved. Big problems and I’m not even sure how I’m going to fix them all hahahaha

Just kidding. Sorta.

Baha.

Ok. So yeah. Hope you liked it! It moved oddly but I hope it turned out ok!

Love to all of you!!