The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…..by Samayel

Chapter 6: The Brat


Harry stood stock still, frantically attempting to maintain some small shred of decorum, fumbling for something to say.

“I’ll thank you to be more polite to your professors, Mister Malfoy…and-”

“I haven’t got a professor yet! I’ll consider politeness when I do! Will I be taught Defense Against The Dark Arts…here…by you…or will I not? I merely wish to know if I am wasting my time.”

It didn’t seem possible, but this one was actually cheekier than his father! Insufferable!

“How on earth is it that you’re even asking me this? No decision has yet been made…so why are you even at my door pestering me for answers? Who told you I wouldn’t teach you? How did you even find my quarters?”

“Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant! If I must be droll, it’s called magic…I’m sure you of all people must have heard of such things. When I want to know something, I find it out, one way or another. Now about my question. Why don’t you want to teach me? Or if you will teach me, stop shilly-shallying and just say so, and this conversation will be done.”

Harry was making every effort to avoid looking the young man in the eyes, since a leaden gray gaze would hamstring his ability to speak, which was already suffering. More annoying still, the young man was peeking around Harry’s shoulders and giving little disdainful sniffs as he looked at Harry’s quarters. Harry noticed that the young man was also shorter than his father by quite a bit, as well as slightly broader through the shoulders. There were differences, and though he was momentarily besieged, Harry was still picking them out.

“Well…eh…you see…no official decision has been rendered…and I hadn’t said that I wouldn’t…officially…or that I would, but there are considerations, you see? We should…perhaps we can see about some other courses…what are you staring at? At least pay attention when I’m talking to you!”

Malfoy glanced back irritably, suddenly slipping past Harry and into Harry’s room while Harry stared in gobsmacked awe at the insolence. Malfoy was already idly reading the marked page of one of Harry’s favorite books like this was his own library.

“You’re barely speaking, and when you say something worth hearing, I assure you I’ll listen. I’m staring at this room. You call this quarters? It’s more like an eighth! Maybe a sixteenth! This is where the famous Harry Potter lives? You must believe in austerity and mortification of the flesh and all that rot. I had enough of that at Durmstrang. Great believers in suffering as a form of character building, they are. I happen to think that character can be built at a perfectly respectable rate and still include some creature comforts.”

“How…what do you think you’re doing? These are my private eighths…I mean quarters! Damn it, you were not invited to enter! Get out! Just…just leave me alone! We’ll discuss this formally when something has been decided. A student has no busin-”

“Need I remind you? Not a student…yet! You can fix that quickly if you just get on with it and say yes, although I’m no longer certain of what you might be able to teach me. I always suspected that the legends weren’t quite the reality, but really! I expected something more impressive than some stammering, pedantic buffoon.”

Harry’s fragile grip on his temper snapped. His wand was in hand before he knew what he was doing.

“OUT! NOW! Go to the quarters that were assigned to you! You’ll wait until I bloody well send for you! You want a teacher? You have one! We’ll see if you learn some manners first. When you’re commanded to do something by the staff of this school, you will obey them implicitly, student or no. Conduct yourself with the deportment befitting your station, or I will remove you from the grounds myself! Do not test me on this, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco Malfoy’s nostrils were flared, and his eyes gleamed with a feral joy.

“That’s a bit more like it. As you wish, sir. I will await your summons…eagerly. Thank you for your time.”

The young man offered a short bow and walked from the room with his back erect and his chin up, smirking all the while. When the door closed behind him, Harry stopped and realized what he’d just agreed to.

‘My god. This is going to be a sentence in hell. It’s like he was raised by a pack of wolves. Even…even Draco wasn’t that obnoxious, or has time just colored my memories to show favor on him? I can’t believe I just told him I’d teach him! How am I going to get out of this? It’s…it’s untenable. He’s insolent, impertinent, arrogant and possibly amoral. I’ve got to…got to get a grip on all of this…’

There was another knock at the door, and since Harry was still standing beside it, stunned and reeling, the interruption was very unwelcome. He jerked the door open, fully expecting to see Draco Malfoy waiting for him, impudent smirk still affixed to his face.

“What, damn you!? I…oh…sorry, John.”

John Prewett smiled mildly and held out a potion.

“Hmmph. I can guess at the source of your stress. I just saw a very saucy young man walking from here, looking like a cat that just got its fill of cream. You don’t seem to deal well with the notion of being his teacher, do you? Take this, and drink it all. It’ll calm you down a bit without leaving you sluggish.”

Harry stepped out of the way, motioning for John to enter, and then took the offered potion, uncorking it and downing it quickly before he closed the door.

“Ahh! Thank you. I feel better already. Not bad tasting, either. You’re right, too. That boy is trouble. I don’t think I can teach him. I really don’t…but I can’t think of a way to get out of this without leaving behind a job I love. Minerva isn’t likely to just give in, that boy is impossible, and I’m not in any shape to deal with this. I am grateful for your help though, even though I’m not sure what good it will really do.”

John Prewett took the spare chair at Harry’s small table, motioning politely for Harry to sit down. The older gentleman removed his spectacles, breathing onto them before cleaning them gently with his sleeve. When they were affixed to his nose and he’d established that all was in working order, John finally spoke.

“I was going to save this conversation until a few days from now, but you’re overwrought already and it’s clear that we must sort a few things out right now. Harry, I hope you’ll listen to me seriously when I suggest that in addition to treatments for your liver and for your nerves, I’d like you to undertake a course of therapeutic psychological examination. This morning has made it clear that you have poor coping skills matched with a very high level of anxiety, and it’s only gone undiagnosed because you successfully avoided a thorough check up for quite some time. In short, there’s hardly any point in healing your body if you don’t equip yourself with the tools to keep it healthy. Undue stress could drive you back to the point you’re at now in a matter of months, and so I think a more comprehensive level of treatment would be appropriate. Would you be willing to consider this?”

Harry blinked. “I…I need a shrink? If you want to reduce my stress, convince Minerva to let Malfoy go back to his estate and play Lord Of The Manor there. I’m not sure I really want to talk about my feelings, and I’ve already explained myself to Minerva…to no avail. I’ll be glad to see what you can do for my sleep and for my liver, but…but I really don’t like the notion of talking to a stranger. Do you really think this is serious enough to call for that?”

Harry’s tone was calm, and he realized that the potion had worked handsomely. He was still clear headed, but his stomach had stopped aching and the headache he’d felt creeping up minutes ago had fled entirely.

“Harry, it doesn’t have to be a complete stranger. I’m qualified enough to work with you on this. I was working with St. Mungo’s during and after the war, and I assure you that you are not the only person who had experiences that were troubling. There are enormous benefits to be gained from just a little effort and some applied psychology. It in no way reflects poorly upon you to accept treatment. I also think that Minerva is right to expect you to meet your obligations instead of avoiding them. If you find something unnerving, perhaps you should look at resolving the source of your emotional distress, and not resort to fleeing from it. I’m just observant enough to have noticed that your incidents today have revolved around the presence of or the mention of that young man. I haven’t much time today, but I’d still like you to tell me what it is that causes you such an adverse reaction to him.”

Harry sighed quietly, and ran his hand through his hair, rubbing his temples briefly while he mustered himself. He’d already spoken to Minerva. What could it hurt if he told John Prewett?

“Look…I told you I agreed to follow your recommendations, and if you think this would help, I’m not unwilling to try it, but there are some things that even you might be surprised to hear. I know you’ll keep this in confidence, or I wouldn’t even say it. John…Draco Malfoy…that boy’s father….was my lover during the war and just after. I don’t know how much you recall of the war and the troubles just after it, but when I was an Auror, I killed the men who murdered that boy’s parents. In cold blood. I hunted them, and I killed them, and it was covered up to spare my reputation. I would have been in Azkaban if the Ministry hadn’t cleaned everything up afterwards. If this gets out, my time here is over. Even Harry Potter wouldn’t get away with murder…if people knew what he’d done. When I look at that boy, all I see is his dead father. And that isn’t all. The relationship ended a mess, because Draco wanted to marry and have an heir…because he wanted a son, and that son is not someone I want to sit in a room with five days a week. Can anyone understand why I feel that way?”

John Prewett stroked his chin, nodding sagely.

“Good that you’re speaking of it, Harry, but I should tell you that I haven’t changed my opinion much. I agree that you have a right to feel as you do. Perhaps you did some things that were clearly wrong, but before you rush to judgment on yourself, remember that you’ve done some truly remarkable things as well. I can see that we’ll have some things to talk about, but if you’re willing to push yourself to speak of these things, I’m sure you’ll make admirable progress. Harry, you are a good man by anyone’s definition, and there isn’t one person in this castle who has ever had a harsh word from you. You’re well and rightly loved by a lot of people, and not without good reason. I think you’re carrying a lot more old pain than is healthy for anyone, and I think that, when you let it go, you’ll look at life quite a bit differently. The war was ended more than fifteen years ago, Harry, and a lot of questionable things were done in its name. There‘s no reason for you to carry the weight of that time alone.”

Harry sat quietly a moment, honestly glad that his confession hadn’t brought condemnation. Perhaps John could look at Harry the same way, knowing that he was talking to someone who had killed for vengeance, but Harry found it hard to imagine forgiving himself for what he’d done. The potion made it much easier to think and speak of these things, and John Prewett spoke again before Harry could form an answer.

“I’ve a ward waiting for me to attend to it, and several potions to set brewing for you. My original diagnosis still holds though…cut back the drinking slowly over the next few days, take the rest of today off since Minerva has already volunteered herself as your replacement for the day, and don’t hesitate to call me or visit if you experience something difficult. Communication is key to my ability to help you. I’ll have another potion like the one I brought ready for you tomorrow morning before your classes start. Visit my office and we’ll make sure you can cope with whatever comes your way, right?”

Harry nodded, still lost in thought, and thanked John quietly before the man left. The afternoon passed quietly, with a spot of tea and just a few inquiries from friends like Ron and Neville, as well as other coworkers, about his health. He’d caused quite a stir, and only two people knew why, the rest had to be assured that all was well, otherwise he’d have had an endless stream of visitors. As it was, when the early evening came and Harry enjoyed the supper brought by the castle house-elves, Harry had sorted out a bit of what he felt about the cruel lot that had been dealt him.

He Firecalled Minerva, and after making it clear that his acceptance was temporary, pending a full personal interview with ‘the brat’, and that, if he consented to teach said brat, he would teach this independent student with no house or ties in any way he saw fit. Harry sat by his fireplace contentedly, wondering if he’d have been better off just quietly leaving Hogwarts. Maybe John was right, and it was something Harry should learn from instead of avoiding, but even calmed by potion and whiskey, with a favorite book in hand, he suspected that he’d just set himself up for more trouble than anything could be worth.

TBC!!!