Shadow Play

Chapter 10: The Rundown



As Christmas neared and anticipation for the winter holidays perforated the air everyone noticed how irritated Harry had become since the arrive of the rotten flowers. He would jump at the slightest unexpected noise. Everyone learned to be careful around Harry, even Hermione who had known Harry the longest. She was finding it hard to harm Harry with his nervousness.



The only person Harry didn’t snap at was Teddy. The first year Gryffindor was the only person in the whole school that could keep Harry calm. Hermione privately suspected it was because Teddy reminded Harry of the boy’s parents so much Harry couldn’t get mad at him. But it didn’t stop Harry from snapping at the other students.



“Harry, you have to stop snapping at everyone,” said Hermione. “Whoever sent you those roses wanted to scar e you, and from what I can see it’s working. Come on, Harry, you’ve faced worse then this.”



“Hermione, I’m fine,” said Harry trying to reason his friend as he gathered his lesson sheets. “It’s not as bad as it seems. I really am fine.”



Hermione gave Harry an angry skeptical look “You’re hiding something, Harry. You never hide anything from Ron or me. Not even when you killed yourself to stop Voldemort.”



Harry picked up the test sheets and smiled at Hermione. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Hermione,” he said and left his quarters.



And walked into his fourth year class. The entire class was silent and sitting in their seats, each with an anxious expression on their faces. Harry gave them an amused smile.



“I don’t bite as you well know,” he said. “Not to begin class. Voodoo, or the art of herbal magic, can only be affect if they are believed to be real. Now, how voodoo began goes back to the beginning of magic itself…..”



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Hermione paced back and forth in her office between classes. The way Harry was acting was strange to her. She had known Harry for too long to know when her friend was pushing her away from a subject. And the way Harry was avoiding her was also strange.



Harry had always confided in her and Ron, even when he was in hiding. Harry had never disclosed locations or names, in case his letter were intercepted by the media, but he would suffiently tell them how he was and each time sign as with an alias. They would know it was him by the way he wrote and the stag stamped in red wax in the right hand corner below the name.



Her fire flared and she turned to see Ron’s head in the green flames.



“What’s this about Harry freaking out,” asked Ron. “Does it have anything to do with the rotten roses that were sent to him?”



“I don’t know, Ron,” said Hermione sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace. I mean, he’s pushing me away and I’m afraid he’s going to snap. He’s lucky he hasn’t already. Whoever sent him those roses is really freaking him out.”



“Harry’s never been like that,” said Ron. “I’ve seen him mad but I never seen him freaked out. It’s not like him.”



“Send me copies of Harry’s letters,” said Hermione. “I want to find any clues on who could have sent Harry those roses”



“Should I talk to Dean in Magical Transportation? (?)”



“Please and thank you,” said Hermione. She heard a sound on the other side and frowned. “What’s going on?”



“Just a sec,” said Ran and he pulled his head out for a minute before returning. “Yeah, the kids want to say hi.”



Hermione smiled. “All right, let them through.”



“Hi, Mummy,” said Rose. Hermione smiled at her daughter. “Hugo wants to know when you’ll be home.”



“This weekend, honey,” said Hermione. “Mummy and Uncle Harry are coming this weekend.”



Rose cheered and turned back to the others. “Did you hear that, Hugo? Uncle Harry’s coming!”



There came cheering on the other side and Rose turned back to Hermione. “Juli misses Uncle Harry. Keeps wanting to hear “On the Road Again” from him. Daddy’s voice is scratchy.”



“My voice is just fine, Rose,” came Ron’s voice and Hermione giggled. “And don’t call him Juli.”



Hermione looked over at the clock. “I’m sorry, honey, but I have to go back to class. Fifth years. I love you and tell the others I love them and to behave for your father.”



“Yes, Mummy. See you this weekend.” And Rose left. The fire went back to normal. Hermione smiled as she gathered her books for the class. A weekend at home might do Harry some good.



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Harry hummed as he cleaned up after his last class. Nothing out of place had happened so far and his students were more attentive on the lesson. Harry supposed it was because they were scared of making their teacher angry but Harry showed not antagonism toward his student and avoided the teachers, at least Hermione. His old friend seemed determined to find out what had spooked Harry when he received the roses, but Harry was telling. A secret was a secret.



Harry walked out o f the classroom and walked down to the Great Hall. If there was one thing he wasn’t late for it was a meal. When he walked through the doors the students looked at him in interest but quickly went back to their meals and conversations. Harry smiled at them and walked to the teachers table.



“The students are acting a bit jumpy lately,” he said sitting down and sirloin ribs with peas, garlic mashed potatoes appeared. A basket of rolls and a stick of butter moved within reach and he grabbed a roll and smeared butter on it.



“Well, when one of their teachers is freaking out, that’ll make most kids jumpy,” said Hermione.



“Ha-ha,” said Harry cutting his ribs.



“Ron insisted that you come over this weekend. Think you could come?” Hermione paused to allow Harry a moment to think. “He kids miss you.”



“Well, I do love kids.” Harry smiled at her and he nodded. “I’ll be there.”



“How was your day, Black,” asked Malfoy sitting in the seat next to Harry. Harry smiled at him. Ever since the roses arrived Malfoy had also been trying to find out who sent them. Harry didn’t know if it was because Malfoy considered him a friend or because the blonde was naturally curious and was looking for something to hold against him.



“Uneventful, except for Lupin working a spectacular Flippindo. I have never seen a person fly that high since, well ever.”



“I heard it was nearly ten feet high,” said Pansy joining in. “Didn’t Potter slip Weasley eleven and a half feet?”



Harry felt his face flush and he caught himself from choking on a piece of meat. He never liked people talking about his accomplishments and it made it even worse when they talk about school accomplishments. Through the people praised him, Harry wasn’t proud of what he had done, and people reminding him made him feel worse about it.



“If I remember correctly, Malfoy had been taunting Harry before class started,” said Hermione. “So there was a reason why Harry put some force behind the spell.”



“I was teasing,” said Malfoy with a mischievous smile.



“Taunting.”



“Teasing.”



“You guys know the Harry Potter,” asked Harding and Harry coughed around his ribs. “The Savior of the Wizarding World? The Boy-Who Lived?”



“Are you okay,” asked Malfoy in concern as Harry continued to cough. Hermione began smacking his back to get Harry to breathe again.



“Yeah,” he said when he could breathe again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Hermione.”



“Hermione?” asked Harding. “Hermione Granger?”



“It’s Weasley now,” said Hermione, a slight blush on her cheeks.



“Ronald Weasley?”



“Yes,” said Hermione and Harding laughed.



“God, I’m eating with a living legend! I’ve been dying to meet with you, Weasley and Potter for ages!”



“Don’t rub it in,” said Hermione glancing at Harry. Marry made every attempt he could to ignore them but the conversation could be heard even when he didn’t want to hear.



“I have to go,” he said putting his fork down and leaving his half finished meal. “A lot of papers to grade.”



“All right,” said Hermione. “I’ll talk to you later then?”



“Sure,” said Harry and left the great hall. He was about to enter his office when Teddy called out for him.



“Professor James,” called Teddy running up to him. “My Flippindo, did you think it was too much?”



“No,” said Harry. “That was the best I’ve ever seen. Remember that the further you throw him, the easier it will be to get away.”



Teddy smiled for a moment before talking softly. “For a moment there, you sounded like my godfather.”



“Your godfather?” asked Harry curiously, leaning against the wall and putting his hands in his pocket. He knew enough about Teddy to guess what he boy was saying, but it was best to hear it and to tell it to a stranger took more courage then anything.



“He’s always away, but if I needed anything he would run to my side to help me,” said Teddy. “He’s a very important man, but he doesn’t like people reminding him about what he did. But he’s a great guy.



“You remind me of him,” said Teddy looking up at Harry. “Helping the students, making me laugh. I miss him.”



“You’ll see him again soon,” said Harry putting a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”



“I’m proud of him,” said Teddy. “I never told him, but I am. I didn’t want to add to his problems.”



“Mr. Lupin,” began Harry before sighing and he smiled down at him. “Teddy, if your godfather is anything like you said he is, I’m sure he knows.”



“Thanks, Professor James.”



“Hey, James,” called a voice and both looked up to see Harding head toward them. Harry moved slightly closer to Teddy. “I never asked how you were. I heard about the roses. Talk about gross!”



“I remember not seeing you that day,” said Harry. “And I’m fine. Thank you.”



“Hey, listen,” said Harding scratching his blonde hair. “We kind of got off on the wrong foot. I don’t know why you don’t like me, but I would like for us to be friends.”



Harding held his hand out to Harry and Harry had a flashback of an eleven year old boy with blonde hair a shade lighter then Harding’s and storm grey eyes holding out his hand to Harry as a token. Harry silently laughed at the thought.



“You’ve got it wrong, Harding,” said Harry. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that you remind me of a guy I don’t like.”



“Anyone I know,” asked Harding with a charming smile but Harry didn’t fall for it.



“Possibly,” said Harry. “I don’t know who you’ve met before you came here.” He turned to Teddy. “I’ll take you to your House, Mr. Lupin.”



“All right,” said Teddy and they headed down the hall.



“Hey, James,” called Harding and Harry turned to look back at him. “How about we go out and get a drink together sometime?”



Harry paused for a moment in thought. “I’ll think about it.”



And he walked around the corner toward Gryffindor Tower.



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“Still mussing over Black,” asked Blaise as he sat next to Pansy in Draco’s chambers. Blaise had been visiting Pansy more and Pansy left for the Zabini Villa every weekend. Draco felt they were up to something, but didn’t ask what. Whatever business they spoke of as a couple remained theirs.



“Ever since he got those roses it’s like he’s in a battle field,” said Draco. “I’ve only seen that after the war, with Father.”



When the war ended Lucius had nightmares and had been anxious for weeks afterward, convinced the Dark Lord was still alive, living in the Manor and terrorizing his family. He was set a curfew for Draco and insisting on knowing where Draco was going. The Healer, a Muggle they visited, called it Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He explained that most war veterans came down with it and told Draco and Narcissa what to expect and how to help Lucius cope. He also warned that Lucius may never recover. A few months later, Lucius committed suicide.



“You think Black is a war veteran?” asked Pansy in surprise.



“He’s a veteran of some kind of war,” said Draco. “He’s been on time for class now.”



That only caught Pansy by surprise. “No way?!”



“You didn’t know?”



“No!”



“Why is that unusual,” asked Blaise. “Aren’t teachers always on time for classes?”



“No Black,” said Pansy. “That man’s made a habit of being fashionably late for every class.”



“That’s different.”



“You have no idea,” said Draco with a smirk.



“Maybe it was a bad breakup,” said Pansy thoughtfully.



“What do you mean,” asked Blaise. Pansy scoffed.



“Now, honestly. The fact that the person sent Black roses says that whoever sent them is in love with Black.”



“But there were worse n the roses,” said Draco.



“That means that whoever sent the flowers hated how Black treated him.”



“Black is a great guy,” said Blaise. “I don’t se him doing anything wrong.”



“You’d be surprised,” said Draco.



“Add the fact that Black knows who sent it makes it even worse,” said Pansy.



“The person knows where Black is,” said Blaise. “And might try to harm him.



“Do you think so,” asked Draco.



“It’s the only logical solution,” said Pansy. “If you want to talk to him, talk to him. But take it slow, don’t push him. He’s a man with secrets and won’t be willing to share them with just anyone.”



Draco nodded and sipped the Scotch in his hands. Pansy and Blaise left a while later to spend some time alone. Draco needed to think anyway, so he walked out of his chambers and walked down the hall.



James Black had made life interesting at Hogwarts. Before the only thing Draco could look forward to was his monthly visit to his mother. Now he was listening in on the students’ whispered conversations of their classes with him and couldn’t wait till the next lesson. He tried to figure out what made Black such a likable guy, but couldn’t quite piece the puzzle together.



Draco looked up when he heard footsteps and saw said mentioned man walking down the hall. Black was known for stay up late and walking the halls. It was also known only to staff that James Black had a bad time to get to sleep and since the rotten roses incident it had became increasingly hard for the teacher to get to sleep.



“Black,” called out Draco and Black turned to him. “Still having a hard time sleeping?”



“Yeah,” said Black. “I’ve tried everything except a Sleeping Potion.”



“Why not,” asked Draco and Black chuckled.



“What if I sleep and….that person attacks me. I don’t think so. I’m also scared that Harding’s going to try and molest me. The guy won’t leave me alone. Like a love-sick puppy.”



“He’s hitting on you?” asked Draco following Black down the hall. “He doesn’t seem the type to go for guys, always talking to the woman.”



“Trust me, guys like him don’t care about gender as long as they get some.”



“Personal experience?”



“Something like that. Knew a person who dated a guy like that. Love’em and leave’em.”



“And Harding reminds you of the guy that left your friend?” Black didn’t answer. “Listen, Black, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s all right. You have secrets and Merlin knows I do. I won’t force you to talk about something you obviously don’t want to.”



And Draco turned to walk down the opposite hall. He was almost out of hearing range when Black spoke softly.



“You have changed,” he said and Draco turned back to him.



“Excuse me?”



“Nothing,” said Black. “The guy that Harding reminds me of, well, let’s just say he wasn’t a very nice guy. He wanted to keep my friend all to himself, always pushed away from others. He wouldn’t let my friend make any friends.”



“He sounds possessive.”



“He was.”



“Did she get away? You’re a wizard, you could have Confunded him or something and helped her escape.”



“I, uh…ah, had sworn of magic for a while.”



“Why? Did someone you know get killed by magic or something?”



“Or something,” said Black and leaned against a window, looking down at the grounds below.



“You’re evasive, Black,” said Draco after a minute. “You agree with any story a person comes up with about you and tell your life in bits and pieces. You say you don’t get along with your relatives that raised you, yet you talk about your family like it’s the happiest thing in the world. And you don’t name names.”



“Family doesn’t end in blood,” said Black and looked back at a slightly confused Draco. “The family I mentioned cared for me ‘cause my relatives never did. They never cared about what I did or who I was to others, just what I was to them. And as for my evasive life, before I left to travel, that’s just who I am.”



Draco studied Black for a long minute. Even when telling the truth he was evasive. Why would someone live like that, suspicious of everyone and keeping everyone a mile away. Obviously he wasn’t a good liar or else he wouldn’t be telling his life story, but he also didn’t want people to know who he was.



“You’re a mystery, James Black,” he said. “I like mysteries.”



“I think you’ll find me a challenge,” said Black pushing off the wall and smiling at Draco. “I happen to like mysteries as well. Like where you go once a month? Why the son of the richest wizard family in Britain is working in the dank dungeons of a castle, and why you haven’t gotten serious with anyone in a while.”



“How do you know I haven’t been with anyone for a while,” asked Draco.



“I have eyes, Draco, and a brain. I’m not as dumb as I make myself out to be.”



“I can tell. And to your last question, I just haven’t found someone who’ll compliment me.”



Black smiled. “I can understand that,” he said. Draco smiled back.



“I thought you would.”



TBC