Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Harry Potter, Walker of Dreams
Disclaimer: All of the characters still belong to JK Rowling. I promise to wash and wax them when I’m done. It has occurred to me that I had nearly all of the action in Part 2 take place in places that didn’t technically exist. It has also occurred to me that there was no action. That will change soon. I apologize to all the people whose lines I am ste… borrowing, including the heirs and assigns of Heath Ledger.
---
Harry spent much of Sunday pondering the prophecy that Luna had told him about. In a way, it really wasn’t much of a surprise. Voldemort had attacked him directly three times already in the last four years, so obviously he considered Harry an important target.
He’d never really asked himself why, though. He was a famous wizard, he supposed, but others were famous for much better reasons. He came from a prominent Light family, but many other witches and wizards did too. He made reasonably good grades, but he wasn’t close to Hermione at the top of the year. In short, he wasn’t an obvious target. So why was Voldemort so obsessed with him?
Then he got angry. What right did Voldemort have to ruin his life? And what right did his instructors have not to tell him about it? Luna’s mother couldn’t have been the only Seer to know about the prophecy, from Luna’s description.
All of this made him more grateful to Professor Snape, as bizarre as that still felt. It also made him wonder what Sirius knew. He knew that the Christmas present that he had been given, which supposedly would let him contact Sirius at any time, could lead Sirius into danger- but now he didn’t know if he had a choice. He opened his trunk to search for it, and finally found it after about ten minutes of digging.
It was a small package, about the size of a thick paperback book. When he opened it, he saw a mirror and a note. The note read,
This is a two-way mirror. I’ve got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you’ll appear in my mirror and I’ll be able to talk to yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.
Harry decided to try using it anyway. He sat down and faced the mirror, and asked “Sirius? Are you there?” After thirty seconds passed with no response, he tried again. He was just about to wrap the mirror up again when a face appeared in the mirror.
Sirius looked hale and hearty in the mirror, even if his beard and hair were a bit unkempt. Harry beamed as he saw his godfather for the first time in over two months. Sirius’ eyes drooped a bit- Harry wondered if he’d caught Sirius sleeping- but they perked up immediately when Sirius saw him.
“Harry! I was beginning to wonder if you forgot my present. I’m so glad to see you! How are you doing, boy?” Sirius was speaking in rapid fire.
“I’m… doing great, Sirius. It’s great to see you too! I’m sorry to wake you up, but…” Harry replied, but Sirius was shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it, Harry. My sleep schedule has gotten out of whack over the last few weeks. There’s just so little to do around here, and I can’t go out. Even Kreacher doesn’t bother me anymore,” Sirius moped, which dampened Harry’s enthusiasm.
“Where did he go?” Harry wondered.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him since Christmas. Maybe I’d better go look for him.” Sirius sighed and started to get up.
“Wait, Sirius! Before you go, I wanted to talk to you. Did you know about the prophecy about me? Please, be honest,” Harry pleaded.
Sirius sat quietly for a few seconds and then said, “No, Harry. I didn’t know. I guessed that there might be one about you, but I didn’t know for sure, and I thought it wouldn’t be relevant even if it did exist.”
“Why so, Sirius?” Harry called anxiously.
Sirius responded, “I know it’s hard to imagine, but try to imagine life back when you were born. Voldemort and his forces were striking wizards weekly, then almost daily. People were anxious to believe that there was something, anything, that would rescue them.” He sighed. “There were people looking to youngsters, even babies, as potential saviors. I think half the magical kids born in 1980 and 1981 were thought to be Chosen Ones by somebody or another. So I can believe that there was a prophecy about you, but I was never exactly an academic,” he smirked, “so I couldn’t tell you any details.”
“But don’t prophecies come true?” asked Harry.
“I’m not really the person to ask. You’d have to talk to someone in the Department of Mysteries. But I was under the impression that they usually don’t,” Sirius explained.
“I’ll do that if you get a chance. I don’t suppose you know someone who could help?” Harry inquired.
“’Fraid not, Harry. I think they’d be as likely to arrest me as anyone else,” Sirius responded gloomily.
“I guess I should say one other thing- I never thought Snape would be so helpful,” Harry said more positively, only to have Sirius cut him off.
“Helpful? Harry, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Remember, he was a Death Eater, and most of them never really went straight- you know that better than anyone,” Sirius answered urgently. Harry began to regret making the call.
“He’s been teaching me about this way of Occlumency, the Palace of Memory. It really seems to work, Sirius, it’s even getting me better marks.” Harry wasn’t sure whether he should mention the dream walking; he decided not to for the moment.
“Well, you need to look all the way around that Palace of yours. Anyone who’s played the game Snape’s been playing is going to be a bastard in any way that he can, and he’s been doing it since he came to Hogwarts!” cried Sirius. “Harry, if you feel off in any way, anything at all, tell me right away. Please. Harry.”
“Alright, Sirius. I will. I know this sounds naïve, but I really think he’s changed,” said Harry cautiously. “He still makes verbal snipes, but I can feel his Occlumency working.”
“Don’t get too complacent, Harry. That’s all I’m saying. We have a bad history, after all,” Sirius warned, but then he relaxed a bit. “But maybe you’re right. I hope you are, anyway. Again, please call me whenever you get a chance. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”
---
The only other news of the day came later that evening, when Angelina told him that the team would be practicing at seven o’clock on Tuesday and Friday mornings, and asked him to help her coach the team since he could no longer play. Harry, who had been doing so since his expulsion from the team, in turn told her that the DA meeting schedule would be determined the following day when he heard from the other houses about their practice schedules.
Harry’s dreams were, for once, uneventful on Sunday night. On Monday, he met with Hermione at the lunch table. He told her about his call to Sirius.
“Any news, Hermione?” he asked when he was done. Hermione responded quickly.
“Ravenclaw’s practices are this evening and Thursday morning, and Hufflepuff’s are tomorrow and Thursday afternoon. That leaves possible meetings Wednesday or Friday night,” Hermione reported.
“OK, Wednesday night sounds best. Make sure you get the message out,” Harry decided.
“Yes, sir!” Hermione
“When did I become sir?” Harry queried.
“When you took command of the DA, of course,” replied Hermione.
“I thought you were the boss,” Harry retorted, sotto voce.
“I wish,” Hermione replied similarly.
The evening with Snape passed uneventfully. Although Harry listened carefully for any sign that Snape’s lesson might be less than its stated intent, he could detect none. He knew that wasn’t necessarily proof of good intentions, but he didn’t want to get too paranoid.
The following morning brought thunder by five-thirty, when Harry’s Alarm Charm woke him up in near-darkness. By six-thirty, when practice had begun, the skies had opened up. Not that this would stop practice, of course; Angelina’s drive to win was different from Wood’s only in degree, not in kind.
The team looked… well, pretty bad. Harry told himself that the ten-point loss to Hufflepuff looked like a fluke, but that was probably because they’d played over their heads in that game. Kirke and Sloper were still more likely to hit each other with Bludgers than anyone else, Ginny’s practices made it look more likely with each passing week that her Snitch capture had been an accident, and Ron alternated between mediocre stretches and those where he might as well have not been in goal at all.
“Harry, do you see anything to like here at all?” Angelina inquired, standing next to him on the sideline. Harry turned and was about to answer, then stopped short.
Angelina was three inches taller than Harry, at five feet eleven. Her long black hair was braided into elaborate dreadlocks hanging halfway down her back. Her face was beautiful, with smooth skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her Quidditch outfit was plastered to her body by the rain, revealing a sleek, muscular figure with high, firm breasts and long, strong legs.
When Harry took a few seconds too long to answer, Angelina said, “Anything?” Harry thought she might have seen a smirk for just a second, but figured that the lack of sleep might be messing with his perception.
“Well, the Chasers are doing well,” Harry averred. That was true enough. Katie and Alicia were passing the Quaffle very accurately at short and long range. “You really ought to go up there and join them, Angelina. I’m sure they’d be doing even better under game conditions. We need them to be scoring as much as possible.” To keep the score respectable, mused Harry.
“I can’t really see what everyone is doing from up there, while also keeping an eye on the Quaffle. That’s why I figure I need to stay down here if I’m going to be team captain.” She paused, tapping her finger against her chin for a few seconds. “But tell me something, Harry. Wouldn’t you like to get back on the stick?”
“I’d love nothing more, Angelina! But how likely do you think Umbridge is to let me get my broom back?” Harry had asked Umbridge about an appeal at least once every other week, and her response had always been a lot of officious-sounding blather when one word would have made her meaning clear: No. McGonagall had been equally unhelpful, if less prolix.
“You don’t need your broom, Harry. You can ride with me! My broom can easily carry you,” Angelina enthused. “You belong in the air, Harry. I’m sure you’ll be very helpful for me.” Again, Harry thought he might have seen something in her eyes.
“I’d love to, Angelina. But we’ve been out here for two hours now, and classes will be starting soon,” Harry stated.
“You’re right. Sonorus,” Angelina chanted. “Everybody, come on down. I think we’re done with practice for today.”
---
That evening, Harry found himself in Hermione’s dream again, in the same cell as before. Hermione and Luna were both there with him, dressed as before. This time, Harry was seated comfortably on a bench but still chained to the wall in his loincloth.
“Who are the Generals?” Harry asked the Empress. He hadn’t seen them before reaching the cell this time.
“The Generals have three things in common, Harry. They’re all women and I admire them for things that they have done, for the way that they stand up for themselves,” Hermione started, looming over him.
“And the third?” Harry inquired.
“Like I said the first time you came here, Harry… they’ll do anything for you. They all respect you for who you are and what you’ve done- other than being the Boy Who Lived, and they would like to do more than respect you from a distance, if you know what I mean.” The Empress’ stunning face assumed a definite leer when she said those last few words.
“And what do you think of all of this?” Harry looked between the Empress and the Marshal, whose face was, if anything, even more openly sensual.
“Well, I did have one other criterion, Harry. I think they’re all beautiful, too, and…” Unusually, the Empress seemed a bit less in control.
“You want to sleep with them, too?” Harry gulped. A definite reaction could be seen under his loincloth, which wasn’t lost on either of the women. “Alright, I apologize for being male, but that makes for a wonderful mental picture.”
“No need to apologize, Harry,” the Marshal purred, sitting beside him and cupping his chin, turning his head toward her. “I completely agree… in every sense.”
“But would they agree?” Harry asked.
“I can’t say for sure. It’s something you can’t really ask about, especially in public- but I think they would, based on some of the things they’ve said and the hints that I’ve received from them.” The Empress sat close to Harry on the other side of the bench from the Marshal. “And the answer to your next question is yes, Harry.”
“What next question?” Harry tried to act casual, and failed miserably.
“Angelina’s one of them.” The Empress proclaimed.
“How do you…” Harry sputtered.
“Harry, when you get the schedule for the Quidditch practices, who gives it to you?” The Empress patiently started.
“Angelina, but she’s the team captain, so it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Harry didn’t know why he was resisting the idea, but he had gotten so used to not getting what he wanted that he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“Why was she so upset when you got detention from Umbridge? You had several weeks of practice before the first game, so why would she be so concerned about you missing one week?” The Empress was clearly getting on a roll. Beside him, Harry felt the Marhsal gently grip his arm.
“Because she wanted me to start working with the new players,” Harry said, less convinced than before.
“If Ron is as bad as you say, and from the Hufflepuff game, I’m sure he is,” the Marshal interjected, rubbing Harry’s hand on her thigh, “then why is he still on the team? There are lots of Gryffindors who’d love to be Keepers- but none of them have been your friend.”
“Luna, she’d never sacrifice a game for me or for anyone,” Harry said, swallowing a gulp as his hand felt the warmth under the Marshal’s leather.
“Harry,” the Empress said, “I’ve spoken with her several times in the last couple of months. Remember, she’s been your teammate since you were eleven. She’s your friend too, or really wants to be, in addition to her more romantic feelings. She’s worried about you, and if you really talk to her, I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised. If you’re not sure about the meeting tomorrow night, you’ve got another option.”
“What do…” Harry tailed off.
“Visit her,” the Marshal said. “From what the Empress has told me, you’ll be…welcome. Now,” she said in a stage whisper as she moved Harry’s head next to her own, “don’t you have other duties, your Majesty?”
“Marshal, we shall take this up later,” the Empress growled. If the Marshal heard her, she gave no sign, as she was busy mapping Harry’s mouth from the inside with her tongue.
---
The following evening’s DA meeting was uneventful, and in fact was mostly a review session. Harry didn’t have any more spells immediately in mind to teach the other Army members, and many of them were still working on their Summoning charms and Patronuses.
“Do you have any new stuff to show us, or are we done here?” drawled Zacharias Smith. His patience with the rest of the DA had started to wear thin again after he thought he’d learned all the spells Harry had taught. The spectral ocelot at his side growled faintly in agreement.
“Smith, if you have any ideas, then I’d love to hear them. I never intended for you to just copy everything I’m doing, and if you don’t want to be here, then I don’t see what you’re…” Harry suddenly tailed off.
“What is it, Potter?” Smith barked.
“I have an idea. Everyone!” Harry called out to get the room’s attention. “Next week, I have to have something really special for you, so please do everything you can to be here!”
As soon as the meeting adjourned, Harry hurried to his room to open his trunk and get the mirror. “Are you there, Sirius?” he called excitedly.
Ten seconds or so later, Sirius appeared, looking better than he had earlier in the week. “What can I do for you, Harry?” he responded eagerly.
“I just thought of a spell to teach the DA, but I don’t know who would be best to help me with it before next week.” After that, Harry told him what spell he had in mind.
“Just a moment, Harry. I have to see who’s coming to visit in the next couple of days.” With that, Sirius set down the mirror and walked out of sight. A couple of minutes later, he returned.
“I think I know just the person. Tonks will be coming by on Friday evening, and she can pick up the mirror then. She’ll return it to me sometime before Sunday night. Does that sound like a plan?” Sirius inquired.
“Sounds great, Sirius!” Harry exclaimed. Then, in a quieter voice, he continued, “Listen, Sirius, I really want to thank you for all the help you’ve been to me. I don’t think Snape’s done anything to me, but I’ll keep my eyes open and try to be as careful as I can.”
“Well, careful doesn’t exactly run in the family,” Sirius said, face suddenly twisting before he recovered, “but I appreciate it. Thank you, and I hope the lesson goes well. Please let me know, OK? I’m glad that I can finally be of some service to someone,” Sirius finished. With that, the mirror turned reflective again.
---
Harry spent much of Sunday pondering the prophecy that Luna had told him about. In a way, it really wasn’t much of a surprise. Voldemort had attacked him directly three times already in the last four years, so obviously he considered Harry an important target.
He’d never really asked himself why, though. He was a famous wizard, he supposed, but others were famous for much better reasons. He came from a prominent Light family, but many other witches and wizards did too. He made reasonably good grades, but he wasn’t close to Hermione at the top of the year. In short, he wasn’t an obvious target. So why was Voldemort so obsessed with him?
Then he got angry. What right did Voldemort have to ruin his life? And what right did his instructors have not to tell him about it? Luna’s mother couldn’t have been the only Seer to know about the prophecy, from Luna’s description.
All of this made him more grateful to Professor Snape, as bizarre as that still felt. It also made him wonder what Sirius knew. He knew that the Christmas present that he had been given, which supposedly would let him contact Sirius at any time, could lead Sirius into danger- but now he didn’t know if he had a choice. He opened his trunk to search for it, and finally found it after about ten minutes of digging.
It was a small package, about the size of a thick paperback book. When he opened it, he saw a mirror and a note. The note read,
This is a two-way mirror. I’ve got the other. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you’ll appear in my mirror and I’ll be able to talk to yours. James and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions.
Harry decided to try using it anyway. He sat down and faced the mirror, and asked “Sirius? Are you there?” After thirty seconds passed with no response, he tried again. He was just about to wrap the mirror up again when a face appeared in the mirror.
Sirius looked hale and hearty in the mirror, even if his beard and hair were a bit unkempt. Harry beamed as he saw his godfather for the first time in over two months. Sirius’ eyes drooped a bit- Harry wondered if he’d caught Sirius sleeping- but they perked up immediately when Sirius saw him.
“Harry! I was beginning to wonder if you forgot my present. I’m so glad to see you! How are you doing, boy?” Sirius was speaking in rapid fire.
“I’m… doing great, Sirius. It’s great to see you too! I’m sorry to wake you up, but…” Harry replied, but Sirius was shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it, Harry. My sleep schedule has gotten out of whack over the last few weeks. There’s just so little to do around here, and I can’t go out. Even Kreacher doesn’t bother me anymore,” Sirius moped, which dampened Harry’s enthusiasm.
“Where did he go?” Harry wondered.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t seen him since Christmas. Maybe I’d better go look for him.” Sirius sighed and started to get up.
“Wait, Sirius! Before you go, I wanted to talk to you. Did you know about the prophecy about me? Please, be honest,” Harry pleaded.
Sirius sat quietly for a few seconds and then said, “No, Harry. I didn’t know. I guessed that there might be one about you, but I didn’t know for sure, and I thought it wouldn’t be relevant even if it did exist.”
“Why so, Sirius?” Harry called anxiously.
Sirius responded, “I know it’s hard to imagine, but try to imagine life back when you were born. Voldemort and his forces were striking wizards weekly, then almost daily. People were anxious to believe that there was something, anything, that would rescue them.” He sighed. “There were people looking to youngsters, even babies, as potential saviors. I think half the magical kids born in 1980 and 1981 were thought to be Chosen Ones by somebody or another. So I can believe that there was a prophecy about you, but I was never exactly an academic,” he smirked, “so I couldn’t tell you any details.”
“But don’t prophecies come true?” asked Harry.
“I’m not really the person to ask. You’d have to talk to someone in the Department of Mysteries. But I was under the impression that they usually don’t,” Sirius explained.
“I’ll do that if you get a chance. I don’t suppose you know someone who could help?” Harry inquired.
“’Fraid not, Harry. I think they’d be as likely to arrest me as anyone else,” Sirius responded gloomily.
“I guess I should say one other thing- I never thought Snape would be so helpful,” Harry said more positively, only to have Sirius cut him off.
“Helpful? Harry, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Remember, he was a Death Eater, and most of them never really went straight- you know that better than anyone,” Sirius answered urgently. Harry began to regret making the call.
“He’s been teaching me about this way of Occlumency, the Palace of Memory. It really seems to work, Sirius, it’s even getting me better marks.” Harry wasn’t sure whether he should mention the dream walking; he decided not to for the moment.
“Well, you need to look all the way around that Palace of yours. Anyone who’s played the game Snape’s been playing is going to be a bastard in any way that he can, and he’s been doing it since he came to Hogwarts!” cried Sirius. “Harry, if you feel off in any way, anything at all, tell me right away. Please. Harry.”
“Alright, Sirius. I will. I know this sounds naïve, but I really think he’s changed,” said Harry cautiously. “He still makes verbal snipes, but I can feel his Occlumency working.”
“Don’t get too complacent, Harry. That’s all I’m saying. We have a bad history, after all,” Sirius warned, but then he relaxed a bit. “But maybe you’re right. I hope you are, anyway. Again, please call me whenever you get a chance. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”
---
The only other news of the day came later that evening, when Angelina told him that the team would be practicing at seven o’clock on Tuesday and Friday mornings, and asked him to help her coach the team since he could no longer play. Harry, who had been doing so since his expulsion from the team, in turn told her that the DA meeting schedule would be determined the following day when he heard from the other houses about their practice schedules.
Harry’s dreams were, for once, uneventful on Sunday night. On Monday, he met with Hermione at the lunch table. He told her about his call to Sirius.
“Any news, Hermione?” he asked when he was done. Hermione responded quickly.
“Ravenclaw’s practices are this evening and Thursday morning, and Hufflepuff’s are tomorrow and Thursday afternoon. That leaves possible meetings Wednesday or Friday night,” Hermione reported.
“OK, Wednesday night sounds best. Make sure you get the message out,” Harry decided.
“Yes, sir!” Hermione
“When did I become sir?” Harry queried.
“When you took command of the DA, of course,” replied Hermione.
“I thought you were the boss,” Harry retorted, sotto voce.
“I wish,” Hermione replied similarly.
The evening with Snape passed uneventfully. Although Harry listened carefully for any sign that Snape’s lesson might be less than its stated intent, he could detect none. He knew that wasn’t necessarily proof of good intentions, but he didn’t want to get too paranoid.
The following morning brought thunder by five-thirty, when Harry’s Alarm Charm woke him up in near-darkness. By six-thirty, when practice had begun, the skies had opened up. Not that this would stop practice, of course; Angelina’s drive to win was different from Wood’s only in degree, not in kind.
The team looked… well, pretty bad. Harry told himself that the ten-point loss to Hufflepuff looked like a fluke, but that was probably because they’d played over their heads in that game. Kirke and Sloper were still more likely to hit each other with Bludgers than anyone else, Ginny’s practices made it look more likely with each passing week that her Snitch capture had been an accident, and Ron alternated between mediocre stretches and those where he might as well have not been in goal at all.
“Harry, do you see anything to like here at all?” Angelina inquired, standing next to him on the sideline. Harry turned and was about to answer, then stopped short.
Angelina was three inches taller than Harry, at five feet eleven. Her long black hair was braided into elaborate dreadlocks hanging halfway down her back. Her face was beautiful, with smooth skin, high cheekbones, and full lips. Her Quidditch outfit was plastered to her body by the rain, revealing a sleek, muscular figure with high, firm breasts and long, strong legs.
When Harry took a few seconds too long to answer, Angelina said, “Anything?” Harry thought she might have seen a smirk for just a second, but figured that the lack of sleep might be messing with his perception.
“Well, the Chasers are doing well,” Harry averred. That was true enough. Katie and Alicia were passing the Quaffle very accurately at short and long range. “You really ought to go up there and join them, Angelina. I’m sure they’d be doing even better under game conditions. We need them to be scoring as much as possible.” To keep the score respectable, mused Harry.
“I can’t really see what everyone is doing from up there, while also keeping an eye on the Quaffle. That’s why I figure I need to stay down here if I’m going to be team captain.” She paused, tapping her finger against her chin for a few seconds. “But tell me something, Harry. Wouldn’t you like to get back on the stick?”
“I’d love nothing more, Angelina! But how likely do you think Umbridge is to let me get my broom back?” Harry had asked Umbridge about an appeal at least once every other week, and her response had always been a lot of officious-sounding blather when one word would have made her meaning clear: No. McGonagall had been equally unhelpful, if less prolix.
“You don’t need your broom, Harry. You can ride with me! My broom can easily carry you,” Angelina enthused. “You belong in the air, Harry. I’m sure you’ll be very helpful for me.” Again, Harry thought he might have seen something in her eyes.
“I’d love to, Angelina. But we’ve been out here for two hours now, and classes will be starting soon,” Harry stated.
“You’re right. Sonorus,” Angelina chanted. “Everybody, come on down. I think we’re done with practice for today.”
---
That evening, Harry found himself in Hermione’s dream again, in the same cell as before. Hermione and Luna were both there with him, dressed as before. This time, Harry was seated comfortably on a bench but still chained to the wall in his loincloth.
“Who are the Generals?” Harry asked the Empress. He hadn’t seen them before reaching the cell this time.
“The Generals have three things in common, Harry. They’re all women and I admire them for things that they have done, for the way that they stand up for themselves,” Hermione started, looming over him.
“And the third?” Harry inquired.
“Like I said the first time you came here, Harry… they’ll do anything for you. They all respect you for who you are and what you’ve done- other than being the Boy Who Lived, and they would like to do more than respect you from a distance, if you know what I mean.” The Empress’ stunning face assumed a definite leer when she said those last few words.
“And what do you think of all of this?” Harry looked between the Empress and the Marshal, whose face was, if anything, even more openly sensual.
“Well, I did have one other criterion, Harry. I think they’re all beautiful, too, and…” Unusually, the Empress seemed a bit less in control.
“You want to sleep with them, too?” Harry gulped. A definite reaction could be seen under his loincloth, which wasn’t lost on either of the women. “Alright, I apologize for being male, but that makes for a wonderful mental picture.”
“No need to apologize, Harry,” the Marshal purred, sitting beside him and cupping his chin, turning his head toward her. “I completely agree… in every sense.”
“But would they agree?” Harry asked.
“I can’t say for sure. It’s something you can’t really ask about, especially in public- but I think they would, based on some of the things they’ve said and the hints that I’ve received from them.” The Empress sat close to Harry on the other side of the bench from the Marshal. “And the answer to your next question is yes, Harry.”
“What next question?” Harry tried to act casual, and failed miserably.
“Angelina’s one of them.” The Empress proclaimed.
“How do you…” Harry sputtered.
“Harry, when you get the schedule for the Quidditch practices, who gives it to you?” The Empress patiently started.
“Angelina, but she’s the team captain, so it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Harry didn’t know why he was resisting the idea, but he had gotten so used to not getting what he wanted that he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“Why was she so upset when you got detention from Umbridge? You had several weeks of practice before the first game, so why would she be so concerned about you missing one week?” The Empress was clearly getting on a roll. Beside him, Harry felt the Marhsal gently grip his arm.
“Because she wanted me to start working with the new players,” Harry said, less convinced than before.
“If Ron is as bad as you say, and from the Hufflepuff game, I’m sure he is,” the Marshal interjected, rubbing Harry’s hand on her thigh, “then why is he still on the team? There are lots of Gryffindors who’d love to be Keepers- but none of them have been your friend.”
“Luna, she’d never sacrifice a game for me or for anyone,” Harry said, swallowing a gulp as his hand felt the warmth under the Marshal’s leather.
“Harry,” the Empress said, “I’ve spoken with her several times in the last couple of months. Remember, she’s been your teammate since you were eleven. She’s your friend too, or really wants to be, in addition to her more romantic feelings. She’s worried about you, and if you really talk to her, I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised. If you’re not sure about the meeting tomorrow night, you’ve got another option.”
“What do…” Harry tailed off.
“Visit her,” the Marshal said. “From what the Empress has told me, you’ll be…welcome. Now,” she said in a stage whisper as she moved Harry’s head next to her own, “don’t you have other duties, your Majesty?”
“Marshal, we shall take this up later,” the Empress growled. If the Marshal heard her, she gave no sign, as she was busy mapping Harry’s mouth from the inside with her tongue.
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The following evening’s DA meeting was uneventful, and in fact was mostly a review session. Harry didn’t have any more spells immediately in mind to teach the other Army members, and many of them were still working on their Summoning charms and Patronuses.
“Do you have any new stuff to show us, or are we done here?” drawled Zacharias Smith. His patience with the rest of the DA had started to wear thin again after he thought he’d learned all the spells Harry had taught. The spectral ocelot at his side growled faintly in agreement.
“Smith, if you have any ideas, then I’d love to hear them. I never intended for you to just copy everything I’m doing, and if you don’t want to be here, then I don’t see what you’re…” Harry suddenly tailed off.
“What is it, Potter?” Smith barked.
“I have an idea. Everyone!” Harry called out to get the room’s attention. “Next week, I have to have something really special for you, so please do everything you can to be here!”
As soon as the meeting adjourned, Harry hurried to his room to open his trunk and get the mirror. “Are you there, Sirius?” he called excitedly.
Ten seconds or so later, Sirius appeared, looking better than he had earlier in the week. “What can I do for you, Harry?” he responded eagerly.
“I just thought of a spell to teach the DA, but I don’t know who would be best to help me with it before next week.” After that, Harry told him what spell he had in mind.
“Just a moment, Harry. I have to see who’s coming to visit in the next couple of days.” With that, Sirius set down the mirror and walked out of sight. A couple of minutes later, he returned.
“I think I know just the person. Tonks will be coming by on Friday evening, and she can pick up the mirror then. She’ll return it to me sometime before Sunday night. Does that sound like a plan?” Sirius inquired.
“Sounds great, Sirius!” Harry exclaimed. Then, in a quieter voice, he continued, “Listen, Sirius, I really want to thank you for all the help you’ve been to me. I don’t think Snape’s done anything to me, but I’ll keep my eyes open and try to be as careful as I can.”
“Well, careful doesn’t exactly run in the family,” Sirius said, face suddenly twisting before he recovered, “but I appreciate it. Thank you, and I hope the lesson goes well. Please let me know, OK? I’m glad that I can finally be of some service to someone,” Sirius finished. With that, the mirror turned reflective again.
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