Harry stepped wearily through the portal into the Gryffindor common room. He was exhausted, covered in dirt from head to toe, and the few places he wasn't bruised he was scratched.
And yet, despite his physical condition, he radiated a feeling of exhilaration, of satisfaction with the state of his existence.
That still didn't lessen the pain when a brown, bushy-haired missile collided with him.
"HARRY! What happened to you? Where have you been? You just vanished from the Hospital Wing this morning! Everyone's been looking for you! I'VE--
"HERMIONE! CAN'T-- BREATHE!!"
A second later, the girl was standing five feet away, blushing like a fresh tomato. "Sorry," she mumbled.
"I promise, I will answer all your questions later, Hermione," Harry promised, leaning heavily against the wall. "And if everyone's really been looking for me, then would you mind seeing McGonagall and telling her that I'm all right and if she wouldn't mind setting aside a few minutes for me? In the morning is fine, only I desperately need a shower, and possibly some food, and then bed. Maybe not in that order." He smiled at Hermione. "Please?"
She hesitated, then surrendered with a huff. "Alright, but don't think you're off the hook, Harry Potter! And don't go to bed, I'll bring up some bruise salve in a little bit."
But Harry shook his head. "No. It's... I'll tell you all about it later, but the short version is, my new teacher wants to know how quickly I heal. So I go to bed sore tonight, and we find out how I am in the morning."
Taken by surprise, Hermione simply nodded. "All-- All right, Harry. If you're sure."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Hermione."
She watched as he made his way upstairs, then turned and left the common room herself.
"Well, at least he's back safe," sighed Professor McGonagall. "I'll inform the headmaster."
Watching the girl in front of her sag in relief, McGonagall had a mischievous inspiration. She knew-Hell, everyone knew-that Ron Weasley was interested in Hermione. And it was a fact that when a girl became best friends with two boys, the odds were high that she'd end up with one or the other. It was even more true in the wizarding world, as there was strong pressure for those raised in magical society to find a mate and marry right out of Hogwarts. If Hermione went out with Ron, it was likely that they would marry at far too young an age, especially with a new war against Voldemort looming over their heads. And in many ways, Hermione was an ideal catch for Ron: She would inevitably get a high-paying job, and take care of the house and children; and all he had to do was get her pregnant a few times to make sure she wouldn't leave him. In fact, thanks to certain laws favoring pure-bloods, Hermione couldn't leave Ron without being cut off from her children. And sadly, unless Ron matured a great deal, the second Hermione achieved something-anything-significant, would be the second their marriage died; he was simply too jealous.
No, Ron and Hermione were simply a bad match. The girl herself was simply too close to the situation to see it clearly, and Ron was too selfish to do what was right for Hermione. That meant it was time for McGonagall to subtly point her favorite student at her other best friend.
There would be more to do after this, of course. While Hermione was likely still deciding on which of her best friends to date, Ron had been doing everything in his power to declare to the rest of the school that she was staked out as his already, especially to Harry, who was the most serious other contender for Hermione's affections. Harry, for his part, seemed to have stepped back to allow Ron a clear field, and that just wouldn't do at all.
But there was still time. And hopefully, McGonagall thought to herself with a grin, this would be a step in the right direction.
"I want to see him," announced Professor McGonagall imperiously. "Miss Granger, get him a set of clothes and interrupt his shower if you have to, but I want that boy in front of me in twenty minutes! No excuses!" Hermione started to say something, but McGonagall cut her off with an icy "Dismissed, Miss Granger."
Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, but left. Chuckling, McGonagall leaned back in her chair and let her amusement show. Now, with a little luck, and provided Harry was indeed built exactly the way his father James had been, or at least close, Hermione would be getting a free show, which would hopefully lead her thoughts towards her green-eyed best male friend.
Her thoughts leading back to the past, McGonagall chuckled again. She never had found out how Lily had snuck that Wizarding Camera into the Men's shower, or even why or what prank it was in retribution of... But Lily had confessed, shortly before graduating, that the naked pictures of James Potter distributed anonymously later had been the first real spark of her physical interest in the young man she would later marry.
Not to mention, the discovery that James really was the 'bigger man' lead to the death of her physical interest in James main competition for her hand. Lily hadn't specified further, but then, she hadn't had to. McGonagall was still sitting on the information, waiting for the perfect time to use it against Severus. A bomb like this needed to be handled with care.
Eighteen minutes later, Harry and Hermione were back in Professor McGonagall's office.
Hmmm... Mild blushes, eyes darting everywhere except each other, mild fidgeting and other signs of discomfort. YES! McGonagall rejoiced internally. Mission success!
None of this showed of course. She was, after all, a professional.
"Miss Granger, you may be excused," the professor said stiffly. The girl opened her mouth, but interestingly, it was Harry who objected.
"Actually, Professor, I would prefer she stay. This way you can both yell at me at the same time, I can explain to both of you now instead of going over it twice, and I might actually find my bed sometime before midnight. And before we get started, I'd like to point out that I left a note."
"Ah yes," Professor McGonagall held up a slip of paper. "'Kicking Saotome's arse. Be right back. Love, Harry.'" She dropped the paper and fixed him with a gimlet stare. "How very informative. Where the devil were you today, Mr. Potter?"
A glance at Hermione told Harry he would receive no help from that quarter. "It's exactly as my note says, Professor. I left the Hospital Wing early this morning, fully intent on beating Ranma Saotome to a messy pulp."
"But why did you do that, Harry?"
"Simple. Early this morning, Ranma woke me by splashing me with a full pail of water. He then goaded me, provoking me into a fury, and vanished out the window. I had just enough presence of mind to leave a note so no one would worry, then I followed him. We wound up in the Forbidden Forest. We fought a little, talked a little. It turns out Ranma Saotome is an untitled master of his school of martial arts, and he was testing me to see if I had any aptitude. We agreed there were a few things he could teach me, so the afternoon was filled with the first couple essential lessons of combat. Tonight, the plan is that I rest, and in the morning we discover how well I heal from injuries so that Ranma knows how hard he can hit me. After that, we'll spend the summer training."
McGonagall softened. "Mr. Potter, that sounds like an atrocious way to spend your vacation."
"It is, professor. But I feel I don't have much choice. Voldemort's back, and I'm the person on the top of his 'must kill' list. "Besides, it's a sight better than what the headmaster is probably planning for me."
"I'm sure that Headmaster Dumbledore has your best interests in mind, Harry," interjected Hermione earnestly.
"Indeed," concurred McGonagall.
Harry shook off their protests.
"That's not the issue," he said. "I'm not saying the headmaster isn't concerned about my, Harry's, general well-being, or that he isn't specifically concerned with the well-being of his weapon against Voldemort. What I'm saying is that you don't have to be a Seer to realize the headmaster is going to do exactly what he did when I was one: He's going to drop me down the deepest, darkest hole he can find, then seal it over with concrete. I'll have a miserable summer, doubtless without tasting free air or seeing the sky at all, then in two months I'll be packed aboard the Express and shipped back to school. I may see the Weasley's on my birthday, but I won't see Hermione or anyone else until September, if then. I'll essentially spend two months locked in a dark room, not allowed to go anywhere, do anything or see anyone, miserable, bored out of my skull, and not told anything relevant so that I won't worry, because I'm a child on summer vacation and I should be relaxing and having a good time. And with that, I have now described every summer vacation since I came to this bloody school."
Harry shook his head in consternation. "Really, you're two of the smartest witches I know, but unless you two remember to use those brains and pay attention to what's going on around you, you're just a pair of pretty faces."
McGonagall allowed a small smile to cross her lips at the back-handed compliment. Hermione blushed hard, but still managed to speak.
"So, instead, you want to go gallivanting off with some rogue you met on a battlefield, alone and unprotected, under the theory that a moving target is harder to hit?"
"Miss Granger," Prof. McGonagall held up a weary hand. "Mr. Potter has a point. Earlier today, I overheard the headmaster asking Mr. Black if the House of Black could be opened. It is one of the most heavily warded structures in Britain. It has also been closed for years, and even before that was home to generations of one of the darkest pureblood families, making it steeped in the, well, blackest of magic. I believe you would spend the time with Mr. Black, Miss Granger, and various members of the Weasley family."
"And who else?" asked Harry skeptically.
"Other members of the Order might pass through," said McGonagall. How had this shifted to interrogating her? "The headmaster, myself. Professor Snape," she mumbled.
"But the Order won't be able to talk to us about what they're doing, will they?" asked Hermione reasonably. McGonagall shot her a 'whose-side-are-you-on?' look.
Harry snorted. "Not to mention, Professor, you and Hermione are probably the only two witches in Gryffindor who don't think Snape is a total git. I'm sorry, no, finding out that Snape is going to be anywhere on a regular basis is a good reason for me to be somewhere else."
"I have to agree," said Hermione. "I would prefer to spend my summer as Snape free as possible."
McGonagall sighed. "I'd reprimand the both of you, but even I have to admit that I would prefer not to have to deal with him during the summer. And he at least pretends to be civil to me! I can't imagine how he behaves when there are no constraints on his behavior!" She sighed again. "All right, I'm too tired to yell. Harry, running off like you did was foolhardy and irresponsible. It could easily have been a trap. You realize that, correct?"
Now it was Harry's turn to flush with embarrassment. "Yes, That's actually one of the things Ranma spent the afternoon beating into my head: 'Lose your temper, lose the fight.'"
McGonagall shook her head, amused. "Good enough. Go to bed. I'll give Miss Granger a note for a pain-relieving potion in the morning. Good night, Mr. Potter."
Harry hesitated. "Actually, there is one more thing." He glanced quickly at Hermione before continuing. "During my time at Hogwarts, I've tried not to be demanding or ask for special favors based on the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing. I know that I probably have, but still, I've tried, as a self-imposed rule, to earn what I get. And now, I'm going to break that rule..."
"I don't know how you choose prefects. I would say that Hermione is probably the only real choice among the girls, but I have no idea who you plan to choose among the boys. I'm probably not the most deserving, but I must still ask: Please make me the male fifth-year prefect!"
"I know that I haven't been the best student, or obeyed all the rules all the time, but I honestly feel that I can best help the younger students as a clear authority figure, no matter how minor. It's the best way I can think of to help right now, helping first-years adjust and teaching anyone who asks magic to defend themselves with, or whatever they need! And I promise I won't slack off or let Hermione do all the work. I know that I can handle the extra responsibilities. With all the training and studying I plan to get done this summer, I should have mastered everything that you've been trying to teach me these last four years! And while I'm at it, I want to try and test into Arithmancy and Ancient Runes!" Ignoring Hermione's squeak of surprise, Harry continued. "After all, if the smartest witch I know thinks those are interesting and worthwhile subjects, then who am I to argue?"
"Mr. Potter!" said Professor McGonagall as Harry paused to take a breath. "Unfortunately for your little diatribe, my choice for prefect cannot be influenced!" She let that sink in for a moment, before smiling. "Fortunately for you, however, you are my first choice for the position. A prefect must be well-known and a leader in his year at the very least, which you most certainly are. But if I may ask, why the sudden ambition?"
For a long moment, Harry didn't answer. Hermione was frozen, hanging on tenterhooks waiting for his answer, and Professor McGonagall began to wonder if she'd pushed too hard, if Harry would simply turn and leave, when Harry answered.
"I was hit by the Killing Curse, again. I died, if just for a moment. I saw my parents. We had a conversation, one of the points of which was that while both of my parents were athletes, no one would ever refer to either of them as dumb jocks, and they felt I needed to concentrate on my academics more. And partly it's because I should have died, but didn't... I'm on my third lease on life... And it makes me realize how every day is a gift, and that I need to live each day to the fullest... Which I really haven't, so far."
His voice trailed off into silence, and Professor McGonagall nodded slowly. "I understand," she said. "Worthy goals, Mr. Potter, but for now, go and rest. I suspect you'll be getting precious little of it in the coming months."
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(Posted Thu, 30 Apr 2009 09:31)
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