Chapter 6: One Lion's Prejudices & Another's Logic
Perhaps she wasn't getting it through his thickly covered red head. Perhaps she wasn't scolding him loud enough. Or perhaps she was just a little too far away from said red-head for him to hear her clearly. Even though she was sitting right in front of him, no more then a foot or two away.
That's it, she thought. He's an idiot.
"I still don't see how you think Malfoy didn't deserve all the crap I said to him—I mean not only has he been horrible to us for the last seven bloody years, he also made Ginny cry! The git needs to grow up and deal with the consequences."
"Ron! You're completely missing the point! It doesn't matter whether he deserves it or not. The point is that you didn't have to be stupid and say such a horrible thing to him just to get him back."
"Mione, you're crazy. Harry'll back me up, won't you mate?" Ron said as a matter-a-fact, nodding his head toward his best friend.
"Uh—" Harry didn't want to get into the middle of this, but as it was, he really had no choice. "She does have a point, Ron. I mean—"
"I can't believe it! You're siding with her? It's because I let Seamus put Dungbombs in your bed that one morning, isn't it? That's why you're siding with her," Ron concluded, getting up from the Gryffindor Common Room's lounge chair and wandering over to the fireplace, sighing, knowing he wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't at least hear them out, no matter how much he felt they were wrong.
"Alright, let's hear it—what's your oh-so-noble objection as to why I shouldn't say another mean thing to the Ferret again, hmm?" the red-head asked.
Harry looked at Hermione. She nodded her head insistently.
"Look, Ron, we all know Malfoy hasn't been the most delightful person to hang around—but what you said..." Harry started to get that queer feeling in his stomach again, the feeling rising to his eyes, stabbing at his heart and refusing to be extinguished this time around. Harry continued. "It was completely... uncalled for."
The Potter-Black Heir rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, sitting forward as he put his elbows on his knees and looked up at his friend standing by the fireplace. Harry continued again.
"Point blank? Malfoy's parents are gone, Ron. I... I can't talk about it, but they just disappeared. No one knows even now whether they were murdered or went into hiding or what. But I- I saw the whole thing and I still can't make sense of it. I know what happened to them up until that point—he doesn't, and neither do you. And to talk about them in such an awful way after only a couple of months... You probably made up for, in just those few sentences, everything he's said and done to us in the last six years plus. That isn't something to be proud of either."
Ron looked down only now realizing his mistake, even though he really didn't want to acknowledge it. Though, at the same time he wondered how would he feel if his own parents died, and Malfoy had said those same scalding words to him?
Harry looked down as well, continuing, feeling, whatever it was he was feeling needed to be said as well attempting to get his point across.
"And besides that, you didn't only hurt him, Ron," Harry continued. This statement caught Hermione's, as well as Ron's, attention; they both looked at him intently. "You... hurt me, too. You said something about his parent's being blown up and mentioned Voldemort—it just really hit me at how close you really could have insulted him, hurt him—it's almost the same as my parent's situation. I mean he may be a horrible ponce, Ron, but if it hurt me by what you said to him—my parent's being gone for 16 years of my life, me never knowing them—how do you think it made Malfoy feel?
"He's known his mum and dad for his whole life, and only just now they were killed, less than a few months ago. Sure Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy weren't the kindest people, but Malfoy was their son, they were his parents, and whether he loved them or not, there's still that utter shock of them being truly gone. Wounds like that never truly heal, so how much of it do you think you reopened?" Harry stopped feeling that emotion taking over, knowing it was satisfied with his words of acknowledgement. The thought of Malfoy and himself having something in common, let alone a mere feeling, was just too odd to comprehend.
Ron gave a huge sigh, while Hermione smiled weakly, petting Harry on the back, comforting him, tears forming in her eyes. Even she hadn't realized how deep it would've effected Malfoy, or even Harry for that matter.
"You're right, Harry. And you too, Mione," Ron admitted dejectedly, gesturing toward his two companions. "It was a horrible, disrespectful and disgusting thing to do. I wish I could take it back, but I suppose the only thing I can do now is to not nag him anymore." Ron rubbed the back of his neck—he was uncomfortable with the fact that his words would have exactly the same impact as what Malfoy had done to them in the past years of their schooling at Hogwarts. "Mind you," he continued. "I still totally detest him, regardless." Harry and Hermione smirked, giving Ron comforting smiles.
"You know, he will most likely bother you, maybe even try and get you back by saying something horrible—just like you did. But don't let it get to you, Ron. Don't act on his provoking," Hermione stated. There was no way Malfoy wouldn't retaliate in her mind; it was just in his character. Ron nodded his understanding.
"So... the Sorting went well, mostly Gryffindors." Ron gave a small smile and then perked up a bit trying to ease into another subject.
"And Slytherins," Harry added. It was odd—3/4 of the first years went either to Gryffindor or Slytherin's—only about 1/4 split between Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
As if reading Harry's mind Hermione stated, "I can't believe our particular Houses were the ones that the kids mostly went into... it's odd."
"Then again, we got more of 'em in Gryffindor than the ones that went to Slytherin," Ron said, now sitting down in the armchair he originally had occupied.
"Only by two, Ron," Harry corrected him, leaning his elbows, yet again, on top of his knees while still sitting next to Hermione on the couch.
"Ooh, two more kids than Slytherin's first year's," Ron mocked, making Harry roll his eyes.
"Oh well, I suppose it's only coincidence. Anyway... Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Hogwart's playing host to two foreign exchange students from America. The elder one's in Slytherin. I think I actually saw him today, too, sitting with Malfoy, Parkinson and their lot," Hermione mentioned.
"Where's this exchange student from again?" Ron asked Hermione as he began carefully picking through Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.
"They," Hermione corrected, "are both from America. One from Massachusetts, the other from New York State."
"Wow, yanks..." Ron ooo'd and awe'd. "Bet they don't know you there, Harry."
Harry snorted at Ron's statement.
"I highly doubt that they don't know of Harry. He was one of the Order, the youngest, to save us from Voldemort; he's become part of our history now."
Ron shivered, "Geez, 'Mione, I still don't see how you can just say HIS name without so much as breaking a sweat or glancing sideways. I'm still getting used to it."
"You've done it once or twice before. Besides... Fear of a name—"
"—only increases fear of the thing itself," Harry and Ron finished for her, their eyes rolling toward the ceiling at the all-too-familiar phrase.
"Well, it's true. Even though it was rather difficult to say his name before, like in the first couple of years of our schooling, it isn't now, and it shouldn't be. After all he's gone, and anyone associated with him or his ways is prosecuted and more than likely sentenced to life in Azkaban."
"That or their wand license is revoked," Ron added.
"Wand license? I didn't know we had 'wand licenses,'" Harry wondered aloud, puzzled.
"We don't. Ron's just trying to sound smart—" Hermione gave Ron 'the look' and turned back to Harry continuing. "What he meant was that the person's wand is destroyed and he or she can't obtain one ever again and use it–"
"But if they're dark wizards and witches, then they really wouldn't need their wands in the first place to cause trouble, would they? I mean, wouldn't the Ministry have done that with the Death Eaters they put in Azkaban?" Harry questioned.
"I was getting to that. Besides the Ministry taking their wands and destroying them they also bind their power's."
"Bind their powers? That's just creepy. Anyone with that much magic..."
"What's 'bind their power's' mean?" Harry asked.
"First off: Ronald, no one person has that much power; the most powerful witches and wizards in Britain come together, each of whom are direct descendants of Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff."
"I really doubt Voldemort would have had anything to-"
"Contrary to popular belief, Harry, Voldemort wasn't the only heir of Slytherin. In fact, there are many witches and wizards that come from the same bloodline of any of the founders of Hogwarts," Hermione said knowledgably. "In any case, back to what I was saying. With each of the descendant's unique, world-old powers they're able to conjure a binding that only they can make and control."
"Geez 'Mione, you make them sound like some Muggle comic book heroes," Ron snickered, abruptly ceasing when she scowled at him.
"Second," she said curtly, still aiming a silencing glare at Ron, before addressing her other best friend. "The practice of revoking wand licenses and 'Binding powers' wasn't established until this year actually, the idea only conceived and put into action after the defeat of Voldemort. And 'Binding Powers' means to take away or numb a witch's or wizard's innate magic. It's still in the sorcerer or sorceress but it becomes dead, untouched, and unknown to that particular owner. The magic basically has a mind of its own. It's told not to freely release, or otherwise, give its magic out... to anyone. And it obeys accordingly."
"Why can't they just give the man or woman's powers to someone else?"
"The Ministry of Magic believes that the magic of the convicted witch or wizard would poison the person they gave it to. Say someone like Filch, who isn't quite a wizard or a Muggle, was given an Accused's power... He then would adapt the dark magic himself and therefore become evil. Purely because of where the magic came from."
"Is that actually true though? That the magic is what makes someone evil?"
"No. I, personally, don't believe that, Harry. I think it's the events in one's life, and how the person adapts and handles those situations that makes them dangerous. More or less, magic is magic. It's neither good nor evil, but can be used either way. It's that single person's intent, really.
"For example, if someone like Malfoy, grows up in a household and was taught by a family member that their family is superior to everyone else, simply because they're Purebloods, wealthy and powerful and no one said anything against his word, wouldn't you believe it?"
"Maybe... I don't know, Mione, I mean I was raised with the Dursleys and yet here I am completely different from them."
"But you weren't sheltered like Malfoy-" Here Harry gave Hermione a pointed look. "Alright, so maybe you were sheltered. But what I mean is his parents had a high status in our world, everyone knew them, or knew of them, feared them, loved them—I'm not a bit surprised that he turned out the way he did. That's all he knew. He was spoiled by his parents—expensive presents being lavished about him and so on. However, like a famous Muggle saying, 'with extraordinary power, comes great responsibility.'
"The Malfoys had that power. With that they had to remain on top of things, in the best of care and above all, never questioned of their motives. If Malfoy did indeed become curious, my guess would be that he was probably threatened and punished if he even once attempted to question his father—"
"Harry would, too, though. They'd confine in his room, all 'lone and hungry. Lock him in there, they would." Harry nodded, agreeing with what Ron said.
"Yes, but not the kind of punishment Malfoy probably had to endure or be threatened with. Harry, if you talked back to your aunt and uncle what would happen? How would you be punished?"
"Well, I... I'd probably be yelled at for being an unwanted freak, scolded for being disrespectful, sent to my room and locked up. I'd probably be without dinner that night, too."
"Exactly, whereas you would be sent to your room, without supper, and yelled at, Malfoy was probably threatened with a curse, or even worse, put through one. He might've even been subjected to being locked in one of their dungeons if he ever had disagreed with Lucius Malfoy."
"Merlin. I never would have even thought—"
"As sinful as this is to say in my book, I really feel for 'im," Ron added.
Hermione gave a smile. "Ron, even Malfoy knows what it's like to be a kid, I'm sure. Well, scolded anyway."
"But Mione, how can you speak up for Malfoy with how much of an arsehole he's been to you?"
"Well, it may have bothered me in the beginning of our years at Hogwarts, but now I've gotten over it. I may be a Muggleborn, but besides being what everyone calls different, I'm still really proud of where I come from, and I love my family as would any Pureblood witch or wizard."
"Amazing," Ron commented in awe. Then, added, "I would be pissed as hell."
"Then again, you are Ron Weasley, bitter rival of Malfoy, friend to Harry, irrational idiot at times."
"Thanks 'Mione. 'preciate it, really I do."
"Oh well." Hermione sighed looking around.
Suddenly, "Hey, 'Arry, it's Hedwig!"
Hedwig came soaring gracefully through the common room window and perched next to Harry on the arm of the couch, nuzzling his cheek in affection.
"You've got mail."
"Thank you Captain Obvious," Harry gave Ron a wry smile while Hermione just laughed at Ron.
"What?"
"You sound like one of our Muggle commercials on the telly. 'You've got mail.' It's from AOL, I think."
"As enlightening as that sounds, I wanna know what the letter says."
"Nosey."
"Prissy."
"I am not prissy, Ronald Weasley."
"Are too, Mione."
"Am not."
"Guys..." Harry interrupted, reading the parchment over one more time. "It's from Dumbledore."
"What's it say?"
Harry gave it to them to read.
Dear Mr. Potter,
It is requested that you escort and show one of the new exchange students, Lulabelle, around Hogwarts. Her schedule has the appropriate holes in it where you should be able to do as such when not in class.
It would greatly please me if you were to meet with her, and myself, in my office before your first class of the day tomorrow morning. I expect you will be... delightfully surprised. The password is Candyfloss(1).
Good day and welcome to your 7th and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
In All Sincerity,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster
Hogwarts School Witchcraft and Wizardry
"Me? Why me?"
Ron squinted at the parchment over his friends shoulder. "'I except you will be delightfully surprised'? What's that suppose to mean?"
"I don't know why he'd want me to show this girl around..." Harry shrugged.
"Maybe she has a crush on you... asked for special permission to get you to show 'er round. Then when you least suspect it, while you're walking down some random dark dungeon corridor she'll—"
"Ronald Weasley!"
Ron sniggered shamelessly and stuck his tongue out at Hermione.
"I doubt that would be the case. The Headmaster wouldn't do something like that. It isn't like him."
"I agree with Hermione. Dumbledore wouldn't ask me to show this girl around just because she fancied me. He's classier than that."
"Yeah, you're right. But it was a nice thought wasn't it? I mean after Cho left... I thought you'd lock yourself in a cupboard and start gnawing at the wall or something." Ron seemed to be thinking to himself about that particular image, trying to figure out whether Harry would actually succeed in his 'gnawing,' or just go stark raving mad.
Harry scoffed. "Yeah well... I have had to deal with other things you know. Besides, I haven't got time for a girl right now."
"Yes, Harry wants to concentrate on his studies, unlike some people who shall remain nameless," Hermione said fixing Ron with 'the look'.
"Alright, alright. Oh! Don't forget we have that new class tomorrow, too. We completely missed the new teacher's introduction when we went to get Harry in the Hospital Wing-"
"What's it again? Muggle, Muggle Boil and Bubble?" Ron supplied.
"Charming, Ronald. No, it's called Intro to Wizards and Muggles Alike—The Evolution."
"What's this suppose to teach us that we don't already know?"
"I'm not sure. I suppose it's somewhat like our last semester history class..."
"—with a different name. Great." Ron groaned, slouching back into his comfortable chair.
"Who's teaching it?" Harry asked, frowning once more at Dumbledore's odd letter as he put it in his back pocket.
"Her name is Professor Courtese Shanelly," Hermione replied, nearly bouncing where she sat.
"Wait a minute... Wait just one bloody minute. Shanelly? You mean, as in Stuart Shanelly's wife?" Ron interrupted, hoping he heard his friend right.
Hermione nodded enthusiastically while both her companions either had a dawning realization drawing across their freckled face or merely sat there blinking, rather perplexed.
"What?" Harry was, of course, he thought, completely oblivious as to what they had already realized.
"Stuart Shanelly is the founder of the Wizarding Organization of Magical Presences, WOMP for short."
"So?"
"So? Whadda-ya-mean 'so?' He's probably the first wizard to ever be a care-taker of almost every magical creature known to the Wizarding World: dragons, hippogriffs, unicorns, Pegasus', centaurs, griffins, phoenixes... You name it, that lucky bastard's probably got it."
"But I still don't see the importance of it. I mean, of course it's great that he's helping these magical... presences out, but—"
"Harry, he's an animagus, like your father and Sirius were-" Hermione began.
"And to top it off, he's also something called a... bestiaorator?" Ron supplied, as he turned to confirm this with the brains of their group.
"Which roughly translates to 'animal speaker.' Thus, he has a very rare gift of speaking to almost all known creatures. Though I believe it's limited to mammals."
"Oh." Talk about speechlessness, Harry thought to himself.
"His main preservation is in Ireland, I think. That's where his wife's from. Then again, he has shelters all around the world; at least two on each continent. It's like a big preservation of forests and homes for any magical animal/creature/presence that's been banned from their herds, like Ferinz was. There are even manticores living there! Can you believe it? Manticores! Those things are deadly!"
"I should really brush up on my knowledge of our world, huh? Seven years of being- sorry, knowing- I'm a wizard and I'm still learning new things every day," Harry said almost sheepishly.
Hermione smiled. "Well," she gave a soft yawn. "I'm sure Professor Shanelly'll explain everything about her husband's work tomorrow."
"I've seen a few pictures of them, Stuart and her, I mean. They're a pretty young couple to have done so much, in their late 40's, I would guess."
"Yeah, I read something about them in the Daily Prophet the other week; that it was quite the accomplishment, at that age to do such an extraordinary thing, putting the reserve together and what not. I think they started the preservations right out of schooling actually."
Ron yawned in turn and commented, "They didn't even go to the same school, did you know?"
"Really? How'd they meet? Did one of them go to Durmstrang?" Harry asked, now curious.
"No, Courtese Shanelly went here for her schooling and Mr. Shanelly went to Harpress School of Sorcery in Salem, Massachusetts in America."
"That is quite far. You know how they met, Ron?" Hermione asked. "I wish the Headmaster would have told me ahead of time about Courtese Shanelly teaching here! I could have done loads more research!"
Harry snorted, earning a soft bump from Hermione's elbow.
"Not sure actually, I just know they met working on a similar project when they were in their late teens, here in Europe."
"What House was she in?" Harry wondered.
"Not sure 'bout that, mate."
"Oh well. We best be off to bed guys. It's already eleven o'clock—classes start at eight forty-five tomorrow morning, and Harry, you need to be at Dumbledore's before Potions starts. I'll see you two tomorrow."
"Night Hermione."
"Night Ron."
"G'night 'Mione."
"Night, Harry."
The next morning Harry woke up to very loud, very deafening knocking.
Ron, Harry thought with a wry smile, all the while stuffing his head under his pillow.
"Wake up, you great git!" came a muffled voice, the door screeching as Ron pushed it open. The next thing Harry realized was the thud on the back of his covered head.
"What time is it?" Harry asked yawning, burrowing out from his hiding place.
"7:45 AM. You'd better get ready, mate."
"Alright." With that Harry was up and headed to the washroom, taking care of certain bodily functions and then returning to get into uniform and scurry down for some early breakfast.
As Harry was walking in the corridor leading straight to the Great Hall he heard voices ahead of him. Looking up he caught sight of a group of Slytherins walking in as well.
Zabini, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, Phelps, Richards and... some unknown blond. Harry paused, staring. That's not... Malfoy... Guess it must be that other exchange student, Harry thought. But... where's Malfoy?
As the group entered the Hall, Harry heard footsteps again, but this time they were coming from behind him. He turned his head slightly, his eyebrows lifting.
"Your group forgot you, Malfoy," Harry immediately clamped his mouth shut, not having meant to say that aloud, especially with how volatile the blond had been just the other day. Then again the slightly shorter boy would retaliate with something even more snide.
"Looks that way," was all that left the lips of the Slytherin Prince. Draco continued on toward the Great hall, hands in his pockets as he left behind a very confounded Gryffindor.
Alright. This is completely mad. Where's his retort? Did I miss it?
Harry shook off the feeling, but it was even more apparent that something was off the rocker when he sat down with his food at the Gryffindor table looking across the room and over to the Slytherin table.
Malfoy was sitting slightly away from his friends. And they didn't even seem to flinch from this, nor did they even acknowledge he was there. They were completely unfazed. Well, except for a few furtive glances now and then.
"Morning, Harry," a voice fluttered in his ear, drawing his attention reluctantly away from Malfoy and the oddity he presented.
"Oh, hey, Mione." Harry licked his lips in consideration and then his brow furrowed as he continued to address his friend. "Listen, do you find it odd that Malfoy isn't sitting with his friends?"
Hermione sat down next to Harry and looked over, tilting her head slightly in recognition.
"How long has he been sitting there?"
"Since I got into the Hall."
Hermione chewed her lip, responding with a thoughtful hum.
"And get this, on my way here I saw all of his friends and that blond walking together in front of me. But no Malfoy. In fact, he was behind me as they entered. I said something like, 'your friends forgot about you, Malfoy,' and he just shrugged it off and said, 'Looks that way.'"
Hermione's brows furrowed.
"Hey guys," came Ron's voice.
"Morning, Ronald."
"Morning."
"Why's Malfoy sitting by 'imself?"
"You noticed too, huh?"
"Harry said he's been like that since breakfast started."
"Really? Oh, I just heard from Dean... Apparently Dumbledore made Malfoy Head Boy. Can you believe that?"
"Head Boy? When? Why?"
"This morning he decided it. His grades have been excellent, from what I hear. Not that I buy that reasoning, mind you, my guess is that Snape said something about his 'favorite pupil.'" Ron shrugged, sitting down.
"There's more to it than that."
"Whadda ya mean 'Mione?"
She sighed somewhat cryptically, picking at her omelet instead of answering. Ron, who was sitting across from Harry and Hermione stretched his arms over his head and began gulping down his buttermilk pancakes while they were still warm.
Suddenly Hermione and Ron heard an annoying clanking sound. They looked up and noticed Harry tapping his fork against the oak table they were sitting at, completely avoiding his favorite breakfast item (strawberry crème syrup on his waffles) and narrowing his eyes at the Slytherin table, in Malfoy's direction, as if contemplating something...
Something that seemed almost devious. Almost... Slytherin of him.
"That's it. I can't take it anymore," Harry said simply and got up.
"What the bloody hell does he think he's doing?" Ron gaped, watching Harry make his way over to the Slytherin's table, directly toward Malfoy.
"I think that's the problem, Ron. He isn't thinking." Hermione watched in utter astonishment as Harry took a pitcher of ice-cold water from a nearby table, walked over to Malfoy... and...
Three...Two... One...
"POTTER! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL-?"
"He did... not just do that," Ron sputtered, looking to his side at Hermione, horrified. "He's gone barmy."
"Yeah... I- Come on!" Hermione and Ron suddenly darted toward Harry and a wet, raging Malfoy.
"Thank goodness the professor's aren't here yet," Hermione mumbled as they arrived behind their friend.
"Are you completely off your rocker, Scarhead! I'm fucking freezing!"
"I—"
"UGH!" Malfoy gave a strangled cry of outrage and stormed out of the Great Hall, following him were whispers of 'What happened's?' and 'Did you see his face?' and most flattering of all, 'Did you see his arse?'
"Harry. I can't believe you just did that!" Hermione said, scandalized.
"What's gotten into you, mate?"
"I just... I don't know." Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and sighed, walking back to their table.
Harry was about to follow them... Until he saw it; lying as innocently as anything could have been on the ground.
It was a leather bound tablet of sorts with intimate writing inside on the seemingly endless amount of parchment.
He looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention. Besides the sideways glances the Slytherins were giving him, no one else was paying him any mind. He dropped to his knees, pretending to tie his shoes, and then snatched the black, leather book.
A journal.
Harry's eyes went wide as he whispered to no one but himself, "Malfoy's."
Chapter end.
Author Note: Ohohohohoho...
(1) Candyfloss=cotton candy