by VoxM
"It is our choices, Harry, that show us what we really are, far more than our abilities."
~Albus Dumbledore
A/N: Well. This is the longest fic I've ever written. Huh. I'm kind of amazed that I've finished it. And I'm really tired—I think I'll swear off long fics, because this one kicked my ass.
Set in fifth year. Rating? PG-13 for violence, language and an innuendo—I suppose I should have put that before I said anything about "ass kicking." It also is a semi-sequel to "The Only Thing We Have To Fear." So if you want, read that first.
Disclaimer: I've run out of creativity with this part. All I can say is: IT'S NOT MINE. NOT. EMPHATICALLY NOT OWNED IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM BY ME.
Also, please note: The phrase "Honestly, Harry, don't you EVER read?" I thought was canonical—but I recently re-read Arabella's HQoW series and I spotted it there, so I will give her and JKR credit for that phrase, since it takes me forever to tease out the differences between what she wrote in HQoW and what JKR actually said. Because, you know, that series practically is canon at this point. At least with me.
* * * * * * * * *
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."
~Ambrose Redmoon
* * * * * * * * *
Chapter 1: The Best Measures . . .
* * * *
The letter fell into Hermione's lap at breakfast. Harry was attempting to apply marmalade to his scone while expending as little effort as possible and with his eyes half-closed, when the owl swept past him, towards his best friend, nearly causing Harry to drop the sticky pastry all over his robes. His other best friend, Ron Weasley, smirked at Harry's misadventure.
Hermione wasn't paying any attention to the scone. She untied the parchment and began to read. Her face took on a very different appearance as she continued, smiling to herself. She turned a little red at places, but by the time she looked back across the table, most of the blush had dissipated. She tried to shoo the owl off.
"I'll write back later." The owl did not look convinced. "I will. I promise. I'll send a school owl this afternoon." The owl hooted sceptically, but left.
"What," Harry asked, half-looking up from his breakfast, "was the letter about?" Hermione shot him a warning look.
"Nothing much. Just a note from a friend I haven't seen in awhile." She was not naming names. Oops. Even as tired as he was, Harry realised immediately whom the letter was probably from. He went back to his scone, hoping that Ron had caught neither the question nor the look. He was not that lucky.
"Really?" Ron said. "I didn't realise Muggles used Owl Post. Huh."
"Some do," Hermione said vaguely. "My parents use Owl Post."
"Because almost all of your wizarding friends are here, so it would be silly for them to send you an Owl. I assume, therefore, that it must be from one of your Muggle friends." Dammit. Harry gave up on breakfast. He was about to not be hungry anyway.
Hermione slowly set the letter next to her plate. Ooh. Bad move, Hermione, Harry thought. Don't try to take the letter, Ron, just don't. She sat up straight and coolly looked Ron in the eye.
"As a matter of fact, Ron, it is from a wizard. It's from—"
"How is Bulgaria this time of year?" Ron got up, leaving his breakfast tray and stalked out of the Great Hall. Hermione sighed and returned to her toast. She didn't seem to really enjoy it much.
At least, thought Harry, at least he didn't try to grab the letter. Better than nothing.
"Come on," Hermione said, after a minute of the uncomfortable silence. "We've got Charms."
Harry followed her, hoping that Ron's new bad mood would be gone by the time the three of them sat in lecture.
* * * *
He and Hermione had reached the class room and settled in before Ron skidded through the door, barely on time. He seated himself next to them, but at that point, Harry was hardly in a state to observe the redhead's mood, as his head was buried comfortably in his arms. Harry was more than halfway to a lovely dream involving several pretty girls serving him scones with marmalade in such a way that it was unlikely that it would get on his robes, which were, from what he could tell, on the other side of the room from both him and the girls.
". . .the Quondamus Charm is a subtle but effective spell, useful in attacks because its range is wider than many others. Its properties cause those enchanted by it to lose the ability to make any motion more than once. Since we naturally shift our bodies imperceptibly to maintain balance every second, although the charm requires a short time in order to become noticeable, it is excellent at impeding complex attacks. Often the target is unaware until the . . ."
Harry let Professor Flitwick's voice run in and out of his mind, which was entertaining itself quite well, despite the intrusion of the professor and of Harry's sore body. As if Oliver's early morning practices hadn't been bad enough, now they had Angelina getting them up to jog a 5k before they started her field regimen. His legs ached. Fred wasn't the only one who had been hoping for a softer routine from his girlfriend.
The tiny wizard at the front of the classroom continued
" . . .on the other hand, the incantation Scopolamia has an instantaneous effect. Named after a Muggle pharmaceutical popular in medical circles for its effects on the nervous system in the early twentieth century, this spell's effects mimic those of the drug's overdose . . ."
Mmm. Scones. Those were some really fantastic looking girls, too.
"Wow." Hermione's voice brought him back to reality. You couldn't dream about pretty girls and listen to Hermione at the same time. Something didn't fit there. Not that Hermione wasn't pretty or anything, just that it was . . .well, weird. "So fascinating. I never realized how much Muggle history could be wound up in the wizarding world." Harry raised his head and looked sleepily at her.
"Ergh?" was all he said. Ron started snickering.
"What? You don't find this as scintillating as 5AM Quidditch practice?" Harry would have glared at him, but he was too tired. "Hey!" Hermione shushed them. "We've got a midterm coming up and I am not going to fail because Harry is snoring through lectures and you're too busy making smart comments." Ron grinned innocently at her. Apparently, he had gotten over the mood he'd been in earlier.
Professor Flitwick kept lecturing, oblivious to the three of them.
". . .other important applications of Hyperextensium are to promote physical flexibility in cramped quarters. Many times it is used in attempts to escape or to allow for extra range of motion when needed . . ." Ron snickered again.
"Bet Fred wishes he had known that one when he and Angelina were under the bleachers." Harry snorted and even Hermione was biting her lip to keep from giggling as she scribbled notes. Professor Flitwick looked up.
"I'm sorry, was there a question?" Three heads suddenly looked very interested in the desks at which they were sitting. Harry returned to the marmalade. One of the girls was preparing his seventh or eighth scone. He'd lost count at this point.
Ah well, best to start over.
Harry was asleep before Ron could rouse him with another smart comment.
* * * *
His overall impression of the rest of the day was of Hermione's grip on his arm, dragging him from class to class, and when the three of them split up, she gave him a light shove into Ron as she left for Arithmancy.
Ron was far less gentle with him, and kicked Harry's ankles to keep him upright all the way to Divination. Harry was glad that there was a ladder at the end of the walk: that would make it hard for Ron to add to the bruises he'd created on Harry's legs. Harry seriously considered letting go of the rungs while Ron was under him, but he thought better of it when he saw Neville Longbottom starting the climb just behind Ron. Hurting Neville, even accidentally, was, in Harry's opinion, one of the ultimate demonstrations that you were an evil, nauseating and unredeemable soul. Draco Malfoy was nasty to Neville daily, which, to Harry, served to prove the point admirably.
That, however, was the last coherent thought that he had in Divination, as the poufs that Professor Trelawney required them to sit in were simply designed for long naps. It honestly was her fault for placing them so conveniently in such a horribly boring class. It was quite a glorious nap, Harry admitted to himself later. Perhaps he should ask Trelawney the next day about what exact kind of incense she used and if it was known for its sleep-inducing properties. He wondered if he'd get points off of his grade for that kind of question. Would it make a difference if he wasn't being sarcastic? He really did want to know.
Harry kept drifting all through the afternoon and into the evening. He didn't wake up properly until after dinner, and that was only because Ron and Hermione were playing a particularly loud and spirited game of chess. His eyes flew open as he heard Hermione crowing noisily over something. Harry turned his head to see what was happening.
She looked positively triumphant.
"Ha! I'll get your knight, then!" Ron shrugged and moved a piece.
Hermione stared at the chessboard in disbelief. "Did—did you mean to do that?"
Ron smirked at her. "Of course I meant to do that. I'm a chess wizard, pun intended. Think I'd make a move if I didn't mean it?" Hermione peered at him with an incredulous expression. Then she shook her head.
"Fine. If that's what you say." She slid her queen across the board and captured the black rook.
Two moves later, she goggled at the board again.
"I believe," Ron said, as nonchalantly as was possible for him under the circumstances, "I believe that would be yet another check and mate for yours truly." Hermione was aghast.
"I can't believe—I should have just taken the knight. It was right there and then you put that rook out and I thought I'd finally—"
"Eyes got a little big for your stomach, there, eh?" He patted her shoulder in mock sympathy. "Don't worry about it. Used to get Ginny with that one all the time." From her position on the couch, his sister looked up from her book.
"He did, too. Bastard. Just because I'm younger."
"You really shouldn't talk about your own mother like that, Ginny."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I swear, you two." She started to put the pieces back in the box. "Good game, Ron."
"You know, Hermione," he said in a surprisingly serious tone. "You'd be a lot better player if you'd just learn to calm down." She started to glower at him. "No, I mean you let yourself get all wound up and then you make stupid mistakes. You can play smarter than that." He reached over the table and took a couple of pieces out of the box. "Look, in all those blasted chess books you've read—what're these worth?"
"They're pawns. They're worth one each."
"Okay. How about this?" He held up another piece.
"Bishop: it's worth four."
"Then how much are they worth if your king is checkmated?"
"Well, then they're not really worth anything, are they?"
"Right. So what have we learned from this little exercise?"
"Don't get checkmated." Hermione said smartly.
Ron gave her a look.
"All right. Fine, oh wise Weasley. The relative value of a piece may not be accurate depending on how a particular game is playing out. It might be more strategically effective to sacrifice a major piece over a minor one—so don't get fooled by relative worth. And of course, don't be afraid to make sacrifices because—"
"That's chess." Ron's voice sounded a bit like Percy's at that moment. Hermione mouthed the words along with him sullenly. Harry's mouth twitched as he tried not to smirk. Ron could be incredibly awful when he beat Hermione at something and she was not the most gracious of losers.
"Oy!" One of the knights looked up at them. "Are you gonna play again or just yammer at your lovely lady friend 'ere all night?" Harry choked on a laugh while Ginny covered her mouth with her hand to keep the giggles from escaping.
Ron flushed.
"Get in the box, you."