Year 6 Chapter 8, Valentine’s Day And Shocking Discoveries

From the Journal of Hermione Granger - February 15

The most extraordinary thing has happened – Harry is here! At Beauxbatons! His story is so incredible I can scarcely believe it. It started yesterday morning on Valentine’s Day.


“What’s that you’ve got there?” Ron asked as he climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Valentine’s cards, and a few gifts,” Harry replied as he sorted through the pile, looking for one in particular. Finding the parcel from Hermione, he settled back onto his bed and opened it, ignoring the other tokens from hopeful females.

“Hey, chocolate cauldrons,” Ron observed with interest. “I love those.”

“Help yourself,” Harry offered without much thought. He had just finished reading a very passionate card and was now gazing at a picture that Hermione had enclosed of herself. While she was fully clothed in the photo, her Beauxbatons robes showed her figure off very nicely and she had quite an inviting smile, and he quickly decided that it would occupy a prominent place on his bedside table. Then something occurred to him.

“You’d better check those chocolates before you eat any,” he cautioned belatedly, without looking up. “I wouldn’t put it past Romilda Vane to dose some with a love potion.”

“Don’t say that!” Ron objected angrily. “You can’t talk that way about the woman I love!” Harry’s head jerked up in surprise at this absurd statement, and he was shocked to see Ron standing before him clenching his fist. Realizing he was about to get punched, Harry quickly drew his wand while diving out of the way.

“Ron, what are you doing?” Harry cried, as Ron’s fist cleaved the air where Harry’s head had been a moment earlier.

“You take that back!” shouted Ron. “Romilda would never do something like that. I love her!” He made another lunge toward Harry, but with years of experience at dodging Dudley, Harry managed to evade him again. It was now all too obvious what had happened. Romilda had indeed sent him a treat laced with a love potion – a rather powerful one by the looks of it. He had to figure out a way to get Ron an antidote, without letting him make a fool of himself with Romilda, and more importantly, without letting Ron beat him senseless.

“Stupefy!” Just as Ron was about to launch himself at Harry in an attempt to pin him down, Harry stunned him. “Locomotor Weasley.” Now Ron’s gangly body levitated and began floating across the room, his long limbs flopping every which way. Harry directed him out the door and down the stairs, headed for the Potions classroom where he hoped he could find an antidote. As he passed through the common room he explained to the few students who were up that Ron had had a bad reaction to a prank Valentine treat from the twins. Fortunately, Romilda wasn’t present at the time.

Harry’s luck held as Slughorn was awake, but had not yet gone up to breakfast, and the portly professor opened his office door dressed in a nightcap and a ghastly looking lime green dressing gown. Harry found himself wondering briefly if he and Dumbledore shopped at the same place, and if fashion sense was something that was non-existent in elderly wizards.

“Harry?” he asked in surprise. “Not that I’m not always happy to see you but …”

“Ron’s been dosed with a love potion,” Harry interrupted as he maneuvered his best mate through the doorway, “and I was hoping you might have an antidote.”

It took a bit of convincing, as Slughorn first suggested that Harry should have no difficulty whipping up a counter potion himself, which Harry deflected by pointing out that it would take time and he didn’t want them to be late for class, before the professor agreed that he might have some in the storeroom. While he was fetching the potion, Harry settled Ron in a chair and put him in a body bind, then re-enervated him.

Ron’s eyes communicated his distress at finding himself petrified, and in an unfamiliar office, not to mention his lingering ire from Harry’s insulting of his true love Romilda, but Harry said nothing as Slughorn returned to the room. For a moment the Potions professor appeared to be debating with himself whether to suggest that he be compensated for the potion, but apparently decided against it, as it was a student preparation in the first place, made from ingredients purchased with school funds.

Without giving Ron a chance to figure out what he was doing, Harry took the potion, tilted his friend’s head back, and poured it down his throat. He then released the body bind and stood back warily while Ron dropped to his knees, coughing and choking.

“Bloody hell, mate, what do you think …” Ron’s demand for an explanation came to an abrupt halt as the potion took effect, and he felt the infatuation for the dark-haired beauty named Romilda Vane fade away. “What … what just happened to me?”

Harry proceeded to explain to Ron and Slughorn the sequence of events that had led them to this situation, and Ron slumped back into an overstuffed chair, going pale at the thought of what might have happened if Harry had not intervened so decisively. For his part, Slughorn was both amused at the tale and impressed with Harry’s quick thinking, and decided that drinks were in order, both to celebrate Ron’s escape and to help ease his distress. The boys both agreed and he sorted through his collection of alcoholic beverages.

“Hmm, firewhiskey … no, you’re still underage … butterbeer … too early in the day … wine perhaps … ah, here’s just the thing.” He returned with a bottle of finely aged mead and poured each of them a glass. “Had this sent over special from The Three Broomsticks, meant to give it to Dumbledore for Christmas but never got around to it – oh well.” As Harry reached for his glass Slughorn’s comment stirred something in the back of his mind.

“Wait!” he shouted. “Don’t drink that!” Too late. Ron, still a bit shaken, had already downed his whole glass. To Harry’s dismay, he began to jerk uncontrollably and foam at the mouth.

He leapt to his feet as Slughorn sat there dumfounded and dashed to the supply cabinet, trying to find something that looked like a poison antidote. Then he spotted the bezoar he had bluffed his way through the potions assignment with, grabbed it, and stuffed it into Ron’s mouth. Within seconds Ron’s body stopped convulsing and his color began to return to normal, as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

“My word!” Slughorn exclaimed. “What just happened?”

 

A half hour later Harry made his way back down toward the dungeons from the Hospital Wing, grabbing a quick bite to eat along the way. Madame Pomfrey had shooed him out with assurances that Ron would make a full recovery and he decided to go let Slughorn know that everything had turned out all right. When he re-entered the office he discovered that the man was still quite shaken over the event, and had apparently been drinking ever since Harry had left to levitate Ron to the infirmary.

“I didn’t know … I didn’t know …” he protested as he spotted Harry.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry reassured him. “Ron will be OK. Just take your time and settle down. There’s still some time before classes start.”

“Yes … of course …” Slughorn agreed. Then Harry surprised him by asking if he could stay and talk for a while. After everything that had just happened, the professor could hardly refuse, although he was immediately suspicious about what Harry would want to discuss. But Harry had decided on a more subtle approach, and realized that this was an opportune time, given Slughorn’s mixed feelings of guilt, embarrassment, and gratitude, combined with his increasing level of inebriation. Harry refilled his wine glass and poured a bit for himself.

“While we’re here, could you tell me a bit about my mum?”

It didn’t take Slughorn long to fall into his familiar mode of bragging about the accomplishments of one of his prize pupils, and Harry listened aptly. Not only was this a part of his plan to loosen the Potions professor up, he really did want to learn more about his mother. As Slughorn extolled her virtues, he made a comment about how she had friends in all four houses.

“Yeah, I remember hearing somewhere that she was friends with Snape,” Harry interjected.

“Oh yes,” Slughorn confirmed, “the two of them were practically inseparable for four years. Unfortunately Severus made some poor choices and fell in with the wrong crowd, and they drifted apart. Your mother wanted nothing to do with that sort, of course, and they would hardly tolerate her either, being a muggleborn. I sometimes wonder if I couldn’t have done more to guide young Severus away from that line of thinking. Unfortunately, it was quite attractive for some students back then, before …” He drifted off, uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were heading.

“It seems surprising to me that a muggleborn would so quickly have become close friends with a pureblood,” Harry commented. “Remus told me it was practically from the first day of school.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the case,” Slughorn corrected him. “Severus Snape is not a pureblood, he’s a halfblood. His father was a muggle and his mother’s name … let me see if I can recall … oh yes, his mother’s maiden name was Prince. Eileen Prince. A pretty fair student in her own right – I believe that’s where he got his potions talent from.” At this point he stopped his reminiscing, as Harry had gone pale. “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“Oh … oh nothing,” Harry stammered, trying to shake off the shock of this revelation. Forcing his thoughts away from the newly discovered identity of his secret Potions mentor he turned the discussion back to his own mother.

“I really appreciate your sharing your memories of my mother with me professor,” he continued, leaning forward and softening his tone. “I have so few of my own, you know. I was just thinking, do you know how she died?”

“Well,” Slughorn twisted uncomfortably in his chair and downed another long swallow from his wine glass, which Harry had determinedly been keeping filled. “I have heard the story, of course.”

“It’s my only memory of her,” Harry responded in a low, haunted voice. “Her screams as Voldemort came after me. She kept saying ‘No, not Harry. Not Harry. Take me. Kill me instead.’ See, he didn’t intend to kill her. Only me.”

Slughorn was shaking his head and choking up, but Harry pressed on. “She wouldn’t get out of the way, though. She sacrificed herself to save me. The last thing I can hear in my mind is her saying ‘Have mercy!’ and then there’s a green flash, then nothing.”

The room was silent for a moment, save for the sniffling of the large man sitting before Harry. Then he continued. “Do you know why Voldemort wanted to kill me, Professor? Do you know why he didn’t die that night?” Slughorn whimpered and shook his head, a horrified expression on his face. “There was a prophecy about him and me, you know. It said I have to be the one to kill him. So he tried to kill me first. But he failed, didn’t he?”

“No … no, I can’t,” Slughorn choked out, tears running down his face.

“He’s still after me, though. And it’s up to me to finish him off. But I can’t do it without your help.” Slughorn buried his head in his hands. “Without your help Lily Evans will have died for nothing and he’ll win.”

Without looking up, Slughorn shook his head. “I only need a number, sir,” Harry murmured, leaning in close.

In a voice that Harry could barely hear, the broken down man whispered.

“Seven.”

Harry slowly rose to his feet and reached forward, clasping the quivering mass of a wizard lightly on the shoulder. “Thank you sir. I’ll let your first class know that lessons are canceled for today, all right?” With that he turned and exited the office into the Potions classroom.

 

Harry’s first thought was to run straight to Dumbledore’s office to tell him about his success, but he hesitated. The headmaster still had more Horcrux related memories to share with him at their next meeting – they weren’t going to be able to do anything about them until after that. And besides, it would give Dumbledore a taste of his own medicine to have to wait for some information. He was also still pondering the likelihood of Snape being the Half Blood Prince and what to do with this information. In the meantime, he decided to use the free time available from his Potions class being canceled to go visit Ron.

Back up in the infirmary, Ron was still unconscious but breathing normally. Ginny was there, though, and Harry told her the story of what had happened. On hearing this Ginny scowled, then an expression of determination filled her face and Harry realized that Romilda Vane was in for an unpleasant experience. He wisely decided not to inquire into the fiery redhead’s plans for reprisal, and instead the pair of friends talked about what this would mean for their upcoming quidditch match. Both agreed that they sincerely hoped that Ron would be able to play, as neither was thrilled about having CormacMcClaggen fill in as keeper.

To their surprise, Fred and George entered the room during their quidditch discussion. The twins had been in Hogsmeade negotiating to buy out Zonko’s, the former joke shop that had recently closed, in order to open a Hogsmeade branch of WWW. Harry offered the opinion that it was a brilliant idea. When the discussion turned to Ron’s condition, Harry repeated his tale of the love potion laced chocolate cauldron and the poisoned mead. There was a brief uncomfortable moment as the twins acknowledged that it was one of their own products that had felled their brother, but Harry quickly pointed out that the love potion had only been an embarrassment, not deadly.

At this the mood lightened somewhat, and the Weasley brothers turned their minds to the subject of payback. After sharing a look with their sister they nodded their agreement that she was more than able to uphold the family’s honor in this incident and merely asked if there was anything she needed from them. But as the three of them huddled together to discuss potential pranks Madame Pomfrey entered the room.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, it’s good to see you,” she greeted them, along with a nod to the twins. I’m glad to see that you’ve completely recovered from your own unfortunate incident, my dear,” she continued to Ginny. “And I must say that it’s unusual to see you on this side of the bed Mr. Potter. It’s been all too often that you’ve been the patient here and this lot, along with Miss Granger, have been the visitors.” Harry responded with a grin – this had been a rather uneventful year for him in terms of hospital visits. He couldn’t recall any other year so far that he had avoided being a patient himself.

When the healer turned to the Weasley siblings and informed them that their parents had already been notified and were on their way, Harry remembered something he had wanted to ask her about.

“Are parents always notified about students’ injuries?”

“Certainly,” the prim and proper witch responded. “Or I should say, wizarding parents are.”

“But parents of muggleborns aren’t?” Harry wondered. “And I suppose that would include my aunt and uncle as well?”

“That’s correct,” Pomfrey answered. “It has been our experience that muggles don’t really understand the severity of magical ailments and injuries, and how readily they are treated. In ordinary cases we can fix students up without much difficulty, as you yourself are aware. It’s only cases like this,” she motioned to Ron, “where parents need concern themselves with a trip here. Unfortunately, muggles aren’t able to make this distinction and would be unnecessarily alarmed by common incidents.”

“So, for example, a student like Hermione, you wouldn’t have told her parents about her hospital stays, even when she was petrified second year?” Harry persisted, steering the explanation subtly toward his real question.

Now the nurse shifted uncomfortably. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to discuss the details of another student’s cases …” she stopped short at the skeptical look she was getting from Harry, knowing full well that he was thoroughly familiar with each of Hermione’s hospitalizations, since he had been by her side for every one of them, and how ridiculous her protestation sounded. She also had deeply regretted her part in causing Miss Granger’s withdrawal from Hogwarts, but she had no choice but to follow Dumbledore’s orders. “You’ll have to talk to the Headmaster about this. Whenever the normal policy is not followed, it is only on his specific instructions.”

Suddenly things began to click into place for Harry. Hermione’s parents had withdrawn her from Hogwarts after learning of her hospitalization. They would not have received this information without the direct intervention of Dumbledore. The owl to the Grangers had been sent the day after he had objected to Dumbledore’s plans for his summer, and revealed his desire to spend part of it with Hermione.

That bastard!

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked in alarm. Both she and her brothers shrank back at the fury on Harry’s face as he looked up at them. Without a word he turned and stormed out of the infirmary.

It took little time to make his way to the Headmaster’s office and give the password to the gargoyle, and he soon found himself standing in front of Dumbledore’s desk, barely able to control his rage.

“You’re the one responsible for Hermione being withdrawn from Hogwarts,” he accused through clenched teeth. “Why?”

The customary twinkle was absent from Dumbledore’s eyes, and he looked older than Harry had ever seen him appear before. With regret in his voice he answered. “Yes. It was a most painful decision, but one I believed needed to be made. It was for your own good.” Harry gaped at the audacity of this claim, but couldn’t find the words to express his outrage just yet. “I felt that you needed to become more self-reliant and Miss Granger seemed to be making all the decisions for you.”

“That’s … that’s ridiculous!” Harry screamed. “You couldn’t be more wrong! We’ve always been partners – we work together. Sure she comes up with lots of ideas, but she’s always pushed me to become better and stronger, not made me weaker. There’s not a single thing that I’ve accomplished since I’ve been here that I would have been able to do without her help. She, more than any other person here, has made me a better wizard.”

“But that’s the point, Harry. You need to learn to accomplish things on your own, and I felt that without her presence stifling your initiative …”

“Would you rather have had me die trying at something by myself than succeed with her helping me?” Harry demanded. “She wasn’t with me during the tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I won that on my own abilities. But I needed her help to develop those abilities. I’d have died during the First Task without her helping me learn the Summoning Charm. And last year, it was her idea to do the DA, but I taught it. She helped me pick out spells, but it was my decision on which ones to teach and how to teach them. We worked together! She made the discovery about the Basilisk, but I killed it. She had the Time Turner, but it was both of us together that figured out what we needed to do to save Sirius and Buckbeak.”

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I did what I thought was best,” Dumbledore sighed, knowing that there was a good possibility he’d permanently damaged their relationship.

Harry slammed his fist on the desk before him. “That wasn’t your decision to make! It’s my life, not yours. You yourself said love was my greatest strength. If I can’t be with the woman I love why should I bother fighting?”

Harry turned abruptly and strode to the door. Whirling one more time he faced the headmaster once again. “You can just find yourself another weapon. I quit!”

The furious young man strode down the corridors toward the Entrance Hall, feeling like the walls were closing in on him. He had to get out of this place. Deciding that flying might help him blow off some steam, he headed outside. But Dumbledore had evidently anticipated that he might flee the castle, because as he approached the main doors they swung shut and barred themselves. But this did not dissuade him; it only made him more determined to leave. Retracing his steps, he quickly climbed the AstronomyTower, summoning his Firebolt along the way. Without another thought he hurled himself over the turreted walls and into the air.

Once aloft, Harry had no direction in mind as he soared higher and higher, only that he needed to get away from the manipulative old man who was determined to control his life. Before he realized it he found himself over the Forbidden Forest, heading south. He knew that more than anything, he needed to talk to Hermione, and decided that his subconscious was directing him toward her. When no other ideas presented themselves, he resigned himself to a long flight.

As his mind calmed down and he began to think more rationally, it occurred to him that he didn’t exactly know how to get to Beauxbatons from Hogwarts. But as this concern began to grow he realized that he had company. Hedwig, as always, knew when he needed her and his faithful familiar, who had made this trip many times, flew up to him to guide him to his destination.

“Hey girl, it’s sure good to see you,” he greeted the owl as she alighted on his shoulder. “Can you take me to Hermione?” With a bob of her head and a nip at his ear, Hedwig assured him that she was up to the task.

With that problem solved, the issues of warmth and concealment needed to be dealt with. As night fell, the February temperatures would drop below freezing, and it would not be well to be spotted from the ground on this unauthorized excursion. A warming charm and a disillusionment charm took care of those pressing issues, and he settled down on his journey.

 

Hermione was sitting in one of the Beauxbatons lounges with her study group when a familiar snowy owl flew in and alighted on her shoulder. Her friends smiled at the sight, as it was a frequent occurrence at the school – Hedwig never waited for the normal owl delivery period, but sought out Hermione wherever she happened to be. Hermione, on the other hand, was somewhat surprised to see her favorite owl, since she had just sent her off with Harry’s Valentine’s present two days before. Harry had thoughtfully sent her present – a red rose charmed with an everlasting preservative spell and a box of Honeyduke’s finest chocolates – early so that Hedwig could take Hermione’s gift to him on the return flight. Nevertheless, Hermione reached for the parchment the owl carried, surprised that it was just a short note. In fact, there were just three words.
 

Open the window.
 

Frowning in puzzlement, Hermione walked over to the nearest window and swung it open. To her amazement, the outline of a disillusioned figure flew into the lounge on a broom and dismounted right in front of her. Her stunned mind worked out the identity of her visitor just as he dropped the disillusionment charm.

“Harry!” she screamed as she hurled herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?” This was followed immediately by another exclamation. “You’re freezing!”

“Yeah,” he shivered. “C-could really use one of your w-warming charms right now. Mine s-s-seem to be wearing out.” It was another few moments, though, before either could bring themselves to release the other, but eventually Hermione leaned away and pulled out her wand. Her mind was a blur as excitement, desire, curiosity, and worry competed for her attention, and her hand shook slightly as she tried to mouth the incantation.

She was startled as another hand took hers to help steady her wand, and she turned to see that her roommate Michelle had come over to help her out. With a grateful smile she managed to settle her nerves and cast the charm, which was followed by several more as her other friends added their own warming charms, rising to their feet and moving to join her.

“Oh,” she blurted out as she realized that some introductions were in order. “This is, um, Har… no, Hen… er …” The French girls exchanged broad smiles before Michelle put an end to her dilemma.

“Don’t worry, ’Ermione,” she laughed. “We’ve known all along who Henri really was.” She turned to the newcomer, who had not moved away from Hermione since he had arrived, and now had an arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and switched to English. “’Ello, ’Arry Potter. Eet ees an honor to finally meet you.”

The rest of the girls joined in the laughter as a sheepish grin appeared on Harry’s face, in contrast to the startled look of dismay on Hermione’s. For their part, the boys were initially puzzled, but eventually worked out their classmate’s subterfuge and understood what was going on. Michelle put her hands on Harry’s shoulders and gave him a kiss on both cheeks, followed by Brigitte and Thérèse. Jean-Claude and Giovanni then came forward and shook his hand, both somewhat in awe of the living legend. The five of them quickly agreed to continue to keep the couple’s dating secret from the rest of the school. Their story would be that Harry Potter had just come to visit his good friend Hermione Granger.

Finally, Hermione repeated her question. “What are you doing here?”

Harry shot a glance at the others in the room then turned back to her. “It’s a long story, actually, with some parts that you’re really not going to like.” Upon hearing that the others got up and took their leave, after Brigitte and Jean-Claude extracted a promise from Harry to talk with them about quidditch, and Giovanni offered to share his room if Harry needed a place to stay overnight. Hermione thanked them and promised to tell them later as much as she could about what was going on.

As soon as the door closed, Hermione threw her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him thoroughly, then drew back and led him over to a sofa near the fireplace. Harry looked around briefly, then cast a locking charm on the door and several privacy charms on the door and windows. When she saw this, Hermione added a wide-area privacy charm of her own that she had recently learned. Harry then settled down wearily on the sofa and pulled Hermione onto his lap, where she leaned her head against his chest while he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly to himself.

Finally he began the tale of his adventures of the previous day, beginning with the trip to see Slughorn, Ron’s poisoning, and the information he’d retrieved from the Potions professor, including the likely identity of the Half Blood Prince. Up to this point Hermione, though intrigued with what she was hearing, was still puzzled about what had warranted his extraordinary broomstick flight across Scotland, England, and France. Then he told her about Pomfrey’s revelation, and his confrontation with Dumbledore. At that point it was all he could do to keep hold of her, as she was now ready to storm off to Scotland and confront the headmaster herself.
 

I must admit that I was fit to be tied! Over and over I kept saying, ‘I can’t believe it!’ as Harry tried to calm me down and keep me from blowing something up. It’s ironic, because generally those roles have been reversed in the past, and I’ve been the voice of reason trying to get him to keep himself under control. But on his long flight here he had a lot of time to settle down and think about what was going to happen next.

We agreed that Dumbledore wasn’t going to just let him go like that, and that we should be prepared for him to track Harry down and come after him. We also decided that it wouldn’t be long before Madame Maxime learned of Harry’s presence here, and would want to know what was going on. As she is a member of the Order, we could assume that she would contact Dumbledore. As I have developed a pretty good relationship with her, we decided to take her into our confidence and see if we could get her on our side.

As we had hoped, when we met with her she was sympathetic, and immediately offered to accept Harry into Beauxbatons if that’s what he wanted to do (so much for the rule about transferring in the middle of a year – Dumbledore probably made it up on the spot) but we doubt that Dumbledore will let him go. She also agreed that he could bunk with Jean-Claude and Giovanni for the night. She shot a wink at me as she added that she expected that the two of us would eventually find our way into our own beds, which made both of us blush furiously.

-0x0x0-

From the Journal of Hermione Granger - February 16

We had our confrontation with Dumbledore today, and I think we held our own. The important thing is that we came to an agreement that I think we can all live with. Neither Harry nor I will ever trust the man again, but we still have to work with him if Harry is going to be able to defeat Voldemort.

It helped that he was off balance from the beginning. He wanted to meet with Harry alone, but we informed him that not only would I be involved in the conversation, but that we wanted Madame Maxime present as well, since we didn’t trust that he wouldn’t try to erase our memories and take Harry back by force. Madame Maxime bristled when he tried to claim that secret information was at stake, since she is in the Order after all. His habit of keeping things from his allies certainly tripped him up there. She is a rather imposing presence, and having her sitting there glaring at him during the entire conversation definitely evened up the odds.

“First of all, Miss Granger, I must apologize for my actions concerning you this summer,” Dumbledore began. “At the time I thought that what I was doing was for the best, and that Harry would benefit from your absence. He has rather forcefully indicated to me that this was not the case.” He sent a nod toward Harry, who refused to react to the attempt at humor, and maintained a stony expression. “I assure you that my intentions are only to prepare Harry as well as I can for what he has to face.”

“I don’t think so.” This response caught not only Dumbledore, but also Maxime by surprise, and even Harry turned an inquiring eye in Hermione’s direction. “I think that you’re setting Harry up to die.”

“Miss Granger!” cameMaxime’s shocked voice, duplicated by a similar sentiment from Dumbledore.

“Miss Granger, you can’t think …”

“You tell me, then,” Hermione’s voice overrode their protests. “If it came down to a choice between Harry’s life and defeating Voldemort, which would you choose?” The ensuing silence was as abrupt as the outburst had been, as all eyes were now on Dumbledore. “Well?” Hermione challenged. But the great leader of the light side was unable to answer her, a desperate pained expression his only response.

“I think you’ve been planning it all along,” Hermione continued, her voice rising even more. “You put him in a situation with his relatives where he was certain to come out with no sense of self worth. You want to make sure he is willing to sacrifice himself. Then you decided to get rid of me, not for the reasons you stated, but because I was giving him something to live for.”

Dumbledore could only shake his head. “No, you don’t understand,” he protested.

“Everything you’ve put him through, all his life, was leading up to this.” Hermione was shouting now, moving toward her former headmaster with her fists clenched at her sides. “Oh, it would be all right if he was attracted to someone like Cho Chang, just a pretty face. Or a girl who was in awe of The Boy Who Lived, rather than someone who actually understood him and cared for him. A shallow meaningless relationship would be just fine. Not someone who would stand and fight alongside him, and try to keep him alive. You needed him with a girl who would be willing to sit back and let him run off to be the hero. Who did you have planned for him next, Ginny Weasley?”

Dumbledore hesitated, and that was all the confirmation Hermione needed. “You bastard!”

Olympe Maxime had seen many things in her life, but none of them surprised her as much as the sight of seventeen year old Hermione Granger stepping up to the most respected wizard of her time and slapping him in the face. As she watched the two students stalk from her office in a fury, she reached out to restrain Dumbledore from following them. They needed to cool off, but from her previous discussion with them she knew they would be back.

“Albus Dumbly-dore, are any of zose zings Miss Granger just said true?” she demanded.

Dumbledore looked every bit of his one hundred plus years of age as he slumped back into a chair. “It is true that Harry is destined to do battle with the man who calls himself Lord Voldemort. How could it be otherwise – he has been trying to kill the boy since he was a baby. And although I might wish it were not so, one possible outcome – one might even say the most likely outcome – is that he may die.”

Maxime paused to ponder this revelation, then turned a suspicious eye on the Hogwarts Headmaster. “You know more about ziszan you ’ave said. As do Mr. Potter and Miss Granger.”

“Believe me, my dear Madame, this knowledge is by far a burden, a curse even, that you would not wish to share,” he replied wearily. “I would not wish it on those children either, but Harry has borne it better than I could have ever hoped. And now Miss Granger seems determined to share it with him, despite what I might wish.”

The Beauxbatons Headmistress shook her head. “Albus, you are one of ze most brilliant men I know, but you are woefully ignorant of les affaires du coeur .”

Dumbledore sighed. “You may be right. I loved someone once, but it was long ago.”

 

Hermione circled on her broom, watching Harry as he seemed to be trying to kill himself with some death-defying stunts on his Firebolt. Even though she knew he was just working off his anger at what Dumbledore had just admitted, and she knew how skilled he was with a broom, it still made her nervous enough that she had her wand out, ready to cast a cushioning charm on the ground beneath him if he fell.

For herself, slapping Dumbledore had been enough of a release that she was now able to assess the situation calmly. She shook her head wryly at the thought of how a younger Hermione Granger would have reacted to the idea of striking her headmaster. She probably would have gone catatonic. Looking around, she decided that she would need to end Harry’s airborne therapy session soon, since a crowd was beginning to gather. He really was putting on quite a show, and she could hear some of their amazed comments on his flying ability. Yet another chapter in the legend of Harry Potter , she sighed to herself.

Eventually, she leaned forward on her broom and flew up so that she was in his field of vision, and gestured to him to follow her. She led him off to a private spot in the woods to discuss their options.

“Even though Madame Maxime offered, I don’t think you can stay here,” she began. Harry nodded his agreement. He still needed to work with Dumbledore to defeat Voldemort, and besides, his being here would put the Beauxbatons students in danger once his enemies found out where he was.

“If you want to run away together, you know I’d be willing to go anywhere with you,” Hermione continued. “But I’m not sure that’s the solution either.”

“No, I don’t think it is either,” Harry replied. “As attractive as it sounds, we could only hide for so long before Voldemort would eventually hunt us down. And I don’t want to live like that.”

“Neither do I,” Hermione agreed. “And we’d both feel guilty about deserting everyone, especially you.”

“What about you coming back to Hogwarts?” Harry suggested. “We probably have enough leverage now with Dumbledore to force him to let you.”

Hermione worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I want to so badly, but I promised my parents I’d come here for a year. I don’t know if I can break my agreement. And besides …”

“You’re on track to take your NEWTs and you’d have to give that up,” Harry finished. “I know,” he added as he saw her start to explain. “You’d be willing to do it, that’s just an additional reason.” She nodded glumly and he reached his arm out and pulled her into his side, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “We can hold out for another four months,” he reassured her.

“I do agree with you that we have leverage now, and should use it,” she pointed out. “I think we are going to have to negotiate a deal with Dumbledore.”
 

When we finally returned to Madame Maxime’s office, Harry presented Dumbledore with a list of demands we had drawn up, leading off with asking for an Unbreakable Vow from him. He initially balked at that, pointing out that the broad language we suggested (like sharing all the information he had, or answering any question we might ask) would almost certainly lead to his death, since he would be unable to fully comply. We agreed that we were prepared to negotiate on the wording.

He vowed not to retaliate in any way against us, or try to modify our memories, or magically coerce Harry or me to do anything we didn’t want to do. He also vowed not to try to break us up again, or to keep Harry from seeing me. Harry did agree to go back and live at Privet Drive for at least 2 weeks this summer. Madame Maxime acted as the Bonder. Once that was out of the way, we agreed to talk with him without her being present. She let us use a secure conference room for the rest of our meeting. By the time we finished, there were 3 additional terms to his vow:

1. He vowed to answer any question Harry had about the Horcruxes, to the best of his knowledge.

2. He vowed to share all the information he had about the prophecy, and anything else to do with Harry and Voldemort.

For both of these he added that he could not reveal any specific information that he had sworn to keep secret, but that this would not hinder Harry’s task.

3. He vowed to train Harry in whatever magical skills he would need to be able to fight Voldemort, after he comes of age in July, and advise him on the best way to go about defeating him.

He pointed out that Harry would have to receive some sort of punishment for leaving the castle without permission, and suggested that McGonagall be the one to determine it. That seemed fair to both of us. Afterwards we all shook hands and agreed that we needed to work together. He apologized again and we agreed that we would try to move on and put this issue behind us.

“One of the first things we shall need to discuss is the remaining Horcruxes,” Dumbledore stated, once the negotiations had concluded. “And that, you will recall, is dependent on a task that you have been assigned.” Harry nodded, not allowing his face to reveal anything, and Hermione moved closer to him, wanting to be sure to see Dumbledore’s reaction to Harry’s news. The headmaster noted Harry’s lack of response and decided to redirect the conversation. “Although I am also interested in hearing the details of just how Mr. Weasley came to be occupying a bed in our infirmary,” he suggested, peering over his glasses at Harry.

“Well, it turns out that those two items are more related than you might think,” Harry revealed, as he and Hermione exchanged triumphant smiles. “You see, Ron and I paid a visit to Professor Slughorn the other day.”

“Indeed?” Dumbledore replied, his heightened interest very evident.

“Seven,” Harry announced simply.

For the first time all day, the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes returned. “Well done, Harry! Well done.”

-oooOOOooo-

Hermione closed the notebook and glanced up to see her daughter looking at her in admiration.

“You really slapped Dumbledore? Way to go, Mum!”

Hermione smiled. “Yes, I was quite the feisty little witch back then.” Then she added, shaking her head, “the things I did for that boy.”

“Because you loved him, Mum,” Rose pointed out confidently.

“Absolutely right,” her mother agreed. Then she sighed. “Dumbledore still managed to put one over on us, though. We didn’t realize until later that he had no intention of training Harry. But he knew he’d be dead by the summer, so it didn’t cost him anything to take the Vow.

-xox-XOX-XOX-xox-