Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resuscitation of Agapé ❯ The Romeo Punk ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Harry Potter and the Resuscitation of Agapé
Year 6 At Hogwarts
by Jessica X
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WARNING LABEL: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. CONTENTS OF PRODUCT NOT COPYRIGHTED BY AUTHOR. RATED R FOR MILD VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE, AND MATURE THEMES. IF INGESTED, INDUCE VOMITING, THEN DRINK YOO-HOO.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Well, friends, I've been writing like mad lately. I hope this chapter lives up to the last four. Bon appetit!
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~*~ Chapter Five: The Romeo Punk

"Finally, you- WHAT IN BLAZES?!"

Harry stomped through the common room, walked resolutely over to the squashy armchairs by the fire and slammed his bag down inches from Ron's feet, spilling the contents. He just as resolutely ignored the stares and mutters of the other Gryffindors.

"What's happened to you, mate?!"

"Slytherin's what happened!" He threw himself into the chair sulkily.

"They threw you in the mud?"

"Well, no..."

"But they did turn your hair orange, right?"

"Yeah, great bloody gits." Harry pulled a blade of grass out of his ear and flicked it into the floor.

"But... what in hell...?!"

"Okay, so Cho and I were having a nice little conversation," he said, his breathing shallow from rage. "Then-"

"What in the world happened?!" Hermione said as she strode over to them.

"I thought you were sick," Ron said skeptically.

Hermione glanced at Harry before replying. "It think it was just a stomachache... too much from Honeydukes. But what happened to you?!"

"Well, as I was telling Ron, I was talking to Cho on the grounds, and it started to pour bucketfulls. Well, we legged for the doors, but tripped and, er..."

Ron was on the edge of his chair. "And, and?!"

"Well, er, she was in front, and I was right on her heels, you see..."

Hermione giggled.

"Anyway, we were... sharing something of a... moment," he said, turning a brilliant shade of crimson. Hermione tried to hide her fits behind her hands while Ron broke into the widest grin he'd ever managed. "Don't start goading me, I've had enough of it, already."

Ron's smile slipped. "I suppose this is where the Slytherins come in."

"Malfoy and his sodding cronies came stomping out from who knows where, and start whooping and making cat calls. Nobody can take the mickey out of you quite like a Slytherin."

"So what happened?"

"Malfoy yelled something insulting that I couldn't hear over the thunder, and Crabbe and Goyle guffawed on cue. I called out that he should get knotted, and a Stunner flew past my shoulder; Cho screamed, and my blood went boiling. I sent a Reductor Curse their way-"

"HARRY!!!" Hermione half-shouted.

"I didn't point it AT them," he said impatiently. "Anyway, it hit the ground next to Goyle and he fell over... that's when Malfoy hit me with whatever did this," he finished, pointing to his neon-hued scalp.

"Was Cho okay?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Yeah, thank God. I probably would've used the Cruciatus on Malfoy if he'd done her any harm."

"One of these days that flid'll go too far for the teachers, even," Ron growled.

"He did tonight," Harry said.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean Snape came out of nowhere, and actually punished him."

"WHAT?!" they shouted in unison.

"Usually it's me that's the last one to fire off something when he shows up, but Malfoy wasn't so lucky this time, and Snape had no choice. He took ten points from both our houses and gave us each a detention... and five points from Ravenclaw, just because Cho was _there_."

Ron was dumbfounded, but Hermione only nodded.

"He may not be fair, but he still follows the rules, doesn't he? I've been telling you he's trustworthy all along, and-"

"Give over, will you?" Ron interrupted. "He still gave Harry a detention, even though he was just defending himself against Malfoy!"

"Children," Harry said sternly. Hermione, her mouth open and eager, fell silent. "Thank you. Now I think I've had quite enough excitement for the day-" he glanced at her briefly "-and I definitely need to get this grime off."

"Scourgify!" Hermione said. She had been withdrawing her wand as Harry was looking at his robes in disgust. They were instantly clean.

He flashed her a smile. "Thanks." Yawning widely, he stood and walked toward the dormitory stairs, patting Hermione on the shoulder as he went. "Night."

"Night," she said quietly.

He had been laying there in his pajamas for several minutes, staring at the canopy over his bed and trying not to think about how many strange things had happened that day, when Ron came in and began to change clothes.

"Some rotten day, eh?" Harry sighed.

"Yeah," he muttered in reply. "At least you got to snog someone."

"Before I nearly got Stunned and my hair turned orange!"

"I'd trade orange hair for a bit of fun with a bird like Cho."

"You've already got orange hair!" Harry said, sitting up. "Besides, it's not like Cho and I are having it off, it was just a kiss!"

Ron grinned and shook his head. "Listen to you, 'Cho and I'."

Harry glowed like a stoplight.

~*~

He could never quite figure out how they'd managed it, but as he went down to breakfast the following morning, everyone had already been fully informed of the events on the rain-soaked lawn. The boys kept elbowing him and applauding. The girls kept pointing and giggling. And the Slytherins looked absolutely livid at the supposed injustice of Malfoy getting detention. Malfoy himself glared when Harry walked across the Great Hall.

"I don't see why I'm to be punished for your acting like a hoover," he jeered.

"Jealous," Ginny muttered, steering Harry to the table and sitting him down. While Harry appreciated her support, he was also a bit annoyed at her thinking she had to protect him from Malfoy.

"The whole school's talking about your little romp in the rain," Ron said, a knowing grin on his face. "Some of them even say you managed a hand up her jumper."

Harry felt his face grow hot again, and wondered if it (like his hair) would ever be allowed to resume its normal colour. "But I didn't-!"

"I know, mate," he said, shrugging. "Leastways, I figured you would have mentioned that."

"Have you heard? Evidently, our hands went down each other's knickers."

Harry turned to see Cho sitting down next to him. Mortification spread through him.

"I've tried setting them all straight, but they won't hear of it." She pulled a plate of eggs toward her. "It's much more fun to think you deflowered me in the middle of the grounds."

Harry gagged on his tea. "Now they're going so far as THAT?!"

"Oh, don't worry about it. When I don't turn up with a bun in the oven, they'll probably figure it out." She smiled impishly. "And I think your hair looks wicked."

Harry looked down into his teacup, wondering how possible it would be to crawl into it and die.

The month of November swam by in spurts. His brilliant orange mop, a constant reminder of the events on the rain-soaked lawns, was eventually dyed black again - unfortunately, not before Colin Creevey had taken dozens of colour photographs. His detention, sweeping out the Owlery without the use of magic, had thankfully not been the same one Draco Malfoy had been given, as if he'd actually had to stand next to Malfoy doing manual labour for any amount of time, he'd probably have started trying to impale him with a mop.

Classes, tedious amounts of homework, and equally tedious Quidditch practices took up the greater part of his attention, but the sparse leisure time he did have was not enjoyable. All the days seemed the same; people relentlessly asking him how good Cho was (as if he knew), or if they had used a johnny. Others simply asked him how far he'd really gone, hoping to stop the rumours and spread the truth. Not that this seemed to do any good, though; most of the people seemed to want to believe the nastier stories rather than the dull truth that it was a simple kiss.

Gryffindor's first Quidditch match, against Hufflepuff, was a near disaster. The Slytherins had created an enormous banner portraying himself (complete with firey hair) and Cho, necking at an increasingly maddening speed, then stopping to gasp for air. Harry was so distracted he kept weaving in and out of his teammates, almost careening straight into Ron, whom was hovering in front of the center goalpost and hadn't noticed him because he was too busy watching the Quaffle. Eventually, Professor McGonagall destroyed it with a Severing Charm, and once the Harry and Cho tapestry had been divided in two (and the occupants looked quite forlorn at this), he managed to catch the Snitch after his fourth sighting, and Gryffindor won, 180 to 110.

Meanwhile, Harry had had little opportunity to think about Hermione's problem, due to an utter lack of time to do so. There was also the matter that they hadn't really had a one-on-one conversation since Hogsmeade; it was hard to do so when in school, especially when both individuals don't use the same bathroom or the same dormitory. But Harry made a point of it to pat her on the shoulder now and then, just to make sure she knew he hadn't forgotten, and that hadn't got around to hating her, yet.

Another thing that disgruntled him through November was the absence of visions. Since he'd collapsed on the Hogsmeade trail, his scar had not prickled once all month. It was unnerving, and made him suspect that Voldemort was plotting something devious... and any plan that took a month to concoct was something to be wary of.

But the students, oblivious to the fact that Harry had other things on his mind, continued to goad him over his would-be pokefest with Cho. It was mainly because of this that he lingered in the classroom after Defense Against The Dark Arts one afternoon, near the end of the month. Ron and Hermione shot him quizzical looks as they left, but Harry waved them on.

Dumbledore, obviously realizing that Harry wanted to speak to him, waved his wand to shut the door after the last student had exited.

"What's troubling you, dear boy?" he asked, his twinking blue eyes at full attention.

"Well, sir, I erm... I was wondering if I could make an announcement to the school, as a whole."

"Ah." Dumbledore smiled, nodding slightly. "This will be about you and Miss Chang."

Harry's eyes snapped open. "You know-?"

"Of course. I would be a very dim headmaster, indeed, if I somehow neglected to overhear what's been on everyone's lips for four weeks. Since the start of this week, in fact, I've been almost expecting you to approach myself, or perhaps Professor McGonagall, with a plea such as this."

"But you... you don't believe them, do you, Professor?" Harry felt strangely uncomfortable with Dumbledore having heard that he was allegedly knobbing girls at random.

"I haven't believed one way or the other. Rumours are, after all, not the most trustworthy means of communication." Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "But your actions speak volumes. They tell me you have not, in fact, been engaging in any... 'extracurricular activities', as it were."

Harry sighed with relief. "Then may I? Address the school, that is, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that. It would be most disruptive, and would draw even more attention to the lie. The more attention you give a rumour, the more it thrives." He gave a small cough. "Not to mention that the content of what you would have to say would not, I daresay, be entirely school-appropriate. Therefore, I simply could not endorse such a message."

Harry glowered for a second, then sighed. He knew Dumbledore was right, but he still couldn't help wanting to just force everyone to hear him out...

"Before you go," Dumbledore said, interrupting his thoughts, "is there anything else you wish to mention?"

The vision. He hesitated, then realized that Dumbledore had most likely already used Legillimency to pick up on it.

"You probably already know."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows for a moment, then smiled. "Your mind grows keener every year, Harry. Yes, I am aware that you experienced pain in your scar upon your return from Hogsmeade. What did you see?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "It was just a flash of emotion... Voldemort was all pissy because he couldn't get his hands on something. That's all I felt, I didn't see anything or anyone."

"I see." The headmaster nodded slightly. "Well, I'm sure that with his ranks severely reduced, that feeling will haunt him often."

"But that's another thing," Harry said, pacing now. "I haven't had any visions, or feelings, or anything else since then. I'm afraid that... that he's planning something. Something big."

Dumbledore's face fell, ever so slightly. He sat there, simply watching Harry for a few moments, then said, "If there will be nothing else, Harry? I don't want to tie you up."

Harry stopped pacing. He had the distinct impression, though he could be wrong, that Dumbledore was in some sort of hurry, and wanted to be rid of him so he could get on with whatever he needed to.

"Erm, yes. I mean, no. I mean... thank you, Professor." And with that, he picked his schoolbag up and hurried from the classroom. Even as he shut the door behind him, he heard the POP! and flash of fire that signified Dumbledore had used Fawkes to depart.

The days wore on into December, and the ridicule, while it diminished marginally, did not die out. Harry's mere presence in the halls now sparked it, and if he and Cho were seen together in any way, it rose to ridiculous levels. He had reached the boiling point, and he was going to make sure everyone knew it.

"LOOK," he shouted one day in the hall, whirling around at the sound of giggling, "I haven't been knobbing Cho in the library! Not in the Great Hall, not on the Quidditch pitch, not in the bathroom, and CERTAINLY not in McGonagall's office! In fact, WHEN and IF Cho and I ever bunk up, I will PERSONALLY send you an owl detailing the full account!!!"

"Well, thank you," Cho said, smiling bemusedly. "I would like to have that for my records."

Harry let out a gust of air, his fury instantly giving way to embarassment. "Sorry." He wanted to try and get into that teacup again...

"It's okay." She looked down at the floor. "I've been having my share of it, as well. Some of the girls keep calling me... well, things I'd rather not repeat."

He looked up at her. For some reason, it had just now dawned on him that she probably wasn't enjoying this, either.

"Listen, Cho-"

"No, don't worry about me, I can handle it." She looked at him concernedly. "Better than you, it seems... I'm really sorry, if I'd known how they'd be behaving-"

"Don't apologize for that," Harry said, shaking his head. "Anything involving the Boy Who Almost Snuffed It-" He had been using this to refer to himself ever since the cave "-is an easy target for this kind of stuff. It's not your fault they're tainting something so..." He broke off.

Cho's face deepened a shade, and she lowered her voice. "It was nice, wasn't it?"

Harry tried not to grin, but his face rebelled against his brain. "Quite."

A gaggle of Cho's fellow Ravenclaws made kissing noises as they passed.

"Sod off!" she shouted after them, shaking her head. "And Ravenclaws are supposed to be so intelligent."

~*~

As the days grew yet colder, the list for who was staying over Christmas went around, and this year, very few students signed it. To Harry's surprise, Ron and Ginny had also refrained.

"We're visiting Charlie in Romania," Ron said apologetically. "I asked if you could come along, but dad said 'no'. I guess they don't want you to be in the line of fire... er, no pun intended."

"No pun implied," Harry said, smiling through his disappointment.

Hermione was the only other Gryffindor to sign up. Neville was going home to spend Christmas with his gran (and, as only Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione knew, visit his parents in the Closed Ward at St. Mungo's). Seamus and Dean were going home to visit their families, and most of the other Gryffindors had given the same reason. At breakfast, he asked Cho if any Ravenclaws had signed.

"Sorry, Harry," she said earnestly, "but I'm supposed to go with my parents to see my grandparents for the holidays. Luna's staying, though."

Somehow, this was not much consolation.

On the positive side, not a single Slytherin was staying this year. Harry wondered idly if Voldemort would be using Christmas to break them in as his new Death Eaters.

The very night this thought had bemusedly passed through his mind, his run of good luck was interrupted by another vision, one that made his scar shriek in agony and woke him in a cold sweat. The vision was so simple, so straightforward... and yet so malevolent.

Dumbledore was not in his office the next day. He was almost relieved at not having to burden the headmaster with the information, but it seemed pertinent that he inform someone.

Unfortunately, the next person he ran into was the last he would've selected.

"Planting yourself in front of the gargoyle until your beloved Headmaster returns, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape sneered, eyeing him with suspicion. Harry was still standing outside Dumbledore's office, thinking. "I'm afraid that will not be for a few days. If I were to return here in the night and find that you are still camped out on this spot, you will, of course, receive detentions."

Harry nodded and said "Yes, sir," mechanically. Then, as the Potions master turned to leave, he shouted, "Wait!"

"What is it, Potter?" He did not turn, the question issuing from a curtain of oily black hair.

"Professor..." He hesitated, but there was nothing else for it, now. As much as he despised him, there was a possibility Snape could help him - or at the very least, inform the Order. "I need to tell you something."

"Potter," he said loudly in a quite bored voice, "anything you may wish to tell me is undoubtedly trivial. I, on the other hand, have pressing matters to attend to, so if you please-"

"I've had a nice little dream," he cut in pointedly.

Snape turned, and his cold, dark eyes gave him a piercing glare, one he held for several lengthening seconds. "Be in my office in half an hour, and be certain this is no prank or ruse. There is enough on my mind without some child filling it with meaningless sputterings."

And with that, Snape whirled and stalked off.

~*~

"Well?"

When Harry had entered Snape's office, he had not noticed the Potions master was already seated behind his desk, fingertips pressed together in front of his oversize hooked nose. He jumped and spun around at the question.

"I told you not to waste my time, Potter. Be quick about this."

"Sir," he said, recovering, "last night, I had another vision."

Snape sighed in disgust. "Occlumency lessons, and for naught. Very well, what was the context of the vision?"

"I saw the back of a man," he said, gingerly sliding into the empty chair in front of the desk. "As he came closer - or I came closer, I suppose - he turned, and I saw it was Voldemort-"

"I see you still speak his name as if you were referring to your neighbourhood grocer," Snape said, his eyes narrowing.

"-and he was leering at me," he continued, as if Snape had never spoken. "He opened his mouth, and said, 'It won't be long, now, Potter.'"

Snape waited for more, but Harry just sat there.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah... then he started laughing that high, cold laugh of his."

An involuntary shiver passed through Snape, but other than this, he gave no more obvious reaction.

"Thank you for this colossal disappointment."

"But sir-"

"All you have told me is that he is readying for something. The Dark Lord is the most potent Dark wizard of our time, of COURSE he is readying. Such madmen are always plotting, scheming, and preparing for their next move.

"However, you have also shown me that he is still aware of your connection, and is continuing to exploit it. You have squandered all the knowledge I have taken the pains to try and drive through your thick cranium. Now, if you will kindly remove your useless derierre from my office..."


~*~ To Be Continued