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Harry Evans Chapter 57: Consequences
🕑 Added 2024-01-03 10:18:15 +0000 UTCHarry was not unused to going to sleep in a state of anxious waiting. He'd lived more than thirty years now, and he'd experienced it all. Going to sleep a day before a medical operation, dreaming about having one's sides cut open to remove a swollen appendix. Going to sleep with a family member in the ER after a horrendous car-crash, knowing that on the next day, he would find out if they were either alive or dead. He'd even gone to sleep once as a child in the U.S, on a family vacation, wondering if a plane was going to crash into their building as well.
He was used to getting whatever sleep he could get. He'd even started appreciating the somumbulus as a useful fast-forward button of eight to nine hours, when awaiting certain calls, e-mails, or results. However, as he lay on his back in a sleeping bag alongside the entirety of the Hogwarts student population, it wasn't his own thoughts, keeping him awake, but those of the other students.
Whispering spread through the great hall, unstoppable by the tired professors who patrolled, trying to tell people to stay quiet. Students were crying, rumour-mongering, figuring out who was missing. At one point a devastated Weasley trio consisting of Percy and the twins was led out, as it became clear that their elder brother was the only one not present.
Somehow, at some point, it was revealed that the werewolf who'd attacked Hogsmeade had also killed Madam Puddifoot, proprietor of madam Puddifoot's tea shop, her husband, and her two children.
Suffice to say, nobody got a whole lot of sleep that night, and Harry wondered about the sense of having congregated in the great hall. Did the staff think that the werewolf could enter Hogwarts, somehow? The only reason a student had died was because they'd been sneaking out for some sort of purpose, knowing Charlie Weasley, to find some magical creature that only came out under the full moon. Which, in this case, had certainly been found.
When the sun rose over the great hall, blinding everyone with its light which was communicated perfectly through the enchantments of the ceiling, a confused, tired, grumpy and scared mass of students cleared up the sleeping bags in which they'd spent the night and slowly but surely made their way over to their tables.
Harry sat between a stricken Penny and a dead-tired Cedric, as Dumbledore, whom people were seeing for the first time in a while, marched into the great hall, followed by the rest of the professors who were still missing. Not knowing if it was the horcruxes on his mind, or the werewolf, the old man looked the most severe that Harry had ever seen him. A big old frown on his face, but the facial expression was dwarfed by the sheer feeling of displeasure that radiated from the man.
Magical sense having improved enough for Harry to probe from a distance, he was able to feel that Dumbledore's magic was unrestrained. Leaking out of him. The second-year came to the realisation that as one trained to access one's magic, at some point it would become a process as easy as breathing, and something that one would need to learn how to control.
Stepping up to the podium from which the student body was generally addressed, he raised his wand, and with one swish, all the house-banners present in the great hall turned black. Contrasting horribly with the bright sun shining down on them all.
"Today marks a tragedy," Dumbledore began, framed by the dark countenances of the other professors already standing at the high table. "As some of you have already doubtlessly concluded or heard, a werewolf attack occurred at Hogsmeade yesterday, costing the magical world five lives." He swept his gaze over the hall, "One of these lives belonged to Charlie Weasley. A seventh year student, kind, talented and dutiful, he shall be missed dearly, and his disappearance shall be felt by all of us. A minute of silence."
Everyone lowered their heads, even the Slytherins. Perhaps the wounds of the blood war had begun to heal enough for the blood-traitor status of the victim to not matter. Or perhaps the disgust for creatures like werewolves was stronger than their dislike of blood-traitors.
A minute passed, before Dumbledore spoke again. "In light of this string of recent tragedies, I would ask all of you to support each other, to not leave the grounds and to respect the grieving process of those who have lost a family member," he said, doubtlessly referring to the Weasleys, of whom there were for the moment, four missing seats at the Gryffindor table. A heavy loss, as they currently made up 5% of Gryffindor. "Hogsmeade trips have been cancelled for the year," Dumbledore announced to no surprise, "and an auror task-force has been established to hunt the perpetrator. James Potter shall remain the professor for defence against the dark arts, as it is our belief that he can help protect the school the most if he remains within it. Classes for the day will be cancelled, but will continue as planned tomorrow. That will be all," he finished, and went to sit back in his high chair and loaded up his plate with food. He started eating demonstratively as everyone watched, as if trying to force everyone back into a sense of normalcy by sheer force of habit alone.
Harry joined in, the first of the students, taking some scrambled eggs and some toast. But in the corner of his eye, he kept an eye out for Tonks, whom he was supposed to meet today to discuss her study schedule. She looked horrible, staring at her plate like a corpse, and Harry wondered why she too hadn't been taken aside considering the very personal nature of her loss.
Did the staff simply not consider that losing a boyfriend would be only slightly less traumatic than losing a family member? Or had they not even known that the two had been dating. It would make sense in a way, as the professors really didn't have anything to look for in their students' love lives.
A flutter of owls announced the incoming barrage, and Harry readied himself for howlers that would likely come, telling children that they better not leave school grounds.
Although, did the parents of the Hogwarts students even know about the attack, and the death of a student? It had just happened that night, nobody had had time to send a letter home yet.
A glance at the daily prophet that Penny was holding up answered the question about when the parents would find out, and he grimaced as he read the title. "Horror at Hogsmeade, really?" he muttered as he started reading over Penny's shoulder.
The article wasn't anything special, simply saying what Dumbledore had already said. There was a slight jab at the ministry though, and the aurors, for being apparently incapable of locating and arresting the werewolf that had been wreaking havoc all over England for half a year now. The whole thing was emphasised with moving illustrations on how a werewolf transformation looked like.
For all the hate that Harry felt towards this one particularly horrible werewolf going on a murder-spree, he did feel a bit of pity for all the other werewolves whose image and likely, rights, would all go down the drain in the near future. This one monster was ruining the lives of all his contemporaries. For what, exactly?
"You're on the third page, Harry?" Penny asked curiously, as she flipped forward, getting green in the face at some of the graphic imagery on the first and second pages.
"In the mind of a genius?" Cedric asked, as he looked Harry up and down. "Mate, I don't know how to tell you, but I think there's a doppelganger of you running around, and he's pretending to be a genius."
Harry simply rolled his eyes as he quickly scanned the article that Skeeter had finally managed to get published. He didn't know if the third page was good or not, but at least this should negate the hit-piece the ministry had done on him previously. He looked quite fetching, casting a patronus at the reader, really. Like a really good boy learning all the good and light magic. Some sentences sprung out at him, and he mentally decided to work with Skeeter again in the future.
At age twelve Mr. Evans is already casting magic usually considered impossible for most Hogwarts alums. What exactly will he be doing by the time he's actually seventeen is a question that this reporter desperately wants answered today, instead of in five years. Perhaps Mr. "Call me Harry," Evans will be pursuing a mastery in charms, or becoming a researcher. All paths seemed to be open in this young man's future. Britain can rejoice for having helped produce another genius, who shall in time join the illustrious line of people who graduated from the gem of the British isles, Hogwarts.
"All paths seem to be open?" Penny asked doubtfully. "Did you not tell her about potions?" she asked.
Harry snorted and stood up. People were starting to discuss the werewolf article in loud and fearful voices, looking over a friend's shoulder to read the morning edition of the prophet if they didn't have a subscription of their own. This unbearable loudness and atmosphere was accompanied by furtive glances being thrown his way specifically. This told him that some people had started reading the article about him, too, and that it was time to leave before anyone gained the courage to come over and ask him insipid questions.
For all that he was willing to connive for a favourable article in the country's most popular magical newspaper, Harry was unwilling to waste his time in actually appearing approachable to his peers. The thing with wasting time was that it became easier and easier to do it, the more one did so. Harry didn't want to get into the habit.
"This whole werewolf thing is horrible," he muttered, only loud enough for his friends to hear, and left the great hall. "I'm going to go do some magic, have an additional full day when I can focus on just my projects. Try not to think about the attack too much. It's safe in the castle," he said in lieu of a good-bye and tried to catch Tonk's eye as he did so, but she was avoiding his gaze.
Today was supposed to be the day when they would have met to discuss her schedule and see if they could get her on track to becoming a good candidate for the auror academy. Naturally they'd planned the meeting after classes, which had now gotten cancelled. Also, considering the loss she'd just gone through, Tonks was likely to fall into an episode of grief which would make just upkeeping her previous school performance hard, let alone improving on it.
Nonetheless, Harry was going to go practice in the room they'd originally decided to meet in. He had a brain dead task to do and it didn't matter where he did it. Practising the disarming charm, as Flitwick had demanded. The sooner Harry got it up to snuff, the sooner they could start doing something else. He'd been practising it exclusively since their last meeting, and he did notice the slight improvement. He'd gotten rid of the wand-movement completely, could cast it in quick succession and the whole thing was draining his stamina less and less with each cast. Familiarity bred low magic costs when it came to spells. Perhaps Voldemort's killing curse strained the man as much as a child's levitation charm, considering how much he'd liked throwing that spell around in the books.
-/-
"Expelliarmus," Harry cast at the wall of the abandoned class-room, the Hogwarts wards making sure that he wasn't chipping the stone.
8721, he counted in his head.
"Expelliarmus," a soft red beam hit the wall with a thunk. The sound of stone hitting stone.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
He'd transitioned back into using the incantation after the first hour of practice, being to mentally drained to not use it.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
After the second hour he'd started using the wand-movement.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
After the third he'd slipped on his magical sensing, the introspection he used to observe the specific way in which the spell formed inside of him.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
Now he was just casting it without any thought.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
Automatically.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
He felt like he was looking at his body from a third-person perspective.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The casting was completely unconscious, allowing him to hold a completely different stream of thought as he went through the motions.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The spell wasn't slowly bleaching its colour because Harry was trying to learn how to camouflage it, to make it more difficult for an opponent to dodge, but because his grasp on his magic was slipping away.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
He was on his fifth hour of practice.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The longest he'd ever gone at once.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The cancelling of classes had provided him with a golden opportunity to reach the 10.000 mark he'd set as a goal sooner than expected.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The intervals between each instance were growing longer, not shorter, but Harry knew that once he rested and restarted tomorrow, he would have made immense progress.
"Expelliarmus," another one.
The door to the room creaked open and Harry mechanically turned around, in the same pose, to face the interloper.
8739.
Tonks raised her hands in the air. "I come in peace," she slurred through deeply bagged eyes. She looked like shit. Her pink hair was more washed out than neon, and she looked like someone had shoved their hand in her chest cavity and pulled out her heart.
Harry knew the feeling, intimately.
"Expelliarmus," he said in lieu of a greeting, as he rebolstered his wand. He shook his head, switching to the first person point of view again, before fixing his words. "Sorry, hello."
"Hello yourself," Tonks said with a brittle grin. "How long have you been at it, for you to forget how to talk?" she asked.
"Since breakfast," Harry admitted, causing Tonks to gape at him.
"I'm sorry for making you wait so long."
Harry shook his head. "I was not waiting. I was practising in a place you might find me."
"Anything interesting, or just the disarming jinx?"
"Just that."
"Harry," Tonks started quietly. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"I'm quite fine, actually," Harry said, surprised that he was getting asked that question, and that he wasn't the one posing it. "Why do you ask?"
"Breakfast was ten hours ago," Tonks said and finally entered the room completely, closing the door behind her.
"I guess I lost track of time," Harry said blithely, surprised he'd lost track that thoroughly, but he had been in quite a bit of a trance. "How come you're here?" he asked. "I understand if you'd need some time to come to terms," he said, perhaps more bluntly than it would have been good.
"I wrote down a schedule, how much time I spend in class, how much time I practise, learn, and hang out with friends and…" Tonks trailed off, before shaking her head. "It's not the schedule of someone taking their dream seriously," she admitted.
"Can I see?" Harry asked, and got a small roll of parchment pushed into his hands. He unfurled it and checked it out.
There was class-work, a heavier work-load than he himself had currently. Then there was a lot of time spent with friends, a lot of time spent with the now deceased Charlie Weasley. During the week maybe two hours a day of studying and home-work, on Saturday four and on Sunday nothing. It was basically how much was necessary to keep up in class when one reached the NEWT level.
"I see," he said and handed the schedule back. "Your grades are good though, right?" he asked.
"O in transfiguration and DADA, EE in Charms, Potions, care of magical creatures. A in ancient runes."
"Sounds about right. If you push an O in the subjects you have an EE in, that would be enough to make you a contender by grades alone," Harry muttered while he thought.
"How much time do you think I'd need for that?" Tonks asked curiously.
"Well, I don’t know about your study pace, but if you invested an extra two hours daily in all of those subjects, you'd probably manage unless you're hideously untalented," he said. "I think it would also be smart to work that DADA and Transfiguration into an O+ though. It's the subjects the aurors will most appreciate. Direct combat potential."
Tonks shook her head. "To get an O+ you need to get like 98% on your exams, it's almost impossible."
"It's not worth it wasting several hours pushing those 2%. I agree," Harry said. "A much better way would be to keep your outstanding performance in the subjects, and to get yourself some extra-curricular spells to impress the examiners with. I have one for DADA and charms, but it's probably not the time to practise that. Maybe next year. It's really not as hard as it's made out to be," he mumbled, as he tried to think of a way to impress McGonagall.
"Patronus, how did you do it?" Tonks asked, causing Harry to look up in surprise. "I saw the article in the daily prophet," Tonks elaborated.
"Well, practice, of course. I think it took me cumulatively 30 hours to get the specific emotional state down?" he wondered aloud. "So basically, if you start practising next year, and invest two hours every Sunday, you could have it in four months and then go work for transfiguration."
"I don't really feel like I'll ever be happy again," Tonks said.
"I'd suggest just straight out asking McGonagall as to what would be impressive enough for an O+ in her opinion and then working towards it. You have more than a year. If you ask now you could read up on all the theory during the summer and work on the practical part during the year," Harry said, switching the topic.
"Is that how you would do it?" Tonks asked curiously. "If you wanted to become an auror, I mean."
Harry considered the hypothetical. Naturally he'd already reached the point of his pedigree where he could pick mostly whatever job he wanted after school, as long as his grades didn’t drop completely during his NEWTs. Advancing, patronus, duelling tournament soon.
"If I were in your shoes. I'd try to get all my core subjects and care of magical creatures to an outstanding. Then, I'd go down the list for what is most important to the auror academy and try to get one extra-curricular project for the plus at a time. Learn the patronus first. Then once I have that I'd do something for transfiguration, then charms, then potions, then care. I'd go for the professors of all these subjects and tell them what I'm trying to do. Firstly they can help point me in the right direction. Secondly they have some influence and might even be willing to write me a letter of recommendation. During the summer I'd try to do some sort of relevant internship, or participate in an impressive hobby, like the duelling circuit," he eventually said.
"You have some sort of deal with professor Potter, don't you?" Tonks asked.
"Isn't your cousin Sirius Black, wouldn't that offer you an in?" Harry asked. "Also, isn't he Professor Potter's best friend?"
Tonks shook her head. "I want to get in on my own merit and while I could ask my cousin, I've never met the professor much. He seems to work a lot, and what free-time he has he spends with his son and with Sirius and Harley. They're their own unit. I'm just a cousin…"
"Well, I currently have a deal with professor Potter where I grade the first-year essays and he gives me one hour of private instruction. If you want I could take you with me tomorrow and you could try to convince him to let you cut some sort of similar deal. It's a good revision too, anyway. Correcting essays," Harry said.
"You would do that?" Tonks asked surprised.
"It's no skin off my back, I can even tell you what he's most probably going to work on first. If you prepare for that, you can impress him. Well, as long as you don't let it slip that you knew about it beforehand," he said.
"What is it?" Tonks asked curiously.
It seemed to Harry that she was using this plan they'd made together, to make her more likely to get into auror academy, to distract herself. Which was actually a good and productive way of handling that. Distracting oneself with something one needed to do anyway.
"I can't replicate it, obviously. But it consists of him sending different animals at you. You have to untransfigure the ones that have been conjured, and blast apart those that have been transfigured. You could practise quickly switching between those two spells and it would improve your chances of not getting clowned on like I did the first time we did that drill," Harry said.
"Can I practise here, with you for now?" Tonks asked, and Harry nodded.
"Sure, practise away. We'll go visit the professor tomorrow."
AN: Sorry for being a tad absent recently. Everything back to normal now. Home in two days and can resume regular workflow. Getting towards the end of this year, which is exciting.
Comments
Soraslove
I feel like hard work is a talent of it's own. Like most people won't put in the time to really get what they want in life, Tonks is a case in point of this.
bor902
He's talented at magical sensing and the mind arts. Even with the amount of effort he's put in, his results shouldn't have been that fast. IMO
bor902
Well that's good, that means you're in the right place
Ozzy117
Does Harry actually have any talents in any fields of magic? He sucks at potions and seems medicore at everything else. Anything that he's naturally good at (Magical Affinity)? Like Cedric is with Transfiguration, feels like Harry's had to spent hours for literally everything.
Green0Photon
Man, I do love this Harry ~~Potter~~ Evans fic
carebear90
I just hope the Werewolf is someone like Greyback and not alternate Lupin. :(
Gävert Tim
Thanks for the chapter 👍
