The Reunion
Jul. 10th, 2004 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
edgThis is Harry Potter fan-fiction, the first I think I've ever written, and it's turned out darker than the original idea was.
1,253 words, about an hour. Comments and critique appreciated. Style and diction may be a little off, since I haven't actually read the books in a while and I'm, y'know, not English.
Harry thought it a little odd that he was the first person in the room. He always seemed to be late for everything - even at his own graduation he hadn't arrived on time, had had to be carried in by Hermione and Ron. But here he was, alone in the Great Hall, waiting for everybody else to show up.
It was strange, seeing the Hall without anybody in it, especially decorated as it was in gold and red: banners, streamers, an imperfectly sealed Box Serpent that was spitting fat colored sparks at random intervals. Harry wanted to shout, just to hear his voice echo, but he held his tongue. With his luck, the entire Slytherin year would walk in at that moment and spend the rest of the night shouting and teasing him about it.
In fact it was Albus Dumbledore who came in first, just as Harry had mustered the nerve to approach the buffet table. "Ah, good," said the headmaster, nodding in Harry's direction. "Everything seems to be in order, then." He winked, and Harry quickly backed away from the buffet. He didn't suspect that Dumbledore would be angry at him for sneaking food before the others arrived, but he didn't want to tempt fate more than he had to.
As Dumbledore proceeded to the head of the room, former students began to filter in. Harry caught sight of the Patil sisters, entering through separate doors, and wondered if they'd fallen out - Crabbe and Goyle entering together - Seamus and Dean, one after another. He watched classmates he hadn't seen in ten years walk through the doors, and felt shy and self-conscious. He - Harry Potter, the Man who Lived, the one person to whom every person in the room owed their lives - he, self-conscious! But there it was.
He tried to interact, to wave and talk, but everybody either just waved back or ignored him. It was true that he hadn't been the best-liked student in his class, but this was troubling. Had he done something wrong? Had he missed an owl? "Professor," he said, turning to where he'd last seen Dumbledore, but the headmaster wasn't there; in fact, as he turned and surveyed the room, Harry couldn't find Dumbledore anywhere.
He did, however, see Hermione and Ron enter, together, Ron in the comfortable clothes that his father had always preferred and Hermione in the studied, flowing robes of a professor. Harry broke into a grin and started toward them, but found himself nose-to-nose with someone he hadn't noticed coming in: Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy was thin and tall, just as Harry remembered, and he still had the old self-important bearing, but for once it wasn't reflected in his appearance. His silver hair and beard were tattered and unkempt, and his clothes were worn and frayed, as though Draco had gone years without replacing them. "Potter," he said, grinning. "Knew I'd find you here. You never could stay away, could you? Never knew what was best for you."
"It's my class as well, Draco," said Harry, annoyed. "Ten years and this is all you have to say to me? Hello to you too."
Draco tilted his head. "Of course - niceties. Some people can afford them, I suppose. Hello, Potter. How have the years treated you?" He laughed, not nicely, never taking his eyes from Harry's.
"As well as I could expect," Harry snapped, "given that I'm living under at least three death curses."
"Ah," said Draco, "but all three men who cursed you are dead, and by your hand! Don't you remember? Two by your wand, and one by the sword you so fortuitously happened upon. I will not, Potter, as long as I live, forget the scream of my father as you ran him through." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It is not every day you see your father killed."
Harry's cheeks flushed. "Listen, Draco-" he began, but Draco had leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Harry's.
"Thank you," said Draco, and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry was at a loss for words, but Neville Longbottom, of all people, saved him from having to react by bursting out of the crowd and taking Draco's wrist. "My God, you'd think I hadn't been tending you the last ten years the way I lost you in that crowd. Come on, Draco," he said, tugging at Malfoy's wrist and looking oddly at Harry. "Let's go see some of... the others," he finished, lamely.
Draco looked at Neville, then back at Harry. "As you like, Longbottom." Harry saw Draco's sneer settle back onto his face just before he turned his back.
Harry stood and watched Draco go, still not sure what he'd seen. He wasn't sure how long he was lost in thought considering the possibilities, but it was only Hermione appearing in front of him that brought him back to the gathering. "Hello, Harry," she said, quietly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Harry looked down. "Yeah, it has. How've you been?"
Hermione looked around nervously. "They made me a professor," she said. "I don't know if you'd know. When Professor MacGonagall was killed, they needed someone to fill her spot. I'm not Head of House, that fell to one of the other professors, but Albus - sorry, Dumbledore - says that I have promise, and..."
Harry smiled. "It's great news, Hermione. How's Ron? I haven't spoken to him yet."
Hermione returned his smile. "You should see the students nowadays. Without the threat of V-... Vol-... you know, I still don't like saying it. Without You-Know-Who around, everything seems... brighter. Like the last great evil has been vanquished and people are learning magic for the sake of learning magic."
Harry nodded. "We can hope..."
"But that bothers me, because what if You-Know-Who wasn't the last great evil? What if there's more danger out there? If nothing else, nobody ever caught the last of the Death Eaters." Hermione looked down. "And I feel responsible. I know nobody holds me accountable, but I should have done something. I should have been able to do something."
Harry reached out to Hermione, but she shook her head. "Hermione, blaming yourself only makes things worse. Don't you think you're talking to the one man on Earth who knows that?"
Hermione looked away, to the side, and Harry realized she was beginning to cry. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry none of this turned out like we intended."
Ron stepped up at that point, and took Hermione's hand. He didn't even look at Harry. "I don't know why Dumbledore lets this... thing in the room," he said, his jaw set.
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione, and Harry noticed the ring for the first time. It gleamed and twisted, and was made of gold and ruby, and made Harry wonder what else he didn't know. "It isn't dangerous. Not here." She reached out, and her fingers rested on the lenses of Harry's glasses - the same glasses she'd fixed with a basic spell seventeen years earlier. "Look at it. Everybody in the room sees the same thing in the mirror today."
Harry didn't know what to say.
1,253 words, about an hour. Comments and critique appreciated. Style and diction may be a little off, since I haven't actually read the books in a while and I'm, y'know, not English.
Harry thought it a little odd that he was the first person in the room. He always seemed to be late for everything - even at his own graduation he hadn't arrived on time, had had to be carried in by Hermione and Ron. But here he was, alone in the Great Hall, waiting for everybody else to show up.
It was strange, seeing the Hall without anybody in it, especially decorated as it was in gold and red: banners, streamers, an imperfectly sealed Box Serpent that was spitting fat colored sparks at random intervals. Harry wanted to shout, just to hear his voice echo, but he held his tongue. With his luck, the entire Slytherin year would walk in at that moment and spend the rest of the night shouting and teasing him about it.
In fact it was Albus Dumbledore who came in first, just as Harry had mustered the nerve to approach the buffet table. "Ah, good," said the headmaster, nodding in Harry's direction. "Everything seems to be in order, then." He winked, and Harry quickly backed away from the buffet. He didn't suspect that Dumbledore would be angry at him for sneaking food before the others arrived, but he didn't want to tempt fate more than he had to.
As Dumbledore proceeded to the head of the room, former students began to filter in. Harry caught sight of the Patil sisters, entering through separate doors, and wondered if they'd fallen out - Crabbe and Goyle entering together - Seamus and Dean, one after another. He watched classmates he hadn't seen in ten years walk through the doors, and felt shy and self-conscious. He - Harry Potter, the Man who Lived, the one person to whom every person in the room owed their lives - he, self-conscious! But there it was.
He tried to interact, to wave and talk, but everybody either just waved back or ignored him. It was true that he hadn't been the best-liked student in his class, but this was troubling. Had he done something wrong? Had he missed an owl? "Professor," he said, turning to where he'd last seen Dumbledore, but the headmaster wasn't there; in fact, as he turned and surveyed the room, Harry couldn't find Dumbledore anywhere.
He did, however, see Hermione and Ron enter, together, Ron in the comfortable clothes that his father had always preferred and Hermione in the studied, flowing robes of a professor. Harry broke into a grin and started toward them, but found himself nose-to-nose with someone he hadn't noticed coming in: Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy was thin and tall, just as Harry remembered, and he still had the old self-important bearing, but for once it wasn't reflected in his appearance. His silver hair and beard were tattered and unkempt, and his clothes were worn and frayed, as though Draco had gone years without replacing them. "Potter," he said, grinning. "Knew I'd find you here. You never could stay away, could you? Never knew what was best for you."
"It's my class as well, Draco," said Harry, annoyed. "Ten years and this is all you have to say to me? Hello to you too."
Draco tilted his head. "Of course - niceties. Some people can afford them, I suppose. Hello, Potter. How have the years treated you?" He laughed, not nicely, never taking his eyes from Harry's.
"As well as I could expect," Harry snapped, "given that I'm living under at least three death curses."
"Ah," said Draco, "but all three men who cursed you are dead, and by your hand! Don't you remember? Two by your wand, and one by the sword you so fortuitously happened upon. I will not, Potter, as long as I live, forget the scream of my father as you ran him through." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It is not every day you see your father killed."
Harry's cheeks flushed. "Listen, Draco-" he began, but Draco had leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Harry's.
"Thank you," said Draco, and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Harry."
Harry was at a loss for words, but Neville Longbottom, of all people, saved him from having to react by bursting out of the crowd and taking Draco's wrist. "My God, you'd think I hadn't been tending you the last ten years the way I lost you in that crowd. Come on, Draco," he said, tugging at Malfoy's wrist and looking oddly at Harry. "Let's go see some of... the others," he finished, lamely.
Draco looked at Neville, then back at Harry. "As you like, Longbottom." Harry saw Draco's sneer settle back onto his face just before he turned his back.
Harry stood and watched Draco go, still not sure what he'd seen. He wasn't sure how long he was lost in thought considering the possibilities, but it was only Hermione appearing in front of him that brought him back to the gathering. "Hello, Harry," she said, quietly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Harry looked down. "Yeah, it has. How've you been?"
Hermione looked around nervously. "They made me a professor," she said. "I don't know if you'd know. When Professor MacGonagall was killed, they needed someone to fill her spot. I'm not Head of House, that fell to one of the other professors, but Albus - sorry, Dumbledore - says that I have promise, and..."
Harry smiled. "It's great news, Hermione. How's Ron? I haven't spoken to him yet."
Hermione returned his smile. "You should see the students nowadays. Without the threat of V-... Vol-... you know, I still don't like saying it. Without You-Know-Who around, everything seems... brighter. Like the last great evil has been vanquished and people are learning magic for the sake of learning magic."
Harry nodded. "We can hope..."
"But that bothers me, because what if You-Know-Who wasn't the last great evil? What if there's more danger out there? If nothing else, nobody ever caught the last of the Death Eaters." Hermione looked down. "And I feel responsible. I know nobody holds me accountable, but I should have done something. I should have been able to do something."
Harry reached out to Hermione, but she shook her head. "Hermione, blaming yourself only makes things worse. Don't you think you're talking to the one man on Earth who knows that?"
Hermione looked away, to the side, and Harry realized she was beginning to cry. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry none of this turned out like we intended."
Ron stepped up at that point, and took Hermione's hand. He didn't even look at Harry. "I don't know why Dumbledore lets this... thing in the room," he said, his jaw set.
"Oh, Ron," said Hermione, and Harry noticed the ring for the first time. It gleamed and twisted, and was made of gold and ruby, and made Harry wonder what else he didn't know. "It isn't dangerous. Not here." She reached out, and her fingers rested on the lenses of Harry's glasses - the same glasses she'd fixed with a basic spell seventeen years earlier. "Look at it. Everybody in the room sees the same thing in the mirror today."
Harry didn't know what to say.
