Chapter Text
Harry woke up screaming. Again.
He was tangled in his sheets, drenched in sweat. The quilt and most of the pillows were on the floor, he must have kicked them off at some point in the night. With a sigh, he sat up and turned toward the window. It was still dark outside. Freeing himself from the tangle of sheets, he stood and pressed his head to the cool glass of the window.
Quirrell again. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the man unwrapping his turban or felt his boot slamming into back. Or worse—saw the blood pouring out of his neck, thick, red and hot. He hadn’t properly slept in days.
It had only been a little over a week since term had ended, and Harry had spent all of it locked inside the cottage. He hadn’t even stepped into the back garden.
“Just go outside,” the portrait kept telling him. The garden needed tending, he was running low on food, Carys invited him to come help her brew and Hannah was now writing to him multiple times a day. First inviting him over, now demanding the same.
But he felt stuck, caught in a loop of guilt and fear. He looked down at his still bandaged palm. Fingers hesitating too pull it back and see the still healing gash from the mirror shard. The mirror shard that he had killed Quirrell with. He half hoped that the wound would heal faster, but another part, a much louder part felt he deserved the pain.
He wiggled a finger under the bandage and pulled it loose. It looked the same as it did last night. Maybe it would never heal.
Harry rummaged through the books he hadn’t unpacked from his trunk, searching for something to read. Nothing sounded interesting so he closed his eyes and fished one out at random. It was the Occlumency book Professor Snape had given him.
He sighed. He’d never given it back. And worse, he hadn’t even been practising since leaving school. It would help him sleep, he knew that, but did he deserve that rest?
“It wasn’t my fault” He chanted to himself as he padded down the stairs. Henry told him that every day, the same as Hannah had and Professor Snape.
Maybe if he said it enough he would believe it.
The kitchen was pristine. Harry had spent most of the week cleaning the house from top to bottom without using magic, scrubbing until his hands were raw. It was almost like being back at the Dursley’s, cleaning was Aunt Petunia’s favorite punishment and surely he deserved it now more than he ever had then.
By night he was exhausted, but when he lay down, he tossed and turned, restless and unable to sleep. And when he finally did, the dreams were worse.
The kettle began to whistle. He poured himself a cup of tea and opened the cold storage cabinet. Nearly empty. There was nothing for it, if he didn’t go out soon, he’d starve.
He paused outside the sitting room, the portrait would just tell him to go out. His stomach rumbled as he thought again of the empty cabinet.
I have to do something, he thought, leaning his head against the wall. He was so tired.
I can’t go on like this.
Instead of settling into the sitting room, he made his way out the front door.
By the time he got to the back garden, the sky was beginning to lighten. It was almost sunrise. The cool, crisp morning air felt wonderful on his skin after spending a week locked inside. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, smelling the woodsy pine scent of the woods. When he opened his eyes, he focused on the woods beyond the cottage garden, beyond the wards. They were so similar to his forest, the woods in his mind. That comforting smell, the sounds of the birds, it was all so familiar, so soothing. He trailed his fingers over the cover of the book and sat down on the ground.
He flipped it open to a marked page, his favorite of the meditation exercises in the book. One he had done countless times before, and yet he felt unsteady starting it. As if he was only learning the path in his forest for the first time. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, beginning the meditation. Hopefully, Professor Snape wouldn’t mind that he’d never returned the book.
The sunlight on his face stirred him out of the shady woods in his mind. He opened his eyes slowly, he wasn’t sure how long he had been meditating but it was fully light now. The sunlight reflected off the morning dew made the plants around him glisten. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw the buzzing, golden glow of fairies around a cluster of sunflowers. It seemed the fairies he’d released after Yule had taken up a more permanent residence in his garden. Just like the portrait said they would.
“Today will be different,” He said aloud.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he went inside and wrote to Hannah and promised to go over that afternoon.
Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he wrote to Professor Snape as well:
Dear Professor Snape,
I hope you are well. I’m sorry to bother you over the summer. I still have the book you lent me and forgot to return it at the end of term. I apologise for the oversight. Would it be alright if I kept it for the summer? It’s been incredibly helpful. I promise I’ll bring it back at the start of the school year.
Regards,
Henry Potter
He read the letter before sealing it into a scroll. There was so much more he wanted to say to the professor, but he wasn’t quite sure how. Besides, he didn’t think Professor Snape would like to be bothered by students during the summer holiday. Hopefully, he wasn’t mad that Harry hadn’t returned the book. There was still so much more to learn.
“I’m going out today,” he told the portrait, “to see Hannah.”
“Good,” Henry replied. “I know it’s hard right now, my boy, but seeing your friends will help.”
It had taken several days, but Harry had told the portrait everything: his rising suspicions about Quirrell, how he and his friends had followed him, the trapdoor, the Mirror, the Stone, Quirrell… and even Voldemort.
Usually, it helped to talk. Harry trusted the portrait of his great-great-grandfather more than anyone. But this wound was slow to heal.
“It will help, I promise,” Henry said again with a soft smile.
Harry did his best to smile back. He had wallowed enough. It wasn’t his fault. He had plans for the summer. He’d wasted enough time already.
Hannah tackled him into a bone-crushing hug the moment he stepped through the Floo. She pulled back to look him over.
“Oh, Merlin,” she said. “You look awful, Henry. Are you sleeping at all?”
She hugged him again. Then smacked him on the arm. “That’s for waiting a week to come see me.”
Harry laughed and hugged her again. Relief washed over him as she squeezed him closer, it was so good to see her. She didn’t think any different of him, she still wanted to be his friend. He knew that, of course, but feeling it was something else. He felt lighter already.
The pair made their way quickly through the house, Hannah pausing in the kitchen to grab them some snacks and then giving him a playful shove out the back door.
“You need more sun,” she said, appraising his pale skin. “You look like you haven’t stepped outside all week!”
Harry grimaced at the accurate assessment.
“You’re here now,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s what matters. No more hiding, though. I’ve got big plans for this summer.”
“You do?” he asked, surprised. She hadn’t mentioned anything at school or in any of her letters.
“Oh yes. I want in on your little shops adventure. I know you go all over the place! I don’t know why we never do that—we only ever go to the same spot nearby or Diagon Alley. Silly, really. My mum’s flat out at work, so we’ve got loads of unsupervised time. Ian won’t mind. You’ve got to show me your favourites! And wherever you found that cassette player for Justin!”
“All right,” said Harry, smiling at her enthusiasm. “We should take Justin too, I promised I’d show him how to use the Floo.”
Hannah nodded. “Mad that he’s never used it before!”
Harry shrugged. “When would he have? Who would’ve shown him? I’d never used it before last summer, either.”
Hannah frowned.
“That reminds me, I was at Susan’s the other day. I talked to her aunt, you should too. Madam Bones. You’d like her—very formal, but nice. Bit like you,” she added, nudging him.
Harry laughed.
“But Justin was right—look.” She pointed her wand at a flower. “Engorgio.”
The flower grew to the size of her face.
“Go on, then,” she said. “You shrink it.”
Harry hesitated. He hadn’t done any magic so far this summer, too caught up in his own downward spiral. But now that she’s mentioned it, his mind turned back to the Trace and the letters they’d received at the end of the school year.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“Reducio,” he said. The flower returned to normal size.
He had practised those charms along with the warming charm loads after winter break last year to hopefully make his journeys through the woods by the cottage easier.
“Behind most wards, the Ministry can’t even sense anything,” Hannah explained. “And even then, the Trace only tracks where magic was done, not who did it. It only flags anything in places where magic isn’t common. They can’t tell who cast the spell—just that magic happened somewhere it usually doesn’t. It’s ridiculously useless, honestly. They only investigate if it’s dangerous or if Muggles need obliviating.”
Her voice rising, as her rant sped up.
“Justin was right,” Harry said.
She nodded.
“But,” she added, dropping her voice to a whisper even though no one was around, “if he comes here—or if we’re out in the magical world—we can practise whatever we like.”
“You troublemaker,” Harry said dramatically. “You’ll be giving the Weasley twins a run for their money next year.”
They both giggled. The portrait had been right; Harry needed his friends. He felt so much lighter already.
Mrs Abbott came home and had lunch with them before returning to work and afterwards, Ian took Harry out flying. The rush of wind seemed to lift his spirits even more, it was simply impossible to feel anything remotely negative while flying. When they landed, Ian ruffled his hair and pulled him into a quick hug.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Henry. Hannah’s been worried. You were so ill at the end of term.”
“I’m getting better,” Harry said with a shy smile.
“Good! Got to be in top form for try-outs next year!”
“I want to get my own broom,” said Harry.
Ian looked thoughtful. “Maybe a Nimbus—good for a Seeker. They’ve got a new model coming out, so you might get a deal on the old one. Or you could go for the new one. The prototype was at Spintwitches during the last Hogsmeade weekend.”
“I’ve not been to Hogsmeade yet,” Harry said.
“Course not. You’ll have to wait for third year.”
“Why?” said Harry. “I mean, I know during term, but nothing stopping us over the summer, right? Surely we could Floo somewhere into town.”
“Huh,” said Ian. “Never thought of that. I wonder what it’s like in summer. Must be quiet. Want to go tomorrow?”
“Really? You want to come?”
“Of course!” he exclaimed, grabbing Harry by both shoulders, “Your first broom!”
Hannah, unsurprisingly, was on board. They sent a letter to Justin, and Harry offered to collect him and show him how to Floo.
Before he left, Hannah hugged him again.
“If you disappear on me again, I will hunt you down,” she said sternly. “Understood? No more hiding.”
Harry hugged her back.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Harry stopped at the shops in Cardigan and picked up some groceries on the way home. He cycled back to the cottage as the sun began to set. The woods were quiet and beautiful. In the freezing cold, they’d been unpleasant, but now, in the warmth of summer, bathed in fading golden light, they were utterly peaceful.
Harry was absolutely exhausted from the day, so tired he could hardly recount it to the portrait. He kept yawning mid-sentence. Before bed, he checked his post box. There were three letters: one from Justin, agreeing to their plan for tomorrow; one from Carys, asking again when he wanted to start brewing; and finally, one from Professor Snape:
Mr Potter,
Your failure to return the book at the end of term is forgiven. Given all that occurred, it is understandable. Continue to use it over the summer. I will assess your progress in Occlumency upon your return to school. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to owl. Otherwise, I shall see you at the start of term.
Professor S. Snape
Harry smiled down at the letter, he missed the snarky potions professor. He grabbed one of the sleeping draughts the professor had sent him home with and drank it in a single swallow. Curling up in bed, he settled into his usual bedtime meditation, visualising the quiet woods and his winding path. With the help of the potion, he drifted quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep. For the first time in a week, he slept peacefully through the night.
For the first time since he’d been home, he woke feeling properly rested. He took a long shower and carefully styled his hair, his fingers snagging on some especially unruly ends. His hair had gotten a bit long again, he’d have to visit the salon in Cardigan soon. Funny, really, how little his hair seemed to grow. He hadn’t had it cut since Yule.
After breakfast, he wrote back to Carys, agreeing to start brewing on Tuesday and asking if he could also schedule an appointment with her mum.
Harry used the floo at Gringotts, and stopped at his vault to restock his coin bag before quickly darting through Diagon Alley and out into the Muggle side of London. It was early in the day and no one noticed him, besides Gringotts he wanted to avoid the Alley as much as possible. On the Muggle side, he slowed his steps and lifted his head to take in the bustling city around him. Unlike on the wizarding side, London was already wide awake, full of people making their way to work. The tube to Belgrave Square was crowded, Harry pressed close to the wall to avoid accidentally swaying into anyone else as he was jostled by the bumpy ride.
“Harry!” Came an excited cry just before he stepped off the escalator.
He waved to Justin who was waiting for him at the top.
“Alright?” Harry asked, “I thought we were meeting at yours?”
“My parents are being weird,” he said, shrugging. “It’s nothing. Come on.”
Justin didn’t say anything else as Harry followed him towards the train for King’s Cross.
“If you ever want to talk about it,” Harry said as they stepped onto the train, “or if you need help, I’m here.”
Justin smiled faintly and gave him a little nod but didn’t say anything else about his parents. The tube was even more crowded than the one Harry had taken to Justin’s house. They jostled as the train bumped along, and Justin knocked Harry into a woman in suit who gave him a scathing look.
“Sorry, Madam.” He said and Justin sniggered. He purposefully knocked into Justin as the tube came to a stop and then they were both giggling as they darted through the doors and up the stairs to Kings Cross Station.
The station was crowded with commuters, and no one was paying them any mind, so it was easy to stroll casually through the barrier between platforms Nine and Ten. After the crowded commute the abandoned platform felt eerily quiet and still.
“It’s weird to think this has always just been here my whole life,” Justin whispered peering around Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
“I know,” Harry agreed. “I wonder how often it gets used besides the start and end of term. D’you think there are other magical trains?”
“There must be,” Justin said, looking around the empty platform. “Otherwise it’s such a waste of space.”
He looked apprehensively at the fireplace as they approached it.
“It feels weird at first,” Harry said reassuringly, “but it’s pretty easy. Just take a pinch of the powder, toss it in, say where you want to go, and step in. You’ve got to speak clearly, though, and you need to know the Floo name of where you’re going. Want to go first? It’s ‘The Three Broomsticks.’”
Harry held out the bag of powder. Justin took a pinch, gave him a sceptical look, then nodded.
“The Three Broomsticks,” he said, and stepped into the flames.
Harry smiled as Justin whirled away, then followed.
He stepped out into a sunny, cosy-looking pub. It wasn’t busy, it was still early, but the windows were open, and tables were set outside beneath striped umbrellas.
Harry grinned up at Justin, who was covered in soot. He tapped his wand and cast the robe-straightening charm, which shook out all the dust as well.
Justin raised an eyebrow.
Harry shrugged. “You were right about the Trace. Hannah talked to Susan’s aunt. Basically, you’re fine doing magic as long as you’re not alone in the Muggle world.”
Justin sighed and shook his head.
“Hannah says you can come round to hers and practise. She’s also keen on coming along with me to visit the shops. Now that you can Floo, we could all go?”
Justin nodded. “Still not fair, though.”
“No, it isn’t,” Harry agreed.
They waved at the barmaid as they passed and stepped into the sun.
“Wow,” Justin said, turning away from the shops. “The castle looks beautiful from here.”
Harry turned to look up at Hogwarts in the distance. The silver-grey stones of the castle shining proudly in the sun, mountains in the background. A fairytale come to life, it really was a spectacular view.
“Still wild to think we go to school in a castle,” Harry said. “I couldn’t even have imagined a place like this when I was younger.”
Harry pulled out his shops map to show Justin while they waited for Hannah and Ian. Carefully unfolding the map he had gotten from the Muggle-born section of Flourish and Blotts almost a year ago. They could see all of the U.K., dotted with little purple and green circles to mark the wizarding shops and public floo points. Along the sides all Harry’s notes from the places he’d been. He’d been meticulous noting every place he’d been: what kind of shop it was, whether there were other locations, and names of other places to visit that he’d learned about on his wanderings. He didn’t usually bring it out with him, but Hannah had asked to see it.
A few minutes later, Hannah and Ian found them hunched over the parchment.
“Is this the map, then?” Hannah asked.
He showed her.
“You’ve really been to all these places?” Ian asked, squinting at the tiny, handwritten notes layered across the printed parchment.
“Most of them,” Harry said. “Some are second locations I’ve heard about, or shops other people told me about.”
“That’s brilliant,” Hannah said. “Look how many you’ve been to!”
“Very handy,” Ian added. “You could sell this one day. Make a proper directory. It’s mad there’s nothing like that already.”
Harry beamed at the praise.
“The broom shop’s this way,” Ian said, pointing up the road.
As they walked, Hannah asked questions about the shops and Ian narrated like a tour guide. A bell chimed as they stepped into Spintwitches, and a friendly wizard looked up from behind the counter.
“Alright, chaps!” he called. “Don’t get many students browsing over the summer.”
“Got the new Nimbus in yet?” Ian called back.
“Not till next week, I’m afraid.”
Ian turned to the counter and grinned. “Then I’m sure you’ve got a deal on the old model. Henry here needs a broom!”
Ian clapped Harry on the shoulder and nudged him forward. The wizard pulled a sleek broom onto the counter. Everyone stepped closer.
“Well,” the shopkeeper said, “I could maybe do a small discount…”
“Hufflepuff to Hufflepuff,” Ian said cheerfully. “Henry’s a shoo-in for Seeker next year.”
Harry smiled at that. He looked around the shop while Ian haggled. A few minutes, and a pile of galleons later, Harry was the proud owner of a brand-new Nimbus 2000.
“Wow,” he breathed, cradling it reverently as they left the shop.
Ian led them to a few other shops. Harry allowed the others to pull him past the bookstore, even though he wanted to go in but did insist they stop at Scrivenshafts’ where Harry restocked his inks and parchments. There were a few clothing shops, including one that exclusively sold Hogwarts paraphernalia.
“A good place to grab gifts,” Ian told them, as Harry stared at the lurid sign that was flashing between all four house colors.
They walked past a frilly looking tea shop, fancy restaurant that wasn’t open yet and a few others before Ian steered them towards a large sweets shop. The windows were painted with colorful sweets, that spun and danced around and Harry could hear music coming from inside.
“Welcome to Honeydukes! a cheery, older witch cried, the delicious smell of chocolate flooding their noses as soon as they stepped inside.
Harry and Justin went to the counter to buy some sweets, asking Ian a million questions to distract him so Hannah could sneak next door to buy a few prank items from Zonko’s. She winked at Harry as she flashed a shopping bag at him and then shoved it inside her knapsack so Ian wouldn’t see. After shopping, they had lunch at The Three Broomsticks, where Ian ordered iced Butterbeers for everyone.
“Just wait until your third year,” he said. “The hot Butterbeer is my favorite, it warms you right up in winter.”
Harry loved the sweet, caramelly taste. It reminded him of treacle tart, but in drink form.
“Way better than pumpkin juice,” Justin said with enthusiasm.
Harry nodded, though he liked pumpkin juice too. He tried not to overindulge, his healer had talked to him about his diet when he was on the nutrition potions. But, he had definitely developed quite a sweet tooth since starting at Hogwarts.
Harry paid for everyone’s lunch after a brief argument with Ian.
“My thanks,” Harry said, “for helping with the broom.”
His heart fluttered when Ian smiled at him, and he quickly looked away, only to catch Hannah’s knowing grin. She waggled her eyebrows playfully and he scowled back at her.
“You’ll have to come round and practise,” Ian said brightly, breaking the moment. “We can get a whole group together!”
Harry Flooed back to King’s Cross Station with Justin and handed him a small pouch of Floo powder.
“So you can keep meeting us,” he said.
Justin smiled. “Thanks. It’ll be good to get out.”
Harry thought he sounded a little sad.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Harry asked, nudging Justin’s foot gently with his own.
“Yeah, fine,” Justin said at first. Then he hesitated, shrugged, and added, “I don’t know. My parents have started calling Hogwarts Saint Columba’s, even when it’s just the three of us at home. Now that Cora has finished her A-Levels, they’ve started talking about my GCSEs. They’ve hired this tutor, he’s so awful. It’s like they’re trying to forget I’m a wizard.”
“I’m sorry, Justin,” Harry said quietly.
Justin shrugged again. “I’ll be all right. I do wonder, though…How do other people’s parents cope?”
He glanced sideways at Harry, clearly hoping for an answer.
Harry felt his cheeks grow warm and looked down. “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask,” he said slowly. “My aunt and uncle... it’s not...” He sighed, then mumbled, “They don’t really like much of anything, really.”
Justin inhaled sharply. “Are you alright, Henry?” he asked.
Harry looked up and met his gaze.
“I am, Justin. Really. I... I can’t say much more than that.”
Justin held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “If you ever need help—”
“A Hufflepuff is never alone,” Harry finished.
They exchanged another brief smile before Justin turned and passed through the barrier to the Muggle side. Harry watched him go, then turned back and stepped into the Floo to head home.
Seeing his friends, buying a broom, and finally getting a few good nights of sleep did wonders for Harry’s mood. He was still having the occasional nightmare, but now that he was practicing Occlumency again, they were less frequent and far less vivid than before.
He began spending more time outdoors, tending the garden, painting the leaves of plants with sugar water to coax the fairies out or flying lazy circles around the cottage. He made sure to stay within the wards, which he could feel extended about twenty feet above the roof. It wasn’t enough space to truly train, but it he didn’t mind. It felt so good to be in the air, plus it let him grow comfortable on his new broom. The Nimbus 2000 was so much faster and more responsive than any of the school brooms. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Ian or the older kids from school.
Ian, not Hannah, had owled Harry to invite him to fly with a group the following weekend. A huge grin spread across his face as he’d read the letter, the prospect of more flying combined with Ian’s attention enough to make him feel positively giddy.
In an effort to get out of the house more, he also spent time in Cardigan. Wandering around the beachy-Muggle side and visiting the little Wizarding street. This was his hometown now, he supposed, he wanted to get to know it. While he was in town, he bought some new Muggle clothes, stopped for a haircut and paid a visit to Mr Davies at the Curios shop. Mr Davies asked after his grades and gave a satisfied nod when Harry shared the results, especially that he’d placed third in History of Magic. As usual, Harry left the shop with a small stack of books tucked under his arm, all of them on history this time. Mr Davies also showed him a charm to disguise wizarding books while reading them in the Muggle world.
After that, Harry started frequenting the beach more often. He read leisurely in the sun or even joined in games with other children on the sand. His skin had taken on a healthy glow now that he was outside regularly again. Back at the cottage, he brewed a fresh batch of sun-protection potion in his grandfather’s lab, along with a handful of other simple first-aid brews he’d learned over the year. He stocked the stasis cabinet with his own potions, proud to see it filling with his work.
The more Harry did, whether working in the garden, venturing into town, or simply tackling his summer homework, the better he felt. The portrait was there to encourage him every step of the way, offering help with assignments, engaging him in historical debates, and sharing more stories about their family.
By the time the appointed day to start brewing with Carys arrived, Harry was practically bouncing with anticipation. He was thrilled to see his friend again and eager to do more advanced brewing.
Carys greeted him with a giant hug as soon as he stepped through the Floo, lifting him off the ground in her enthusiasm. Healer Lincroft and her husband were away for a few weeks, so Harry wouldn’t have his check-up until her return, but Carys had plenty of brewing to do in the meantime and was excited to get started. She set Harry to work prepping ingredients while they caught up. He told her about school and his grades, though he left out the events at the end of the year, and she shared her own updates.
She was now spending two days a week brewing at St Mungo’s to earn hours for her Mastery.
“The Mastery work is slow-going,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll get there with the brewing time, but the real trouble is finding a research project—or someone to sponsor one. It’s hard to make real progress without an apprenticeship. But there are so few Masters in the UK, and even less who will take someone on.”
Harry wondered how Snape had managed it so young. Carys was brilliant and dedicated, but still had years ahead of her. Since Harry was hoping to become a potions master himself one day, he’d looked up the steps to become one. A candidate needed a certain number of hours in a certified lab, like St Mungo’s, or under another Potions Master. Cary’s work for her mother didn’t count. On top of that, you had to contribute to ongoing research, publish original work under a Master, and eventually complete a thesis and defend it in front of an international board of masters. Snape had done that all by twenty-one, while spying during a war. Harry couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like.
On Sunday, Harry returned to the Abbotts’ house for the quidditch match. Ian had assembled a group of mostly older students, but Harry was glad to see Megan there as well. She fussed over his new broom excitedly. There were others he recognised too: the Weasley twins, who’d come along with their neighbour, Cedric Diggory. Percy Weasley, who was friendly with Ian through their prefect duties, was there as well. Harry was introduced to him while greeting the other soon-to-be sixth-year, Hufflepuff prefect, Pearl and her friend Penelope Clearwater—the Ravenclaw prefect who Professor Sprout had once mentioned was working on her GCSEs. The three of them were speculating on who they thought this year’s head boy and girl would be as well as who might be named prefect over the next few years from each of their houses.
“Certainly not one of my brothers,” Percy Weasley said as the twins came barreling past tossing a pilfered quaffle between them.
“Oi! Bring that back, we’re ready to start.” Called Ian.
Those that wanted to play gathered in the middle of the field, many of whom already played for a house team at Hogwarts. Harry gulped nervously as the older kids agreed that Ian would captain one team, and Oliver Wood—the burly, loud Gryffindor Quidditch captain—would take the other.
Harry wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or terrified when Ian chose him first, but he took a deep breath and purposefully looked straight ahead as he walked over to Ian’s side. Ian clapped his shoulder and said, “Good lad, your pick Wood,”
Harry could feel Wood sizing him up before he turned back to the group and chose Cedric Diggory to be his seeker. They took turns choosing players from there, Wood getting more an more agitated as Ian picked some of the players from the Gryffindor team including George Weasley. George gave his brother a dramatic farewell before launching himself at Harry and pretending to cry into his shoulder. A few of the spectators laughed and Percy rolled his eyes.
The two teams faced off. Harry’s stomach gave a nervous jolt. He was playing Seeker against Cedric Diggory, the actual Hufflepuff Seeker. As much as Ian and Megan praised his flying, Harry found it hard to believe he would be able to keep up.
Someone blew a whistle and they all kicked off the ground, Harry shot straight into the air. Propelling himself far higher than he intended thanks to his nerves.
“Come on, you’ve got this.” He muttered to himself as he leveled off and dropped to a more reasonable height. He flew tight circles around the makeshift pitch, trying to burn off nervous energy. As he scanned the field for the snitch, he saw Hannah and Pearl cheering for him from below. He let out a last nervous breath and focused on the game.
He would stick to the strategy Ian had taught him: stay clear of the chasers, keep moving, and always keep an eye out for the Snitch.
About twenty minutes in, he spotted it, down near the far end of the field. Suddenly he didn’t feel nervous anymore, automatically he pressed his body close to the broom and darted forward. Whirring past the chasers, he heard a determined grunt from behind him and realised Diggory was right on his tail. Harry leaned even lower and urged the broom faster. A well-placed Bludger sent both Seekers off course as the dove out of the way.
Megan let out an excited whoop and when Harry turned around the Snitch was gone.
He returned to scanning the pitch, no clue what the score was anymore.
A flash of gold caught his eye. So low it was almost in the grass.
Harry dove.
The wind rushed past his ears, and he snatched the Snitch just a few feet off the ground, landing in a triumphant skid. He’d done it! He had caught the snitch!
He jumped off his broom, laughing in shock. Then everyone was cheering and the other players came racing towards the ground and piled into a hug. Ian scooped him up screaming “Well done, Henry!” over the noise. The older boy hoisted him up onto his shoulders. Red-faced and grinning like mad, Harry looked out over the group who were all clapping and cheering for him.
They packed up the balls and returned to the blankets. Harry flopped down, beaming, as Hannah handed him an icy glass of lemonade.
“Hufflepuff for the Cup!” she yelled, raising her own cup high.
The Hufflepuffs all cheered and a few Gryffindors booed.
“I think I’ll switch to Chaser,” he heard Diggory say from nearby. “Get some practice in, if we go again this afternoon.”
Harry glanced over at Cedric unable to tell if he was serious, and if he was, whether or not he was annoyed. Cedric smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
They stayed outside until sunset, taking turns flying or lounging in the grass. Harry thought he might never have had such a perfect day, except maybe the Yule party, but even that had been shadowed by anxiety over the press. This was carefree. This was joy.
Flying, he thought, is truly incredible.
His summer settled into a steady rhythm of studying and spending time with friends. He brewed with Carys twice a week and continued exploring the wizarding shops to add to his map, often with Justin, Hannah, or both. Sometimes Ian came along as well. He visited the Abbotts frequently, either to fly with Ian or to hang out with Hannah and their other friends.
In quieter moments, he read, mostly history or books about the war, and diligently practised his Occlumency. He was making real progress now, gradually shaping and organising his mindscape into something solid and secure.
In the middle of July, a letter arrived from Theo, the first he’d heard from him all summer.
Dear Henry,
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you. I wasn’t sure if I should at first, but in the end I decided I rather missed our conversations, and that seemed reason enough. I hope your summer is going well and that you’re fully recovered from your illness at the end of term. You gave us all quite a scare. Even Professor Snape was worried, and you know how surly he is. I’ve been wondering how you’re doing.
I’ve recently started reading a fascinating book called Stone and Spellwork: The Druidic Circles and the Muggle Accord, by Aldric Greymoor. Have you heard of it? I think it would be just your sort of thing. It’s about the creation of Stonehenge and other sacred circles, and it argues that the druids collaborated with Muggles in their construction—not that it was purely magical, as most people claim. It’s not a widely accepted theory, but Greymoor makes a compelling case. He’s found some incredible carvings and ritual inscriptions from the time, as well as records of early magical diplomacy.
Greymoor is a wonderful writer, most his work focuses on the intersection of magic and Muggles. Pre-statute, of course. I think you’d enjoy it immensely. Unfortunately, the book is very old, and my father would likely be furious if I tried to take it back to school, so I’m reading it while I can.
I find myself missing school more than I expected. The castle was so overwhelming at first, but now it feels like home. I miss the noise, the halls, the library. Perhaps not the noise in the Great Hall, but certainly the common room. I suppose I’ve grown used to having people about. The Manor seems so quiet by comparison.
I often wonder what you’re reading this summer. You always seemed to have the most curious and obscure books from home. Perhaps we can compare reading lists once we’re back at school. I think you’d make a fine historian, even if you insist on becoming a potioneer.
Oxford has a programme, did you know? I’m not sure how it works exactly but you can even matriculate in some of the Muggle classes as well. Can you imagine? One of the Ravenclaw prefects—Clearwater, I believe—told me about it. She’s sitting some Muggle exams this summer. It sounds fascinating, though I doubt my father would allow it.
I hope you won’t mind if I write again. But unfortunately, I must ask that you don’t write back. My father is rather particular about my correspondence. I’m sorry to ask that of you. It’s the main reason I hesitated to write at all, but in the end, I thought you might understand.
It’s been a long summer already. I hope it’s been kinder to you than it has to me. I look forward to seeing you at school again.
Your friend,
Theo
"Oh, Theo..." Harry sighed, folding the letter gently in his hands. He wondered, not for the first time, what things were like for Theo at home. He knew Theo’s mother had died, but not when or how. Like Harry, Theo never spoke much about his parents. He had stayed at the castle over the winter break. That said enough.
Harry read the letter several times that day. He wouldn’t write back, of course, he didn’t want to cause Theo any trouble. But it felt wrong to do nothing at all. So eventually, he sat down at his desk with a fresh sheet of parchment and his favourite quill.
If he couldn’t send it, he would save it.
Dear Theo,
Of course I don’t mind you writing. Write as often as you like. I realise I have no way of telling you that, but it feels strange not to reply at all. So instead, I’ll save my letters and give them to you when we’re back at school. Hopefully you won’t mind. If you do, you can just throw them away, I suppose.
I haven’t read Stone and Spellwork, but I know someone who probably has. I’ll see if he can find me a copy, it does sound fascinating. You’d barely even know there were Muggles back then, if you just listened to Binns. Or read the textbook, rather—I don’t think anyone really listens to Binns. It’s such a shame, history is so interesting! The intersection of Muggle and magical during that time is really the most fascinating part. I think you’re right, I’d enjoy it very much.
My summer started out a bit rough, but things are better now. I’ve been flying a lot. I got a new broom, a Nimbus 2000. Hopefully, I’ll be on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team next year. Do you cheer for Hufflepuff when we’re not playing Slytherin? I always cheer for Slytherin when you’re not playing us. Don’t tell the Gryffindors.
We went to Hogsmeade to get the broom, the Abbotts and Justin Finch-Fletchley came with me. It’s a lovely village. Have you ever been? It doesn’t seem like many students visit over the summer; the shopkeeper at Spintwitches was surprised to see us. I’m really looking forward to third year now, we had such a fun time in town. There is an incredible candy store that sells any sweet you could possibly imagine! Hannah wouldn’t let me go in the bookstore though, so I don’t know if its good yet.
The Fawley party is next week. I wonder if you’ll be there? I know Daphne will. Her brother and Lavinia are dating now. If you are there, I’ll tell you my plan with the letters. If not, well… I suppose it’ll be a surprise when we’re back at school. Hopefully a good one.
Lately, I’ve been reading more about recent history. Hermione—Granger, that is—and I were researching the war quite a bit at the end of last year, and that’s sort of carried over into my summer reading. I’ve just finished The Dark Schism: Post-War Politics and the New Magical Order. That’s definitely not on the Hogwarts reading list! I’ve also been brewing quite a bit and doing some extra reading for that. Just last week, I got to assist on a Dragonpox Inoculation Draught. Obviously just the prep work, but still, very exciting.
I hope the rest of your summer passes quickly.
Yours,
Henry