Mirror
Chapter Seven~~~First Day
The next day Harry woke up feeling very groggy and un-rested. He lay on the bed for a while, trying to remember why he was feeling so depressed. Then he remembered the mirror. How the pretend Sirius had shrieked at him to save him. He knew that was false. Sirius was already dead… right? Closing his eyes tightly, he got up and dressed. He looked around the room. Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were still sleeping. He decided that he would just sit by the fire and think until everybody woke up. Slowly he sneaked down the steps, trying not to make any noise. He was about to sit in his favorite, squashy armchair, but saw that somebody was already sitting in it. Ginny turned to look around at him. She looked almost as stressed as he felt. She smiled slightly at the sight of him.
“Hey,” Harry said. Ginny nodded.
“What are you doing up so early?” Ginny asked, as Harry sat down next to her. He shrugged.
“What about you?”
“I asked first,” Ginny reminded him. Harry looked at her. He didn’t really know why he wanted to tell her. Maybe it was the fact that here eyes showed such compassion, or that she was smiling encouragingly or that Ginny was just an easy person to talk to in general.
“I was just thinking about that mirror,” he confessed, trying to read her expression. She nodded, still looking at him.
“It’s not real Harry, you must remember that,” she said softly. He nodded.
“I know…it’s just…hard,” he finished with difficulty.
“I understand,” she said. “But what you need to realize is that you have other people who care about you, who will help you anytime you need help. Sirius wasn’t the only person who loves you,” she said. Harry looked at her, and his throat clenched. But he felt better.
“Thanks,” he said scratchily. She smiled. “You haven’t told me why you’re here, though.”
“My mum just sent me a letter. Percy was fired from the Ministry,” Ginny said, sighing. “He is in quite a state.” Harry nodded.
“Maybe this is what he needs to help him realize that his family will be there for him always, even when his career might not,” Harry said. Ginny smiled.
“I sure hope so.” For the next half hour, Harry and Ginny talked. Harry was amazed. He had never found it so easy to talk to somebody. Ginny was down to earth, caring, and a very strong person. Harry felt immensely better after talking with her. When Hermione came down the stairs and found them sitting and talking together, she bade them good morning, and left for breakfast, with a knowing smile on her face.
“We’d better go too. Or we won’t have time to get any breakfast in before classes start,” said Harry uncomfortably, who had noticed Hermione’s smile. Ginny nodded, and they went down to breakfast. Ten minutes later, Ron joined them, yawning loudly.
“What classes do we have today?” Ron asked as he pulled up a chair beside Hermione. Hermione rummaged into her bag
“Ummm…we have History of Magic first,” she said. Ron and Harry groaned loudly. “Then we have Transfiguration. And after lunch we have Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Hermione stuffed her schedule into her bag. Harry had stopped eating his breakfast at the mention of Defense Against the Dark Arts. His Aunt Petunia would be teaching that class.
“Wonderful,” muttered Harry, going back to his breakfast.
“Oh, Harry. It can’t be all that bad can it?” Ron asked. Harry nodded vigorously.
“Trust me, it can.” Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but just then the morning mail zoomed in, carried by hundreds of brightly colored owls. Harry looked up, and saw a brown owl flew down to Hermione. It was carrying the Daily Prophet. Harry remembered that Lupin was going to be announced dead today. He braced himself as Hermione’s eyes zoomed over the paper.
“Ah ha,” mutter Hermione. “Here it is.” She read it aloud:
“Yesterday morning, in a very bad flying accident, a fellow wizard and werewolf, was killed,” Hermione took a deep breath, and Harry had to tell himself that it wasn’t real. Hermione continued. “He was found lying in a heap at the bottom of a tree by a squib, Arabella Figg. When officials arrived on the scene, Figg was crouched over the body, sobbing hysterically.” Underneath there was a picture of a broken body lying on the ground. His face was so bloody that you couldn’t make anything out. Hermione shrugged. “The rest is saying all of the stuff he had done and his family members and stuff.”
“Wait, don’t we need to act upset?” Ginny whispered. Ron nodded.
“Well,” said Hermione. “I don’t think we should bring attention to it, let’s just act like we never read it. And if anybody asks about it, then we can start balling our eyes out.”
“Sounds good,” said Harry, “but we really need to get going.” They all got up, said goodbye to Ginny, and left off.
History of Magic was as boring as ever, and Harry, for once, decided to take notes like Hermione. After class Malfoy approached him.
“So, Potter. I here your werewolf friend accidentally smashed himself against a tree. Isn’t that right?” Hermione, who had been standing next to Harry, gave a very authentic look of horror.
“What?!” she said. Malfoy smiled evilly.
“Didn’t you even know? Remus Lupin is dead!” Hermione suddenly stood very still. Then she burst into fake sobs. Ron put his arm around her, pretending to comfort her. He and Harry, not the best at acting, decided on looking devastated and shocked instead of bursting into tears. After that incident, they didn’t have to pretend to be upset anymore, for which Harry was very grateful. The Slytherins, obviously disgusted by their show of emotions, apparently didn’t want to witness it again.
“Nice job,” Harry said to Hermione as they walked away towards their Transfiguration class.
“Welcome, class,” said McGonagall primly. “Today we will be learning how to rather large objects into pigs. This will be in your N.E.W.T.s, so pay attention. We will start with your chairs.” And with that the class set to work. Hermione, of course, had perfectly transformed her chair into a plump pig. Harry’s pig, however, still had wooden legs, so he was given extra homework.
After lunch they all headed down to Potions class. Snape was waiting for them, with a sneer pasted on his face.
“Well, I’m must say. I am completely surprised that some of you were able to make it to my N.E.W.T. Potions class,” Snape said, looking pointedly at Neville. “Therefore, we will have to endure two more years together, until you graduate Hogwarts.” Snape looked at Harry then, who glared back. “Please get out the ingredients that I have written on the board, and begin working.” Harry did so, the whole time thinking about his next class with Petunia. When they were finished, Snape walked around looking at their potions. Harry was surprised when Snape didn’t say anything at all. In fact, now that he thought about it, Snape hadn’t said anything at all to him since the death of Sirius.
When they were walking to Petunia’s class, Harry became very quite. Ron and Hermione kept throwing anxious glances at him, but Harry ignored it. When they entered the room, Harry wasn’t surprised to see that it was neat and tidy. Everything had been organized and dusted. The desks were aligned perfectly with each other, and Ron was obviously trying not to laugh. Harry found nothing funny about this, but looked at Aunt Petunia. She looked back at him, but then looked at the rest of the class.
“Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Petunia said crisply. She allowed no emotion in her voice. It was as if she were a robot. “Take out your wand and lay it on the desk in front of you.” The class obeyed, looking confused. “Accio wands!” yelled Petunia. Harry gasped loudly. Aunt Petunia had just done magic! He was speechless. The wands flew into her hand, and she stuffed them in a drawer. Then she moved around the room and set a jar in front of them. Harry stared at the jar. Inside of it was a bee, it was buzzing around madly.
“Look at your jar,” Petunia said. “What do you see?” Hermione raised her hand. Harry didn’t, knowing how stupid a question it was. Petunia ignored Hermione. “Harry! Answer me please.” Harry jumped. He looked at Aunt Petunia, and saw that she was glaring at him, as if he had already answered wrongly.
“It’s a bee,” Harry answered dully.
“NO!” Petunia screeched. “And you will address me as Mrs. Dursley when you speak.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Dursley,” Harry said, almost mockingly. Petunia eyed him.
“As to your answer, it is not a bee. It is danger. It is a threat. You will terminate that threat. And you will do it without a wand.” Harry stared at her. “Remove its stinger, Mr. Potter.” Harry tried, but he couldn’t do it without his wand. By the end of the class, everybody had a headache, and even Hermione was frowning in frustration, as she couldn’t do it either.
The bell rang, signaling the end of classes. “My head is throbbing!” moaned Ron.
“I can’t believe how hard that was! I couldn’t even make my bee flinch. Nothing!” Hermione roared. “Is it even possible to do magic without a wand?!” Harry shrugged.
“Potter!” came a shrill voice. Harry saw McGonagall coming towards him. Harry wondered what he had done now. “Move along you two,” she said sharply. She took Harry aside.
“What is it Professor?” Harry asked.
“Tomorrow, after dinner, you will attend a lesson with Professor Dumbledore. He is going to teach you Legilimensy.” Harry nodded. “And Harry,” she whispered so that Harry had to lean in to hear. “Do. Not. Tell. Anybody. Not even your friends. The only people that will know about this will be you, me and Dumbledore. If this fact escapes, things will become very difficult for all of us.” And with one last, meaningful look, McGonagall rushed away.