Chapter 112: 3-3

The rush of Educational Decrees had begun. To start with, Number Twenty-Four—the decree banning all student organizations. This put the Quidditch team captain, Angelina, at her wit's end. With Professor McGonagall's help, they somehow managed to reform the team, but they fell significantly behind Slytherin and the other teams who had been approved immediately. And as for the fate of the D.A.—just like in 'my' time, we got the information about the Room of Requirement from Dobby and successfully pulled it off. The first practice session was a massive success. The second and third meetings right under Umbridge's nose were also met with accumulating success. Everyone was thrilled. We felt that we finally had a way to fight back against the adults.

Today, too, the coin Hermione handed out grew warm, conveying the message.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Whoa—yeah! That was a good one, Cho. It was perfect."

"Thanks, Maria."

The teacher and leader was Harry, and the deputy leader was Hermione. As for me, I took on a role akin to an advisor for students who were struggling with the practice. I felt my relationship with Cho was slowly mending during these sessions. No one complained about the D.A.'s existence anymore. Zacharias, Ernie, everyone was desperately—and happily—taking Harry's lessons.

"Lucky you, Cho. I still haven't managed to disarm Maria once."

Anthony gave his wand a nimble flick. My blown-away wand flew into his hand with an Accio.

"I won't let you take it just yet. But—you've both improved so much."

We looked at each other and giggled. Everything was going smoothly. It felt like everything was falling into place. The scars from Umbridge's detentions had faded, and for the first time in a while, both Harry and I were beaming. We were in top form.

—Until Ron's first Quidditch match arrived.

"Stop it—stop it, both of you! George—Harry!!"

The spectator stands were rendered speechless by the massive player brawl that broke out immediately after the match ended. Right, that's how it was—this was when 'I' was banned from Quidditch!

I watched the backs of Harry and George as they were led away by McGonagall. The outcome was painfully obvious. Deprived of their brooms, Harry and the Weasley twins sat dejectedly in the common room. Even though we had barely managed to scrape a victory, the atmosphere made it feel as though the entire House had suffered a total defeat.

"Harry, why...?"

Even though Malfoy wasn't even there to provoke you this time—?

Harry caught my involuntary whisper and his eyes flashed wide open.

"Why? You ask why? Do you know what they said to Ron! About his mum and dad—about our mum and dad! —About you!"

Harry forcefully held himself back then. He probably didn't want the actual words to reach my ears. It wasn't just one person who started it. It seemed to be the result of provocations from the entire Slytherin team.

It was my misjudgment. Since Malfoy wasn't there this time, and Theodore isn't as foolish as the old Malfoy, I had optimistically assumed things would somehow work out. I thought just comforting Ron would be enough—

"Sorry, I just don't want to talk to anyone right now—not even you."

Rejected by those emerald green eyes I loved so much, I meekly retreated to my room. Everyone was hurting—and even I felt like I had been defeated by fate. The luck that had finally come our way had run out once again.

Hagrid came back. That news brought a tiny ray of light into the gloomy Gryffindor common room. A few people were rather disappointed, but I accepted that as unavoidable. I like Hagrid, but if asked whether he is a good teacher, I couldn't exactly nod in agreement.

Listening to the trio talk about Hagrid's terrible injuries, I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed Hagrid and Madame Maxime's journey had indeed yielded some results.

"I wonder if it'll be alright... I wonder what kind of lesson Hagrid is planning to do."

Hermione muttered anxiously as Hagrid immediately led the students into the Forbidden Forest for his first Care of Magical Creatures lesson since returning from his trip. Hermione's fears would probably hit the mark.

"Now—who can see 'em?"

Skeletal bodies, blank eyes, somewhat horse-like creatures with leathery, bat-like wings—I reluctantly followed suit when Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded solemnly. And—Draco, too, had quietly raised his hand. Without thinking, I found myself staring intently at Draco rather than the 'things only visible under certain conditions'—the Thestrals—standing right in front of us. Even though I saw him during Potions and joint classes with Slytherin, it felt like I was noticing him for the first time in a long while.

"Ah. Right, right, Neville and the Malfoy boy too. I see—those who can't see 'em are lucky. What we got here are Thestrals."

Hermione let out an "Ah!" of realization. Save for a few of us, the class watched eerily as chunks of meat seemingly vanished into thin air as the Thestrals ate them.

Choosing Thestrals for a fifth-year class wasn't a bad call. It was infinitely better than Blast-Ended Skrewts, that's for sure. If this were a normal lesson, I could have easily played around with the Thestrals. However—

"Ehem, Ehem!"

If only this woman wasn't here.

"Did you receive my note?"

Umbridge called out to Hagrid in a sickly sweet, slow voice, as if speaking to a foreigner who didn't understand the language.

"Oh, yes! Glad you found the place."

"Well, it seems you can read."

Hagrid's bruised, mottled face flushed a deep red. A few students in green robes let out high-pitched giggles. Hermione bit her lip in frustration.

"Please, don't mind me. Do continue with your lesson."

Hagrid was thrown off balance by Umbridge's falsely polite, patronizing attitude, but he bravely tried to carry on with the class. —And the one getting in his way was this giant toad.

"Cannot—properly—communicate—without resorting to—primitive gestures—" "Grunting sounds—frighten—the students—"

The way she deliberately voiced her notes aloud while scribbling on her clipboard brought nasty delight to the Slytherin students. The green-robed students practically rolled on the ground, convulsing with laughter. Tears of sheer frustration even welled up in Hermione's eyes. Hagrid had completely hunched his massive frame, trying to make himself look smaller. (Though he was still twice the size of a normal person.)

After the lesson ended, the trio stormed back to the common room, fuming with anger.

"I know what it is. She hates half-breeds. She’s planning to drive Hagrid into suspension just like Trelawney."

The three of them already knew that. Umbridge was definitely going to sink her venomous fangs into Hagrid. And there was no way mere children would have the means to save him from it.

As the Christmas holidays approached, I, along with the rest of the festive Hogwarts, was filled with a restless feeling. It wasn't because I was looking forward to Christmas. Well, no, we Potter siblings actually had a proper 'home' to return to this time—the Black family house—so there was no way I couldn't be excited, but a certain worry was ruining it.

—I was pretty sure it was around this time. When 'I' saw Mr. Weasley's injury in a dream. I couldn't remember it perfectly clearly—but it was on a heavily snowy night.

"Maria—Maria, help me."

I jolted awake. The first thing that registered in my blurry vision was the sputtering sparks of the fire.

"...Harry?"

"M-Mr. Weasley—I—"

"I'm going to get McGonagall. Look after Harry."

Ron sat Harry down on the sofa in front of the fireplace—where it seemed he had been taking a nap and hogging it—and sprinted out of the common room. Harry was holding his forehead, trembling.

"What's wrong, Harry? What did you dream about?"

"I—I—I was the snake—I attacked Mr. Weasley—my fangs..."

"Harry, calm down."

"What do I do? It was a terrible injury. With something like that, he'll—d-die—"

"—Through whose eyes were you watching this?"

Harry snapped his head up. I can't believe you'd ask that—that was what his eyes were pleading.

"Why—"

"Potter. Will you please tell me about this as well?"

It was Professor McGonagall. Still in her nightgown and hairnet, she stood there, out of breath. Ron stood behind Professor McGonagall, looking at Harry in fear. From the boys' dormitory bedroom, Harry's roommates were timidly poking their heads out.

Haltingly, Harry relayed his dream—no, the vision he had seen through the snake's eyes. Professor McGonagall replied in a tight voice.

"—We must go and see Professor Dumbledore."

As Dumbledore mobilized the portraits of past headmasters, I kept holding Harry's hand. Dumbledore didn't look at Harry for even a second. I understand it now. He didn't know how much of Voldemort's emotions had encroached upon Harry. Dumbledore is a wise man. He saw right through it just from the current situation and Harry's state. However, without an explanation for this behavior, there was no way Harry could understand his internal conflict. Every time Dumbledore averted his gaze, Harry's hand gripped mine angrily.

"Thank you. Minerva, bring the Weasley children here."

Having confirmed Arthur Weasley's critical condition via the portrait network, Dumbledore briskly issued his next orders. Soon, Ron's twin brothers and Ginny were also brought into the Headmaster's Office; everyone looked dark and frightened. After confirming Sirius's presence at the Order's headquarters through Phineas Nigellus, the Weasley children were sent off to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place via Portkey without any proper explanation. The Floo Network, owls, and the like were all being monitored. Thus, Dumbledore had no choice but to use somewhat rougher methods. At that, Harry muttered lifelessly, "Ah, so that's why..." He had been worried about Sirius not writing back.

"Harry, Maria—! Come, children—sit by the fire."

Even though it was late at night, Sirius welcomed all the children with open arms. For a moment, Harry's face crumpled as if he were about to cry, but looking at Ron, looking at Ginny holding Ron's hand, and looking at the twin brothers standing defensively over their younger siblings, he closed his eyes. I understood that feeling painfully well. We had no right to touch their family bonds and weep.

Sirius waved his wand, lining up enough chairs for everyone in front of the fireplace. Hot Butterbeers sat on the table. Sluggishly, the children collapsed into their seats.

"I heard the gist of it from Phineas Nigellus. Arthur's been injured? —And Harry, you saw it happen?"

"Yeah—"

Harry repeated what he had told them in the Headmaster's Office to Sirius. The snake slithering toward the door. Baring its sharp fangs, sinking them into the man's flank—

Harry told only one lie. Instead of saying he saw it through the snake's eyes, he spoke as though he had been watching from the sidelines. Ron and I, knowing the truth, exchanged a single meaningful glance, but said nothing after that.

"I see... And this wasn't a dream, it was actually happening in reality—"

"Sorry, Sirius. Harry is still confused. Can we go to the bedroom? We'll come right back if you call us."

"Ah, of course. As for the rest of you—"

"We're staying here. We'll wait right here. This is where Mum will come first. Right?"

Fred and George glared defiantly up at Sirius, as though they'd just heard a despicable joke. Sirius looked at each of the children with a pained expression.

"If you want to, do as you please. I'll go make some supper. The blankets are over there."

"Come on, Harry. Let's go."

Supporting Harry's shoulder, I gave Ron one last glance, mouthed a 'goodnight' to Sirius, and headed upstairs to the second floor. Left like this, there was no telling what Harry might blurt out.

Harry was in a state of self-loss. He was terrified—this boy was horribly terrified—of his own self.

"Harry."

Sitting on the bed, I rested his head on my lap. I slowly stroked his back. Harry confessed in a voice that sounded like it might fade away at any moment.

"I—I might really be going mad."

"You aren't mad."

"It was me—I was that snake—"

"It wasn't you."

"I'm—I'm not right. I felt hatred toward Dumbledore. With the Portkey—I met Dumbledore's eyes just then. And when I did, I—suddenly—this hatred swelled up inside me—like a snake—"

"Harry."

I touched his cold cheek. Please, don't think about it anymore. —But I knew full well that praying for that wouldn't reach him. I knew exactly how terrified Harry—how terrified 'I' was at this time.

"I was thinking. Isn't this—isn't this Voldemort's emotions? My scar hurts when Voldemort is angry. But it reached all the way into my mind. I felt it. —When I tried to kill Mr. Weasley, I felt glad about it."

"Harry."

"Am I—am I going to turn into—Voldemort?"

"Harry!"

I finally screamed it out, sounding almost like a shriek. Harry gazed up at me blankly. Don't go—because it's terrifying over there. Because you'll slip out of my reach.

"Maria—I'm—I'm so scared... I might even kill you. When I wake up—you might be—"

"That's impossible. You are Harry Potter. You aren't the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley. You aren't Voldemort. You're the Harry who loves Maria. Harry would never kill Maria. And Maria would never kill Harry. That's as obvious as Dumbledore having a Chocolate Frog Card."

"You aren't scared of me—?"

"My little brother is incredibly stupid sometimes."

I remembered the brief expression Harry had when he looked at Sirius. I figured I probably had the exact same look on my face right now.

"I told you, didn't I? Even if you were the Dark Lord himself—I would still hold you tight, just the same."

Opening his tightly squeezed eyes, Harry cried as he smiled.

"...I'm the older brother."

It was the beginning of a bleak Christmas.