ดาวน์โหลดแอป
77.9% Harry Evans: Memoirs of a well-lived Death (SI) / Chapter 67: Chapter 63: Never ever let it go

บท 67: Chapter 63: Never ever let it go

Thankfully the next day was Sunday, and his roommates had been gracious enough to let him sleep in. From how shit Harry felt, he wasn't quite sure if he would have been capable of moving had he, on top of everything else, also not gotten enough sleep. His joints ached, his muscles ached, and his hands ached. He felt like he'd run a marathon while carrying heavy dumbbells in both arms.

 

 

"Fuck," he hissed as he laboured to sit up on the bed. Just that had already exhausted him. It took him another ten minutes to get dressed, pocket the hat, which had been oddly unresponsive since yesterday, and leave the room.

 

 

The stairs proved to be another challenge, and thankfully there was no one present to see him creep and crawl his way down into the common room. Once there he took a break on one of the yellow and black sofas, enjoying the softness of the material and the roughness of the fibres underneath his fingers. He didn't know how long he sat there, just considering the events of the last night. Some people came and went, but it wasn't anybody he knew or wanted to talk to.

 

 

Eventually, Tonks came down, glanced at him, and without any words sat down next to him. Not at the other end of the sofa, but right next to him, so that their knees touched. She was wearing a pair of washed-out jeans with some boots and a T-shirt. She looked comfortable. Harry wore his robes, like always. He liked robes. He let his head loll back on the backrest once he'd gotten too tired to hold it up.

 

 

"It's surreal," Tonks eventually muttered, magenta eyes flickering over the faces of the people entering and leaving the common room. "It's like nothing happened yesterday."

 

 

"Nothing did," Harry replied.

 

 

"For them, maybe," Tonks said in a low voice and gave Harry a meaningful look. She extended a hand to squeeze his. A friendly gesture, just that after, she didn't take it away. They sat there for perhaps another half an hour, before Harry sighed, knowing what he had to do.

 

 

"I'm super cramped and achy from yesterday. I'm going to go get some wiggenweld I have stored in an abandoned classroom," he said.

 

 

"Can I have some as well? I'm bruised to all hell. I think your puppeteering damaged my joints somewhat."

 

 

"Yeah, sure. Let's ditch this place," Harry said and laboriously stood up, getting a wide-eyed look from his friend.

 

 

"Bloody hell, you're really not doing well," she hastily said as she stood up to support him, arm under his shoulder. He leaned onto her and noted that she'd found the time to shower. She smelled good. He closed his eyes with a sigh and let himself get led out of the common room and into the corridor. He wanted a shower as well.

 

 

They took some hidden passages to get to Harry's and Penny's potion room. Some that Harry knew, and some that Tonks did. They knew approximately the same amount. They continued not meeting anyone on the way.

 

 

"The castle is completely empty, somehow," Harry muttered once they entered the room. Tonks curiously looked around.

 

 

"Exams are soon. I can definitely tell you that most students are desperately cramming," she said. "Those that aren't, well it's a nice day. They're spending it outside."

 

 

Harry went over to a little trunk filled with vials and took out two green ones, he immediately drank one, before handing the other to Tonks, who looked at it curiously before drinking as well. The effect wasn't immediate, but it was magical, and Harry could feel the ingredients working their way through his body.

 

 

"What is this place?" Tonks asked curiously, looking at a bubbling cauldron that Penny had left here probably for some sort of rest period.

 

 

"Me and Penny practice Potions here," Harry said as he made his way to the exit, Tonks quickly came over to support him again after she noticed that he still wasn't doing perfectly fine.

 

 

The girl looked at all the ingredients strewn about, the cauldron's, books. "You're not afraid of someone finding it?" she asked.

 

 

Harry shook his head. "We put it here because it's the emptiest wing on this floor. Also, the door has some spells on it."

 

 

Not many spells, of course. The room was being used by two second-years after all. But a magical locking charm and notice-me-not ward. 

 

 

Harry was particularly proud of that second one, he'd only recently managed. It didn't feel particularly strong to his senses, the ward, but anything was better than nothing.

 

 

"What now?" Tonks asked once they'd exited the room, Harry reapplying the spells on the door.

 

 

"I don't know about you, but I think I deserve a spa day," the boy muttered, already thinking about how he could abuse the room of requirement into giving him enough hot water to drown a village.

 

 

"Damn," Tonks muttered. "I always hated it when my mom took me, but now I really feel like one too. Where to find one in Hogwarts though? I know prefects get access to some sort of special bath, but I don't know the passcode anymore, they changed it recently."

 

 

"I have a place," Harry muttered. Now that the diadem was gone. He'd checked and used the room since. Several months of waiting in between, if Dumbledore hadn't managed to remove the thing by now Harry could honestly just kill himself now, save Voldemort the trouble if this was the competency level of the dark lord's adversaries. "But it's a secret."

 

 

Tonks mimicked zipping her mouth shut and rolling her eyes. "I think we have bigger issues than just some secret room," she said. They slowly and laboriously started making their way up to the seventh floor. They didn't meet anyone as they passed through the wings of the castle that held obviously empty classrooms and not dormitories. The only beings that saw them were some ghosts, who asked if Harry was ok, but who were easy to reassure, and some paintings, which just went about their usual vapid and repetitive existence.

 

 

"Have to respect the attempt," Tonks mused as they arrived at the entrance to the room, which faced a mural of a man attempting to teach trolls how to dance.

 

 

"Yeah, well," Harry muttered as he stumbled back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall, drawing curious looks from Tonks. "I'm sure he had his reasons."

 

 

"Being an insane moron is a reason too," Tonks mused. She was startled when a door suddenly appeared where the blank stretch of wall was. "Bollocks," she muttered. "Scared me." 

 

 

She stood there and breathed in and out deeply while Harry opened the door and looked at her curiously.

 

 

"Are you coming?" he asked as he held it open and went inside. She quickly followed and gasped when she beheld the scene that Harry's imagination had summoned up. A large Middle Eastern space with blue and gold tiles illuminated by torches on every pillar. The ceiling was dominated by a beautiful fresco of naked nymphs chasing each other and laughing in a tranquil lake and right underneath it was a large square pool full of hot water. Steam so thick you almost couldn't see through it. 

 

 

There were platters of food and drink floating on the water's surface, on wooden boards cut to look like lotus leaves. A gramophone was playing Vivaldi from one of the corners, the others all being filled up with lounges on which one could lay and stack luxuriously plush cushions into whatever seating arrangement one desired.

 

 

Basically, it looked like a Sultan's washing room, where he went to relax and spend time with his harem.

 

 

"Merlin's beard," Tonks muttered as she looked around with a wide open mouth.

 

 

"Stop being such a country bumpkin," Harry teased as he quickly undressed himself, transfiguring his underwear into a pair of swimming trunks. 

 

 

"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed, scandalised, at him having changed in front of her, despite the fact that he really hadn't. 

 

 

Harry entered the pool through the side with the steps, breathed in the steam, and let his head rest on the pool's edge from where he was sitting.

 

 

The warm water infused every part of his being and he felt his body relax into a content puddle of nerves and muscles.

 

 

He groaned. "Oh god, this is it." He tilted his head to see Tonks still standing outside. "Come on, it's heavenly," he urged.

 

 

"Sure, just give me a second. Don't look!" she exclaimed, at which Harry turned his head away from her. It wasn't like he could see anything through the steam. He felt with his magical senses as she did something, probably the same transfiguration he'd used, before joining him. 

 

 

"Oh my magic, where was this all my life," she moaned after a while of them just enjoying the water and the music. "What is this room? Some sort of heaven?"

 

 

Harry debated explaining the specific function to her but decided to do so later when a floating lotus made its way over to him. There was an assortment of cheeses, fruits and meats on it, along with a bottle of wine. 

 

 

"Amarone," he muttered, before nodding. "Good taste," he complimented the room as he poured himself a glass of the perfectly temperate wine. He didn't drink a lot, knowing that it wasn't the most amazing thing to do when so young. But sometimes you just had to. Also, the higher the quality of the alcohol, the less bad the damage.

 

 

"Is that wine?" Tonks asked, alarmed when she saw him take a big sip from the glass.

 

 

Harry could only roll his eyes. "It's not wine, Tonks. It's a classical Amarone, it's basically the liquor of the gods." He took another sip before trying some of the ham. He threw his head back and almost died and went to heaven. "God's, it's Pata Negra, where are we getting this stuff?" he asked. Was he an idiot all along? Using this room only for practising duelling and magic sensing. All this time he could have been asking for this sort of food. 

 

 

But couldn't the room only provide stuff that was in the castle, which meant that there was some of this ham in the kitchen? "Those bastards," he concluded. "That's why their podium is raised. To hide that they're eating different food than us."

 

 

"I don't know how I feel about the fact that you're drinking," Tonks said.

 

 

"What the hell, girl. You're a teenager, where's your spirit of rebellion. You should be drinking too!" Harry exclaimed and flexed some telekinesis to send a lotus flower to Tonks. This one didn't have wine, but another liquor that he recognized. "It's crema di limoncello with some dates and figs, should suit your palate more," he mumbled in between bites of ham and gulps of wine.

 

 

Tonks hesitantly poured herself a little glass of the cream and sniffed it, before quickly dipping her tongue into it. "Wow," the girl said, blinking at him, as if surprised. "This is good," she said before pouring herself more and promptly gulping it down.

 

 

Harry meanwhile, was starting to develop the nice and heady feeling that he generally associated with getting drunk on wine specifically. Having reached his goal he mostly ate, only occasionally sipping to enhance the flavour and to keep his level of drunkenness. "I always say," he mumbled to himself. "The Italians make the best wine, and the French the best cheese." He giggled like a moron, drawing a confused inquiry from Tonks.

 

 

"What are you laughing about?" she asked with a slightly slurred speech.

 

 

"Just how to offend the maximum number of people possible in one sentence," Harry replied back.

 

 

She seemed to think of an answer for a second, before letting out her own stupid laugh. "With your potion skills, you do that just by existing."

 

 

"Oi," Harry mumbled. "Meanie."

 

 

A pause entered the audial space between the two. Interspersed only with occasional groans complimenting the temperature of the water and the beautiful music playing in the background.

 

 

"I'm sorry," Tonks eventually said.

 

 

"Hmmm?"

 

 

"For dragging you into that, yesterday."

 

 

"Well, all's well that ends well. Maybe I'd be a bit mad if I'd been bitten, but considering there were no negative consequences I'm glad I was there. I don't think you'd have survived alone," Harry said.

 

 

"There were consequences though," Tonks mumbled and turned to look at him with penetrating eyes. Glowing so red he could see them through the steam. Kinda creepy. "You had to kill someone."

 

 

Harry scoffed. "People like to argue after which point someone has lost the moral agency that grants them their right to not be killed. I think everyone in the world would agree that Greyback had long since left that point behind. Embracing the wolf, turning children, participating in mass slaughter with Voldemort."

 

 

Tonks sucked in her breath at the mention of the name.

 

 

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sorry, You-Know-Who."

 

 

"How… Did it feel?" she eventually asked.

 

 

Harry thought back to seeing himself bisect the werewolf. He'd mostly felt relief that the threat had been eliminated. Maybe some disassociated disgust at the blood and guts flying everywhere. Perhaps he'd feel guilt if it had been more than just his body wielding the sword.

 

 

But all in all, it had oddly felt like, "a job well done," he ended up saying. "You? You also helped, you know?"

 

 

"I felt relieved. Charlie he…" she trailed off. "His killer is dead, you said revenge doesn't lead anywhere but it felt… Good. Like a weight was lifted off my chest. I couldn't breathe for months, up until that point. But I didn't even know"

 

 

Harry took in her words and realised that Tonks stood at a precipice. She'd participated in a battle to the death and he was the only one she could talk to about it. "I think that makes sense. Society today kind of frowns on it, but it makes perfect sense when you think about how humans lived by the proverb "tooth for a tooth, eye for an eye." I don't think that revenge necessarily comes from a completely selfish place. You also want to avenge the dead by killing the killers, because as long as they live, your life and the life of your loved ones are still in danger. It's a self-preservation instinct to hate those that did us wrong. After all, if you don't defend yourself, what's to say they won't do it again?"

 

 

"Maybe you're right. But, what's the point in being an Auror then," Tonks wondered aloud. Her voice sounded exhausted, but also, for the first time in a while, genuinely calm. She sounded like she was at peace with herself.

 

 

Harry had always wondered why the media of today depicted everyone having such an adverse reaction to their first kill after the adrenaline had died down. Sure, it was an unshackling of the moral norms of the modern world, but killing was something that had been a part of human history since the beginning. Killing someone in a completely justified manner should have even less of an effect.

 

 

"The reason why modern morality frowns on vigilantism is because the law enforcement system in place is better than it ever has been. People don't have to seek their own justice anymore. They don't have to live in constant fear. Being an Auror helps create this society, in which people don't immediately think of escalating a conflict. It's noble, in a way. Also, if you became an Auror I'd feel better about it. I think people going into positions of power like this generally have the wrong motivations. Did you know that in some muggle countries, it's the dregs of society that become policemen? How sad is that? James Potter at least reformed the system in the sense that being an Auror is something to strive for, not just something you do if all other's paths close. With you in the force, I'd personally feel safer myself."

 

 

"That's a nice speech, but I think you can take care of yourself just fine," Tonks said with a laugh. "Where'd you learn to wield a sword like that?"

 

 

Harry paused, looking at her outline in the steam. "Ah, you have to leave a man some secrets, right?"

 

 

"You're not a man though, are you?" Tonks asked, and rather than it being a statement, it sounded more like a question. The air in the bath turned fragile and Harry took a gulp of his wine to delay answering.

 

 

"I think it's quite clear that some special circumstances made me grow up very, very fast. It's not something I want to get into, but maybe we can leave it at the fact that, unlike other students, to whom Hogwarts was the start of the journey… I've lived a very curious life already before this school," he eventually said.

 

 

It was a testament of the bond that Harry and Tonks had created, by dancing around each other for two years now, before codifying their relationship with a bloody and violent secret they'd likely take to the grave, that Tonks didn't dig.

 

 

"Alright. I'll accept that," she said quietly. "But what now?" she asked.

 

 

"What do you mean?"

 

 

"I mean. After yesterday. What's next?"

 

 

Harry tilted his head. "Classes?"

 

 

"That's it? I go back to trying hard on my NEWTs, trying to get into the Auror programme. You get back to duelling, getting Outstandings?"

 

 

Harry had his eyes closed as she asked those questions. Finding them quite calming. Yes, he would like to go back to duelling, to classes. 

 

 

Werewolves weren't really present in the life he envisioned for himself.

 

 

"Yeah, shit happens, life goes on," he answered simply.

 

 

"I guess you're right," Tonks said, suddenly closer. Harry opened his eyes and glanced to the left where the girl had approached him. She was now close enough to notice the colour of her hair. The pensive, calm, but still slightly pained look in her eyes.

 

 

She hugged him and he hugged her back. It felt warm and reassuring. As if he hadn't known that he was still alive until the hug.

 

 

After the hug, Tonks got out of the water.

 

 

He heard her putting on clothes behind him before she came over to kneel next to his head. A hand suddenly touched his hair, running through it gently before pulling his head backwards, making him look up directly into the now green eyes of the metamorph hovering over him.

 

 

"Thanks for saving my life, Harry. You're an amazing person," she said, before standing back up. "I think I need to be alone and rest for a bit."

 

 

"Take time to process everything, and come find me if you have to talk," Harry replied, not particularly minding being left alone either. It had been an... odd day, suffice to say.

 

 

Tonks paused at the doorway, turning back towards him one last time with a cryptic gaze. "Of course, let's talk when we can, but for the moment. "You have a duelling championship to win, and I have an academy admittance to earn."

 

 

The door closed behind her.

 

 

A sigh. "Felixis Felicis, huh? Survived an attempt on my life and gained a friend for life." He was fairly sure that from this point onwards, he would never abandon her, or she him. 

 

 

He stayed in the room for another hour, moving from the pool to the pillows where a hookah was waiting for him. Laying there, enjoying himself, Harry realised that he was getting used to almost dying. But the haze of the alcohol and… other substances made him come to a realisation that he wouldn't have come too sober.

 

 

He wasn't afraid of it anymore. As long as it was for a good cause


next chapter

บท 68: Chapter 64: YEAR END

Thank you to my new Patrons: James Seven, True Flame. Jeff Roy, Dwayne Palmer, TimGuyy, sorvol, David Monaghan, Norian, willian Anderson, SouthMonk, Journeyman_Mike, Kunta
-/-
The next few weeks of school were as awkward as they were surreal.
Tonks and Harry hadn't told anyone about the fact that Greyback was now dead, which meant that the teachers and the students stayed on high alert. The newspapers reported on the case, and the Auror Department occasionally gave apologies for the fact that they weren't making any progress. Professor Potter looked incredibly stressed, although if that was due to the werewolf situation, or the possibility that Albus had not shared with him the fact that the curse on his position might have been broken, was up in the air.
As for the headmaster, he remained elusive, only appearing at dinner in the great hall on very rare occasions.
Perhaps it was a testament to the fact that Harry had been overly paranoid about his Occlumency back in the day, that Tonks, who had no defences, and probably thought about that night a lot, hadn't given up the secret to anyone. He'd ended up telling her about the Room of Requirement, after verifying that the diadem was gone. She used it for the dummy, and for learning magic sense, something he'd recommended she work on.
Harry did feel a bit dumb there at that specific moment, but his shields provided him with a piece of mind, which was almost as important as an actual defence.
Everything else? Business as usual. Flitwick continued instructing Harry, joyous at every point of progress. They finally finished up the disarming spell and started working on some other tricks for the tournament that Harry was now officially signed up for. It would be happening in Austria, Vienna. The former seat of the Habsburg empire, but also one of the places from which Grindelwald had launched his conquest initially, all those decades ago.
He continued practising Potions with Penny and occasionally helping Cedric with Transfiguration to get him that O+ again. His Magic Sense continued developing, as did his wasp conjuration attack.
Classes were more fast-paced due to the upcoming exams, but just as easy as they'd always been. All the subjects except Potions and Arithmancy required minimal effort to stay on top of, something that frustrated many of his classmates in the subjects he'd advanced in. The pressure on them was higher, now that they risked being outperformed by someone a year, or two younger than them.
Eventually, after the next full moon, people realised that the werewolf hadn't done anything in two months.
Maybe the monster had moved on.
The exams passed in a blur. His Patronus assured him a perfect grade in Charms and DADA, and while McGonagall was disappointed by the fact that Harry did not seek to advance in Transfiguration, although she was impressed by his wasp conjuration.
The year ended with a whimper, not a bang, all the narrative momentum being used up in the last few chapters. After saying goodbye to his friends, to Hogwarts… To the library, from which he'd made many copies, there were only two important conversations that Harry still needed to have before he could complete the year with no loose threads. He'd end up having three important ones because even if he hadn't realised it, other people included him in their plans as well.
The first conversation occurred in the Room of Requirement, after one of Harry's Magic Sense practice sessions. He was working on detecting smaller and smaller amounts of magic in the void and had managed to work his way down to a spoon that was enchanted to always stay see-through. A useless thing, when one considered that this enchantment also made it incapable of actually holding any liquid as a side-effect.
"We've been avoiding the conversation long enough," he started, addressing his Mind Arts mentor, who sat on his head as usual. "I need to know if you still want to come with me, or if you want to stay in the castle."
The hat slumped on his head, and Harry could literally feel the metaphorical gears turning inside it. Then, it began telling a story.
A story about Godric Gryffindor. A young and hot-blooded combat mage extraordinaire. A British wizard who was at the time, considered the best duellist alive. Hailing from a small village now named Godric's Hollow, the man travelled the continent in his youth, defeating foes and saving princesses from dragons. And on one special occasion in Romania, dragons from a particularly vicious and hateful princess.
All the while he left behind him people confused as to how they had lost against him in the duels he'd challenged them to. They had all underperformed, not used their best spells, and succumbed to terrible and sudden headaches.
One thing that history had forgotten about the man, or perhaps never known in the first place… Was that he had been an absolute master of the Mind Arts. An obscure branch of magic used to befuddle one's foes into making fatal errors, in situations where no fatal errors were allowed.
The man travelled, eventually taking an apprentice, as was common. A brave boy with more courage and heart than brain. A boy completely untalented at magic, but very good with a sword and with the lute. It was here that Godric decided to make a sacrifice to fulfil his student's dream of being an adventurer like his master. A troubadour. Godric had won a goblin-forged sword, made from a material that absorbed magic and the attributes of the things it killed.
He infused it with his magic, specifically, his knowledge of the Mind Arts. 
Eventually, the sword gained a mind of its own and the ability to use Legilimency at the level that Godric had used it at the height of his power.
The boy took the sword, gratefully, as was fitting, before striking out on adventure. It was a fun year, full of music, laughter, and protecting the innocent. Then it ended in tragedy. What use was one wizard who couldn't apparate against a pillaging army? Virtue might have protected the villagers, who'd gotten enough time to flee, but it hadn't protected the hero from being killed by the mass of enemies. No matter how many enemies his magical sword was capable of striking down, an army was like a hydra. Two heads growing to replace each one lost.
Godric arrived too late. The only thing that remained was a bloody corpse with more holes than meat and a sword stuck in its chest as a last respect towards a fallen warrior.
That was when a necessity became clear.
A necessity to teach magical children from young onwards, so that they would have time and safety a plenty to master all the magic that they needed to survive and thrive before the cruel world took them.
"I was done with violence at that point, blood sickened me. When they created Hogwarts, I asked to be retired, and given a peaceful task. They granted me the ability to shift between a hat and a sword. I've been sorting students ever since," the hat finished, leaving Harry stunned by the tale he'd just heard.
"Will you teach me how to wield you?" Harry eventually asked in the resulting silence. The question was a question and all that that implied.
"Yes," the hat replied.
-/-
"Well, you'll have two weeks off when you get back, then you're going to be joining me for a quick refresher, a quick strategy meeting. Then we're off to Vienna. Congratulations, Harry, you're officially registered for this year's U17 duelling tournament."
"Thanks for organising it, Filius," Harry said gratefully. The man had gone through all the bother of signing him up and organising accommodation for the one-week spectacle.
"You focus on your training, I'm past my prime, I can do some light organisation work. It only took me five owls to get everything done," the man said cheerfully, leaning against the podium from which he usually lectured. Harry had come to say goodbye to his mentor specifically before the train left.
"When will the listings become public?" Harry asked. He'd need to pay attention to when it would become public so that he could coordinate with Skeeter. She'd likely want the story to be as high impact as possible and he, well, he wanted something in return. A thirteen-year-old daring to sign up for a competition in which 15 was usually the lowest age was juicy enough to ask for something big.
"A day or two before the start. The experience is that anything longer than that and the excitement has time to die down."
The second-year nodded absentmindedly. "Good, good. I just wanted to check in before leaving. One last question. Is there any chance of me winning?" he asked.
Filius hesitated and awkwardly twirled his moustache. "Harry, I have to say. You're incredible. If I'd had your work ethic when I was your age I'd have won the championship a decade earlier. You're academically gifted, as your spell-creation project from last year shows, but you also have the perseverance to just cast a spell several thousand times when it's necessary to elevate it to the next level. You have the instincts, the drive, the talent…" he trailed off.
"I'm not afraid of losing," Harry said. The werewolf and Twix had put losing into perspective. Had he failed to upkeep his part of the battle in either one of those scenarios he would be dead or turned by now. Losing in a duelling competition seemed insignificant in comparison. Especially since he had four more three more tries in him. "If I learn anything I wouldn't even particularly mind."
Filius looked at him searchingly before nodding. "Good. Quite frankly, you could win in case of a miracle. If you had the same amount of training as everyone else and were 17 I'd bet my life-savings on you. But you're fighting more than just an uphill battle here, you're fighting an uphill war."
"Everyone's going to have more training, more experience and probably more support," Harry stated.
"Yes, it's a family tradition often enough. It took me longer than it should have to win my first championship because I didn't have such tricks to rely on. Tricks that generations of my ancestors had developed at that point."
"Well, the situation isn't entirely similar," Harry said. "I do have you, and the entirety of Hogwarts at my back."
Filius considered before nodding seriously. "An impressive legacy to back your claim. I have no doubt that if you keep at it the way that you have you'll win the tournament eventually."
"Just not this year, and probably not the next," Harry said.
"Yes."
"Thanks, Filius, I'll see you soon," Harry said, not having anything more to say.
"Have a nice summer, Harry. I'm looking forward to our preparation week," the professor said, and the two of them parted with a firm handshake.
-/-
Harry awkwardly ambled his way on the train, cutting it close with the leaving. Usually, he went on with his friends, not caring that he was part of a larger mob of students all rushing in. But now he was doing something a tad more complicated, for which he needed all his concentration, and for people to not bump into him.
He was pulling his trunk, which he would normally levitate. The reason why he wasn't was because he was currently levitating two more trunks. Just that they were invisible, and above his head, so nobody could bump into them. It was a laborious exertion of his telekinesis, and his face was probably red. He never could have done anything like this had he not developed his magical sense. Other students gave him weird looks as he passed by, making his way to the last compartment. But none of them bothered him. Finally, he reached the last part of the train, where he found an empty compartment to drag his shit into.
"Really looking forward to selling all this crap," he cursed as he threw himself onto the seat. The question of how exactly he would do that was still in the air. Some of the stuff he'd dragged out of the room of requirement was sus as fuck. The only reason he was considering Knockturn Alley was because the hat that he was once again bringing with him was apparently a bona-fide badass. Godric Gryffindor's Mind Arts capabilities distilled into one artefact was likely something that could keep most people away. Also, killing a werewolf as infamous as Greyback was a huge confidence boost.
Of course, only one of his trunks was filled with stuff from the Room of Requirement. The other one was filled with reading material. Harry had brought a lot of paper into Hogwarts this year, and he'd also scavenged the room for any loose parchment, all for one reason. Reading material. He didn't have access to the library while he was on summer vacation, so he'd used the copy spell sent to him by Slughorn all those months ago to take with him as many books as he could. He would be gone for two months, and considering the pace at which he read, it likely still wouldn't be enough.
The amount of notes and topics he was accumulating was getting a bit ridiculous. He could hardly keep track of it all, and the software application OneNote was still a few years from being developed.
His compartment door suddenly opened, ripping Harry from his thoughts and he looked up to see a confident Tonks stride into his space. She walked better now, after the werewolf. As if there was less weight on her shoulders and as if she was confident in her skills.
Her eyes still looked haunted, however. Less so every day, thankfully.
"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted as she sat down opposite him. He met her eyes, green like his. She'd adapted to wearing his eye colour recently. It fit considering he thought himself closer to her than ever.
"Hey," the boy greeted back. "You look good," he complimented, and she did. Not bothering with muggle clothes Tonks was already wearing shorts, a black top that hung loosely off her shoulders, and of course, Doc Martens.
"Thanks," she said, before giving him a cryptic look over. "You look…" she paused. "Manly," she eventually settled.
Harry sputtered, before laughing. "Manly?" he asked, before pointing at himself. "Girl you've seen me without a shirt. I'm about as manly as you," he said.
Tonks tapped her chin with her finger. Black nail polish, of course. "You know, I think it's the adjective that fits you most. I've always been at a loss for words on how to describe you. But I think manly is it. Not physically, but. Attitude. You're confident, hard-working, you have ambition, social skills, and you get respect. You're just stuck in the body of a child, for some reason."
Harry tilted his head. "That's interesting, those are the words I'd use to describe you. You walk differently now, more confidently. And the amount you work finally matches your ambition."
Tonks nodded, before leaning in conspiratorially. Harry did the same and offered an ear. "You're not the only one who's noticed," she whispered. "You won't believe the amount of dates I've been asked on since we killed that bastard," she said.
"That's a bit insensitive, considering…" Harry muttered.
"Charlie, yeah," Tonks muttered and leaned back. She crossed her arms and looked out of the window as the train started chugging along.
"It's the confidence, I'd say," Harry started switching the topic back. "Most people are directionless and insecure. They love latching on to those that exude an aura of 'I know where I'm going'."
"Is that what you used to think of me?" Tonks asked, with curiosity, not hurt.
Harry didn't feel like lying. "Not entirely, but somewhat. I always knew you had potential. You just needed to cut off-"
"The debris of the irrelevant," Tonks interrupted him while rolling her eyes.
"I know. Who needs friends, relationships and hobbies that don't directly bring one close to one's goals."
The second-year rolled his eyes right back. "I have all of that. People just confuse their priorities. Having friends and hobbies isn't the point of life. It's what you relax with when you're tired from following your actual purpose," he finished and noted that through all of his talking Tonks had just been staring at him, tenderly, with her chin on her fist and her elbow on her knee. "What?" he asked defensively.
The girl shook her head. "Nothing. I just really admire you, you know."
"Thanks," Harry whispered, not remembering when the last time had been that he'd gotten so much emotional positive reinforcement from anyone in his surroundings who wasn't family. Sure he was a hard worker, a good friend. But people didn't often compliment him for just who he was. "I've grown to respect you as well," he said back. "I like this more honest version of yourself. The fearless version."
"Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me," she said softly, and they just held each other's gaze for a few seconds. Then she suddenly switched topics. "Anyway, we should hang out sometime this summer, I won't have much free time but something should be possible."
"You can apparate now, can't you?" Harry asked curiously. Tonks shook her head.
"There was a class, but I decided to learn it privately in the summer. I had more time for studying that way."
Harry nodded and quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper before
throwing it at her. "Well, here's my landline. If you don't have a phone you can reach me by owl too," he said.
"Thanks, I'll be in touch," Tonks said and put away the paper.
They didn't have much to say after that and descended into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, both of them reliving and rehashing some of the memories of the year through partially melancholic, and partially nostalgic lenses.
-/-
AN: I always consider it quite a milestone to finish another year at Hogwarts. Most fics fizzle out before the even finish year one. I'm learning a lot from this story and having a lot of fun writing it. On Patreon we already finished the whole Summer Saga for the first tier, involving House Elves, Horcruxes, Duelling and manchester as it did. Latest chapter we've meet the boy who lived which was going to happen eventually. So, if you want to support me for having provided 200k words of content, feel free, or continue enjoying on here and feeding my ego with your comments. Free will exists for a reason!

Load failed, please RETRY

สถานะพลังงานรายสัปดาห์

ป้ายปลดล็อกตอน

สารบัญ

ตัวเลือกแสดง

พื้นหลัง

แบบอักษร

ขนาด

ความคิดเห็นต่อตอน

เขียนรีวิว สถานะการอ่าน: C67
ไม่สามารถโพสต์ได้ กรุณาลองใหม่อีกครั้ง
  • คุณภาพงานเขียน
  • ความเสถียรของการอัปเดต
  • การดำเนินเรื่อง
  • กาสร้างตัวละคร
  • พื้นหลังโลก

คะแนนรวม 0.0

รีวิวโพสต์สําเร็จ! อ่านรีวิวเพิ่มเติม
โหวตด้วย Power Stone
Rank 200+ การจัดอันดับพลัง
Stone 3 หินพลัง
รายงานเนื้อหาที่ไม่เหมาะสม
เคล็ดลับข้อผิดพลาด

รายงานการล่วงละเมิด

ความคิดเห็นย่อหน้า

เข้า สู่ ระบบ

tip ความคิดเห็นย่อย

คุณลักษณะความคิดเห็นย่อหน้าอยู่ในขณะนี้บนเว็บ! เลื่อนเมาส์ไปที่ย่อหน้าใดก็ได้แล้วคลิกไอคอนเพื่อเพิ่มความคิดเห็นของคุณ

นอกจากนี้คุณสามารถปิด / เปิดได้ตลอดเวลาในการตั้งค่า

เข้าใจแล้ว