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To Life Again
A Night In Passing
Harry always looked forward to mid-October for it was by then that most of the first years would have finally acclimated to their new environment. Most would have made friends, albeit some more tentatively than others, but enough so that homesickness will have become a rare issue. Now he could look forward to catching up on necessarily procrastinated reports and begin to file newer ones on time. And while most of his young visitors would come for the rare booster shot of reassurance, there would remain those youngsters in the throes of various crises ranging from normal teenage angst to the very rare happenstance of a child trying to hide the fact that a parent abused him.
Things with young Mr Lestrange had reached a quiet impasse as the boy seemed to adapt to school life. There hadn't been a crises in weeks, and neither had there been reports of any incidences or altercations between him and any other student. His performance, while unremarkable, was quite acceptable for the most part. Indeed he had become one of those students that instructors often overlook: quiet, obedient, neither abominably slow nor exceptionally brilliant. In short; forgettable. Harry was fairly certain this was not unintentional. It meant no one was paying the lad any extra attention. Not that there was much extra attention left to spread around! Each year had its difficult (for one reason or another) students. For the First Years this role was now primarily shared by the Finnegan twins and his own son, Sirius John.
Harry sighed as he looked back down at the stiff parchment spread open before him. The precise script detailed the interviews between the boys and the Auror sent to interrogate them. (Not that anyone had used that term.) The Auror had, however, sought to put the fear of Azkaban into the boys. He thought the lesson might have worked on Sirius and Sean, but it was Stuart who was the ring leader and Stuart did not seem to him to be at all cowed by the hobbled intimidation of authority. Nonetheless, all three boys had attended obligatory sessions with him and studiously avoided any hint of trouble. Harry wondered how long it would last. He rolled up the parchment into a neat tube and set it aside. It had a companion. This one gave him some background on the Finnegan boys and their family. Uncle Robby, it seemed, was a Squib who had readily acclimated to the sordid underworld of smugglers and sometime terrorists. The Muggle currency was real enough. Apparently Uncle Robby figured that Hogwarts would be just the place to hide hot money from or for his latest enterprise. Same for the tariff-free cigarettes. As for the gun, it had been used in a murder and was now the subject of an intense search.
This was not the kind of dealings Harry saw for the children of Hogwarts. He had sent an owl to the Finnegans' parents advising them of the machinations that could end up with expulsion from the school if things were not taken in hand. They had owled back that anything he did would no doubt be to the betterment of both twins. Apparently there was no love lost between them and the boys' maternal uncle. After finishing his latest progress report for Minerva, he tucked everything back into the scroll case and put it away in a Muggle file cabinet that he locked both magically and with a tiny metal key.
Harry stood up straight, one hand on the top of the cabinet, one hand resting at the small of his back. He stretched and his spine cracked and snapped and he grimaced at a stiffness that should have been foreign to a wizard his age. It was late. He'd returned to his office directly after dinner in the Great Hall, with the smallest of pecks on the cheek to tide him and Ginny over til they met again before going to bed. Ah, bed. He smiled to himself and packed all thoughts of the Finnegan twins far from sight as he left his office and locked away his concerns as he locked the door behind him.
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Octavius wandered the hallways with apparent disregard to his meanderings. He wasn't so much exploring as he was scoping out new hiding places. The more the better, in fact. He had no taste for the confrontations that seemed to shadow his every waking moment. Even his own housemates were eager to show him little regard, even in public when one would have expected a certain minimal (if only for show anyway) solidarity. But no. Even his own housemates had no use for him. At best he was ignored. At worst taunted for his looks, his raggedness, his silence, his oh so carefully constructed mediocrity. That his ambition was to survive to adulthood was so completely a secret that it was thought the Sorting Hat had made a most grievous error in his placement in the House of Slytherin. A shallow sigh issued from his lips and his head dipped forward as he remonstrated himself for such maudlin depression. That life was unfair easily a lesson he'd learned ages ago, even before seeing his sister killed at his father's hand. That he was alive and none of his elder siblings were did not, oddly enough, strike him as something in his favor though he thought it should have done.
Perhaps if he had never learned of the concept of companionship it might be otherwise. But this ignorance was not was to be his. Knowledge, in this case, was not power. It was agony. Without understanding the term, Octavius understood the feeling. He was lonely. He was alone among all his classmates. And he simply did not fit.
Awareness of his surroundings broke through his despondency and the First Year was vaguely surprised to find that he had wondered to one of the recessed windows that speckled the immense castle walls. He clambered up upon the shelf and gazed out into the hazy darkness of the cold October night seeing nothing of the land that abutted the castle. Rather, he gazed at the moonlit clouds and envied them their freedom to drift away at their own will. His eyelids slowly drooped and then his body followed and soon the boy was snoring softly, head resting against the enchanted glass, gentle exhalations of breath fogging the window and unhappy dreams pummeling his subconscious.
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Harry and Ginny sat with arms about each other, snuggling on the couch facing the cheerfully roaring fire whose warmth radiated from hearth through the parlour. Cups of tea sat half drained on the side tables, completely forgotten by the drowsing couple. As far as Harry was concerned, he was content to remain thus ensconced in his wife and lover's arms until well past dawn. But she had classes to teach even if he did not and he jostled her lightly. "Ginny? Bed?" He whispered in her ear.
"Mrmph" Ginny replied into his neck.
It tickled and he laughed. That brought Ginny's head up and she peered at him suspiciously. "What? Did I drool on you?"
"No, I--"
Whatever he was going to say was lost as the fireplace's flames flared green and a head poked out. A bushy-haired head who's face was clenched in consternation. "Sorry. I hate to disturb you--" Hermione began and then uncharacteristically hesitated, her upper teeth worrying her bottom lip.
Ginny sat up straight abruptly, a worried frown pinching her face. "Hermione! Whatever is the matter? Come on through, then. I'll get tea--"
"No, no, I'm fine. It's just--" Hermione sighed dismally. "Well, I'm afraid I've hit a wall. Lastrange has found out about my investigation and as he still has friends in the Ministry I've been ordered to leave it alone."
Ginny's face registered a defeated resignation at this pronouncement, but a short growl from beside her made her start and a look at her husband's face told her he wasn't going to let it go. "Hermione, did you find anything new? Anything we can use?" Harry asked, his voice deeper than usual, its timbre revealing unwavering determination.
"Not really no. I was hoping to go to court to have the boy removed from his clutches but I think at best we are reduced to only claiming that Lastrange is too old and daft to care for a child without some guidance from a social worker." She grimaced again. "But I'm not sure even that venue is left to us."
"But what about Poppy's findings?" Harry surged to his feet and began to pace. "Surely those--"
"Yes, those. In fact that's all we have."
"It should be enough."
Hermione nodded in agreement but her expression was not encouraging. "It should be but I'm not certain that it will be enough. It is enough to get a hearing though. If McGonagall and Poppy persue it."
"They will. Poppy especially is not going to let this boy be lost. She's seen too many others..." But Harry didn't finish his sentence. Both women were nodding with the same grim-eyed expression. Harry changed the subject, politely, if absently, asking after Ron.
Hermione smiled wistfully. "Oh well you know. Dedicated to his job. He's not home yet, but I expect him shortly. He had a bit of a cough this morning but insisted on going in to work."
Ginny's fond smile radiated a warmth that was much needed after the somber considerations of only a moment before. All three of them felt a definite relaxing of the mood. "Give him my love, will you?"
"Of course," Hermione grinned back and her face withdrew from their fireplace.
Harry sighed and gave Ginny a firm squeeze. After a somewhat prolonged goodbye consisting of a great deal of nuzzling, he left for his turn at the nightly rounds that took place in the castle to ensure the students were not out after curfew.
As it was well-known that Mr Potter knew all the good hiding places, and further, that this evening was his turn of duty, he was not a bit surprised to encounter only the other teacher on duty and brief sightings of Prefects also taking their rounds. Until he happened to climb a certain set of stairs that led up to a tower that was used only for storage nowadays. There, a soft sawing sound assailed his ears and he crept upwards til he came upon a small dark shadow huddled on the ledge snoring gently.
He stared at the sleeping child, frozen in place with his hand just beginning to reach out to shake an unmoving shoulder. He stared, oddly unwilling to awaken the boy from his apparently deep slumber. But he couldn't stay here and First Years should have long ago retired to their beds.
The boy murmured suddenly and twisted in his sleep. A shudder ran through him, then, and he moaned softly, breaking the trance that held Harry in place. Harry's hand moved and settled on the small shoulder. "Octavius," he whispered. "This isn't you bed, Octavius." He filled his voice with as much humor as he could muster. "Come along, then, Octavius, wake --"
Dark eyelashes fluttered and lifted. "Oh..."
"Indeed Mr Lestrange." Harry greeted with a smile. "I'll just walk you to your Common Room, shall I? I'm sure you didn't mean to be out after curfew."
"No sir." The boy pushed himself off the shelf, his feet landing with a quiet tap against the stone floor. He looked up at the Counselor, waiting for the nod that would signal their hike.
But Harry was in no hurry all of a sudden. "Octavius," he began with some trepidation. "You know you can come to me anytime if you need to talk to someone."
"Yes, Mr Potter."
"Hm. I know that you could be doing so much better in your classes, Octavius."
"I'm not failing anything."
"No you aren't."
"Father did not say I should show off, just prove that I am not a squib."
"Quite. But I saw you with your new wand and I know you are capable of more--"
"No sir. I am doing just what I need to do. Just what Father wants me to do."
Harry's left eyebrow twitched. "Really?"
"I don't think he'd be pleased if I were to show myself more adept than he is, Mr Potter."
"And are you?"
"Yes sir. The Boy -- Severus -- says I am a very powerful wizard. Or would be if I learned properly."
"Does he?" Harry shivered but if the boy saw, it certainly did not mean anything to him. "And how does he know?"
"Because we are one and the same soul and he was a powerful wizard in his time."
Harry said nothing; could say nothing. Not until his brain restarted. "I see," he managed at last. "Did he tell you not to study to your full potential?"
"No. I am studying Mr Potter. I am. I'm just not... as good as you think. And he doesn't count because he's just a dream and he's dead anyway." Without another word, the boy turned away and started off towards his Common Room.
Harry needed only a step and a half to catch him up. But they made the rest of the walk in silence.
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