Disclaimer: Nothing from JKR's world is mine.
A/N: Well, I am absolutely sorry to all of you who have been waiting for this chapter for so long! Thanks so much to all of you who stuck with it and to the ones who kept e-mailing to tell me to keep working at it! And thanks so much to my betas Devonny Rose and Prongs79!
Harry Potter sulked on his way to his next therapy session. He really did not want to go. It wasn't fair! Why did he have to do this just because Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley said so? Just the memory of Mrs. Weasley's angry face caused him to shudder, though, and he continued on his way; still unhappy about having to go to a therapist for real.
Harry pushed open the door and flopped himself down on the chair across from a man who, for the briefest of moments, wore a startled expression. Harry examined the man in front of him. Harry figured that he was good looking with his wavy, dark hair and warm, chocolate eyes. Everything about the guy screamed 'TRUST ME!,' which made Harry want to do exactly the opposite.
"Just because I'm here doesn't mean that I'm going to be all mushy and confess all of my deepest, and darkest secrets to you," Harry announced rather abruptly. The man's eyes flashed for a moment in what seemed to be amusement.
"Of course not, Harry. Do you mind if I call you Harry?" the man responded politely. Harry grunted out a noncommittal sound that the man took for an affirmative response. "Good. My name is Marcus Stone. My friends call me Marc. You may call me whatever you feel most comfortable with," Marc told the surly teen.
"Fine. What do you want me to talk about?" Harry questioned the older man.
"Well, Harry, that really is up to you. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about whether it be Quidditch, girls, or your latest Transfiguration test," Marc replied good naturedly. Harry was silent for a few moments. He wanted to think of a safe topic, one that in no way would let this Stone character think that he would just reveal his entire life story to him. That was when Harry noticed some parchment on the table between them.
"What is that for?" he suspiciously asked Marc. Harry had good reason to question the swiftly moving quill and parchment, since Rita Skeeter's infamous writing.
"Ah, yes, that is my quill that I have charmed to record our proceedings. Don't worry, it is quite different from a Quick Quotes Quill. I find those to be often times untruthful. Take a look if you'd like, you'll find it is only writing the truth."
Harry decided to see if it was in fact what Marc described when he saw words on the page that made him blush and shout indignantly, "I do not sulk or pout!" Marc simply raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"I see. I shall have to check over the quill when we are done to remove any bugs in the system, so to say," Marc said judiciously, while tugging the paper from Harry's hands.
Harry knew when he was thwarted and said, "You're muggleborn."
"Is that a problem for you?"
Shaking his head, Harry replied, "No, one of my best friends is muggleborn. Her name's Hermione. Smartest witch of our year."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, she's very clever. Almost always knows what you need to know and if she doesn't, she can find out rather quickly. It can get a bit annoying, though. I mean, she really likes doing her homework. Ron and I are almost always getting pestered by her to work harder." Harry said happily.
"Ron?"
"Weasley. He's our other best friend. Brilliant chess player. He and I almost always manage to get into loads of trouble. We were best mates ever since the first ride on the Hogwarts Express our first year. He does have a temper on him. I suppose all the Weasleys do if you get them angry enough. Must have something to do with the red hair," Harry spoke tenderly.
"So you like the Weasley family then?" Marc asked.
"Oh yes. I've spent part of every summer with them. I haven't seem Bill and Charlie that much, but they are interesting blokes. Percy's a prat. Fred and George are great and really quite fun to be around. You know about Ron. And Ginny is really nice. Mr. Weasley loves muggle things and is always fun to talk to. Mrs. Weasley is the best cook and gives wonderful hugs," Harry finished wistfully. "I wish I had a family like that," he let out without thinking.
"What is wrong with the family you have, Harry?" Marc wondered.
Harry's face darkened at the mention of the Dursleys. He had nothing good to say about them and refused to say anything about the horrible people beyond that they didn't like him and that the feelings were quite mutual. Marc could sense the boy's dark mood and shifted subjects.
"What is your favorite subject?" He asked.
"Well, I suppose it's DADA. This year's teacher is a bit much, though," Harry replied noncommittally.
"Oh, don't you like him?"
"Well enough, I suppose. He just keeps trying to get all friendly with me ever since I found out that I knew him when I was younger. At least Snape is leaving me alone." Harry told him.
Marc seemed interested in what Harry was telling him. Harry was surprised to find himself speaking so freely to Marc. He hadn't had an adult to talk to like this in, well, ever. He might have told Sirius, but he would have hexed Snape faster than you could say 'Jelly-Legs.' Marc also didn't seem to be judging him about what he was saying. Just listening and that was nice. By no means did he plan on talking much deeper than he was, but at least some of his burdens were just melting away, at least for the time being and that was a welcome difference.
Before Harry knew it, Marc was packing his quill and parchment into a briefcase and telling him that he would see him next week same time and place. In the mean time, though, Harry could contact him any time that he wanted through a special journal. Harry liked the look of it. It was a warm red with intricate designs on it, some of which reminded Harry of the runes he had seen on Hermione's homework. Marc didn't guarantee an answer right away all the time, but he would check for a message from Harry at least once a day. Harry nodded, but did not really intend on using it.
Harry left the room happier and more refreshed than he had felt in months. He grudgingly admitted that perhaps the adults were right in this situation, but that still didn't mean he was going to talk about the incident. They couldn't make him.
Harry decided at that moment that he was going to work harder to make his life better. Starting with what he loved the most: flying. He ran up to his dormitory, dropped his journal into his trunk and grabbed his firebolt. Yes, he was still banned from playing Quidditch at Hogwarts ever again, but nobody ever said he was banned from actually riding!
As soon as he had left the building he mounted his broom and lifted off. He felt a swelling in his heart that he didn't even realize he missed so much. Harry turned, twisted, looped, and dived so quickly that the few onlookers stood staring in awe at the young man's ability.
One bushy, brown haired girl was so inspired by what she saw that she turned away from the window she was looking out of and started to draft a letter. Her fellow classmates took no notice because her absence allowed them a clearer view of the only Potter's stunts.
For Harry's part, when he finally realized that the sun was almost down and that he had missed curfew, he ran back to Gryffindor Tower and went straight to bed where he had the best nights sleep since he could remember.
Thanks to all of my reviewers! Oh, and due to some people commenting on how they did not like me replying to reviewers I will stop.
Please review and tell me what you think!!!
A/N: Well, I am absolutely sorry to all of you who have been waiting for this chapter for so long! Thanks so much to all of you who stuck with it and to the ones who kept e-mailing to tell me to keep working at it! And thanks so much to my betas Devonny Rose and Prongs79!
Harry Potter sulked on his way to his next therapy session. He really did not want to go. It wasn't fair! Why did he have to do this just because Dumbledore and Mrs. Weasley said so? Just the memory of Mrs. Weasley's angry face caused him to shudder, though, and he continued on his way; still unhappy about having to go to a therapist for real.
Harry pushed open the door and flopped himself down on the chair across from a man who, for the briefest of moments, wore a startled expression. Harry examined the man in front of him. Harry figured that he was good looking with his wavy, dark hair and warm, chocolate eyes. Everything about the guy screamed 'TRUST ME!,' which made Harry want to do exactly the opposite.
"Just because I'm here doesn't mean that I'm going to be all mushy and confess all of my deepest, and darkest secrets to you," Harry announced rather abruptly. The man's eyes flashed for a moment in what seemed to be amusement.
"Of course not, Harry. Do you mind if I call you Harry?" the man responded politely. Harry grunted out a noncommittal sound that the man took for an affirmative response. "Good. My name is Marcus Stone. My friends call me Marc. You may call me whatever you feel most comfortable with," Marc told the surly teen.
"Fine. What do you want me to talk about?" Harry questioned the older man.
"Well, Harry, that really is up to you. We can talk about whatever you want to talk about whether it be Quidditch, girls, or your latest Transfiguration test," Marc replied good naturedly. Harry was silent for a few moments. He wanted to think of a safe topic, one that in no way would let this Stone character think that he would just reveal his entire life story to him. That was when Harry noticed some parchment on the table between them.
"What is that for?" he suspiciously asked Marc. Harry had good reason to question the swiftly moving quill and parchment, since Rita Skeeter's infamous writing.
"Ah, yes, that is my quill that I have charmed to record our proceedings. Don't worry, it is quite different from a Quick Quotes Quill. I find those to be often times untruthful. Take a look if you'd like, you'll find it is only writing the truth."
Harry decided to see if it was in fact what Marc described when he saw words on the page that made him blush and shout indignantly, "I do not sulk or pout!" Marc simply raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"I see. I shall have to check over the quill when we are done to remove any bugs in the system, so to say," Marc said judiciously, while tugging the paper from Harry's hands.
Harry knew when he was thwarted and said, "You're muggleborn."
"Is that a problem for you?"
Shaking his head, Harry replied, "No, one of my best friends is muggleborn. Her name's Hermione. Smartest witch of our year."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, she's very clever. Almost always knows what you need to know and if she doesn't, she can find out rather quickly. It can get a bit annoying, though. I mean, she really likes doing her homework. Ron and I are almost always getting pestered by her to work harder." Harry said happily.
"Ron?"
"Weasley. He's our other best friend. Brilliant chess player. He and I almost always manage to get into loads of trouble. We were best mates ever since the first ride on the Hogwarts Express our first year. He does have a temper on him. I suppose all the Weasleys do if you get them angry enough. Must have something to do with the red hair," Harry spoke tenderly.
"So you like the Weasley family then?" Marc asked.
"Oh yes. I've spent part of every summer with them. I haven't seem Bill and Charlie that much, but they are interesting blokes. Percy's a prat. Fred and George are great and really quite fun to be around. You know about Ron. And Ginny is really nice. Mr. Weasley loves muggle things and is always fun to talk to. Mrs. Weasley is the best cook and gives wonderful hugs," Harry finished wistfully. "I wish I had a family like that," he let out without thinking.
"What is wrong with the family you have, Harry?" Marc wondered.
Harry's face darkened at the mention of the Dursleys. He had nothing good to say about them and refused to say anything about the horrible people beyond that they didn't like him and that the feelings were quite mutual. Marc could sense the boy's dark mood and shifted subjects.
"What is your favorite subject?" He asked.
"Well, I suppose it's DADA. This year's teacher is a bit much, though," Harry replied noncommittally.
"Oh, don't you like him?"
"Well enough, I suppose. He just keeps trying to get all friendly with me ever since I found out that I knew him when I was younger. At least Snape is leaving me alone." Harry told him.
Marc seemed interested in what Harry was telling him. Harry was surprised to find himself speaking so freely to Marc. He hadn't had an adult to talk to like this in, well, ever. He might have told Sirius, but he would have hexed Snape faster than you could say 'Jelly-Legs.' Marc also didn't seem to be judging him about what he was saying. Just listening and that was nice. By no means did he plan on talking much deeper than he was, but at least some of his burdens were just melting away, at least for the time being and that was a welcome difference.
Before Harry knew it, Marc was packing his quill and parchment into a briefcase and telling him that he would see him next week same time and place. In the mean time, though, Harry could contact him any time that he wanted through a special journal. Harry liked the look of it. It was a warm red with intricate designs on it, some of which reminded Harry of the runes he had seen on Hermione's homework. Marc didn't guarantee an answer right away all the time, but he would check for a message from Harry at least once a day. Harry nodded, but did not really intend on using it.
Harry left the room happier and more refreshed than he had felt in months. He grudgingly admitted that perhaps the adults were right in this situation, but that still didn't mean he was going to talk about the incident. They couldn't make him.
Harry decided at that moment that he was going to work harder to make his life better. Starting with what he loved the most: flying. He ran up to his dormitory, dropped his journal into his trunk and grabbed his firebolt. Yes, he was still banned from playing Quidditch at Hogwarts ever again, but nobody ever said he was banned from actually riding!
As soon as he had left the building he mounted his broom and lifted off. He felt a swelling in his heart that he didn't even realize he missed so much. Harry turned, twisted, looped, and dived so quickly that the few onlookers stood staring in awe at the young man's ability.
One bushy, brown haired girl was so inspired by what she saw that she turned away from the window she was looking out of and started to draft a letter. Her fellow classmates took no notice because her absence allowed them a clearer view of the only Potter's stunts.
For Harry's part, when he finally realized that the sun was almost down and that he had missed curfew, he ran back to Gryffindor Tower and went straight to bed where he had the best nights sleep since he could remember.
Thanks to all of my reviewers! Oh, and due to some people commenting on how they did not like me replying to reviewers I will stop.
Please review and tell me what you think!!!