A Promise Kept - Chapter 12 - Persuasion

Persuasion

Professor Day hummed as he read Harry’s submission, nodding to himself before placing the roll of parchment onto his desk. He was a tall, dark-skinned man, lithely built, and his eyes were an odd yellowy colour.

Had had thought that he might be a werewolf, but he’d never been absent around the time of the full moon, and his own eyes were rather oddly coloured in their own right.

“Your work is excellent, Mr Potter,” the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor praised. “Certainly surprising and curious, but excellent.”

“Curious?” Harry asked.

Professor Day leaned back in his chair and eyed him for a moment.

“You study Defence the same way one would study offensive magic.”

“If you are ever going to be able to truly defend yourself against what you might face, shouldn’t you yourself be an expert in it?”

Professor Days’ expression remained quite impassive for a moment before he chuckled.

“You are quite right, Mr Potter, but I must admit, I did not expect such an approach coming from you.”

“Because of my past?”

“Perhaps, but more because of how the world sees you, me included, and for that, you have my apologies.”

Harry frowned.

“So, I’m supposed to be this wizard who only studies and uses lighter magic?”

“I think that is what the world will expect from you, but no, that is not what I am saying. There are those that can use such magic to defend themselves admirably, but they are few and far between. It takes considerable dedication to avoid delving into what many consider Dark Magic if you often find yourself in situations where you must fight. Such wizards well-versed in and with a proclivity towards lighter magic tend to be those that abhor violence and will avoid it as best they can. I am beginning to see that is not you. The way you write about magic is what I would expect of someone who has faced and overcome adversity, someone who truly understands that magic is simply magic. When it comes to self-preservation, combat, and even being an Auror, distinctions between light and dark rarely exist, and the lines become blurred at best, but you already understand that. It is exceptional for one your age, Harry.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Your praise is earned, but I find myself now needing to challenge you further. I will have something new for you when you return after the Christmas break.”

Harry accepted the dismissal and offered the professor a nod before taking his leave of the room, only to walk straight into a certain Quodpot captain, who had evidently been waiting for him.

“Potter.”

“Adams.”

The older boy released a deep breath.

“We need you to play,” he sighed. “Even you must see that by now.”

Since the start of the school year, Harry had continued with his training regimen with the team and beyond, and what Adrian had told him proved to be true.

Being almost six players down after they had graduated at the end of the last schoolyear had left the team quite lacking in their ability to field a strong first team.

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

Harry nodded and found himself swept into the older boys’ arms.

“Thank you, Potter! Thank you! We might even be able to win this year!”

“Put me down!” Harry protested, though his words fell on deaf ears.

Adams was ecstatic with his agreement, and already, he was certain he’d regret his decision to play in the house matches that would begin shortly after the students returned to the castle in January.

(Break)

With a delicate flick and twist of her wand, she watched as the yellow, needly bolt of magic careened towards the wooden dummy, and nodded as it passed through the middle of the forehead, leaving behind only a minute but smouldering hole.

“Fatal,” Lily murmured as she noted down the result on a piece of parchment before casting the same spell another dozen times to ensure it was consistent.

All she had done was made a few minor adjustments to a charm used for removing rust from the bottom of cauldrons, but the results were interesting, to say the least.

Over the years, she had never lost her passion for magic, and when time permitted, had often delved into her studies further, finding alternative uses for already existing spells, and even creating a few of her own along the way.

With Harry now at school, and Sirius spending more time in Britain, Lily found she had more free time than ever, and she could think of nothing she would rather be doing than continuing on with what she was drawn to.

She still practiced her brewing, still sought new ways to improve Potions, the preparation of ingredients, and even the storage of them, something she enjoyed immensely, but it was Charms she had become utterly enthralled by when she’d first entered the magical world more than twenty years prior.

Filius had certainly been instrumental in igniting that passion, and Lily had been more than a little disappointed that she’d had to turn down his offer of studying with him upon graduating Hogwarts.

The war had been in full swing, and she had decided to do her part by joining the Order of the Phoenix, but only a matter of a year later, she and James had found themselves in hiding.

“Born as the seventh month dies,” she murmured, replaying the words that had haunted her these past years.

Lily had never studied Divination, had not been sure she could even believe what Albus had told her, but the man had never given her a reason not to trust him, and the night he had arrived to spoil the news of her pregnancy, something she and James had shared with no one else; Lily had never seen him so grave.

She swallowed deeply as she remembered the fear she felt, that same fear that had never truly left her since, and she fired the spell once more, adding an additional flourish to the twisting of her wand, her eyes widening at the results.

Instead of the yellow, needle sized spell she had been casting, the magic that escaped her was of a deep red, blinding, and the head of the dummy was obliterated, showering the floor in splinters.

“That is interesting,” she mused aloud, repairing the figure before repeating the feat. “Very interesting.”

She hoped she would never have need of such magic, but she was no longer a naïve newlywed ignorant to the ways of the world. Lily knew there was a chance she would need it, as would her son.

She never wanted this for Harry, but she would be damned if she did not ensure the boy was as ready as he could be should the prophecy prove to be more than mere words.

“Mark him as his equal,” she said sadly, unable to forget the scar that marred the skin just above Harry’s brow.

Oddly, he was rather fond of that scar, took no measures to hide it, and kept it on show. Perhaps he saw it as a reminder of how fortunate he was to be here, or maybe it was just a reminder of the sacrifice his father had made.

Regardless, Harry did not shy away from who he was, and Lily could only hope that it would not be to his detriment in the years to come.

(Break)

He’d witnessed the man go through quite the remarkable transition these past months, and as Albus observed the Lord Black offering yet another admirable performance in a bid to prevent further cuts to several departments within the Ministry of Magic, he nodded is approval.

“We are to host the Quidditch World Cup in a little over a year. We simply cannot justify the poor number of Aurors we have. How can we expect those that will flock here to feel safe, and dare I say it, how can any of you stand the embarrassment at the paltry force we will have to display. Not only will Britain appear to be incompetent, but we will also look weak. I implore you once more to reinstall the funding of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to what it once was because as things stand, it is nothing short of pathetic.”

He retook his seat, and Albus found himself surprised by how much the room had been stirred by the impassioned speech.

Sirius Black was proving to be quite the politician and was quickly carving himself a reputation of a man not to be taken lightly.

“Lord Black, we simply do not have the funding…”

“Then where is the gold?” Sirius interrupted the Minister and stood once more. “There has been no tax cuts since you have taken office, no surge in inflation which would account for the Ministry spending being higher than usual, so where is all the gold already taken from these departments being allocated?”

It was an interesting question that Albus was eager to hear the answer to.

“International trade is still down and has been since the war,” Cornelius explained. “We lost several prominent families who had enterprises and interests overseas that we no longer have, and although we have neither increased or decreased taxes, we have less people paying in. It is at its lowest in more than a century.”

“Is that surprising, Minister?” Sirius pressed. “After Voldemort was allowed to tear through this country, hundreds if not thousands of half-bloods and muggleborns did not return to the wizarding world. Not only are they prejudiced against by employers, and even the Ministry itself when it comes to employment, they spent years living in fear that they would be murdered because of the blood that runs through their veins, and when the war was over, where were the reassurances? Where was the needed olive branch and opportunities that would’ve maybe convinced many to stay? There wasn’t any because too many people decided we should forget all about the war, sweep it under the damned rug, and continue as we were. Well, that just isn’t good enough, and we find ourselves as a country suffering because the right thing was not done too many times, and now, it must be fixed. We have a country with perhaps the greatest magical education establishment in the world that has continued producing the most talented of witches and wizards. Provide them with incentives to stay, Minister, and Britain will thrive again. Find a way to rebuild the lost enterprises from the war and be better than we were before Voldemort all but destroyed us. We are stronger together as witches and wizards than we a apart as purebloods, half-bloods, and muggleborns. If we do not see that and begin acting like it, we will be left so far behind whilst other countries ascend.”

It wasn’t often that the members of the Wizengamot were stunned into silence, especially Cornelius Fudge who was known for his ability to talk his way into and out of just about anything.

Now, however, he had no words to offer as a rebuttal, no excuse to make, nor any platitude to proffer.

Lucius Malfoy looked furious, but at best, he was wary of Sirius Black, and at the very least, there would be no further budget cuts for the foreseeable future.

If anything, Albus was hopeful that somehow, Cornelius might just find a way to do what was needed and find the gold for St Mungo’s and for the Ministry itself that needed it so.

Hogwarts, as ever, would be fine.

The school was not flush by any stretch, but over the years, he had managed with the budget they had and would always do so.

So long as each student that passed through the gates was educated by the very best he could appoint, he would manage, though such a thought only led him to the current woes of the castle, least of all the apparent re-opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

How Tom had managed to find his way back into Hogwarts without being detected, despite Albus’s additional security measures, he did not know, but the headmaster did not doubt that his former student was somehow behind it.

He just couldn’t quite fathom how, though Tom certainly found a way to achieve any goal he set out for himself.

It was a troubling thought, and though more so than the other problem he was currently facing, the other required Albus’s immediate attention.

His belief that Lucius had ensured Gilderoy Lockhart’s appointment as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to discredit to the school was ringing truer with each lesson the man taught.

He was a gifted liar and boaster, but not a gifted enough wizard to even come close to achieving what he claimed to in what Albus now knew to be his works of fiction.

Well, not fiction exactly.

The events described within them were very much true and documented, only Gilderoy had taken the glory and plaudits for himself, something Albus had learned, much to his own disgust and disappointment.

Flashback

It was not often Albus found himself on the continent outside of attending the meetings of the ICW but being unable to ignore the bold claims of Lockhart any longer, he had arrived in Romania to seek the truth of the many questions he found he had of the man and his adventures.

He chose to begin finding them using his latest offering to his audience; Voyages with Vampires, in the hope that with the book being quite recently released, there would be a somewhat fresh trail of evidence to follow.

Much to the surprise of the Headmaster, it had taken little digging on his part to find a local with knowledge of what had occurred in this part of the world, and the man had been most enlightening.

“It happened in a village around six miles south of here. The man you need to speak with is Alexandru Baciu. He is the one the Ministry sent to address the problem with the clan leader. We do not know what happened, but the attacks stop, and the rumours have become strange. Some locals say they have seen the clan leader in their vegetable patches in the dead of night.”

End Flashback

With the information he had been given, it did not take long for Albus to track down Alexandru Baciu, and with it, the disturbing truth of Gilderoy’s part in the affair.

Memory charms.

Baciu had been the one to end the clan leader’s reign of terror over the locals, had cursed the vampire into believing that consuming blood would kill him, and that vegetation was the only source of sustenance he needed.

Gilderoy had not even arrived in Romania until several weeks after, where he’d taken it upon himself to demonstrate the one real talent other than deception he possessed: memory charms.

It had taken Albus considerable effort to undo what the man had done to Baciu, and Alexandru had only been too happy to share the truth with him.

Gilderoy had extracted enough knowledge of what the Romanian had done before setting to work on altering the memories, and subsequently taking the credit of the feat, leaving Albus only more concerned than he had been after each of the various incidents at the castle.

What he was certain of, however, was that Lockhart was not an associate of Tom Riddle, nor was he acting on the man’s behalf in the matter of the Chamber of Secrets.

No, it was not so troublesome, but troubling, nonetheless, and something Albus intended to rectify having gathered all the evidence he needed.

Not a single deed he bragged of could be attributed to Gilderoy Lockhart, but attempting to fire him would not be so easy if Lucius protested. No, it would be much easier to force Gilderoy into leaving of his own accord, and if that failed, he might just have use of a certain Lord Black, who continued to make waves of his own, right here in the chambers of the Wizengamot.

“Sirius, might I have a word?” Albus asked as he approached when those gathered were disposing.

The man nodded, though seemed to do so reluctantly.

“Your office?”

“At your leisure,” Albus agreed, taking his leave of the room, and shortly after, the Ministry of Magic altogether, where he would wait for his guest to arrive.

He and Sirius might not always agree on matters of politics, but Albus did not doubt he would be willing to help, especially when he learned of Lockhart, of Lucius’s apparent plans, and Albus hoped his own idea when he presented them to the man in the coming moments.

(Break)

“You finally agreed to play?” Maggie asked excitedly.

“Yes, Adams didn’t give me much choice.”

“You want to play,” Wendell broke in. “Don’t blame Adams.”

Harry failed to hide his grin.

Truthfully, he was quite looking forward to it, to testing himself against the other houses, but he did not expect his mother to be best pleased. He had seen the relief in Lily Potter’s eyes when he’d told he had turned down a position on the team the previous year.

Not that Sirius wouldn’t support him, and his mother would come around, eventually.

“Well, maybe Wampus will finally win the cup,” Maggie teased. “How long has it been?”

“More than two decades,” Wendell reminded them. “Besides, it’s not like one player can make that much of a difference.”

Harry had taken the words of his friend as a direct challenge.

He’d always been quite competitive, but being told that he himself could not make such a difference had stoked that fire within him. As such, as he found himself holding the volatile Quod underneath his arm as members of his own house barrelled towards him, Harry pulled his broom upwards so that the handle was resting against his chest before spinning a pirouette.

It worked, and Harry passed through the gap of players easily enough before surging forward to score yet another point.

“That’s six points in eight minutes,” Adams commented, shaking his head. “It’s like you see everything in slow motion, or you just move that damned quick. You’ve really got talent, Potter.”

He flew away and blew his whistle shrilly when he reached the middle of the pitch.

“Hit the showers!” he instructed. “We will be back at it after the Christmas break.”

Harry returned his broom to the shed before making his way to the changing rooms where he cleansed himself of the dirt and sweat an arduous training session left him with, and when he was done, he made his way back towards the castle, frowning as two large figures stepped in front of him, blocking the front doors.

He didn’t recognise either of the boys, but there was a familiar to them.

“Stay away from our sister, Potter!” one of them warned.

“Your sister?” Harry asked confusedly.

“Sabine!” the second growled, prodding him sharply in the chest.

Harry immediately felt his temper flare.

In truth, he did not speak to Sabine that often that it warranted her brothers intervening, and he released a deep breath to calm himself, only to feel his anger rise once more as the boy prodded him again.

“Are you listening to us, Pot…”

His breath hitched in his chest, and he doubled over as Harry drove his fist into his sternum, and a loud snapping filled the courtyard as he followed up with a sharp uppercut, smashing the boys’ nose from the force.

Before his brother could recover from the shock, Harry’s wand was levelled at him, and he stared down the shaft of it, his skin paling.

“Do not ever threaten me again,” he whispered dangerously. “I do not like people threatening me.”

The Van Droombeeld boy nodded dumbly before hurrying to help his brother to his feet. When he did so, both ran into the school, and Harry suspected he had not heard the last of this.

Nonetheless, he did not regret his actions.

He had not lied when he said he did not like being threatened. It never sat well with him, not after what had happened to him, his mother, and father when Harry had been in no position to defend himself, let alone his parents.

Perhaps it was an insecurity, even a fear of finding himself in such a position again, but he would not allow himself to be threatened by any, especially over something so ridiculous as the sporadic friendship he had with a girl he knew so little about.

“What happened to you, you look furious?” Olivia said with a frown as he entered the common room.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said dismissively, only to deflate as another voice addressed him from where the Wampus stood guard.

“Potter, my office, now,” Professor Fontaine instructed.

Professor Clarke was with him, and the woman looked graver than Harry had ever seen her.

Ignoring the murmurings of his housemates, Harry did as he was bid, still unremorseful of what he’d done to the brothers, and he would tell Fontaine nor Clarke any differently.

(Break)

Sirius frowned unhappily as Albus explained his thoughts on what it was Lucius was trying to achieve in the Wizengamot, and evidently at Hogwarts. With how well connected the man was, and how shrewd, it did not bode well for the school having the man serve as governor.

“Are you certain he is making investments into private sectors?” he asked. “Didn’t he make a considerable donation to St Mungo’s at the end of the war?”

“We both know why he did that, and the donation was more than enough to satisfy those watching, but not so much that it would truly make a long-term difference. Lucius played his hand well, but this time, he is doing his utmost to play it much more carefully. If he can undermine the school and show it is no longer providing the very best education, our numbers will only continue to fall.”

Sirius nodded his understanding before leaning back in his chair.

“You have a plan.”

“I do, but I will need your assistance.”

Sirius frowned once more.

“Why do I get the feeling I am not going to like it?”

Albus chuckled as he held up a hand.

“On the contrary, I believe you will. It will serve to ensure Lucius does not get what he wants and provide the school with a most prominent professor.”

“You want me to teach?” Sirius scoffed. “Albus, if you remember correctly, I spent more time in detention than most others during my time here.”

“I remember, but you are certainly more than capable of it, and I cannot allow Gilderoy to continue on here.”

“That is one thing I do not understand. Why would Lucius act now when his son is here? Does this not effect Draco?”

Albus shook his head.

“The boy is privately tutored during the summer. He has not been so hesitant to keep that from his peers.”

“Ah, so he’s as charming as his father.”

“Worse in his own way,” Albus sighed. “Draco lacks subtlety, is a bully, and carries the same prejudices as Lucius.”

“He sounds delightful.”

“Indeed, but…”

Albus stopped speaking as an ethereal doe appeared in front of Sirius and spoke to him in a voice he had not heard in many years.

“Sirius, we need to go to Ilvermorny. Harry has gotten himself in trouble for fighting.”

He shook his head as he stood.

“I’m surprised it took more than a year,” he murmured. “I will think about what you have said, Albus, and will get a message to you in a day or so.”

“Thank you, Sirius. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, it’s just Harry being Harry. He wouldn’t fight without reason, but Fontaine wouldn’t send for us if it was just a minor scuffle. I don’t know, it’s not as much of a troublemaker as we were, but he has his moments. I will get a message to you soon, Albus.”

He left the office just wondering what had happened at Ilvermorny that needed him and Lily to make their way to the school.

Harry certainly had a temper, but not unless he was provoked.

No, it wasn’t like him to start a fight, but Sirius certainly did not doubt that his godson would finish one.

(Break)

Harry did not look away from the two boys looking smugly at him, nor from their parents who’d evidently arrived the moment they’d been informed of what had happened.

Mr Van Droombeeld was red in the face in anger, but his wife offered Harry something of an apologetic smile.

“I want him expelled, Fontaine! He attacked both of my sons!”

The Headmaster appeared exhausted, and Professor Clarke did not seem to be happy having her evening interrupted.

“We do not expel shouldn’t for something as minor as this, Mr Van Droombeeld,” Fontaine sighed. “This is a boarding school with hundreds of students here. If we expelled someone for things like this, we’d have no students left, and might I remind you, that your own sons have been caught doing much worse than instigating a scuffle. I am happy to retrieve their files so that we can decide if they should remain students at the school, if you so wish?”

Mr Van Droombeeld flushed redder than he had been only a moment prior, but he seemed to be rather wary of the Headmaster.

Fontaine had been an Auror for several years before becoming a professor, so it could be that he had forged quite the reputation for himself as a wizard not to be crossed.

“He broke my son’s nose like a common, no-maj thug! He did not even have the decency to suggest mutual combat or challenge him to a duel!”

“Then you should be grateful all he got was a broken nose.”

It was often Harry saw Sirius so angry, but as he stalked into the office, his grey eyes were stormy, his nostrils flared, and he resembled some of the men he had seen in old family photos belonging to the Blacks.

Still, he calmed somewhat as Lily Potter placed a hand on his forearm.

“What happened, Harry?” she asked.

She was disappointed but was trying to hide it from him.

“That is what I wished to establish,” Fontaine broke in. “It is unlike Mr Potter to exhibit such behaviour. In your own words, Harry.”

“They cornered my after Quodpot training and threatened me. They told me to stay away from their sister.”

Fontaine hummed as his gaze shifted to the Van Droombeeld brothers.

“Is that true?” he questioned.

“We did not threaten him!”

“So, he just decided to punch you for absolutely no reason?”

“Yes!”

Harry scoffed as he shook his head.

“Why would I just walk up to two older students and punch one of them?” he asked. “I didn’t even know who either of you were before you tried to threaten me. It’s not my fault you’re a pair of pussies who…”

“Harry Potter!” his mother scolded whilst Sirius stifled a bout of laughter. “You will not use language like that.”

“No, you will not,” Fontaine agreed. “Now, regardless of whether or not they threatened you, your reaction was unacceptable, and you will serve a week of detention when you return from your Christmas break. Do you understand?”

“What about them?” Harry asked. “Are they going to get away with threatening me?”

“No, they too will be serving a week of detention, and that will be the end of the incident,” Fontaine said firmly. “If you cannot behave in a manner fitting of a student at this school, you will avoid one another. I do not expect to see either the three of you in here again because you have not listened to what I am saying.”

Mr Van Droombeeld looked fit to explode from his anger, but instead, he nodded tightly before making his way towards the door with his wife and two sons in tow.

When they were gone, Fontaine released a deep breath and shook his head.

“Perhaps you should return home with your mother and godfather a day early, Mr Potter,” he urged. “That way, we have the entire holiday season to allow this to pass, and I truly must urge you not to find yourself at odds with them any further, if you can help it. Mr Van Droombeeld can make life very difficult for you.”

“As I can for him,” Sirius broke in darkly. “Come, Harry. I’m sure Aurelius wouldn’t mind seeing you sooner.”

With only a nod, Harry stood, and Professor Fontaine followed suit, throwing a handful of powder into the lit fireplace.

“Use the floo,” he offered with a smile. “It will be a cold walk to the apparation point.”

“Thank you, Professor Fontaine,” Lily offered appreciatively, gesturing for Harry to step through first.

He did, and only a moment later, he found himself staring up at his folded-armed mother, who shook her head unhappily.

“Harry, you…”

“Should let people threaten me?” he cut in irritably.

“I did not say that…”

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t even try to defend me in there. Would you rather I just let them do whatever they want and then tell a teacher about them?”

“No, but you can’t just…”

“I will do what I know is right!” Harry cut in once more. “I will not be threatened by anyone, especially two little bastards like that. What would you have done?”

His mother shook his head.

“I don’t know, Harry.”

“What about you?” he asked Sirius.

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have punched one of them. I would’ve cursed them.”

“Which would’ve been worse,” Harry pointed out. “I’m not going to let anyone bully me. I don’t care if it is a Van Droombeeld or any other idiot with a stupid name. Would my father have allowed it?”

“He would not,” Sirius sighed. “Your mother just does not wish to see you in trouble or hurt. That’s just how mothers are, Harry.”

“Well, either one of those things was going to happen no matter what I did. I’d rather be in trouble than hurt.”

Sirius fought the urge to grin, and his mother conceded the point with a nod.

“You know, you’re a little too smart for your own good sometimes.”

“Don’t I get that from you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but smiled, nonetheless.

“Flattery will not get you far with me, Harry. Your father found that out.”

“He still won you over in the end.”

“He’s got you there,” Sirius snorted. “Anyway, there is something I need to discuss with you both before I decide. Albus has asked if I would teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The whole thing is a convoluted mess caused by Lucius Malfoy, and Dumbledore needs someone who will not be intimidated so easily.”

“Does that mean you will have to stay at the castle?”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, I will insist that I can return here, so I will mostly be gone overnight and back during the day.”

“Is it something you want to do?” Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged.

“I’ve not given it much thought, but if Lucius gets his way, Hogwarts’ years might just be numbered. He’s trying to undermine the effectiveness of the school and has been investing into private ventures. I’ve managed to prevent him cutting funding, for now, but I won’t be able to forever. He will find a way, whether that is through bribery or intimidation.”

“If you want to teach, you should just teach,” Harry suggested. “You can deal with the politics side of things during Wizengamot meetings and being a professor when you’re at Hogwarts.”

Sirius frowned thoughtfully before nodding.

“You know, you’re a little too smart for your own good sometimes, Harry,” he chuckled. “Not that I have decided that I am going to accept the job. Making sure the two of you are safe is my priority.”

“I think you should take it,” Lily spoke up. “If it is something you would like to do, then do it. I have my own things to get on with here.”

“I am thinking about it,” Sirius murmured. “Are you okay, Harry?”

He shrugged in response, irked by what had happened this evening, but no pleased to be back home.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’m just going to check on Aurelius and the others.”

He left through the back door of the kitchen and into the large expanse of land surrounding the house. At this time of year, not much grew on the fields, but there was still large areas of grass where the griffins liked to roam when they weren’t by the lake or stream that flowed through.

Making his way towards the former, Harry tried not to focus on what had happened at Ilvermorny.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have lost his temper so readily, but the boy prodding his chest had made that all but impossible.

He despised bullies, hated people thinking they could intimidate others because of a name they carried. It was not something Harry could abide, and the Van Droombeeld brothers had learned that for themselves.

Maybe now they would leave him, but he had his doubts.

People with such a sense of entitlement did not know when they were beat, and they would forget the lesson he’d imparted on them soon enough and likely attempt to provoke him again.

Next time, he would need to be more subtle with how he responded instead of brazenly thumping one of them in the nose for their trouble.

He shook his head as he continued on his way, pausing suddenly as a large shadow passed overhead.

It was quite unusual for Norbert to venture so far away from his cave.

He was typically quite shy, and as he landed only a dozen feet away from Harry and unleashed a guttural roar, the boy felt a fear like no other run down the length of his spine.

Norbert was no longer an adolescent dragon, not in body, at least. Over the past months he’d been away, the dragon had grown considerably and was now close to twenty feet in length.

“Easy boy,” Harry murmured, holding his hands up placatingly, for what good it would do.

Norbert growled at him as he beat his wings, before whimpering and pawing at the ground.

“Are you hurt?” Harry asked gently.

Norbert whimpered again as he lowered himself to the ground, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought the dragon would kill him, but it seemed he only needed help.

Not that he knew what he was doing, but as Sirius and his mother came hurrying towards them, Norbert reared up once more.

“Stay back!” Harry pleaded. “I think he is hurt. Easy, Norbert. Please.”

“Harry, get away from him!”

He ignored the words of his mother and he stepped slowly closer to the dragon, who beat his wings once more.

“Come on, we both know you need my help. What is it, boy?”

He felt as though he was talking to a petulant dog instead of a creature that could immolate him with. Single breath, but Norbert was acting like it, whining pathetically and hanging his head.

Had he not seen it for himself, Harry wouldn’t believe it, and as Norbert looked up at him once more with a pitiful look in his eyes, Harry spotted the problem.

One of his large fangs was sitting at an odd angle, protruding out of the side of his mouth almost comically, though it was anything but amusing. It looked terribly sore, and Harry wasn’t certain what he could do to help other than the obvious.

“This is going to hurt, but you’ll feel better after. Please don’t burn me.”

Norbert held surprisingly still as Harry took hold of the fang, but the same couldn’t be said as he gave it a sharp tug.

The tooth came away in his hand, but the dragon screeched, and Harry only just managed to avoid the flailing tail as Norbert spun sharply and took to the sky, flying circles above and chirping happily.

“You know, you’re completely insane,” Sirius huffed as he and his mother approached, “and probably grounded for the rest of the holiday.”

Harry shrugged.

“He needed help.”

“Maybe I should introduce you to Hagrid. I think the two of you would get along.”

“I do not think so,” Lily grumbled. “Come on, inside. What on earth were you thinking, Harry James Potter?”

She would rant and rave for a while yet. She always did whenever Harry did something reckless, but she would get over it, and Harry chose to inspect the tooth he had removed from Norbert, pleased he’d done so, but still quite shaken from the experience.

“Could you turn this into a necklace for me?” he asked his mother, who looked at him in disbelief.

“Have you not listened to a word I have said?”

“Not really,” Harry admitted with a grin. “So, can you?”

His mother merely shook her head in response and headed back into the house, and Sirius ruffled his hair.

“I expect you’ll have it by the morning if you leave it on the table for her,” he said amusedly.