Chapter 118 - Harry Potter Fanficiton 38 - Finding a Place to Call Home (1/2)
Plot: Haven't you wondered if there's more to the world then a backwards, prejudiced society?” When Harry asks Astoria Greengrass this question in a fit of temper after he's forced to compete in the tournament, he wasn't expecting her answer - or that he'd go along with her decision to run away with him and see the world. Can two different people find happiness?
Pairing: HarryxAstoria
hapter 1: Wild Child
”All the lies and pain you put me through, and now I know its not me its you.” -Skillet, It's not Me its You
Harry wondered what prompted him to snap at Astoria Greengrass.
His last few weeks – ever since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire – had been stressful and extremely unhappy. Walking out of yet another summer with the Dursleys, he had at least been hoping to keep up with his studies and stay out of the spotlight for his fourth year at Hogwarts. For once, there had been no warnings of impending doom, or threats to his person before he reached the school, which fooled him into thinking that nothing would go wrong this year.
He was looking forward to just sitting back and learning new things. Even Quidditch being cancelled didn't dampen his mood, despite how much he enjoyed the sport. Because he was so certain that, for once, nothing bad was going to happen to him. He was away from the Dursleys and with his best friends. Even classes with Severus Snape didn't threaten to ruin his year.
Of course, then he had gone to the Quidditch World Cup. And Death Eaters had attacked. Harry was beginning, at this point, to wonder if he was jinxed. Voldemort was supposed to be gone, he had beaten him twice. Now his followers were attacking an actual settlement, and for some reason no response teams had met them. Either way, the dark mark was in the sky and Harry was almost blamed for it. Like he was blamed for all kinds of stupid things.
He got to Hogwarts, and with the buzz of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the arrival of two other schools, Harry could almost forget about the disastrous end of the World Cup. For once, the other students and teachers would be watching someone else to incredible things.
Coming up to Halloween, Harry had begun to get nervous. He had a lot of bad ȧssociations with this day, the day his parents were murdered and he was consigned to life with the Dursleys, a short, bitter life with no friends and no safety, even when he got to a school where he should have been safe. The people there – they would have been friendly, and they usually were. Until something happened.
Like when McGonagall docked him and Ron over 100 points trying to save Hagrid from getting into serious trouble. Or when he was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin. And now.
Now, someone had put his name into a Tournament.
A Tri-Wizard Tournament, the winner getting eternal glory. Good grief. And they had Ron believing it this time, too. Hermione hadn't said she believed it, but she hadn't said anything, which was as good as the same thing.
Hufflepuff had been most vocal in their outrage, because clearly he was just there to upstage them now that they finally had a high-profile house member. God knows that no one would ever put Harry's name in without his permission. That had never happened. It wasn't like he had been in life-threatening situations before that no one could be bothered to protect him from.
He had enough of eternal glory; he despised it at this point. He would rather be Harry nobody then Harry Potter, boy-who-lived-to-have-a-target-painted-on-his-back.
Finally, after one particularly nasty taunt from Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot – those buŧŧons that said Potter Stinks – Harry was fed up. He decided to isolate himself.
He didn't join the classes for meals; he ate in the kitchen with the help of Dobby. He stayed invisible in the hallway. He sat at the back of the class, never talking to anyone.
The task with the dragon had almost killed him. Some people seemed to be resentful that it hadn't. Ron and Hermione had tried to talk to him afterwards, but he had deftly dodged them. Just thinking about them hurt.
He bȧrėly slept at all these days, just going outside and staring at the sky or hiding away in the library, reading books. Trying to numb the pain and loneliness. Wondering if there would ever be a place where he would be accepted, and not having to constantly look over his shoulder for the next wannabe dark lord supporter who wanted him dead in the name of blood purity.
Harry gave a bitter chuckle one dark night. Hadn't Vernon told him? Just before Vernon had sent him to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, he had told Harry that the wizards wouldn't want him either. Harry hadn't listened to him.
Now, obviously, he should have.
Harry hated it when Vernon was right about something.
It would be worth having never heard of magic, he thought, if it meant an end to this pain.
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Harry was reading in a corner when he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes flicked up just over the rim of the Potions textbook he had been reading to pass the time. If Snape hadn't been such a cruel teacher, he probably would have enjoyed the subject.
The green trim of her robe identified her as a Slytherin, and he couldn't repress a groan. Great. She was probably one of Malfoy's fangirls, or Pansy's group of followers who lashed out with cruel words and curses for the chance to be her friend. And he'd had been so certain that the Slytherins wouldn't come into this part of the library.
”Oh, please don't sigh like that.” The Slytherin said, sounding a little hurt. Her voice was nicer and gentler then he'd been expecting. ”I'm not a bully.”
Harry blinked, and looked up at the girl's face.
She was young, perhaps a year younger then Harry himself. And she was beautiful. Her skin was light, and her face had an aristocratic carve to it characteristic of a pureblood. She had high cheekbones and bright green eyes. Her hair was wild and blonde, very meticulously pulled together by two long braids going down her back. The school robes made it a bit difficult to tell, but she was well-built for a girl her age. There were a pair of sparkling ruby earrings dangling from her ears.
”I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone who wasn't.” Harry responded after a few minutes. His voice was scratchy, because he hadn't been using it very often over the past few weeks.
The girl looked sympathetically at him. Harry wondered if he was imagining things – that this girl was just a figment of his mind, trying to stave off his loneliness. ”I was wondering where you were disappearing to – I mean, I used to see you all the time in the halls, but now, it's like your a ghost.”
”It's not worth being anything else,” Harry said.
He hadn't meant for the words to be so bitter, but he could taste it on the words as soon as they left his mouth. In front of him, the girl's green eyes became sad, through there was a warmth in them Harry never would have ȧssociated with a Slytherin. Or a pureblood, for that matter. Of all the pureblood girls he had seen – Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor – they all had a frigid, controlled coldness to their eyes. He found it profoundly unsettling.
”I'm sorry to hear that.” She said, and she actually sounded like she meant it. Not like Hermione these days, who's sympathy had some contempt dripping off it. The girl looked around the pile of books. ”Do you mind if I stay here for a little? I thought you might be getting lonely.”
Now Harry was really taken aback; no one had asked about his wellbeing or his feelings ever since he was picked as the 'Fourth Contender'. No one had worried about how he might have been suffering. And he didn't even know this girl.
”Uh...” What a question. Harry was momentarily confused, he had gotten used to being alone and he wasn't sure if this was some sort of deception. But he couldn't deny that his isolation was wearing on him quite hard. After a second, he made up his mind. ”Thank you.”
The girl smiled and delicately picked her way through the books he had accumulated, careful not to knock anything over, and sat on the floor next to Harry. ”Reading up on Potions?” She asked lightly, ”I don't blame you. Professor Snape is a slave driver; I've never heard of a teacher working us so hard.”
”Are you kidding? Your the class he likes,” Harry said resentfully. ”He's extra hard on us, and Merlin alone knows why he hates me. I'm surprised I've managed to pass his classes at all.”
The girl shrugged. ”My dad told me a few times that Professor Snape had been bullied really badly by the Gryffindors when he was in school here, because he always seemed so battered and messy.”
Harry's eyebrows shot up. He'd never heard of Gryffindor bullies; whenever something went wrong at school here the Slytherins were always the ones who 'started' it. The Gryffindors were always the noble gryffins getting retribution on 'dark' wizards. Now he wondered if the gryffs were being allowed off the hook on a few things that the other houses wouldn't have been allowed to get away with.
”Who are you?” He asked her eventually, realizing he still didn't know who he was talking to.
”Astoria Greengrass,” The girl responded, smiling at him. ”Hello, Harry.”
”Greengrass.” Harry muttered, placing the name. He stood up abruptly. ”Is that why you're talking to me?”
”Huh?” Astoria asked, looking baffled.
Harry scowled at her. ”Your sister Daphne is always in with Pansy Parkinson when she's bullying people, and Pansy's hated me since first year.”
Astoria's eyes widened in understanding, ”No, no Harry, it's not what you think. I promise, I'm just here by myself. You can preform a supersensory charm if you don't believe me.”
”Supersensory?” Harry repeated, temporarily derailed.
”You don't know it? I was taught it during summer after first year. It allows you to hear everything around you even if you can't see it. Aurors often use it to root out criminals.”
”I-I never learned it.” Harry said, baffled. This only served to confirm his suspicions – pure blood children got training that others didn't. And once again, the stacked nature of the society he was in reared its head.
Astoria stood up at this point, ”I can show you.” She offered. ”It's easy.”
Harry slowly raised his wand hand. This conversation wasn't going the way he had expected it too; he would have expected Pansy to have tried to hex him at this point. But Astoria seemed to genuinely be alone, and she was offering to prove it. Astoria told him the incantation, and he got it on his first try. Supersensory felt different; his hearing felt so sharp he could hear a bird flapping its wings out in the yard. But no sign of Pansy or her groupies.
Harry cancelled the charm. ”Wow,” He murmured.
Astoria smiled. ”See?”
Harry looked back at the blonde girl. ”Look, I'm sorry-”
Astoria shook her head. ”It's okay. I know my big sister's been hanging around with Pansy. Dad is always telling us to network with other children of our class, to build important ties to the future pure-bloods.”
Harry sat down again. He let out a frustrated growl. ”High standing this, purity that! God, do they really think that's all the world has to offer?”
”But it's my family's tradition. The tradition of the country.” Astoria said in confusion.
Harry scowled up at her. ”Haven't you wondered if there's more to the world then a wannabe dark lord and a prejudiced, backwards society?”
He hadn't meant to shout it, but his words rang through the hallway with the force of a gong. Astoria stared at him. Her eyes seemed glassy for a second – like an inner certainty had just come crashing down. Harry took in what he had just said, and ġrȯȧnėd.
”I mean...” He muttered, ”Is bloody squabbling over whether or not your blood is pure enough to be a 'real' wizard all the magical world has to offer? Is violent powerplays between two equally manipulative old men a world-wide thing? Is being an Auror the only career you can really look forward too? Is a lifetime of avoiding the next dark lord all I have to look forward too...?”