They chatted for several minutes, but Harry never felt like he was under attack. It was like he had someone helping him. It was a good conversation. It made Harry feel like he belonged to a family, one he'd selected (and that his parents had selected for him) rather than one he'd been born into. He'd like the other kind, of course, but it wasn't available to him now.
Harry disconnected from Sirius as soon as he saw Dumbledore float into the room. Harry had changed rooms twice, both of them worse spaces, and the pesky ghost and Peeves still found him. One couldn't hide from a poltergeist very well. So Harry had moved back to his original spot.
"Ah, Harry," the pale advice-giver said. "I was hoping to find you."
"I'm running late for class."
"I'm sure it won't be a problem."
Had he not cared when he was alive? Probably.
Harry began walking as the Dumbledore-ghost quizzed Harry on his divination class (which he wasn't taking). The ghost also wanted to know what Harry knew about Death Eaters. Harry answered none of the questions.
Dumbledore only left when Harry got to corridors that were more frequently used. The Dumbledore-ghost was still shy of several people.
That was useful to have figured out, but still an irritant. Whenever Harry was using that room, he basically had to leave to get any peace from the ghost. It never seemed to remember what Harry told it. It was more than six months since Harry had first told the ghost he wasn't taking divination. The ghost never remembered - or pretended not to remember. Maybe it was easier for him to badger people if he feigned forgetfulness.
Harry got inside the Gryffindor common room and found a good number of people laughing. Harry took a spot near the wall. Ah, Fred and George Weasley were saying – no, acting out – something.
George said, in a deep false voice, "No, no, no, Heir Malfoy, you bow like this. Remember from last week?"
"Peasant, let's duel," said Fred in a high, squeaky voice that sounded nothing like Draco Malfoy. Still, everyone laughed, including Harry.
"You hit me in the nose and took my wand..."
The room busted into laughter.
"The class is on dirty tricks, Heir Malfoy."
"But fighting like some Muggle...," here Fred's voice went impossibly shrill, then he broke down in laughter.
"How did you get that?" Oliver Wood demanded. "Was any of it true?"
"We heard every word. We've been testing something that allows us to listen in."
"And how did you get it into the room?" Hermione asked.
"Heir Malfoy has deep pockets in his robes. He carried it in for us. It'll lose its magic in another hour and, when he finds it, it's just a bit of rock."
Clever.
"So that was a 'special' class that Malfoy bragged about last year?" Hermione asked, outraged.
"By class, he must mean about five people in a room while he acts like an idiot. Yes," Fred said.
"That...boy."
Harry thought Hermione might have been about to use a much stronger word.
All her efforts to give Gryffindor what she thought they were missing... "Are you going to stop?" Harry asked after he walked over to her.
"Stop? No way. I've learned more from some of those lectures than I have from whole Hogwarts subjects."
History, Astronomy... Yeah, Harry could see that.
"Do it again," Ron called out. "Act out the part with Malfoy getting hit!"
And that brought the party to an end. A joke told once could be funny. A joke told twice...
Poor Ron.
.....
"Are you sure they won't cancel?" Angelina asked.
Oliver looked out the door to the pitch, frowned, and shrugged. "This is not what I was hoping for."
Quidditch in a deluge.
This wasn't what Harry expected when he'd agreed to play Seeker.
The officials, of course, didn't call the match off, not with this particular crowd in residence. They were allowed to use weather proofing charms. The players weren't, as it might constitute interference with the match.
So Harry mounted his broom and took flight when his name was announced.
It was miserable. First, there was rain.
It was overcast and no one could see well. And the rain was like walls made of water.
Of course it got worse.
Next, there was lightning.
So the darkness problem went away for a fraction of a second because of the lightning. Then Harry was left blinking and unable to see well.
Of course it got worse still when Dementors flooded the sky above the Quidditch pitch. No one had told Harry they could fly...
Harry had one hand on the broom and had another on his wand. But the Dementors weren't after him.
He went lower to the ground. They were clustering above and near someone on the ground, right in the center of the Quidditch pitch.
.....
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