The Heart of Gryffindor
by SJR0301
Part II - Chapter Eleven
Norway's e-mails did have a common thread. Many of them talked of their plan to make a dramatic impact on the British populace. But his were always focused on the practical aspects: what kind of explosives to use, how many men to bring in, whether to take hostages or simply to kill. Harry sifted through them obsessively in the next few days, trying to find a hint, a single clue as to whether and when the event would take place. But either Norway wasn't in the know, or the conspirators had been too canny to put that information on the Internet.
As there were only a few weeks left of their initial training, their instructors piled on the work, testing them in every area and pushing them often to new limits. Harry felt as though he were studying for his Owls and Newts both at once. On one day, they were made to participate in a ten-mile run, a hostage crisis simulation, and to take a test on basic forensics. The forensic test was the one Harry was sure he would fail. He couldn't recall half the information asked about and supposed that he must have slept through those classes with his eyes open.
He dreamed that night that he was tracking Lucius Malfoy with the help of a huge white hound.
The hound beside him glided through a dense and misty forest in utter silence and when he lifted his head to point to their quarry, instead of Lucius Malfoy, there stood at the crown of a hill a great white stag. Harry plunged through the forest calling, "Dad! Is that you?" Only as he approached, the stag bowed once and vanished in a shimmer. Frustrated, he turned to berate his companion. The hound still was silent, but its eyes were pale in its now dark face; Sirius' eyes.
He woke in a sweat and considered transforming and flying far and high. But the Compound was brilliantly lit with full security lights as it had been since Norway's treason had been discovered and Harry supposed that he might be seen. Unable to fall back to sleep, he turned on his light and leafed once more through the pile of communications from Hengist to Norway and back again. But still, no clue jumped out at him. He considered, too, whether the time had come to take direct action. He knew that Dumbledore had his reasons for keeping the news of Harry's survival secret. He also thought that the elderly wizard might once more have made a mistake on account of his affection for Harry.
Almost, he could hear Hermione's voice in his head: when has Dumbledore ever given you bad advice? Haven't you always gotten into trouble by failing to listen to him?
Harry sighed and flopped down on the bed again. Sleep still eluded him and he was glad when six o'clock came and he could slope out to the hall for several cups of hot, strong coffee.
After a while, Ginny set her tray down and sat down next to him. She yawned sleepily and stretched like a cat and kissed him on the cheek.
Harry grinned at her and said, "Don't do that, it's contagious."
"What? Kiss you?" she asked.
"Erm, no. Yawn," he answered.
"Bad night?" she asked. Then answering her own question she added, "Must have been. You've got that look, like you had nightmares."
"Not exactly nightmares," he replied. "Odd dreams all the same. I dreamt I was chasing my Dad in his Animagus form with Sirius next to me."
Ron joined them and responded to Harry's description. "Must have been that beer you had last night after the exam. That Muggle beer is too strong for you."
"I hardly had any," Harry answered grumpily. He gave Hermione a glare before she could get out her analysis. "And I'm not suffering from a guilt complex about Sirius' death anymore."
"I wasn't going to say that," she said calmly. "Not every dream has significance, you know. Not even yours."
Harry spluttered and nearly choked on his coffee. "What do you mean, not even mine?"
"Well, you have had dreams before that were more than dreams," she answered. "But since Voldemort is dead, I expect this was just the ordinary kind."
"What did you dream last night, then?" he asked.
"Nothing important," she said, and he was glad to let the topic go when others began to filter in for breakfast.
At mid-morning, they all assembled in one of the larger classrooms, which were already set up with a large projection screen. On the screen was a huge image of the Metro Center, the giant shopping complex for which they had previously written attack response reports.
Harry found a seat near an open window and was grateful for the cool breeze filtering in. It was a sunny day and the clear blue of the sky provided a cheery backdrop for diaphanous white clouds.
Harry was not the only one who would have preferred being out of doors that day. Carter snagged a seat nearby and remarked, "Don't you just wish we could be out there playing football or going for a run."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, although the image in his mind was the soaring sensation of chasing after a Snitch.
"Right," Major Halsey said, "Come to order now."
Everyone turned their attention from the pleasant vista outdoors to the front of the room.
"If you'll look at the screen," the major said, "you'll see that we'll be taking a closer look at the Metro Center today. You've already seen its blueprints, and you've already had a chance to think about response plans. We're going back to this because we've had some new chatter show up about this, but nothing specific as yet."
The Major paused as the other officers, Daniels, Worthington and Bones arrived.
"I'll be calling on you individually today," Major Halsey continued, "and asking you to discuss possible responses as we view the various areas of the center. Keep in mind, all of you, that you may freely alter your responses if you notice things that you did not see or take into account just from the architect's prints."
Harry settled back and was glad when he was not the first person called on. The sun shone in on the screen and added a golden haze to the images there. The center itself was a kind of marble palace of consumption. Its interiors were a pale gold sandstone, brightened by jewel-like displays of goods. Clothing stores vied with electronic stores and jewelry emporiums. It was the kind of place Aunt Petunia loved as it was patronized by the wealthy, foreign tourists and those who liked to boast about where they bought their things and what brands they had bought.
The breeze floating in made him feel just a bit sleepy and he watched the images flick by with a detached interest. The center had filled up with people leisurely strolling down the glowing marbled halls. When the major called on him, he began his answer by describing the flow of people and the layout of the shops as he felt, vaguely, that accuracy was important.
***
Johnny turned his attention to Harry when the major called on him. For a moment, he thought Harry had fallen asleep. His posture as he sat in the chair was relaxed, almost slouched, and his eyes appeared heavy lidded, half-closed, like a sleepy cat on the verge of a nap. His green eyes were focused on the screen however, and after a brief pause, he proceeded to describe the center with painstaking detail, as if he were actually there. Peculiarly, though, he was describing different areas of the center than were showing on the screen and giving exact descriptions of persons inside of it.
"In the atrium," Harry said quietly, "there's that fountain that people throw shillings in. It's got four dolphins and the water fountains out of the dolphins' mouths. The tall bearded man is dressed in black and he's putting a package in the fountain. Down the hallway to the public lavs there are two more men. They've got guns under their jackets and they're talking to someone on a mobile phone. There's a woman pushing her baby in a pram across from WH Smiths and three old ladies sitting on a bench about twenty feet from the dolphin fountain."
Everyone had begun to stare at Harry as the picture on the screen, as real and life-like as it was, showed the center when it was empty. Yet Harry was describing the center as though there were people in the picture, as if he were watching a movie; and not explaining how he would defend the center if it were attacked.
"Is there something wrong with him?" Austin asked. "Look at his eyes: they look odd, don't they?"
Johnny was about to scoff and suggest that Austin was resurrecting his old grievance against Harry, except that Harry did indeed look odd. His green eyes looked particularly brilliant, but they were dilated more than they normally would be in such bright sunlight. And though his voice continued on in the most matter-of-fact tones, the expression on his face was perfectly calm, as though he had become an organic recorder.
"On the balcony in front of Marks and Spencers, there's another man with a gun, and he's checking it to be sure the clip is loaded properly. The four men passing by haven't noticed. They're arguing about something and the sales clerk in the window of Burberry's is watching them while she dresses the mannequin in the window."
"Is he hallucinating?" Worthington asked generally.
Ron, he noticed, was staring at Harry with his mouth open and Hermione with a look of alarm and comprehension. "He's not hallucinating," she said softly.
She hesitated and when Harry's voice paused in its recitation, she asked quickly, "What else do you see, Harry? Are any of the men with the guns ones you know?"
When he didn't answer immediately, she asked with a shaking voice, "Voldemort, he's not there?"
"No, he's not there," Harry, responded calmly. His attention did not waver and he continued to gaze at the golden patch on the screen, which now was utterly blank, as Major Halsey had turned off the tape. Johnny thought that he had finished, but he continued dreamily, "The man on the balcony is the fat man who was at the pub playing cards with Norway."
"Are you sure?" Inspector Bones asked abruptly. The Inspector's face was pale and his gray eyes looked almost scared, yet wondering, at the same time.
"He's the one who slipped the ace of diamonds up his sleeve," Harry answered. The sun gleamed off his young face and framed him in an aureole of light; and in its brightness, the almost invisible line in the shape of a lightning bolt stood out in relief. A frown carved a line between the winged black brows and he ceased speaking.
"Somebody shake him," Daniels suggested. "Unless, he's not epileptic, is he?"
"No! He's not!" Ginny said sharply. She turned to Harry and asked urgently, "Harry, what are you seeing now?"
His reply was even odder and Johnny noticed that Bones' reaction was strikingly different than the other officers. He was reaching for his mobile phone, but he stopped in mid-gesture as Harry answered again, "There's a man driving in a black Volvo on the motorway. The motorway is empty except for him. He's pulled over to the side of the road and he's getting out. It's dark and the stars are out. He's putting a suitcase on the side of the road and driving further away from the city. He's stopped now and he's taking out his mobile phone and dialing something."
Harry stopped again and his frown deepened. His whole face tightened, but his eyes remained focused on the distant image that only he could see. "The suitcase blew up," he said. "There's a great cloud of flames spewing higher and higher, like a volcano erupting."
Johnny shuddered at the image and saw that everyone else was shaken as well. Ron whispered hoarsely, "What do you see now?"
The frown disappeared from Harry's face and he tipped his head slightly, like a cat tracking its prey or a bird watching a mouse below. "There's a great castle rising out of the mist and it's surrounded completely by water. Only there's a very narrow bridge from the mainland to the island it sits on. You have to be careful, Sirius," he said, as though he were speaking directly to someone right with him. "The bridge is made out of swords and you have to know the trick to get past it without being hurt."
Seeing the expression of great anxiety on Ron's and Ginny's faces, Johnny could not help thinking, he's quite gone over the edge. Some great strain has been working on him all this time and he's gone over the edge. The officers must have been thinking the same, for Daniels coughed and started to move toward Harry. "He'll need to go to the infirmary at once," the Lieutenant said gruffly.
The sunlight dimmed as a cloud blew by and Harry blinked and looked at the Lieutenant. His eyes had returned to normal and they narrowed as the Lieutenant approached him and said, "Come on, son. Let's get the doctor to take a look at you."
"I don't need a doctor," Harry responded. "I'm perfectly fine."
Johnny's uncle, the major, interrupted, "Look at the screen, Mr. Potter, and tell me what you see now."
Harry raised his eyebrows as if the whole episode had never happened and said, "Nothing. It's turned off."
The major flicked the switch and the tape scrolled back on. The empty marble palace of the Metro Center flowed past. "What do you see now?" the major asked. He was watching Harry very intently as though he were on the verge of solving a very intricate puzzle.
Bones started to interrupt, but Harry replied first. "You've got the center up again, but this time there's no people."
"There weren't any before," the major responded. "How often do you see things that aren't there?"
"I wasn't seeing things," Harry said indignantly. "You asked me to describe what was on the screen and I did."
Hermione coughed and said, "Erm, you were seeing things, but you weren't seeing things, if you know what I mean."
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but did not speak. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them and the expression in them was ancient and weary beyond measure. Bones stepped forward and asked, "Harry, when you were describing the people in the Metro Center, the man putting the package in the fountain and the other men with guns -- when was that happening?"
"What d'you mean, when?" Worthington interrupted. But Bones gestured at him to be quiet and locked eyes with Harry. Harry's face paled and he answered, "Now. It's happening now."
"And the other thing?" Bones asked urgently, "the suitcase blowing up? Is that now, too?"
Harry blinked and shivered a moment. Then he shook his head and said, "I dunno. Not now. No, not now."
Bones hit the button on his mobile and said abruptly, "Fay. Can you check out the Metro Center? And get the first response team ready to go in. I've a tip we're at the beginning of a major event."
Daniels stared at him and said, "Are you a nutter, too?"
But it was his uncle who caused the greatest astonishment of all. He was staring at Harry with a most peculiar expression as he said, "He's not a nutter and neither is Potter."
"Potter's seeing things!" Daniels replied.
"Yes," the major answered, "and it's most extraordinary." He looked at Harry and said, "You're a wizard, aren't you?"
"What do you mean, Potter's a wizard?" Daniels demanded.
"He's psychic," Austin cut in. "That's how you knew which card I had," Austin said to Harry, "You read my mind, didn't you?"
***
Harry shook his head and could think of nothing to say. Why, oh why, did these things always happen to him? He looked to Bones, but before either of them could say anything, Major Halsey replied. "He's not a psychic, he's the real thing. He's a wizard." The major stared at Harry in fascination and added, "This is great! We've got a wizard!" He paused and then said to Harry, "What I don't understand is what you're doing here."
Once again, before Harry reply, Daniels cut in and said, "This is ridiculous, Halsey. What is he, like the wizard of Oz? He does magic? Or is this some kind of joke?" And Worthington agreed, "He's an escape artist; Like Houdini. That's how you got out of those ropes in that exercise, right?"
Harry tried to think of some story to tell that would make all this go away. But all Harry could think of was that he was about to be expelled for breaching the Statute of Secrecy. He considered pulling out his wand and obliviating everyone there, only that wouldn't do. Because if he had seen what he thought he had, there were people in jeopardy right now.
Major Halsey said firmly, "He's not Houdini. He's the real article. Like Merlin." As he continued to look at Harry, an expression of comprehension and recognition stole over the Major's handsome face and Harry knew he was sunk utterly. "Harry Potter," the major said, "You're not the Harry Potter? You are, aren't you? You've even got the scar on your forehead, like a lightning bolt. You're the Boy Who Lived."
Bones and Ron and Hermione and Ginny all looked equally horrified. Harry himself could not have spoken if his life depended upon it. Brittany interrupted and forgetting her father's rank, said, "But Dad, that's a fairy tale. I remember Mama telling me that when I was little, about the little boy who survived when the dark wizard tried to kill him."
"Oh, no," the major answered. "That's a true story. Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived." He turned back to Harry and said more soberly and with puzzlement, "But you're supposed to be dead. It was in the Daily Prophet. You fought He Who Must Not Be Named and defeated him but got killed, too." Then a further look of comprehension and something like fear stole over the major's face. "Wait a minute," he said slowly, "You fought and killed the one called the Lord of Death, Bones said so. He, that terrorist who gave us so much trouble last year, he was You Know Who?"
Harry understood then that he could not lie. He might be expelled, but what difference would that make, when he had been effectively cut off from the wizard world anyway? What mattered was that these people here were all fighting the same enemy. Malfoy had met with Hayden, the head of a terror group: The same terror group that even now was inside the Metro Center and about to kill as many as they could. They had a right to know just what their enemy was. He said, quietly, "Lord Voldemort, yes. He was. And you should know that some of his followers have allied themselves with Hayden and his Alliance." He took a deep breath and said, "What's important, sir, is that we need to go now and stop them."
"This is ridiculous," Daniels sputtered. "Wizards, indeed. What are you going to do, send him to wave his magic wand?"
Major Halsey eyed Daniels narrowly and said, "You're bordering on insubordination, Daniels."
Daniels, however, said coolly, "It's not insubordinate if I think you've gone off your nut, With all due respect, sir. There's no such thing as magic. We aren't in the middle Ages and we know better than to believe in witches and magic."
Halsey sighed and said, "That's the problem with secrecy. When the truth matters, no one will believe it."
"Sometimes," Bones said, "secrecy is essential, for our security and for society's welfare. And this will stay secret. Every one of you here is bound by your oath of secrecy to the Service and to the Crown. And this information falls under that oath." His gray eyes were dark with intensity as he met Halsey's blue gaze, "You understand me, Major, I think."
Halsey nodded slowly and said, "I do. You knew then, about Potter?" Then he answered his own question, "You must have, as you were involved in the investigation. Were you there, when...?"
Bones nodded. Harry could see that the major would figure out a great deal more in a few moments. But the feeling of anxiety pressing on him outweighed all thoughts of sense. "Sir, Inspector, we need to go now! We can't wait any longer."
Bones turned to Harry and shook his head. "You are going nowhere. None of us are going. Our first response team has already been mobilized. And unless Sergeant Kray tells me any wizards have actually showed up, we will treat this as any regular terrorist incident."
"How will she know that?" Harry asked.
Bones rejoined calmly, "Were any of the men you saw known wizards?"
Harry shook his head. "No, sir. But I don't know all them. They could be."
"You said they were carrying guns, not wands," Hermione offered.
"Take a seat, Potter," Bones ordered.
Harry wanted nothing so much as to simply disapperated and stopped the coming disaster. The need for action, the certainty that he must go help, tugged at him. But in the Inspector's calm gaze he saw the demand, the test. Would Harry show the others that he would work as one with them? Would he show that a wizard would not hold himself above the rules that applied to everyone else? Would he behave as a man and a soldier and follow orders, or rush off and create who knew what mess? He sank into his chair and said, "Yes, sir."
Bones nodded with approbation and the Major looked both relieved and pleased and Harry could almost feel the release of tension in the room at his acquiescence. Everyone jumped at the sound a click. Daniels had turned on the big screen again, only this time instead of the tape; he had put on the news.
The BBC announcer was in the midst of a report about the upcoming summit talks. He broke off and said, "This news just in. The Met has cordoned off an eight-block area around the Metro Center in London. Traffic has been tied up throughout the area and we have information that they are evacuating the Center as a hostage situation is in progress."
The picture switched to the exterior of the Metro Center. Police cars blockaded the street around it, their lights flashing brightly. People were streaming out of the building and numerous uniformed men were set in place with rifles. "We'll switch now to our man on the street, Robin Lord. Robin, have you gotten a statement yet?"
The camera focused on a tall, bland looking man. "Well, the rumors are that there are several men with guns in the Center and that the Met showed up before they could actually begin their operation, whatever it is. Most of the shoppers have already been evacuated, but we don't know if all of the shop personnel have left." The reporter fairly leapt at another tall man. "This appears to be a multi-force response. Commander Carter of Special Branch is here on site. Commander, can you tell us what's happening?"
Beside him, Johnny sat up as the man on the screen replied testily, "I appreciate your desire to report things, Mr. Lord, but I would suggest that you move your camera and crew further away. We have information that a bomb may have been planted."
"Way to go, Dad," Johnny said at a near whisper.
"That's your Dad?" Harry asked.
Johnny nodded. Harry looked at him and at Brittany and then at Major Halsey and at Commander Carter on the screen. "So your Mum and Brittany's Mum are sisters?" he asked. Johnny nodded at him, but his attention was on the screen still. "So is your Mum, you know...?" Harry asked.
Johnny turned then to him and said with resignation, "She's a witch, yeah. She's always got these cauldrons of stuff brewing and she's really eccentric even for a Frenchwoman."
"But you look like her," Harry said.
"Yeah," Johnny answered. "She looks like Brittany, only more gorgeous if you can believe it. All my friends used to fall in love with her. It's really embarrassing, you know, when your Mum is a sex symbol to your friends." He stopped then because the scene on the screen had changed.
A uniformed man had come running up to Commander Carter and was speaking urgently to him, though the microphones were not picking up what he said. The anxiety returned, greater than ever. "Inspector," Harry found himself saying, "Tell Sergeant Kray to get out of there immediately."
Bones looked at Harry and said, "She's doing her job, Harry."
"But, sir," Harry said, "She'll be killed."
Everyone gawped at him again, but he didn't care. He raised from his seat again, on the verge of doing something, anything.
Bones drew out his mobile again, his eyes on Harry. The scene on the screen had changed again, though and the soft whisper that sounded turned Bones' attention back.
Several men came bursting out of the Center's glass doors followed by two uniformed men and a slim blond woman in an elegant suit. Bones' face had bleached white at the sight of his partner running after the men. The fleeing men turned and fired, but they were flung back by the return fire from the uniformed men.
Harry wondered why the anxiety didn't go away, but increased, even though the Sergeant was clearly unharmed. Then from behind her, two more men slid out of the doors. One was holding a gun at the neck of a hostage, but the other was free. The free one sighted right at Sergeant Kray, but her back was still turned. Bones hit the key on his mobile at the same moment that Harry cried out, "Look out!" The words came from him, but he felt as though they came from outside of him.
In a whirl of movement, Sergeant Kray flung herself to the ground and rolled and in one smooth action fired right from the ground. The attackers went down in a spray of blood and in almost the same instant, the picture on the screen splintered and went dark.
The picture came back again and the announcer's voice said shakily, "We've just lost a camera, but not the man behind it, thank god. It's not clear whether the hostage has been injured and the police won't let us get near enough to find out."
The picture refocused on a uniformed man pulling the blond woman, Sergeant Kray, to her feet. The reporter stepped forward and said, "What an amazing feat! It seems our police forces have got a woman as tough as any man and far more beautiful. Officer, can you tell us how you felt when you realized there were more men behind you?"
Sergeant Kray stood up glared at the reporter. The camera had zoomed in so that one could see the blaze of her blue eyes and how her champagne hair had tangled. Her once elegant suit was torn at the knee and there were dark patches where the blood from her targets had sprayed out. She cursed furiously and said, "This is not a movie, Mr. Lord. I should greatly prefer not to have to shoot anyone else to keep you from being taken hostage." She turned her back on the reporter and drew something from a pocket. From Bones' mobile, a voice said, "Would you mind if I borrow your wand, Edgar? Guns are so awfully messy."
Bones stared at his mobile and then started to laugh. "Only if you promise to marry me first," he answered.
The Sergeant's reply was even more unprintable than her words to the reporter. A silence followed, so brief as to be a bump in time. Harry thought, how odd, even as the second passed and the voice responded, "All right, then. But you'll have to put up with being nice to Auntie Matilda."
***
"What do you mean, they know Harry's a wizard?" Arthur Weasley roared.
Bones considered the Minister with some trepidation. He had never before seen Weasley lose his cool in quite that manner.
"How many of them know? How could you let this happen? And why didn't you obliviating the lot of them right away?" Weasley raged.
"Perhaps you should buy yourself a telly," Bones said with a grain of sarcasm. "Then you'd have known there was an attack on the Metro Center in London."
"We're aware of the attack," Dumbledore interjected, "but that was done by Muggles, and stopped by Muggles was it not?"
"Oh, yes," Bones answered. "Only we knew what was up because of Harry." He stopped there as he still was having difficulty absorbing the events of the day.
Weasley sat back down abruptly and stared at Bones waiting for more. The Minister's face was thinner and more lined and he clearly had no taste for his office. The violet walls were plastered with pictures of his family, and from a number of them, Harry waved along with the numerous redheads.
"Did you know he has Seer talent?" Bones asked Dumbledore.
The elderly wizard looked unsurprised. "What did he do?"
Edgar explained and found that both of them were frowning. "Was he in a trance or not?" Arthur asked. His brief eruption of temper was gone as he considered the problem before them.
"I don't really know," Bones answered. "He was describing events as they were actually happening, at least those at the Center. He was exactly right about where the bomb was located and where the men were positioned. It was quite like that time when he seemed to be seeing the attack on the Ministry last year."
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "He was seeing that through Voldemort's eyes though. And Voldemort is dead."
"Yes," Bones replied, "Unless.... you don't think the Death Eaters have succeeded in bringing him back?" His throat stuck with terror at the thought. Then common sense returned. They had the potions box that Norway was to deliver. And even if they tried the dark spell that might call up the Dark Lord's spirit, it was unlikely that they would truly be able to summon him for long enough for him to possess a living body; or that that body could live for more than a few hours with such a spirit inhabiting it.
"I think we should know if they had," Dumbledore said, though he did not elaborate on how. "So," he continued, "Harry saw the crisis and reported it while he was with the Muggles."
Bones nodded. "I think you overestimate the breach of secrecy, though."
"A roomful of Muggles now know there are wizards," Arthur replied skeptically.
Bones sighed. He looked to Dumbledore but the elderly wizard was gazing at the ceiling as if lost in thought.
"Of the people that were there," he answered, "five of us are wizards. That's Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione and I. And Major Halsey, who guessed, is married to a witch. One of the recruits is his daughter and one his nephew." He paused and added, "You must have known this was a possibility when you allowed them to work for the Prime Minister. You took this chance knowing some people might learn of the wizard world, but you balanced it against the immediate threat that the Prime Minister would immediately expose you to all."
"I am aware of that," Weasley answered. "What about the others? There are some fifteen or so Muggles who now know there are wizards."
"I've invoked their official oath of secrecy," Bones replied. "They know they can go to jail for a very long time if they let out this information. And the fact is, so long as Harry and the others are working with Muggles, in the Security Services, it may be better if their immediate associates do know what they are. It makes things easier if the time arises that we need them to use magic. Because as you know, Lucius Malfoy has dealings with the group we believe attacked the Center today."
Dumbledore looked back at Bones and asked, "Was that all that Harry Saw today?"
"No, sir," Bones answered. "How did you guess there was more?"
Dumbledore did not answer that but waited for Bones to tell the rest.
"He saw Sirius?" Weasley asked sharply. "Are you sure?"
"He spoke to Sirius as if he was there," Edgar answered. A faint frisson went through him, for he recalled now that Harry had also spoken aloud a warning directly to Fay just before she had dived out of the way of the terrorist's shots. Only Sirius Black was dead and had been for several years.
"Now that is very odd," Dumbledore said. His light blue eyes were full of speculation as if he'd understood something quite suddenly; however, whatever it was, he chose not to share it with the others. Instead, he said, "It was well done, Edgar, that you kept Harry from running to the scene."
"There was no reason for him to go," Edgar answered, "so long as there were no wizards there to fight. We had a first response team ready to go. And besides," he added dryly, "It's one thing for Harry to appear to see something. Some of the Muggles simply think of him as a "psychic." It would be another for him to pull out his wand and disapperated." He smiled and said, "I have to admit, it was touch and go. I was pleased that he seems to have learned to take orders. It will make things much easier in terms of accustoming those few who know now to the idea of working with a wizard."
***
In the days that followed the attack on the Metro Center, Harry endured both questions and teasing, some not altogether friendly. Whispered conversations between recruits with whom he had a nodding acquaintance would stop suddenly when he entered the classroom, and even those with whom he was friendly seemed uncomfortable or had other explanations for his vision.
Mac, for instance, continued to treat him exactly the same as he had before, with a mixture of bluff friendship and the kind of faintly condescending protectiveness that older brothers often dished out to younger ones.
"Does that happen very often?" he asked Harry in small group the following day.
They were still plowing through hundreds of pages of Norway's e-mails, and in light of the attack, a number of them clearly referred to that upcoming event.
Harry glanced up from his pile of paper and said shortly, "No." He paused and added, "In fact, I've never had anything exactly like that happen before." He deliberately allowed a small grin to come to his face as he mocked himself, "It must be the inspiration of all this investigation. My subconscious was focusing on the Center because we've been studying it and dissecting it for weeks."
He thought he would get away with it too, only Brittany said, "That's a load of nonsense, Harry. Prophecy has nothing to do with the subconscious."
Harry raised his eyebrows and asked, "How do you know that?"
"I asked my Mum," she answered seriously. "She says it's a rare talent and very few people have it."
A small snort came from her cousin. "Between Aunt Marguerite and Mum, it's a good question which of them is weirder."
"Just because you have issues about having a witch for mother doesn't mean I do, too," Brittany answered frostily.
"Issues," Johnny said quietly. "I don't have issues about it. I don't mind if they cook up their brews and charm every man that walks by. But I don't have to buy this nonsense about curses that kill and all that." He turned and said, "No offense, Harry. I don't doubt you've got some kind of talent for something. Just don't feed her obsession with magic, okay?"
Harry looked at Brittany and she shrugged. "It's not his fault," she said, "that his Dad was so afraid he'd turn out to be a wizard or like Aunt Madeline that he made Aunt Maddy keep almost every trace of magic out of the house."
"Just because Dad doesn't indulge Mama as much as Uncle Bill does yours doesn't mean he's repressing her or anything," Johnny answered heatedly.
"I don't mean that," Brittany replied. "I know Uncle Gus is mad about Aunt Maddy. It's just that he so wanted you to be like him and his great line of military men that he kept you from learning practically anything about what your Mama really can do."
Harry bit his lip and decided to keep quiet. He supposed that if it had to get out that he was a wizard, letting the others believe that he could do less rather than more was the better course. It was odd, though, about Brittany and Johnny. They both exuded magic in some fashion, yet neither had been to magic schools at all. He thought of asking Brittany more but decided it would wait for a time when Johnny wasn't about. He had no desire to alienate those friends he did have and it wasn't quite the same as when he had come under fire for telling people that Voldemort was back. Voldemort was dead, and whatever connection Malfoy had with the Alliance, it hadn't been enough to bring him or any wizards to assist in the attack at the Center.
The most annoying comment that day came from Hawkins. "So tell me, Harry," he said casually toward the end of class, "how much do you charge for love potions, then? I'd like the best one you can mix up for Brittany here."
Brittany's response was a low hiss, and Harry had to fight to keep his face straight between irritation and laughter. Instead, he answered as serenely as he was able, "The truth is, I'm not very good at potions, Hawk. It's my very least magical talent. And besides, there's no such thing as a potion that will make someone love you. You can increase your sexual attraction, but that's nothing to do with love. Love comes when it comes and it can't be manufactured or bought or induced by magic. Not the real thing, anyway, because it is a magic all of its own and the most powerful one of all."
Everyone stared at him and Johnny slapped him on the shoulder. "I knew there's a reason why I like you," he said. "Honesty and intelligence are really so rarely found in a single person."
