Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 70
- 71
- 72
71 Returning to Hogwarts
Tuesday 1 September
Ginny Weasley grumbled sleepily as she heard the door open.
"Here you are, lovely," the voice she loved so much said, as Robin Banks handed her a steaming hot mug of coffee. Drinking coffee first thing in the morning was a habit she had picked up from him – her family took tea-and-toast first thing in the morning – and she had got to the point where she could hardly start the day without it.
"Mrrg – what time is it?" she asked groggily.
"Half-past seven," Robin replied.
"Too early," Ginny said petulantly.
Robin chuckled as he sat on the bed. "I agree," he said, "but I have to be at the Ministry by eight, and your mother has already Floo-called twice to make sure you'll be there soon."
"What? But the train doesn't leave till eleven!" Ginny said.
"I thought you told me your family always runs late?" Robin said blandly. "Perhaps she's trying to avoid it."
"Humph," Ginny replied. "Are you sure you can't come?"
"Positive," Robin replied. "I have duty this morning, and I have to teach the Eighth Years this afternoon. You know this, we discussed it."
"Yeah, but can't that other witch take the class?"
"Sorry," Robin said with a grin. "She'll be busy all day I suspect. Big trial today."
And with that, he got up to go and get ready for the day, leaving Ginny to collect herself together. He wasn't particularly happy to think of her travelling by herself; but duty called.

Anton Rosier sat in his cell in eager anticipation. He had been told that today was the day; the Wizengamot was meeting this morning, and he would be called to present his case. He was a bit surprised that he was still at Azkaban, though; they were cutting it a bit fine, surely? In his experience, prisoners were moved into the Ministry holding cells the night before, unless they were judged to be a flight risk; and he found it hard to believe that they would think that of him.
Still, whatever they thought or didn't think, it was quarter past nine, and here he was, still in his cell at Azkaban. He tried not to get excited, or worried; he went over his arguments in his head one more time. To him, they sounded quite unanswerable; after today he should be free.
If only they would get on with it.

Once again the gleaming red engine of the Hogwarts Express stood proudly at Platform Nine and Three Quarters of King's Cross Station, waiting for the magical hour of eleven when it would leave for Hogsmeade Station. But, unlike the day two months earlier, when only the eighth year students had been travelling, the station was filled with people and the noise of seven years of Hogwarts students and their parents standing on the platform was deafening.
Standing in the middle of the swirling mass of people was the unmistakable group of the Weasleys; their red hair would have been enough to mark them, without Molly's exuberant voice, which seemed effortlessly to carry over the general hubbub. At times like this Ginny Weasley wondered whether her mother had a permanent Sonorus cast on her voice; the older woman never had trouble being heard. And at the moment, Ginny would actually rather that her mother wasn't heard; for this was, of course, the last time that any of her children would travel to a new school year on the Hogwarts Express, and the gravity of the moment was bringing out a storm of emotion from the Weasley matriarch. Not to mention a display of her bossiness that had every family member (except for Charlie, who was in Romania) standing on the platform to farewell Ginny.
A storm of emotions, and a storm of questions. Molly seemed determined to quiz Ginny about every possible detail of the trip and the upcoming term, and Ginny felt it was like she was going to be gone for years, not months.
"You will write, won't you, dear?" Molly asked for the fifth time.
Ginny nodded. Short answers, she had discovered long ago, were best; non-verbal ones best of all. While the series of motherly platitudes was extremely boring, the important thing was to let Molly just get on with it, to let the whole thing just flow away, and to not commit yourself to anything. Above all, don't interrupt, and don't suggest that you weren't listening to every word. She knew very well that the worst thing she could do was to suggest that she wasn't taking her mother seriously; that would earn a sharp rebuke. And being of age was no defense against a scolding from Molly.
The twins were standing behind their mother, making funny faces at Ginny. They knew, from a lot of first-hand experience, just how their mother would react if they could only get Ginny to crack up; but their sister was made of stern stuff, and wasn't playing ball.
"Now, you're sure you've got everything, dear?" she asked for the tenth time.
"Especially your nice new shiny PREFECT'S BADGE!" the twins chorused together, causing many heads to turn around and see what was going on.
"Shush, you two!" Molly replied, swatting them; but her heart wasn't in it and it was easy to see how proud she was to have another prefect in the family again.
"It's so sad that Robin can't be here," Molly was saying now.
Ginny nodded her head; then, sensing that her mother was calming down a little and that an answer might be a good idea at this point, responded, "yes, well he has to teach this afternoon's class."
Molly looked puzzled. "Really? I thought that they had some other teacher who could do it?"
"Professor Merrythought," Ginny replied. "But she's busy today – something about a trial at the Wizengamot?"
"Ah," said Molly. Arthur had mentioned that something was happening, but he hadn't been particularly forthcoming with detail, and Molly had been a bit preoccupied at the time, thinking only of getting to the station. She would have turned to Arthur and demanded details, but just at that point the train let out a shrill whistle, and she immediately jumped into action.
"Ginny!" she said, a trifle breathlessly, "the train! You have to get on! Now!"
There was an outbreak of laughter behind her, and Molly turned around to fix the twins with a furious glare.
"Sorry, mum!" they said together, "but just look! / The crush is enormous! / There's no way Gin'll get on the train for ten minutes at least!"
In the end, it was eight minutes later, and tearful farewells and more promises to write demanded and given (and then instantly forgotten), that Ginny was safely on the train, trundling her trunk down the aisle and all but elbowing bright-eyed first year students out of the way.
"Excuse me," one of the bolder new students said, "but do you know Harry Potter? Can you introduce me to him? Or at least get me his autograph?"
Ginny turned and glowered at the young boy. "Yes, no, and no," she replied, and then she adopted an entirely faked sweet tone as she continued, "I could introduce you to the Bat Bogey Hex if you would like?"
"Er … Um … That's all right, thanks," the now terrified boy stammered out as he disappeared into one of the compartments.
"Ginny! Stop terrorizing first years and come over here!" a friendly voice rang out, and she was relieved to see Luna Lovegood poking her head out of a compartment about halfway down the gangway.
"Luna!" Ginny cried out in delight, and made her way to the compartment, just managing to find a seat as the final whistle sounded and then the train slowly began to make its way out of the station.
"Phew!" Ginny said as she sat down. "That was even closer than usual!"
And for one passenger, it was even closer than that, as a young man swung himself onto the train just before it started going in earnest.

"Right, you, get ready," a gruff voice said, and Rosier stood to his feet. He had been given no notice, but then he hadn't expected any, so he had been ready for the last half an hour or so.
"Are we Apparating or Flooing?" he asked; but the guard remained silent as he led him down winding corridors and up into the more public section of Azkaban. They took the turn towards the interview rooms, which meant they weren't going to Floo, as that was in a different direction; so, Apparation, then, Rosier thought to himself.
He was brought up suddenly as the guard stopped in front of one of the rooms.
"In here," he said, pointing for Rosier to enter. Not a very chatty lot, these guards, Rosier thought to himself. But then they hadn't been hired for their conversation skills, he decided; and they obviously despised their charges.
Rosier entered the room to find the usual uncomfortable chair for him to sit on, and the table running the length of the room; but on top of the table was the largest mirror that Rosier had ever seen. He sat on the chair, wondering what this could possibly mean.
"Coagmento!" the guard hissed from the corridor, then shut the door with a clang.
As Rosier watched, the glass in front of him no longer showed him his own face; in it, he could now make out rows of wizards seated in a rough quarter circle. It was with a shock that he realized that he was looking at the Wizengamot assembled in Courtroom Ten.
It was neither Apparition nor Floo; he wasn't going to leave Azkaban at all. And something told him that, despite his hopes and schemes, that wasn't going to change any time soon …

"Well," Doge said as he sat down at a table in the morning tea room at twenty to eleven, "I think that went very well. Brilliant idea, Libatius."
The others around the table all nodded their agreement. It was the usual senior crowd: Kingsley, who had been at the trial as a spectator, was sitting between Libatius Borage and Dalmatea Merrythought. Completing the group, Doge was rather pleased to see that Robin Banks was sitting on Dalmatea's left. The young Auror was definitely going places, he thought; but then, he did come from a very bright and powerful family. It had come as no surprise to Doge that Viridis Banks was now the head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation. It was about time the man got the recognition he deserved from the British Magical Establishment.
"Thank you," said the elderly Potions Master, who had suggested the use of the mirror, and researched the necessary spells. "Though I suspect that Rosier might not agree with you."
Doge chuckled. "He did rather go to pieces when he realized he wasn't going to be let out of Azkaban for the trial."
"Do you really think he still has agents in the Aurors?" Merrythought enquired.
'Hard to say," the Minister replied. "But whether he does or not, they won't do him any good for the next twenty years at least."
"Quite," Borage agreed. "And that really is for the Greater Good."
The others all laughed. Rosier had had quite a bit to say about the Greater Good during the trial, and probably would have said a lot more if Borage hadn't drily pointed out that defeating Voldemort was definitely for the Greater Good of the Wizarding world, while putting Harry Potter at risk could only serve the Greater Good of Anton Rosier. That shut him up good and proper, and pretty much derailed the prisoner's arguments altogether.
In the midst of the laughter, Dalmatea Merrythought fixed her beady eye on Robin Banks.
"Tell me, young man," she said imperiously, though there was a twinkle in her eye, "don't you have a train to catch?"
Robin looked at her, lost for a moment, then broke into a grin.
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, and excused himself, bolting for the door.

Ginny got a bit of a shock as she entered the carriage and sat next to the blonde Ravenclaw. Seated opposite her were three Ravenclaws she had rather hoped never to see again: Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot. It made sense, she supposed; of course they would want to return to Hogwarts, they were never going to make it in the Wizarding world without their N.E.W.T.s, especially as they were Ravenclaws. And, since they were Ravenclaws, it made sense for them to sit with Luna, their housemate.
It might make sense; but she still didn't like it and she sat across from them, glowering, as she tried to think of something other than the words of the Bat Bogey Hex to say. She had heard all about their attack on Harry, and how they had managed to escape expulsion; in her view, McGonagall had been far too lenient there.
"Look, we're sorry," Corner said, unexpectedly.
"What?" Ginny replied.
"We're sorry," Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein echoed.
Michael Corner took a deep breath. "What I did was cowardly and wrong, and I've been punished for it, and I accept that. I hope we can all put the whole thing behind us and move on as – maybe not friends, but at least politely accepting one another?"
Ginny looked at him sternly.
"You do realize it's not me you have to apologies to?" she said at last.
"Of course," Boot replied. "But then, surely that means it's not you who should be offended?"
Ginny thought for a bit. There was a definite logic to the argument, she had to agree, however much she still felt like hexing the trio.
"All right," she said, "we'll have a truce. But if Harry doesn't accept your apology, it's off."
"Wouldn't expect anything less," Corner replied, grinning, as the mood in the compartment brightened appreciably.
Ginny now turned to the other person in the compartment. She remembered the face very well, and the fair complexion and brown hair; the name didn't come at once, but a little concentration brought it readily enough. It ought to, she realized; the girl was a fellow Gryffindor, after all.
"You're Rionach, aren't you?" she asked. "Rionach O'Neal?"
"That's right," the other girl said brightly. "And you're Ginny Weasley, everyone knows you, you used to be Harry Potter's girlfriend!"
"Yeah," Ginny replied with a lop-sided smile. "Weren't you in his year? But you're not with the Eighth Years? How come?"
"Yes," Rionach replied, laughing at the barrage of questions, "but I learnt so little last year due to the teachers and the detentions that my parents wanted me to have a full year at Hogwarts rather than the Eighth Year programme."
"Oh," Ginny said, "that sucks!"
The other girl laughed. "Not really," she said. "There's going to be a lot of pressure on those students. Everyone's going to have their eye on the first graduates after the War. Which will be good if you're a top student; not so good if you're a bit weak, and I didn't want to chance it. I'm not the strongest of witches; and actually, I'm rather glad I'm not coming up against Hermione Granger. Though I will have you to contend with!"
This last was said disarmingly and with a chuckle, and Ginny found herself becoming fast friends with the gentle Irish girl. It wasn't long before the three girls, Rionach, Ginny and Luna were sitting chatting to one another about the holidays, and who was hot, and how sad it was that Harry, Draco, and Neville all batted for the wrong side. Anthony Goldstein was blushing furiously at this; despite his reputation for being something of a playboy, it was all for show, and he was actually quite straight-laced. Michael and Terry rather timidly asked what they thought of the girls and were rather stunned to receive a full run-down of practically all the girls in the school. It seemed that between them, the three girls knew pretty much every student at Hogwarts (apart from the first-years, of course; but they hardly mattered), and were not shy of expressing opinions.

It had been touch-and-go whether he was going to make the Hogwarts Express, and after he had swung onto it at the very last second, Robin Banks had taken half an hour to calm down and groom himself before he ventured along the train. He had no problem locating Ginny's compartment; the sound of her voice, and the group of students laughing together, hit him as soon as he entered the corridor of their carriage. He smiled; the voice still made his heart beat faster, and he thought once again how incredibly lucky he was to have managed to get such a wonderful girl to agree to marry him.
He came up to the door, knocked, and went in without waiting for permission; he was, after all, a Professor at Hogwarts, so he had a perfect right to enter any compartment. As he entered, he noticed at once that Ginny was sitting with three rather disgraced Ravenclaws whom he knew rather well; another Ravenclaw he knew by sight to be Luna Lovegood; and one other girl he did not recognise. Michael Corner was in the middle of some involved anecdote and did not notice him for the first second or two; but when he did, he became all at once rather tongue-tied.
"Er," Corner said, very awkwardly, "hello, Professor!"
But no-one really heard it over Ginny's scream.
"ROBIN!" the red-head shrieked as she barreled into his arms. "You made it!"
"Oof!" he said as he caught hold of her. "Yes I did!"
He maneuvered the two of them into seats and then looked at the Ravenclaw lads.
"Michael, Terry, Anthony" he said in acknowledgement. "Welcome back to Hogwarts. I trust that you will be very careful not to be led astray this time round?"
The three lads went very red indeed.
"Yes, sir," Corner said, his voice embarrassingly squeaky.
"And you will make things up with Mr Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Corner agreed wholeheartedly. "Um, Miss Weasley has agreed to a truce at least until I apologize to Harry."
"Good," Robin said firmly. "Then I look forward to having you in Defense. Now, what were we talking about?"
And just like that, Anthony, Michael and Terry found themselves being accepted back into the Hogwarts community. As Terry said later, it was a really strange situation: sitting talking with the three girls and the Professor about the other students; it turned out that Robin was just as interested in gossip as the rest of them.
Of course they demanded to know what Robin had been doing all morning. To begin with he was a little cagey; after all, he didn't really want to discuss something that the three lads might find highly embarrassing, given their part in it. But eventually he was persuaded to, and the students were stunned to learn the depths of intrigue that had surrounded Hogwarts.
"Wow," Corner said, once they had heard all about Rosier, and Umbridge, and Thillin. "That's really intense! I'm so ashamed that I got taken in by that French cow!"
"Now, now, Mr Corner," Robin cautioned him. "I can't have you slandering students, especially exchange ones."
"What?" Corner expostulated. "She's not still a student?"
"Yes," Banks replied, then answered the chorus of indignation by pointing out that this way they knew exactly where she was.
"Putting her on trial would be very difficult politically," he pointed out, "since she is a guest of the Ministry. It would ruffle all sorts of feathers. Much better to let her go home in disgrace once the exams are over."
"But she'll get off scot-free!" Rionach said, her Gryffindor sense of fair play feeling the outrage dreadfully.
"Maybe," Robin said, "but I doubt it. The French Ministry is very likely to want to make an example of her. They're a bit more, ah, direct in their methods than our Ministry."
And at that point, further conversation was interrupted as the familiar cry of "anything from the Honeyduke's Express?" was heard as the tea trolley arrived. Ten minutes later they were all nibbling on Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties, and no more was said for a while.

There was a huge buzz of anticipation amongst the eighth year students during classes on Tuesday; the other students would be joining them that evening, and the prospect was making it difficult for them to concentrate at all, even given the approaching exams for many of the students. Even so, they lasted in Herbology until about twenty minutes into the second half of the double period, at which point Professor Sprout, seeing that even Neville was having trouble keeping his mind on things, told them all very directly that they were no use for anything today, and they were to get out of her greenhouse before they did some damage, and come back next week with their heads straight.
Defense was a little better, if only because Professor Merrythought turned up. They had been expecting Robin, who would put up with their antics; but Dalmatea Merrythought, however nice she was outside it, was an absolute dragon inside the classroom and they never got any lee-way with her.
It was only when she was quite certain they were all well up to scratch about pixies, doxies, boggarts and other magical nuisances that they managed to draw her on to the subject of the morning's trial.
"Well," she said, unbending a little, "I suppose you do have a right to know about Rosier's trial, given that the man's machinations had quite an effect on the school."
Here she looked rather pointedly at Eva Thillin, who had the grace to blush and look down. Merrythought looked back to the class; no sense embarrassing the girl too much, I suppose, she thought, not taking into account the fact that she probably already had.
"'Scuse me," Seamus said, putting his hand up because Merrythought was an old-school teacher and tended to insist on that, "but shouldn't you call him 'Mr Rosier'?"
"Not at all," the witch replied. "You should all know that imprisonment in Azkaban always entails the forfeiture of titles while there. Rosier is just 'Prisoner Rosier' now. As you are aware, he was sent to Azkaban for a good long while, and this morning …"
And with that she continued on, telling them about Borage's idea with the mirror. It wasn't hard for the class to keep her talking until the bell rang to signal the end of class.
"Well!" she finished. "As you know, tonight is the Opening Feast, so you had all better be ready in the Great Hall at six o'clock. Class dismissed!"

At half-past five, it suddenly hit Harry that he was going to be mobbed by all the returning students, and it made him feel rather ill. The whole being-a-celebrity thing still freaked him out, and he hated that people loved him (or loathed him) because of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice tag. Because he was famous, not because he was Harry. He decided that he'd really rather not have anything to do with it, and very nearly skipped the feast altogether.
But, thanks to Draco Malfoy, he not only turned up, but turned up on time, properly dressed. To Draco Malfoy, he was just Harry; and the blond had not stood for any nonsense, and propelled him into and out of the shower in record time. Harry grumbled the whole time; but secretly, he loved the fact that Draco had his back.
So at six o'clock, Harry and Draco were sitting with the other Eighth Year students, waiting for the arrival of the passengers from the Hogwarts Express. There were some desultory attempts at conversation; but most of the students were too keyed up to talk about very much, thinking about Rosier's trial and what might come of that, and the impending invasion of the other students.
And then all of a sudden the invasion was no longer impending; the Great Hall filled with noise and laughter as the second year through seventh year students came crowding in. Of course, the older students all wanted to meet up with the eighth years; some because they were friends; some weren't really friends, but wanted to be; and some blatantly just wanted to shake Harry Potter's hand in the hope that some of his glory might reflect on them.
Harry was glad to see his friends again, but the sycophants sickened him. Fortunately, Draco seemed to have an excellent nose for sniffing out who was coming up to Harry Potter with genuine good will, and who was coming up to the Boy Who Lived Twice, or the Destroyer of Voldemort, hoping to get something from him. The friends got a moment with Harry; the others were gently, and sometimes not so gently, sent straight to their house tables.
After perhaps ten minutes of this, the Headmistress decided that enough was enough, and stood up, casting a Sonorus charm on herself.
"All right, all right," she said. "Please take your seats at your house tables immediately. I understand that you're excited to see the eighth year students again, but they'll still be there after the Feast, and we have students to be sorted. Take your places, please. Quickly, now."
And with that, the Housemasters came up and herded all their errant charges to their house tables.

The Sorting had come and gone, and Draco had been pleased to see that Slytherin was well-represented in the new student intake; and, frankly, amazed at the support that they had been given. In previous years, the other houses would usually maintain a stony silence when a student was sorted into Slytherin, if not jeer and heckle; the best had been cool, polite clapping of the kind you reserve for people you don't like. But this year, each Slytherin student was given just as much enthusiastic applause as the other houses got. Draco was under no illusions as to how this happened; the first student sorted into Slytherin was Alice Abertomom, and as soon as the Sorting Hat had named her house, Harry was on his feet, applauding. The other students, though a little taken aback, took his lead, and from then on, there were no further problems during the Sorting.
After the Sorting, McGonagall had risen and made the traditional opening speech; though, in a bold departure from Dumbledore's traditions, her speech both actually made sense, and managed to hold the interest of the whole student body. She announced the new members of staff, and the fact that as she was now Headmistress, Professor Sinistra would take over her role as Head of Gryffindor, while Professor Dreyfuss would be teaching a good many of the Transfiguration classes. There was, of course, the usual admonition that the Forbidden Forest was forbidden to any student without the express permission of, and accompaniment by, a Professor; and somehow, Harry thought, she really meant it. There was to be no repetition of the events of his first year, when Draco and he had come across a menacing figure (who had turned out to be Professor Quirinus Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort) and a dying unicorn while on detention in the forest; nor those of his second year, where Ron and he had followed the spiders deep into the forest and met Aragog, the giant acromantula, and came close to being eaten by his offspring.
The Feast had come and gone as well; and Draco had to admit that it had been magnificent. The house elves had even produced a truly exquisite dish of quail with black truffle which was the best version of it that Draco had ever tasted. He did notice, with a sly Slytherin grin, that that particular dish only made it onto the teachers' table and the eighth years'; there were some perks to being part of a select group!
The desserts had not let them down, either. A pile of profiteroles had appeared in front of him, the pastry beautifully crisp and the custard chilled and silky-smooth. He had enjoyed every mouthful. In a fit of selflessness, he offered one to Harry; and even his Harry, who was not a great lover of choux pastry, declared them to be delicious. Draco smirked; his lover had only taken one bite, and then returned to the huge treacle tart that had been placed in front of him.
"Is that good?" he had asked, mischievously, just as Harry had taken a large mouthful.
"Id's berry goob," Harry had replied, much to Draco's amusement.
And now the other years were leaving the Great Hall, off to get to know the newest members of their houses, and settle back into their dormitories. Despite the teachers' best efforts, there were of course a few who came up to the eighth years before they headed to their own dormitories, and Draco found he had his hands full again trying to deflect well-wishers, and not-so-well-wishers, from Harry. But he was not entirely without problems of his own.
"Draco!" he heard a voice cry out sharply, and he turned to see Daphne Greengrass coming over to him, with her sister Astoria in tow. "Is it true?" she said, her tone hard.
"Is what true?" he replied.
"You and Potter are together. Say it isn't so. You were promised to Astoria."
Draco refrained himself from rolling his eyes; that was too much of a cliché for a Malfoy.
"It is true that Harry and I are getting married," he replied calmly, stressing his use of Harry's last name. "I'm surprised that you were unaware of it; it has been public knowledge for a while."
"Our parents took us out of Britain before the Battle," Daphne replied, her Slytherin sensibilities stung by the accusation of ignorance. "They thought our family was above such violence and that we should not be troubled by it. We've been holidaying in the French countryside ever since, and had not heard any English news until a month ago when the Hogwarts letters came."
"I see," Draco replied tonelessly, chalking their discreet withdrawal from the country up to outright cowardice more than pure-blood squeamishness. And the same cowardice could easily explain her failure to return for the Eighth Year programme, he thought somewhat uncharitably; though, to be fair, he knew that the more remote countryside of France was not an easy place to get news of Wizarding Britain, and their so-called holiday there certainly would explain why Daphne had not heard about the programme and joined the other eighth year students upon their return to the school.
To give himself time to calm down, he looked the two sisters up and down, noting as he did so that they were no less vain than they had ever been; they might have been in the French countryside, but their clothes screamed of the Parisian catwalks.
"In that case, having been out of circulation," he continued, a touch spitefully, "you may be unaware that Harry and I are joined together by a Debt of Magical Emancipation that I owe him; and also by a very genuine love that has grown between us. And, while your family may have been under the impression that Astoria and I were betrothed, that was never more than an understanding between our families."
"You bastard!" Astoria spat venomously at him.
"Astoria…" Daphne said warningly, but her little sister was too far gone to heed the warning.
"You utter bastard! I see what this is! Your worthless family has hitched its star to Potter! You're an absolute disgrace! You should be—"
"MISS GREENGRASS!" the Headmistress roared from behind them. "Fifty points from Slytherin for such an outrageous verbal attack on a fellow student! Get to bed at once! And you and I will be discussing the apology you will be giving Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy during your detention at eight o'clock tomorrow night!"
Daphne visibly blanched at this. Their father had told them to keep their heads down and not attract criticism; they could hardly have had a worse start. She grabbed her sister and pulled her roughly out of the Great Hall, hissing at her under her breath that their father would hear of it and be very disappointed; which would mean weeks of kissing his arse before they saw any more money.

While Draco had been facing the two Greengrasses, Harry had been approached by the three Ravenclaw former eighth years. He watched them come up to him, his arms folded and his face like stone. He had known this moment had to happen; but he had been dreading it. What could he possibly say to a youth who had tried to kill him? The fact that he hadn't seen him since the attack only made things worse: the bad feeling had had time to fester, and he found it hard to summon up any kind feelings for Corner whatsoever.
Michael Corner, for his part, managed to keep his nerve, though he felt like he was walking to his own execution.
"Mr Potter," he began, "I would like to formally offer you a full apology for my part in the cowardly and despicable attack on your person perpetrated at this very school. The only defence I can offer is a poor one, even to my ears: I was told that the coin was nothing more than a prank, and I foolishly allowed myself to believe this lie, and to use it, even though the circumstances did not in any way lend themselves to pranking. I can only assure you that I am very sorry indeed, and I hope that we can continue a non-antagonistic acquaintance, at the very least. For my part, I consider that I owe you a huge debt, and will undertake to repay it in whatever form you deem appropriate."
Harry took a deep breath. A little voice inside him told him that, while this was a very pretty speech, words are cheap; and the formal wording did make it sound rather over-rehearsed. On the other hand, Corner had just given him a huge IOU without any catches on it. He let out his breath, and then took a couple more deep breaths, allowing the emotion of the moment to flow around him before considering, as dispassionately as he could, how to proceed.
"Alright," he said, eventually, "I don't know how that will play out; frankly, right now I'm feeling drained, and I'd rather not see any of the three of you again for a good long while. But maybe tomorrow I'll feel different. Anyway, I accept your apology; I don't want to hold a grudge against any of you. I don't know that I really want any more debts, but I'll think on that too."
"Thank you," Corner said, and there was no mistaking the feeling in his voice. Whether if the speech he had given was entirely sincere or not, Harry was sure that his thanks, at least, were genuine.
"Thank you," the other two chorused, and, sensing that they had probably reached the limit of Harry's patience, they left the hall.
Harry watched them go. He only hoped that it would work out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Grateful thanks as always to the wonderful Bicky Monster for helpful suggestions.
Other locations: See my profile for details about facebook, ff and AO3.
Thanks: To all who are following and favoriting! It gives me a lovely warm feeling that you're interested. And double thanks and your choice of profiteroles or treacle tart to those who reviewed chapter 70.
- 70
- 71
- 72
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Returning to Sanity