HA 12b: Friend

HIM AGAIN: Chapter 12: Generosity - Friend

“Brian!”

Albus opened his eyes to see Eric’s concerned face inches from his own. Blinking, he pushed his head back into the pillows. Eric blushed and withdrew, allowing him to reach for his spectacles and push them up his nose. Brian’s bedroom, decked cunningly in Chudley Cannons posters, sprang back into focus.

“Sorry to shout in your ear like that,” said Eric sheepishly, seated back on the camp-bed Harry had conjured for him the night before. “You were having another nightmare.”

Albus sighed and smiled at him reassuringly, sitting up. Now that he looked around properly, he could see fading stars through the gap between the bedroom curtains. Dawn’s symphony of birds had seemingly just started and Eric was blinking sleep from his eyes.

“I didn’t wake you up?”

“Well - not really. I woke up on my own and looked up to see you tossing and turning like mad.”
“Oh. Thank you for waking me up, then.”

“S’alright.”

Eric smiled encouragingly at him. Albus suppressed another sigh. It was April, yet the atmosphere between the boys remained awkward, punctuated by reassuring nods and tentative enquiries. Unsure as to how to act, he had made Brian shy and retiring, saying little, willing to let others do the talking. It had seemed the wisest course of action, as more than once he had said something that seemed out of place or out of generation. Several times Albus had fallen back into his whimsical, decorative way of speaking - something which Harry and Ginny had treated as normal and just a part of Brian, but seemed less acceptable in the company of other eleven-year-olds.

Most of his year - at least, those who had spoken to him - regarded him as a bit odd. He suspected that they themselves couldn’t explain it; there was, as he’d heard someone remark, “just something kind of weird about him.” Only Eric talked to him regularly, having apparently gotten the impression that Brian was merely extremely coy, and determined to bridge the gap between himself and his mysterious uncle. Mark Scott and Daniel Glover both liked Eric Weasley, and so they were forced to tolerate Brian. Mark continued to think him too pompous to speak, whilst Daniel had fallen into the habit of ignoring him. Even Cal Smith had taken a few steps from outside of his shell and was showing more social intelligence than Brian.

From an entirely practical point of view, Albus felt that it was for the best. The more people kept Brian at arms-length then the less they could discover, and it placed his acting abilities under less strain. Yet the emotional aspects of it all were more complicated. Harry’s sensitive proximity to his son had soon meant that he’d picked up what had been left out of the weekly letters home.

Dear Brian,

You certainly sound as though you’re enjoying yourself! Glad to hear that you don’t find your teachers too awful - though Professor Read does sound very irritating. I agree that Slughorn does come across as very materialistic, but I can assure you that he’s relatively harmless, compared to Hagrid at least.

How is Hagrid? Do you visit him at all? You should; I used to visit him a lot in my school-days and I’m sure he’d like a chat with you.

Who do you talk to? You haven’t mentioned your friends or the rest of Gryffindor yet. Feel free to invite people over for Christmas.

Harry

Dear Brian,

I think you’ll just have to bluff your way through the History essay. I’m afraid I don’t remember anything from Binns’s classes at all; I usually went to sleep. I’m surprised he’s still there - but I suppose they’re stuck with him forever since he’s a ghost.

Yes, I did manage to catch Crabbe. We cornered him in a small village in Kent, running a racket in stolen goods. I promise to give you a blow-by-blow account in my next letter, it was very exciting. His son had been covering for him all these years. I can’t say how much this means - only three Death Eaters left in the world. I’m sorry, I’m rambling about the war again, aren’t I? Thank you for humouring me and pretending to find it interesting.

You know, you were perfectly welcome to invite your friends over for Christmas. Come to think of it, you haven’t told me about them, yet.

Must dash!

Harry

Dear Brian,

Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor? I hope you’re carrying the Gryffindor pride high, Brian. I have to say that I’m not surprised at all to hear about Eric Weasley - the Weasleys and their brooms are as one! Glad to know I pipped him to the post as the youngest in a century, however!

Do you talk to Eric? You still haven’t said a word about your friends. I assume Eric is one because you devoted a paragraph to him in your last letter. I hope you’ve made some good mates.

Harry

So the letters had continued, each one becoming more pronounced in worry. Harry and Ginny would undoubtedly become alarmed if they saw neither hide nor hair of someone who could be called ‘Brian’s friend.’ He had resignedly written back about Eric and then endured the inevitable: You’re welcome to invite him over. Still uncomfortable with the level of acting that was required for the one-on-one interaction that would occur if Eric came over, he had dodged the insistent invitations - until Eric had asked himself.

“One day, can I meet your dad, Brian? He sounds really cool.”

Albus strongly suspected that Eric had been force-fed tales of Harry by Bill and Fleur. The image was all too easy to call to mind:

“’E dived into the water and saved ‘er, when she was not even ‘is ‘ostage, Eric. ‘E is wonderful. Il est incroyable et un defeater de mal. Un héros!”

At first he had been inclined to create some excuse - but the test couldn’t be avoided forever. If Eric could stay with him for a few days, the last half of the Easter holiday, without picking up on anything strange at all, then his pseudo-identity could be viewed as secure. If a canny young person the same age as Brian suspected nothing, then it was unlikely anyone else would.

“Was it the same dream?”

Albus firmly returned himself to the present. The nightmares involving Snape occurred every now and then - enough to attract the attention of Eric and alert him as to their regularity. The former Headmaster assumed that the nearness of the Astronomy Tower and the location of the betrayal had triggered the dreams, but an innocent explanation was needed to satisfy the other boy. Thus the Dark Elephant had been concocted.

The idea had been totally random, improvised on the spot, but it was easier to pretend that it was the same basic nightmare then create a new one every time. Eric’s lips twitched whenever it was mentioned and Albus himself derived some amusement from the concept - dream-Brian was involved in a lengthy fight against the Dark Elephant, who would pursue him through various fantastical landscapes plagued by banana-peel, malfunctioning broomsticks and a talking owl. Further embellishments were added each time.

“Yes,” he said - and launched into an explanation of how the Dark Elephant had chased him into Professor Read’s office, thrown the teacher out the window and crushed several of Hagrid’s giant cabbages to pulp.

“Sounds terrifying,” laughed Eric - who then gulped and looked apologetic. “I mean-”

“Don’t worry. I find it hilarious too, once I’ve woken up. It’s only whilst I’m dreaming it that I’m frightened.”

“Oh. Okay then.” The other boy brightened. “I was too tired to mention it last night - but I take it you’re a Chudley Cannons fan?”

The orange posters screamed at them from every surface. “Yes.”

“Our Uncle-”

“-Is the best player in the universe.”

Eric grinned and flushed, as if Ron was his personal property. “I've heard he’s thinking of retiring soon. He says the Bludgers are getting to him.”

“Yes, they tend to do that.”

“Is it time for breakfast yet?” Eric’s tummy gave a loud rumble. “Sorry!”

“No, I’m hungry too. Let’s see whether my parents are up.”

Albus got up and tip-toed out onto the landing, eyes on the doorway next to Brian’s room. Eric hovered outside as he poked his head in, smiling wryly at how he had once done the same as a genuine preadolescent. In the dimness, he could make out the huddled form of Ginny - but the other side of the bed was conspicuously empty. Harry wasn’t there.

Frowning, he withdrew his head and shook it. “Mum’s there, asleep - but Dad’s gone.”

His friend raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “He must have been called out.”

“Probably - though it must be quite an emergency if he’s needed this early.”

“Doesn’t that happen often then?”

“Only once before. I know they were looking for Amycus…”

Eric’s expression turned to one of impressed puzzlement. The boy leaned forward on his toes, obviously eager for news of dramatic chases and fights. “Who’s he?”

“He was a Death Eater during the war,” Albus said, wincing at the memories that arose. That particular dark wizard had been present up on the Astronomy Tower at the time of Snape’s betrayal. Pushing down that depressing thought, he continued talking as they headed downstairs to fix breakfast. “Apparently he ran away during the final battle. They’ve been searching for him ever since - and I know that they got some sort of lead a few days ago.”

“Does your dad tell you everything that happens with the Aurors?” Eric asked as Albus prepared cereal.

“No,” he replied, making his voice sound frustrated and impatient. “He only tells me things after it’s all over, and he won’t even tell me how he defeated Voldemort. He says I’m too young.”

The frustration at that last point did not have to be faked. To be the leader of the forces of light, to found the Order, to coordinate the resistence and search for the Horcruxes - and then to be denied knowledge of the fall of his enemy - was agonising. Harry had talked seriously of Horcruxes, determined to impress on Brian their evil and corruption, but then had shut his mouth firmly and refused to open it any further on the subject, saying that he did not want Brian “upset about things he didn’t understand.” For the first time, ‘Brian’ had drawn close to arguing with his father - only to be softened by Harry’s emotions.

“One day I promise I’ll tell you everything,” Harry had whispered, his back to him. “I don’t know how, but I swear I shall. I’ll leave nothing out - if need be, I’ll write it down and you’ll find out that way. You’re an intelligent boy, Brian, but you’re far too young. I don’t want you upset by things that happened a long time ago.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” he’d replied softly, desperately. He didn’t want to know the ‘everything’ Harry was talking about - not the feelings, not Harry’s personal painful struggles - information he had no right to, especially when technically living under a false identity. Information that could only pain him. “I justed wanted to know… the basics.”

“One day I’ll tell you. Not now. All I’ll say now is that the one thing the war taught the world was that trying to become immortal is wrong. Nobody lives forever. Once someone dies, they’re gone.”

Except me, he’d thought.

“That sucks,” Eric said. Albus shook himself, trying to gather his scattered thoughts and focus on the present. “But at least he tells you some of what happens.”

“I guess so.”

CRACK! CRACK!

Eric dropped his bowl, sending milk and frosted flakes spraying over the floor. A man and a woman had Apparated straight into the kitchen and appeared mere feet away. The woman Albus recognised at once to be Tonks, her hair bubblegum-pink but her eyes set in dark circles of weariness. The man was a stranger but looked around the kitchen as though it was familiar territory.

“Oh my goodness! Sorry!” Tonks exclaimed, seeing the boys. She aimed a small smile at Albus. “Wotcher, Brian! Up early, aren’t you? Sorry to Apparate straight in like this but time’s running short! Could you go and wake your father up for us?”

“He’s out. I looked in and he wasn’t there.”

The other man, evidently also an Auror, cursed. “Damn! He must have been tipped off about the decoy!”

“Don, you get to the Ministry. Hopefully he’s found out it was just a distraction by now and has gone back to base. I’ll get back to Hogwarts-”

“Hogwarts! Has a student been harmed?” Albus heard himself demand authoritatively. He found himself stepping forwards, out of Brian’s character and into his own.

Tonks and the man known as Don blinked at him. The Matamorphmagus scratched her nose and nodded at the man. With a crack he was gone and the remaining Auror turned back to the two boys.

“Can’t say much, Brian. Let’s just say we’ve received evidence that someone’s on their way to Hogwarts, probably with nothing good in mind. You may as well tell your mum that Harry won’t be back for some time - this is big. Get all the juicy bits from your dad later, okay?”

CRACK!

Albus was left staring at empty air. Both curiosity and worry peaked, he sat down in the nearest chair, cereal forgotten. It seemed strange that the whole Auror Department should be driven into action by a single individual, and it made him uneasy. How he longed for his old powers and body, so that he could go and get to the bottom of things himself! It was the first time any sort of emergency had occurred since the war - and now, here he was, forced to be a passive element.

“Blimey...” said Eric, shocked.