Mon Amour | Harry Potter x Y/n Black

Tattle Tale

"RUN!"

(A/n: This chapter is longer than my last relationship. Therefore, I provided you with a stopping point. Enjoy.)

3rd: Harry

If it had not been for the D.A. lessons, Harry thought he would have been extremely unhappy.

Well, he already is extremely unhappy, but he thought it could be worse.

One of the few things that can put a smile to Harry's face is when he wonders how Umbridge is going to react when all the members of the D.A. received "Outstanding" in their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s.

They had finally started work on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practice, though as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement. "They're so pretty!"

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," said Harry patiently.

"What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a dementor —"

"But that would be really scary!" said Lavender, who was shooting puffs of silver vapor out of the end of her wand. "And I still — can't — do it!" she added angrily.

Neville was having trouble too.

His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded him.

"I'm trying," said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Harry, I think I'm doing it!" yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever D.A. meeting by Dean. "Look — ah — it's gone. . . . But it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"

Hermione's Patronus, a shining silver otter, was gamboling around her.

"They are sort of nice, aren't they?" she said, looking at it fondly.

The door of the Room of Requirement opened and then closed again; Harry looked around to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there.

It was a few moments before he realized that the people close to the door had fallen silent.

Next thing he knew, something was tugging at his robes somewhere near the knee.

He looked down and saw, to his very great astonishment, Dobby the house-elf peering up at him from beneath his usual eight hats.

"Hi, Dobby!" he said. "What are you — what's wrong?"

For the elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking.

The members of the D.A. closest to Harry had fallen silent now: Everybody in the room was watching Dobby.

The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

"Harry Potter, sir . . ." squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, "Harry Potter, sir . . . Dobby has come to warn you . . . but the house-elves has been warned not to tell . . ."

He ran headfirst at the wall: Harry, who had some experience of Dobby's habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats.