Harry Potter and the Year After

Chapter Forty: The Stag and the Maiden

Chapter 40: The Stag and the Maiden

"Right, so same time on Monday then, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey as Harry was leaving the hospital wing.

"Right."

"Oh, and Mr. Potter, one more thing," she said, "I am going to ask Professor McGonagall if you can borrow the pensive in the headmistress's office--"

"Oh, no need, I commissioned one over the summer for Hermione. Ollivander made it with her. I'm sure I can use it... what for?"

"Hermione made a Pensieve? When was this?"

"Er, last week?"

"Oh, goodness. She should have told me."

"Why?" Harry asked. He realized he probably shouldn't ask but he was caught off guard by how worried Madam Pomfrey seemed.

"Sorry, but it's no matter to you. Don't worry. Anyway, Potter, I think it'd be good for you to remove some of your heavier memories until we get through a few sessions. Just so you're generally happier and calmer."

Harry thought there was no way he was going to leave memories lying around. He knew firsthand how easy it was to fall into someone else's memory. "Mm. I'll take it into consideration," he lied. With that, he went back to the Defense classroom and up to bed.

By noon the next day, Harry had had a long breakfast with Andromeda and Teddy at her house and then met Rita Skeeter at the Three Broomsticks.

He'd spoken for over an hour with Rita, and her questions touched on a lot of different subjects (Death Eaters, the trials, his time in the tent, the horcruxes...). But then, just as it seemed they were finishing up, she asked a fairly innocuous question about Azkaban and Harry found himself railing against the use of dementors on prisoners for at least fifteen minutes. He hadn't planned to say it, let alone with any force, but he'd had three butterbeers. Anyway, he was glad he did. It had been something that always bothered him since he learned what the things were back in third year. Rita's quick quotes quill was practically smoking by the time they both stood, shook hands and parted ways.

Walking up the grounds through the front gate, Harry saw Ginny sitting under their favorite tree from sixth year. She was reading a book, sitting cross-legged on the cool early September grass. It was a little breezy today but still had a bit of warmth in the air.

She looked so innocent, sitting there in jeans and a jumper. Harry watched her long red hair catch the breeze and flick itself over her shoulder.

He stared at her for too long: she looked up and saw him. Then, she waved and closed her book as Harry walked closer.

"Admiring the view?" she asked as he sat down across from her.

Harry glanced at the lake and then back at her.

"Mm. You're pretty," he said simply and shrugged.

"Thanks," she said without looking up.

"How did the first Quidditch practice go this morning?"

"Fine."

He waited for her to elaborate but she just kept reading. "Are you mad at me for yesterday?" he asked, gazing out at the lake.

"Mad at you for what?" she asked, still without looking up from her reading. Did she really not remember? He told her he didn't want to get back together. He realized now that he'd said it only to try to hurt her. It seemed he was actually only hurting himself.