Holly & Yew

C35

Chapter 35: Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer ... Tell my love to wreck it all

After the Yule holidays, classes resumed in full swing. History was still a drag, but Harry enjoyed the other subjects enough to make up for it.

Harry actually sort of liked studying at Hogwarts.

Back at St. James', Harry's secret motivation for working so hard in all of his classes was that getting good grades made Tom proud of him. Nobody had ever been proud of him before Tom, and Harry was addicted to the feeling.

Aunt Petunia had never said one good word to him about his grades. If he did poorly it was because he was a lazy, stupid, no-good freak. If he did well, it was to show off and undermine her Dudleykins.

Harry still remembered the first time he had brought Tom his report card. Tom had kissed Harry on the forehead and called him "brilliant," his eyes gleaming with fierce pride like Harry's accomplishments were as dear to him as his own. Harry had hidden afterward to cry, so overwhelmed with happiness.

Aside from that, Harry had also been fond of his teachers at St. James'. They were nothing like the harsh, uncaring instructors from his childhood, who all thought that Harry was a lost cause because of Dudley's accusations and Aunt Petunia's disregard. No—the teachers at St. James' had been stricter, but they were also so much nicer. Harry got the same feeling from the professors at Hogwarts.

The difference was Magic. It warmed him like a summer embrace: goldenrod, sunflowers, and marigolds blooming in his heart every time he used it. There was nothing compared to the feeling of casting a spell right—feeling the magic click into place, flowing in a set pattern like knitting a perfect stitch.

Theory lessons could kind of be hit or miss. Harry didn't mind the ones in Defense and Charms because they sort of felt practical anyway, but the Transfiguration and Potions theory sometimes went way over his head. The laws and rules in those classes didn't always make sense and, much to Harry's dissatisfaction, there wasn't usually an explanation for it. It was just how wixen had observed magic behaving when casting spells or brewing potions.

Aside from having to slog over his grades to be competitive for the healing program at St. Mungo's, Harry's day-to-day motivation was keeping up with Tom. He had to stay on Tom's level if he wanted to remain Tom's dueling partner. And he couldn't let Tom get an inflated head.

It helped to have a studious friend group. Especially since Astrid was aces at Transfiguration and Greta and Tom always knew what was going on in Potions. Harry knew he would have been way more tempted to goof off if no one was studying, but since he, Tom, Greta, and Abraxas basically hung out in the common room to do their work together every day, his studying always got done.

Their second year passed in blinks.

Harry and Tom went to the next Slug Club meeting together. Harry spent the entire dinner (this time it was a sit-down event) talking to Poppy Pomfrey, who was seated opposite him, about healing magic, much to their mutual delight and Tom's displeasure. Harry had finally subscribed to The Healer's Herald, so he knew a lot more this time around and could actually hold up his side of their debate. Pomfrey offered to get tea with him one of these days so they could continue the conversation, and Harry nearly knocked his drinking glass over with excitement.

He and Tom got another threatening letter afterward though, which put them in a foul mood. They had placed numerous charms on their desks to track who it was, but their pest had circumvented those defenses by sending it via anonymous owl. This time it was addressed to both of them.

Harry had a feeling that it was either Lestrange or Avery. They hadn't done anything suspicious this year yet, which was kind of suspicious in itself.

He and Tom attempted to track where the owl had come from, but they quickly ran into too many dead ends to make that feasible.