BEAUTIFUL DISASTERS ｢DRARRY｣

PART 12

Harry entered her office, and clearly she was expecting him, because there were many, many biscuits on her desk, complete with tea that was still steaming.

It was a Thursday, of course, and Harry spent his Thursdays with Headmistress McGonagall. He liked her, he supposed, but he'd rather be down by the lake with Draco. When he first went to her for answers, he expected to get it done in one sitting.

He couldn't complain, though. There was so much he was missing, and he knew he wouldn't stop coming here until he was filled in.

"Good morning, Headmistress," he greeted, sitting down in his usual seat.

"Good day to you, Mr Potter. Biscuit?" She offered. Harry shook his head; he already had breakfast. "Alright. Last time we left off at Neville's lightning scar. Well, today, I'll be telling you how he came back."

Finally, Harry thought. It had been a long week of the thought stewing in his mind. However, at the back of his mind, he somehow knew that McGonagall would find a way to leave him on a cliffhanger again.

"I'm sure Draco has taught you a good amount on dark magic... but I'm sure he hasn't mentioned this particular bit. Voldemort never truly died because of what are called horcruxes. You see, a horcrux is a bit of your soul inside of something else. In order to create a horcrux, you need to murder, as well as other dark things I won't mention. Horcruxes are considerably dangerous, for you must split your soul in order to create one.

"And, well, Voldemort made seven. So in total, there were eight things holding pieces of his soul, his body included. These horcruxes of his includes Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Slytherin's locket, Marvolo Gaunt's ring, his snake Nagini, and a diary. However, there was another, lesser known Horcrux—Neville Longbottom himself."

She paused for a moment, and Harry, who had been practically on the edge of his seat, groaned internally. He'd only been here twice, but he could tell when she was about to end it off.

"The story's about half done, don't worry. But I'm afraid that's enough for now." Holding in a sigh, Harry began to stand, but she stopped him. "Sit down, Potter."

He plopped back into his chair and stared at her expectantly with one eyebrow raised.

"What, can't a woman have some good small talk once in a while?" She asked, and Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say. "Have a biscuit."

This time, he obeyed. There were so many damn biscuits on that plate, he felt like it would be a sin to not take one.

"What do you want to chat about?" He asked her, mouth half-full of biscuit. McGonagall was okay—she was certainly kind, much kinder than the ladies at the orphanage—but he was anxious to get back to Draco.

"You know, Hogwarts is hosting a ball soon," she said. "It's a yearly tradition. It has been since the end of the war. I figured that after such tragedy, we should be able to celebrate our peace every year."

Harry nodded, mildly interested. A ball? That was like a dance, right? He wondered if Draco would go with him. Just as friends, of course. After all, it would certainly be odd going by himself, and he didn't want to miss it altogether. He'd never been to a dance, much less a magical one.

"Once a student asked me out as a joke," she said, and Harry almost laughed at the thought. "His name was Sirius Black... he was one of my favourite students, I'd like to think. He was such a scheming, annoying boy... but I think I loved him, as a son of course. Him and his friends... well, if nothing else, they were certainly amusing."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He was genuinely surprised that he was actually listening—he would normally be zoned out by now. He liked McGonagall, however, so he didn't want to be rude.