Denied.

Any attempts to put Umbridge on trial will be seen as incendiary actions towards the Ministry.

Harry crinkled the parchment in his hands, glaring at it with every shred of hatred he held in his body. He threw the parchment into the fire; it burned with ease. The crackle of the fire and the gentle clinks from various objects in the Headmaster office were the only sounds within the room.

Harry slammed his fists on the desk; his body trembled with his fury. He could feel his magic rising up in response. He drew in a long, deep breath, holding it for as long as he could. When he couldn’t take it any more, he let it out slowly. The anger faded away with the tension in his body. His magic settled down.

It didn’t make any sense. Umbridge had killed a student – and the Ministry was still going to ignore that? Did they truly not care that one of their representatives ended the life of a student? How could they face Euan’s parents?

They were ignoring Voldemort.

They were ignoring Umbridge.

Hiding their heads in the sand wasn’t going to change anything. What did they expect? Did they honestly believe that bad people didn’t exist any more? Why were there still aurors then? Were they so foolish that they couldn’t see the truth?

“What will happen if I provoke the Ministry?” asked Harry in a low voice, looking around the Headmaster office. Many of the portraits were asleep. It didn’t matter, though. Most of them were traditional. He was sure they’d all advise him to never cross the Ministry.

Magic flooded the air.

‘Aurors might attack. They might try to arrest you. Many possibilities lie there should you provoke Cornelius Fudge.’

Harry leaned his elbows onto the desk, running his hands through his hair. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Everything was so complicated now.

Getting advice wasn’t going to change anything. He still had to make the choice: put Umbridge on trial or don’t. He still had to make these difficult choices as the Headmaster. He still had to accept the outcome of said choices, whether they were good, bad, or neutral. He shouldn’t be in such a position.

Would it ever go back to normal?

Well, as normal as it could get for Harry Potter…

He didn’t spend as much time in classes as he had before because of the current condition of his magic. He was getting behind in many of his studies. He still attended classes that didn’t require the use of magic, like Potions and Care of Magical Creatures, but that left him falling behind in his other classes.

OWL year.

The year where one’s future is written in stone.

At least, that was how all the professors had put it at the beginning of the year.

Their future careers rested on tests, on numbers, on knowledge – failing was not an option. There would be no hope for the future if he failed.

Right?

The already fragile glass of his future had shattered into countless pieces. Harry’s magic had been ruined by a stupid quill. He accidentally became the Headmaster of Hogwarts because anyone was better than Umbridge. What he’d give to go back to the beginning, where a stray spell had stuck him to a man who had hated him the most.

It hadn’t been all bad.

Maybe if Harry knew the outcome, he could experience everything with new eyes. Maybe he would’ve fought less. Maybe he would’ve kept his temper more. Maybe he would’ve tried sooner to get along with the man. Maybe he would’ve seen things he had once missed.

But there wasn’t time – no time for rest. Instead, Harry was stuck in this office, trying to rearrange classes for the next semester, writing letters to the Ministry – it was never ending. Merlin forbid he actually studied anything.

He ran his hands beneath his glasses, pushing them off his face somewhat as he rubbed his eyes. They clattered to the surface of the desk. He rested his face onto the desk, curling his arms around his head.

What am I going to do? I can’t do it all. I can’t be a student, and a headmaster, and make changes, and be their hero, and stop Voldemort, AND be a kid – how… how can I do all of that?

I’m crippled now, aren’t I?

How would the Dursleys react, knowing his magic was all but gone? They had been wanting that the very day Harry had entered their lives. How Petunia would celebrate! Harry could already hear the laughter in his ears. Magic had been the one thing that had set Harry apart from them. It had been the one thing he had over them, his one connection to parents he had never known.

But that was gone now, wasn’t it?

‘You are not crippled, child.’

“You said I haven’t lost my magic,” whispered Harry. “But that’s a lie. My body can’t do it any more. You—you lied to me!”

‘I didn’t lie to you.’

“But you didn’t tell me the truth,” whispered Harry, wounded injury in his tone. “You didn’t tell me what’s going on with me.”

‘I am not all knowing.’

Harry gritted his teeth. “But you act like it…”

‘A decrease in power is not the same as total loss in power. While you may not be able to do what you could before, you can now do what you could not before.’

“I don’t understand. I can’t hold a wand any more,” said Harry softly. “What else is there? I might be able to learn some wandless magic in the future, but that’s advanced stuff. That’s sixth and seventh year stuff. And I won’t be able to do a wandless Patronus!”

At that thought, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of loss. That was right. He wouldn’t be able to cast a Patronus again. Would he? He’d never see that glowing stag, his protector. Tears welled up in his eyes. His arms tightened around himself, the cool wooden surface hard on his cheek.

His shoulders trembled.

‘Peace, little one. Nothing in life is stable. Nothing stays the same. True power comes to those who learn to adjust, to adapt.’

“But how can I stop Voldemort?” whispered Harry. “It wasn’t like I couldn’t defeat him before, but at least I wasn’t a sitting duck.”

‘Strategy and soul searching.’

Harry snorted. “He’s ancient. He has decades of knowledge ahead of me. And please, no amount of—” He threw up air quotes above his head without moving it. “—soul searching is going to help me defeat a Dark Lord.”

‘Not your soul, young one. His.’

Harry slowly sat up in his chair. “What?” he whispered. “What’re you talking about?”

‘Enough. I will speak of it after.’

“After what?”

‘It can wait, child. You mustn’t overburden yourself.’

“Why are you holding back?” asked Harry. “You keep hinting at things, but then stop when I could do something about it. What do you want from me?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Please,” whispered Harry. “Tell me.”

‘There are many things hidden in my walls,’ said Hogwarts, her voice echoing the sounds of many. ‘Some are lost. Some are found. Dark magic. Light magic. In the many centuries I’ve existed, such things have happened within my walls. I know the work, the play, the mischief, the romance – I know the darkness and I know the light. Cruelty, evil, compassion, love – all have existed, all have occurred here. All are the same. I will tell you more after Christmas.’

“But—”

‘You have been burdened with much, child. You need a time of reprieve. You’ve gone through much upheaval. Yes, there is more for you to achieve, but if you rush into everything, you will undoubtably overwhelm yourself. Be at peace.’

Magic wrapped around him; warmth filled every fiber of his being. Tears built inside Harry’s eyes, shocked by the feeling rising inside of him.

It felt like a hug.

‘These things have been here for decades. Nothing shall change with a few more weeks. I will not burden your holiday. Put it from your mind for now. It will be unmoved when you return.’

“But…”

‘No, Harry Potter.’

The voices echoed with power. Harry inhaled sharply, his body freezing. The power washed over him with the essence of a tidal wave. It faded with the tide.

‘I’ll say no more.’

And she didn’t. 

None of his pestering brought her voice out. Harry slammed a hand onto the desk, the sound not nearly as satisfying as he wanted it to be. A few of the portraits were startled awake, but he ignored their scoldings. He wanted to shout, cry, scream at something – maybe even break something into a thousand pieces.

That would be truly delightful.

Am I even a wizard any more?

Who am I supposed to be any more?

He had Snape and he was thankful for the man. But Harry could barely process anything. How could he express his feelings to a man who regularly closed off his own feelings? Snape would protect him – no doubt about that.

But could the man understand and help him through the emotional weight of everything?

He dragged his hands through his hair, gripping it tightly.

Alone, yet not alone.

A ray of hope, that was what he needed. Something to give him a glimmer of something good in his future. This now, this present, it couldn’t be forever. Right? Right?

How—

A knock broke his thoughts. Harry glanced up. He saw a shape at the door. He grabbed his glasses and put them on. A head of long, messy blonde hair peeked inside. A bright smile lit up the room.

“Hello, Harry. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

His hands dropped to his sides. Harry slowly shook his head, a bit unsettled by her appearance. Luna lightly skipped into the room, coming to stand in front of the desk. She rocked back and forth on her heels, smiling at him.

“Hi,” said Harry, his voice low. His chest rose and fell once. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, nothing at all.”

She didn’t move nor did she stop smiling at him.

“So… uh…”

It felt rather rude to straight out ask, “Then why are you here?” After all, her presence wasn’t unpleasant. He missed his friends. He’d been in this office for too long now.

“I thought you would like some company,” said Luna.

How did she…

Luna turned away and sat down on the floor near the wall. She leaned back, looking up at him expectantly. “Come,” she said lightly, patting the floor beside herself. “The floor isn’t all that hard.”

His feet moved on their own. A moment later, he was sliding to the floor, sitting next to her. He drew his knees to his chest.

“Well, this is lovely.”

Harry nodded; his throat was dry. She didn’t say anything more after that. Time passed. If it had been Hermione or Ron, they would’ve filled the silence – endless talking, chattering, trying to figure things out and trying to draw things out of him. But as the seconds blended into minutes, there was no such thing from Luna. She sat there next to him, a gentle hum in her throat.

Harry opened his mouth and told her everything.

She listened.

“I can’t be everything,” whispered Harry. “I can’t be the Headmaster forever, right? Right?”

There was a long pause between them.

“These are big shoes to fill, aren’t they?” said Luna softly as she looked around the room. “But I think you’re doing well.”

Harry let out a derisive scoff. “Am I?”

“Yes,” said Luna, her voice strong. “I’m looking forward to school after Christmas. Ginny is going to be one of my new roommates. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Harry didn’t respond to that. He wasn’t sure if he would ever stop doubting himself, no matter what anyone said. “My magic…” he said. “It’s really messed up.”

It took him a few minutes to explain everything, including the encounter with Sirius and what had happened at the hospital wing.

“Oh, so that’s what’s happened to you,” murmured Luna. “I’m sorry. That will make things a lot more difficult for you.”

“Yeah,” whispered Harry, curling his arms around his knees. He rested his cheek there, looking over at her. “Not really sure what I’m supposed to do. My life depends on magic. How am I going to survive anything with it crippled like this?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’re crippled. Not at all.”

“But…”

“You’re just… different now,” said Luna with a pensive expression. Her brow furrowed. “I wonder if that’s why you can see things now.”

“What?”

“Well, you see, magic is in your blood and blood is everywhere in our bodies. I never thought about it before, but maybe that’s why I can see things, too.”

“Madam Pomfrey told me I should ask you about it,” said Harry, blinking. “Wait a minute… You saying you have it, too? Magic in your blood?”

“Oh, yes,” said Luna with a sage nod. “My mother was born with it, but I think she outgrew it.”

‘My mother could see shadows, but lost it as an adult.’

Magic in the blood… Could that truly be the answer to why he could see things now? If that was the case, if magic was improving his ‘sight’ – so to speak – what else could magic in his blood be doing to his body?

Harry sighed, hiding his face in his knees.

Even knowing some of the answers, it didn’t change anything. The weight of everything threatened to break him, to end him – threatened to unravel every particle of his resolve. Something had to go, didn’t it? He refused to stop being the Headmaster, not now – not when he could make some true changes.

What if he stopped being a student of Hogwarts?

It pricked his heart.

A weight flopped onto his shoulder; warmth leaned against his side.

“You’re not alone, Harry,” whispered Luna. “You don’t have to do everything on your own any more.”

His arms tightened around his knees; his shoulders trembled. The warm weight didn’t move.

“You have friends, and teachers, and Professor Snape. You’re not alone.”

“I can’t do it all,” whispered Harry.

“Don’t try. You don’t have to.”

“That’s not true… Something has to go,” said Harry, uncurling his arms from his knees. He looked at his hands, clenching them into fists. “My magic doesn’t work, so how can I be a student? I’m the Headmaster, so when do I have time for myself?”

What can I do?

“One day at a time, Harry,” said Luna. She pried open one of his hands, slipping her fingers in between his own. She clasped his hand. “Nothing worthwhile gets done in a single day.”

They sat there in silence, leaning against each other. The quiet wasn’t unbearable with her there. The portraits watched them, some with gleaming eyes, others with annoyance. But they didn’t speak. They didn’t disturb them.

“You’re a good friend, Luna.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Harry. I’m glad we’re friends, too.”

One day at a time.

Thanks, Luna.