Atonement

Canape Six: Atonement

Harry follows behind the white-robed figure gliding through the halls past sleeping portraits, under his Invisibility Cloak.

Where is she going this late at night?

In this, his “eighth” year at Hogwarts, he is having difficulty adjusting to a peaceful existence. He keeps seeing subterfuge in other students’ faces; evil lurking in the shadows.

Hermione says he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress—that they all are, to one degree or another, disgust for wizarding society’s propensity to shove unpleasantness under a metaphorical rug coloring her voice with contempt.

But he knows what he saw this time, and so he’s following her to… the Room of Requirement?

He’s so startled, he stops by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and almost misses his chance to slip inside the room behind her.

Even if he’s still living in the past, he has certainly learned from it, so he watches silently as she puts down a satchel and opens it, taking out candles, a small broom, hammered silver bowls and glass apothecary jars. At last, he sees her pull out the small carved jade figurine of a crouching tiger, and he can’t keep quiet any longer.

“What are you doing with that?!” he exclaims as he throws off his Cloak.

“Atonement, Potter,” Pansy replies without batting an eye.

“Cho gave me that tiger to protect me from evil—” Harry grits out before Pansy cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“She imbued it with a very strong love spell.” Pansy fusses with the bowls and candles, placing them deliberately on the floor while muttering under her breath. “Don’t just stand there like a gaping cod, Potter. Help me cleanse the circle. The shielding ritual is more powerful if the mark participates willingly.”

“I’m not fond of sweeping,” he mutters and picks up the broom.

“It’s not a career choice, Potter,” she retorts, filling the bowls with the directional elementals. “Now shut your gob and concentrate on feeling safe.”

He snorts, but falls silent. Safe? He wonders what that’s like. He thinks he’s felt something near it, a time or two at the Burrow, or up in the dormitory, snug in his bed, that first year of school.

“I shouldn’t have tried to turn you over to that monster.” Pansy’s voice is slightly shaky.

So much for feeling safe.

“Well—”

“I’d never been scared like that before. And I didn’t know what he was truly capable of… Draco told me a lot of things… After.” Her eyes slip to the glimmering Cloak lying in a puddle on the floor. “That slag has no right to manipulate you like this. No one does. You’ve done enough.”

He’s strangely elated and close to crying all at once.

“Don’t blubber now, Potter. We need to close the circle and invoke the ritual before that crappy green knickknack emits love goo all over us. I don’t fancy having to fumigate Mumsy’s ceremonial robes of eau de tart.”

They clasp hands and the ritual begins.

~*~*~*~*~

Originally written for the pphp_ldws lj community

Prompt: Ancient ritual - made up or factual.