A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 507: The Kiss

To a certain extent, Harry felt he had more of a say.

He rubbed his forehead hard, his mind buzzing like a thousand bees. He kept recalling the moments when his scar had pained him. It was undeniably more intense only when Voldemort was around, save for a few exceptions during intense emotional fluctuations on Voldemort's end. But since the Occlumency lessons, these occurrences had lessened significantly.

Yet, he was different. The voices in his head attested to that.

Swallowing hard, Harry picked up his wand and stealthily slipped out of bed. Grimmauld Place had two places suitable for practicing magic. Harry chose to head downstairs; the fourth floor housed the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, Fred and George, and Neville. Sirius was on the fifth floor, and he was always alert.

The night was eerily silent, darkness enveloping everything. He dared not light any magical lamps, relying solely on memory in the dark. Each tiny sound made him jumpy, and he was relieved he wasn't wearing shoes.

He quickly found the banister leading downstairs. As he approached the second floor, he treaded even more lightly – Hermione and Ginny lived here. *Thud!* Harry missed a step, nearly stumbling. His heart raced; he listened intently for any noise around him.

He was worried about waking Hermione and Ginny but equally concerned about rousing the portrait of Mrs. Black hanging on the ground floor. Sirius's mother was filled with antiquated and rotten thoughts, inherited by her portrait. With the recent influx of residents, she was particularly hostile. If he woke her, she wouldn't miss the chance to disrupt everyone's sleep.

Harry waited in silence for a dozen seconds, relieved when he heard nothing.

The rest of the journey went without incident. He avoided the wrinkled heads of house-elf ornaments on the first-floor staircase and steered clear of the umbrella stand made from a giant's broken leg, finding his way to a trapdoor. Opening it revealed a straight staircase downward.

Arriving at the basement, Harry found a spacious area enclosed by walls of black stone. Professor Lupin had mentioned this might have been the Black family's abandoned experimental chamber, though when he, Ron, and Hermione were last here, they found clutter in the corners, layers of dust, and cobwebs.

Cleaning up had taken hours. With spells cast, they'd transformed it into a decent training space.

The soundproofing here was impressive; Harry had no worries about anyone overhearing. He flicked a switch, and torches on the walls illuminated the room. In the center lay seven to eight tattered targets, displaying traces of various spells – evidence of their recent efforts.

Sitting on a cushion, Harry hesitated.

"I'm just trying," Harry muttered to himself. He stood, raised his wand, hesitated multiple times, but finally, he gritted his teeth –

"Avada Kedavra!"

A dazzling green light shot from the wand but veered off, hitting the black stone wall. Harry gasped, feeling a rush of destructive satisfaction. The buzzing in his head heightened, tempting him, but the Occlumency kicked in, freeing him from the state. He started loathing his actions, feeling disgust surge within, almost making him retch.

Maybe the best thing now was to go back quietly, pretending nothing had happened.

Until he heard a stifled scream.

Harry snapped his head towards the entrance, which had been left open or he'd forgotten to close it, unable to dwell on that as a more pressing trouble needed addressing. ⱤᴀΝО𐌱Ɛs

"Ginny!?" Harry blurted out.

Ginny, clad in pajamas, stood at the doorway, hand over her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief and fear. When Harry called her name, she instinctively stepped back.

She saw! Saw me use the Killing Curse! Harry's mind screamed, the voice tempting him again, but he wouldn't agree.

Harry reached out to explain, but seeing the fear in Ginny's eyes made him stop.

He, Harry Potter, had just used an Unforgivable Curse.

Harry couldn't meet her gaze, overwhelmed by intense shame and nausea. How would Ginny see him? A potential dark wizard? Voldemort's second coming? He'd dealt with such rumors in his second year, some believing him to be an even darker force than Voldemort, leading to the Dark Lord's desire to eliminate him as an infant.

But when Harry discovered his mother's protection ran through his veins, that worry dissipated.

Now, that fear had returned.

Without any knowledge, he'd uttered one of the most despicable Unforgivable Curses, nearly as powerful as his best Disarming Charm. That was the scariest part.

He heard footsteps.

Should he escape? Harry pondered. It seemed reasonable; Ginny hadn't woken others, which surprised him. Perhaps he should explain, at least to prevent her from disclosing it. But he couldn't think of a reason. A greater concern emerged – if Ginny told others, how would they look at him?

A stream of names flashed through his mind – Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Fred, George, Mrs. Weasley... The mere thought of Mrs. Weasley's altered gaze made his heart ache.

Harry saw a pair of shoes.

Startled, he lifted his head and met a pair of brown eyes, lips around Ginny's mouth drawn tight.

"Do you... want revenge that badly?" she asked softly.

"It was an accident!" Harry blurted out, surprised by her question. "I mean, I want to defeat Voldemort, but not like this, not with... um... the Killing Curse."

Ginny observed Harry's face closely. After a while, seemingly convinced of his honesty, she tossed her fiery red hair and demanded, not mincing words, "So, what really happened?"

"I—" Harry started, feeling a pounding headache, but he could tell Ginny needed an answer.

"Okay," he relented, moving toward the cushion and plopping down. Ginny sat close. "It all started after the Order of Merlin ceremony. Professor Lupin, Hermione, Ron, and I were taken to the Minister's office..."

Ginny listened quietly, not interrupting.

Initially hesitant, Harry soon spoke fluently. He recounted seeing Voldemort in the Ministry's hall, overhearing Dumbledore and Bones, and the peculiar sensation tonight – the buzzing in his head, the exhilaration of casting the Killing Curse for the first time... Even his various worries spilled out.

"Dumbledore said it makes sense – your connection with the mysterious figure makes you more susceptible to his influence," Ginny said gently.

"I've always known that, just didn't expect it to be this intense." Harry sighed, feeling lighter after sharing. "If it's not because I'm inherently evil, there's only one possibility – Voldemort transferred his knowledge and experiences to me. I don't know if it was deliberate, but I'm influenced now –"

"What makes you say that?" Ginny sharply interrupted. "You're nothing like him, right?" She searched Harry's eyes.

Harry suddenly felt parched; Ginny's face, lit by the dancing flames, had a unique allure. A rush of impulse surged, and he exclaimed, "Of course, I'm nothing like him! I'd never use that curse on anyone; it's Voldemort's style."

Once the words were out, Harry felt an immense weight lift off. The buzzing noise vanished.

Ginny caught Harry's determination, ruffled his hair, and smiled. "So what's troubling you then?" She pulled Harry up from the cushion. "You need a good night's sleep now." Her face drew closer, lightly kissing Harry's cheek. "In my heart, you'll always be the hero who defeated the Dark Lord."

Then, like a sly fox, she slipped away with light footsteps.

Harry stood frozen in place, as if under a peculiar spell, entirely petrified.

>

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