D.M.Emrys
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(Harry Potter) Worthy of you: Chapter 1 – Worthy of What?
🕑 Added 2024-12-25 19:16:25 +0000 UTCA/N: I wanted to edit some of the chapter and use the chance to remind you where you can find the first chapter of my story which was uploaded during December of last year. Hope you will enjoy it:)
Chapter 1 – Worthy of What?
Harry was sitting in a secret spot he’d found on the grounds shortly after Christmas break. He’d discovered it when the whole Heir of Slytherin fiasco had become too much, and he needed somewhere to be alone and in silence.
The only other person who knew about it was Hermione. She’d got worried one day after noticing that Harry was often sneaking off during breaks and meals, so she’d followed him and found him sitting here.
At first, she hadn’t said a word, but after that, whenever she didn’t have assignments or wasn’t in the library, she’d bring him food and sit with him in his secret spot.
It gave Harry a small measure of peace, knowing how devoted Hermione was to him. Actually, ever since the whole Heir of Slytherin business, it had felt like Ron was avoiding him. This became even more obvious after Hermione was petrified.
Harry had been visiting her every day, spending a couple of hours each time. He would have stayed longer, but Madam Pomfrey kept insisting on visiting hours, asking him to leave when his time was up.
Yes, Harry could say without hesitation that Hermione was now his best friend, without a shadow of doubt. But still, something didn’t feel quite right about that statement, and Harry was having trouble understanding what it was.
Sure, Hermione brought a warmth into his life that he’d missed ever since she’d been petrified. When he found out about the attack, he’d felt a surge of emotions when he saw the cold, frozen form of his best friend. He was angry, he was scared, but above all, he was sad.
Was that combination of emotions supposed to mean something? There were so many aspects of life that Harry was ignorant of, thanks to his time with the Dursleys.
Maybe he could ask one of the girls in the common room if they could make sense of it? After all, girls were supposed to be good with emotions, weren’t they?
But then again, even if a girl were to talk with him about it, the conversation would be all over Hogwarts within the hour.
The boys weren’t much help either. Harry doubted Neville would know any more about it than he did, and all Ron cared about was Quidditch, chess, and food. Seamus was interested only in shallow things, which Hermione would never approve of, and Harry wasn’t even sure what the deal was with Dean.
So, he was out of options there. And even if he did know someone in another house, it wasn’t as if they’d want to talk to him right now. Still, since the attack on Hermione, others seemed less hostile, and the tension had lessened even more since he’d killed the basilisk. Not that they knew about that.
He tried thinking back to see if he’d ever felt this way before. There was something in his memory, but it was buried under so much fear that Harry had a hard time digging it up.
Suddenly, Harry noticed the sky darkening, and he decided to head back to the castle. The only thought on his mind was how much he hoped Hermione would be back soon.
Harry knew he should head back to his dorm by now, but he didn’t feel like having people stare at him and whisper, so he decided to take the long way to Gryffindor Tower.
That path led him past the library entrance, and a wave of gloom washed over him. The library had always been associated with Hermione in Harry’s mind. Even when he was sitting there without her, she was the first thing he thought of when he thought about the library.
But Harry couldn’t afford to dwell on it right now. He was late enough as it was.
With that, he headed back to his dorm, trying to push the thoughts away.
The next day, Harry was sitting at the table in the library that Hermione always used. She would get really annoyed if anyone else took it from her, and Harry had to admit that sitting there without her was both difficult and sad.
Just thinking about it made old memories pound in his head, trying to resurface. As he struggled to push past those thoughts, a memory he’d tried to block out surfaced.
Harry was seven years old, running across the yard of his primary school during break. The reason? He was trying to escape yet another lynching orchestrated by his cousin, Dudley.
Before he knew it, he’d run into the school building and kept going until he found what looked like the least visited room on the floor. He quickly opened the door just enough to slip inside without being noticed.
Harry clutched his stomach, panting and trying to catch his breath. Suddenly, a kind voice asked, “Why are you panting so much, dear?”
Harry looked up to see an old woman with white hair in a bun, warm brown eyes behind thick glasses, and a kind smile.
For some reason, Harry felt safe with her and answered honestly, between breaths, “Ran... away... bullies.”
Her smile softened, and she said gently, “Why don’t you go rest behind the shelf, dear? If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll send them away.”
Harry was surprised. No one had ever offered to help him before, not even the teachers. With a small smile, he replied, “Thanks, ma’am.”
The woman shook her head fondly. “Think nothing of it, dear. And you can call me Mrs Brown.” Harry nodded and headed towards the shelves. “Oh, and dear,” she added, “while you’re back there, pick yourself something to read. I always find it a great way to calm down.”
Harry nodded again before disappearing behind the second row of shelves. After another moment of catching his breath, Harry decided to take Mrs Brown’s advice and grabbed the nearest book.
It happened to be a fantasy romance novel, and once he started reading, he was hooked. He vaguely heard voices near the entrance to the library, but he ignored them, too absorbed in the story.
Harry clearly remembered the moment when the protagonist confessed her love to the other main character. But it was the male character’s question—how do you know if you love someone?—that struck a deep chord in Harry.
In the book, love was described as a warm feeling you had for someone even when they weren’t around, someone you felt comfortable with no matter the situation, someone who helped you bear your burdens, and someone you would do the same for.
Thinking about how his aunt and uncle treated him, Harry could say with certainty that there was no love there.
Before he could keep reading, Mrs Brown appeared with her same gentle smile. “Dear, you’ll have class in a few minutes. You’d best be off.”
Harry nodded, disappointed. He returned the book to its shelf and made his way to the exit. But before he could leave, Mrs Brown called, “Do come back soon, dear.”
With a lighter spirit, Harry left for class. As he walked, he thought about the passage he’d just read and the realisation that had followed. He hoped that one day he would find someone who made him feel that way—and that she would feel the same in return.
Harry gasped as he shook off the memory.
After that day, Harry had spent as much time as possible in the library for the next two years, reading book after book. It had started with fantasy, but under Mrs Brown’s recommendation, he’d begun reading books related to his studies as well.
Before long, Harry was top of his class in all his subjects, and Mrs Brown had praised him for being a quick learner. But after his aunt and uncle saw his final marks—much higher than Dudley’s—they’d given him a painful lesson in why he should keep his head down.
Harry continued going to the library to read and hide from Dudley’s "Harry hunts," but when he was nine, Mrs Brown was replaced by a younger woman with black hair. Mrs Brown’s husband had passed away, and she’d retired to live with her son.
Harry had been devastated. Mrs Brown was the only adult who had ever cared for him, but he kept going to the library, hoping it would remain a refuge.
That didn’t last long. The new librarian soon made up her mind about Harry, and it wasn’t a kind opinion. She began selling him out to Dudley and interfering with his reading, making false complaints about his behaviour.
Harry grew fearful of the library too, and with his aunt watching his studies like a hawk, making sure he wasn’t better than Dudley in any way, Harry had been forced to abandon his true self, becoming just another lazy, underachieving boy.
Eventually, it became so natural to him that even at Hogwarts, he didn’t dare to change his habits, preferring to stay on the safe side until he could escape his relatives.
But now, something else from that memory drew Harry’s attention.
A warm feeling even when she’s not around? Check. Feeling comfortable around her no matter what? Check. Sharing the burden he was carrying? Check.
Oh, Merlin! He had a crush on his best friend. Maybe he was even in love with her. But how could he be sure?
No, that didn’t matter. The important thing was that Harry wanted Hermione as more than just a friend. He wanted her as his girlfriend.
A small smile began to spread across his face, but it froze in place as another thought crept in.
Would Hermione even want him as a boyfriend? And even if she didn’t, could he blame her?
She was clever, hardworking, and pretty. And what had Harry shown her? That he was a lazy, more-luck-than-brains kind of guy. A scrawny, plain-looking one at that.
No, the truth was, he wasn’t worthy of her.
Depression began to creep into his mind, but then he remembered something Mrs Brown had said on her last day at the library: “Harry, dear, many things in this world seem impossible, but you’ll never know for sure unless you try. Why not be the one to take a shot, if you get the chance?”
Determination replaced his gloom. Harry would get better, and when he was worthy of her, he’d ask Hermione to be his girlfriend. And then, he’d hope for the best.
That night, Harry decided he hadn’t spent enough time with Hermione. With his vast experience in the hospital wing, he knew exactly when Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office, giving him a chance to sneak in for a bit longer under his invisibility cloak.
It was just after 10 p.m., and Harry was sitting next to Hermione’s bed, speaking softly. “Hi, Hermione. I know I already visited today, but I still feel like I want to talk more…”
His voice trailed off when the doors to the hospital wing opened. In walked Professor Minerva McGonagall.
The deputy headmistress cast a sad look around the room at the petrified students, her expression growing even sadder when her eyes fell on Hermione.
“Minerva, what business do you have here this late?” asked a silky voice as Severus Snape entered the room.
McGonagall turned to him and replied in her usual dry voice, “And what are you doing out of your dungeons, Severus?”
Snape answered just as emotionlessly, “I’ve just seen the headmaster, once again applying for the vacant post.”
The Transfiguration professor sighed. “Why you keep seeking that post is beyond me. Are you so eager to leave the castle? It might have escaped your attention, but no one’s held the position for longer than a year, and the last few have departed under quite unfortunate circumstances.” Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “I believe Albus mentioned he’s considering Remus Lupin for the role.”
This got a reaction out of Snape. His eye twitched, and he hissed, “Has the headmaster lost his mind, allowing that beast to teach children?”
McGonagall raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Remus earned his Masteries in Defence and History many years ago. He’s more than qualified for the post, unlike others I could mention. Albus has rather lowered the bar in recent years.”
Snape’s expression was unreadable as he replied smoothly, “The headmaster was right to keep the beast away from the boy all these years. Has he changed his mind?”
The Transfiguration professor responded just as emotionlessly, “I’m not sure. But if Remus chooses to tell Mr Potter about his friendship with James, there’ll be little we can do to stop it.”
Snape sneered. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to deprive the Potter boy of any privileges, now would we?”
McGonagall frowned but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she fixed the Potions Master with a hard stare. “When will the potion be ready, Severus?”
“By the end of the week,” Snape replied, sounding disinterested.
Their voices grew fainter as they left the hospital wing.
Harry felt a storm of conflicting emotions, but one thing was clear. He needed answers, and now there was someone who might provide them.
He squeezed Hermione’s frozen hand. “I’ve got to go, Hermione. I have a plan. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”
With that, Harry stood up and silently made his way back to his dorm. After all, he had things to do.
