Okay, i can't remember when i first started writing this story, and i can't believe i never dated the hard copy front page like i made a habit of, but i CAN tell you the hard copy is all written by hand on laser paper in a stack that is 3.7cm thick, thats about 1&1/4 inches. (and of the hard copy i have so far typed up 2.5 cm's worth) By far the longest fic i have ever written, and ive been writting HP fics since i was about 14, which makes 5 years now. I believe i concieved this one from page 658 where Umbridge intends to but doesn't get to use the cruciatus on Harry. I draw on canon events to try and make this seem more realisticaly close to JK's style... except she would hold this stuff back because of young readers im sure. The werewolf theme has run through all my HP fics for a long time. It is standard for Harry to have lycanthropy in all my fics, just for the sheer angst factor.

Now, to all new readers, i warn you this gets quite gory and dark, so if you're into fluff, and hate to see Harry hurt, turn back now. However, to all you angst whores like me out there, dig in, this one's for you.

And i also ask, because it has been said to me on Deviant art where this is also posted, that the level of physical harm done to Harry is not surviveable. This is where you must remember, it is a fictional magical world. Normal world rules and physics aren't the same, and a lot more harm can be endured with the aid of healing potions. So keeping an open mind, please read on and engrain yourself in the dark and insane world of an Umbridge gone mad and a Harry who will make your stomach churn with nobility XD

yours trully Death


A.R.-The Centaur and the Sneak- Down the other Road:

Chapter 1

…Extract…

'The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, closely followed by Kingsley.

Umbridge stood up, reddening in anger as Fudge likewise straightened up, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence as Harry felt Umbridge's mean eyes on him, but he was looking anywhere but at her.

"Well Minerva," said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirt sleeve, " I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledor."

"You think so, do you?" said professor McGonagall scornfully. Fudge seemed not to hear her. He was looking around at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at him; one or two even made rude hand gestures.

'You'd better get those two off to bed,' said Fudge, looking back at professor Mcgonagall with a dismissive nod towards Harry and Marietta.

'Just a moment minister,' Umbridge cut in, 'I would like a word or two with Mr. Potter.' She said sweetly, still looking flustered and angry, not taking her eyes off Harry, who was still deliberately avoiding them.

Fudge blinked stupidly a few times before answering curtly. 'Yes, of course Dolores. Minerva, you need only escort Miss Edgecomb.' Fudge said bluntly to McGonagall.

Looking quite offended at being told she need not take Harry back to Gryffindor tower, she marched Marietta reluctantly from the office.

Harry felt somewhat apprehensive, if not a little vulnerable, being now alone among his enemies.

'Sit, Potter, I shall deal with you in a moment.' Said Umbridge, her voice sickly and quiet, though it had a nasty edge to it as she grasped his upper arm firmly and steered him forcefully into a chair that had not been upturned.

Harry turned his gaze back to the carpet, listening intently to Umbridge and Fudge as they spoke.

'You know of course that you shall have to be appointed immediately to the position of headmaster Dolores. This place desperately needs the sort of discipline only you can achieve to pull it back into line. Frankly all this nonsense Dumbledor was carrying on with had to be ended before the whole place fell to pieces. Well, I might as well sign the decrees while I'm here.' Said Fudge, his pompous air firmly back in place. 'Oh you do flatter me Cornelius. Here, allow me…' she waved her short wand and returned the upturned desk to its usual place, spilt ink bottles and parchment all neatly positioned as they had been, for the exception that the ink could not be returned from all over the floor to the bottle.

Harry looked up and around at the still disgruntled occupants of the portraits all around the room, while Fudge and Umbridge tittered about decrees and new 'improvements' that would have to be made. But Harry did not want to listen because it made his insides writhe with anger.

After about twenty minutes, Fudge got up and left Harry and Umbridge.

Finally, Harry looked up into Umbridge's face. She wore a nasty smile, and Harry saw she was going to enjoy whatever it was she had in store for him.

'Come with me, Mr. Potter.' She said girlishly with some enthusiasm, as though excited about something.

Something was telling Harry this was not going to mean anything good for him, but he had no choice but to follow her out of the office.

As they walked down towards the entrance hall, alarm bells were going off inside Harry's head, for what reason, he could not tell, and it seemed suddenly to him as though he were a prisoner being taken along death row.

But Harry tried to reason with himself. Even though it was partly his fault Dumbledor had been evicted, Dumbledor had defended him well enough to make them think he had done nothing serious enough to warrant a severe punishment, surely? What was the worst possible thing Umbridge could do now? Make him write lines with the blood quill again? Harry's hand twitched at the thought, but he was not afraid, he could handle it, just remembering the cruciatus and comparing it made it more bearable.

Umbridge was now leading him across the entrance hall toward the dungeon entrance. Harry's foreboding increased with a painful churn of his stomach each step he took down the stairs.

Umbridge led him deep into the corridors, far past the classrooms and down two more flights of steps.

She had to remove a torch from it's bracket to light the way down an old, damp corridor that seemed like it had been un-used for at least a decade.

Harry was guessing from what he knew of the labyrinth like dungeons that they were somewhere between and below the level of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms…deeper far than either into the castle's bowels…

Suddenly, they stopped. Umbridge fumbled with a set of old iron keys and stuck one in a hole in the wall, which turned out to be the lock of a door so old and grey that it was barely distinguishable from the cold stone walls.

They entered…

When Umbridge lit the old metal torches around the walls, Harry found that the room illuminated was not so un-used, it would seem, or, more to the point, someone had obviously come here often, as the instruments in there looked quite well tended and prepared for their next victim. Harry's stomach dissolved to see the chains and manacles around the room, not to mention a whole wall of the large chamber devoted to and lined with whips and cruel metal instruments that glinted clean and lethal at him in the torchlight. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The room seemed to emanate with the fond memory of the pain of its old victims…

Suddenly, the door was slammed shut, and Harry whipped around to see Filch, standing next to Umbridge, stooped and crooked, wearing a nasty grin with a mad glint in his eyes.

'Now then, Mr. Potter... Your wand, please, and don't even think about trying anything, there's no use and no need, just give it up now, quietly…' Umbridge simpered with that sinister edge to her voice again. Harry's mind raced with a thousand thoughts of resistance or escape plans, all useless, flawed, risky, daring, but Harry felt an awful dread of giving up his wand. He had, however, taken it automatically from his pocket while his brain reeled with anxiety and conspiracies, and it was suddenly snatched out of his hand by Umbridge, wiping his mind clear of all possibility of escape.

It was too late now; he had let himself get cornered.


Harry's voice echoed slightly in the chamber, creating a pleasant resonance as he sung to himself.

He was so bored by now that he had just decided he'd try and amuse himself by singing any song that came to mind, making up words if he forgot them, and hoping, rather than knowing that he didn't sound too bad. He could not tell exactly if he was any good, he was no expert, but he was somewhat confident his pitch was right…

'…To the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe, ho-ho-ho-o!…To the bottle I go-o, to heal my heart and drown my woe,

Rain may fall and wind may blow,

And I be made to suffer so…

Ho-ho-ho-o!

But under a tall tree I imagine I lie,

And maybe the pain will pass me by…

Ho-ho-ho-o!

The door burst open and Harry fell silent.

'What on earth are you doing Mr. Potter?' came Umbridge's cold, girly voice.

'Singing. Not a law against that too now is there?' croaked Harry.

'There could be, if you get smart with me boy. Now, lets see if you're ready to tell the truth today.' She said pleasantly, as though asking if he took one lump or two in his tea.

'I've been ready everyday, and I've told you everyday. The question is are you ready to believe me today.' Harry said, not bothering to hide the cynicism in his voice.

Umbridge's face became squashy and mean in her impatience and anger. She nodded over Harry's shoulder to Filch, her black velvet bow quivering dangerously in her hair.

Harry knew he would pay dearly for this insolence. He would not have cared so much if he had known how much longer he had to endure this…but even if he never told them…even if he would not break mentally, he was unsure of how long it would be until he was pushed past his physical limits…


Harry hung limply in the manacles, too weak and broken to support his own meager weight on his feet. His voice too sore now, even to amuse himself with singing.

He had no idea what time it was, whether it was day or night, he had no windows to tell, being locked in this dark expansive dungeon room deep under the rest of the school…they had no idea…

He was chained, suspended from the roof by Filch's manacles, which cut excruciatingly into his wrists.

But he knew Umbridge would come soon, even without a way to tell the time, he knew.

And sure enough, the door suddenly creaked open, and with a jolt of dread and slight fear Harry heard her sinisterly sweet voice float into the room.

'Well then, are we ready to be persuaded to tell the truth today, Mr. Potter?'

No, Mr. Potter is not ready to tell you the truth, Harry thought savagely,

Mr. Potter doesn't care how much you torture him he'll never tell you where they are…

He heard Filch shuffling into the room behind him, but his back was to the door. Only Umbridge came around to face him. Which meant Filch was remaining behind him, ready with the whip.

Harry's head was leant on his chest. It felt heavy and ached.

Cold, stubby fingers grasped him by the hair sharply and pulled his head back painfully; bringing him to focus on the flabby, toady face of Umbridge.

'I said,' she narrowed her watery eyes maliciously, 'are you ready to tell us the truth, Mr. Potter, or must we continue to teach you the price you pay for lies?' She said honily, a definite note of anticipation in her voice.

Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain of the hairs she was pulling from his scalp, opened his dry mouth.

'I already told you the truth.' He croaked. She threw his head from her grasp, causing more pain to rent through Harry's consciousness.

She took a few steps back.

'Very well then, Potter. You leave me no choice.' she said, losing the girly chime in her voice. She nodded over Harry's shoulder.

He heard Filch give a soft, wheezy chuckle.

CRACK!

Harry cried out in agony.

Umbridge smiled indulgently, letting the pain sink in before she signaled the next strike.

CRACK!

This time Harry made no sound, too winded to do so. The pain was unbearable.

CRACK!

Harry gasped desperately for breath. He felt the blood trickle down his back.

CRACK!

It did not stop until the whip had been laid on him ten times.

Harry hung limp, panting and shaking.

'I will ask you again Potter, and if you lie, you will feel pain like never before. Consider carefully before you lie again. Now, Mr. Potter. Where are Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledor?' Umbridge growled calmly, sounding very much like a cat slowly and contentedly devouring its mouse prey…

The flaming defiance burning in Harry overcame any fear of being caused more pain.

He slowly raised his head.

'I…don't…know.' He panted in almost a whisper.

Umbridge's broad face sneered impatiently at him. 'We shall see. I have never failed to persuade someone to my will, Mr. Potter.'

'First time for everything.' Harry sneered goadingly, his fierce spark of defiance satisfied to watch her rage, refusing to let the lash he received for his insolence deter him. He screamed out at the agony, was dizzied by the thought of how much blood he felt flowing from his wounds, which even trickled down to the floor as it stained his trousers, creating a small red pool upon the floor at his feet.

After another round of lashes…Harry thought he heard a strange yet familiar noise…

He looked down to his left, and saw a sight to sicken him…

There was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, purring loudly as she lapped at the pool of his blood…the red of it all over her mouth and whiskers…

Harry would have kicked her had he the strength.

Harry lost count of how many times Umbridge asked him the same question, how many times she slapped his face, used the cruciatus on him, lashed him, until he fell into semi-darkness.

By the time Umbridge left with Filch (and the blood whiskered Mrs. Norris), he was dizzy and disorientated beyond his wits.

Yet he did not despair. He would suffer any end to keep Sirius safe.

Mind you (he thought to himself), I couldn't tell Umbridge even if I wanted. Dumbledor is Order secret keeper…

With the comfort of Sirius' safety Harry let himself be lost in darkness, shutting out the pain.


The door opened quickly and Harry forced himself to be more alert as to what was happening. He heard Umbridge, but as well as Filch's shuffling footsteps and Mrs. Norris' meows, there was another…

'…Yes, Severus, if you are sure you can tell. You see? How insolent he is as to force me to such treatment? The whelp brings it upon himself.'

She was saying in a false, sweet voice, like some sort of murderer with pigtails.

'Yes, headmistress. His stubbornness even I cannot comprehend sometimes, but I assure you I will be able to tell the moment he is lying to me.' Said Snape silkily.

Harry lifted his head groggily and stared morosely into the shinning black eyes that bored into his own out of the hooked nose, sallow skinned face of Snape.

Umbridge glared at Harry and jabbed her wand in his throat, considering him, before she stepped back

' I think a slight warm up, just to persuade him a little more first, Severus.' She said sweetly.

She nodded to filch.

CRACK!

Harry cried out and Snape almost flinched, the only sign of emotion a slight narrowing of his eyes…

CRACK!

As usual, the whip lashed him ten times.

Harry shook uncontrollably, his eyes half closed, but he raised his head again to see Snape's eyes now glittering in a strange way.

'There you are Severus. Now, let's see if he can stand to lie now.' Said Umbridge much more crisply than usual, as though smugly satisfied with beating Harry up.

Snape slowly stepped forward. He placed his wand under Harry's chin and forced him to lift his head further.

Snape squinted at him, his gaze intense, but not with malice…

'Potter. Where are Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledor?' he asked softly, a strange edge to his voice as he seemed to put a delicate stress on every word.

Harry did not even blink; he did not break eye contact with Snape.

'I have no idea.' He croaked pitifully.

Snape continued to look into his eyes as Harry sent him a silent request for help, praying that his occlumency skill might be good enough to detect it.

Snape blinked, quite pronouncedly…

He had acknowledged Harry's plead.

He then turned away and removed his wand from Harry's throat. Harry let his heavy, aching head fall onto his chest.

'He is telling the truth, headmistress. I'm afraid to say, he does not know the whereabouts of either Black or Dumbledor. No doubt they were both smart enough not to trust such information to one as weak as Potter.' Snape said smoothly.

Umbridge wore a very nasty expression indeed, but quickly calmed herself, replacing the ugly look on her face for an even uglier forced smile at Snape, who stared blankly back. 'Very well then. I shall not question him further. No…but I do have a use for him…in fact, we might as well get on with it immediately…'

'The students are at lunch. I shall call for attention and attendance of all students and staff promptly in the Great hall. You shall help Argus, professor, to take Potter to the great hall. Then I will set an example, with Mr. Potter's aid, which should dissuade any further out-of-line behaviour from the students…'

And a nasty, real smile spread across her broad flabby face.

Harry shook with anger. She could never miss an opportunity to torture him. But this was a chance for him, to show the school defiance against her. He didn't care about the pain anymore; he could will it all away if only to show he would not submit, to defy her.

Harry was released from Filch's manacles and Snape held him up, as he could not support himself. Together, Filch and Snape half dragged Harry between them, Mrs. Norris escorting them trotting jauntily ahead. Harry, disorientated with pain, attempted to force his legs to work. After coming out of the cold, deeper corridors and back into the familiar classroom corridors, they steered him into a dungeon near the main stairs. He sat heavily on a chair as they waited for Umbridge to call them to the hall. The slashes on Harry's back had already healed mostly, as the whip was charmed, like Umbridges quill, thought they stung just the same as if they were still open wounds.

He realized mutely that he would be pulled up before the school wearing only his blood stained uniform trousers, and found he did not care very much.

As he sat, he shot a glance up at Snape, who met his gaze momentarily, acknowledging Harry's silent thanks for releasing him from the dungeon punishment.

When Umbridge came and got them, wearing a very smug smile, Snape and Filch each grasped one of Harry's arms and once again half dragged him up the stairs and towards the great hall.

The reason his legs would not support him was that Umbridge had whipped them too…but with an ordinary whip. And the wounds were recent and still quite fresh, and consequently, trying to use them caused debilitating pain to shoot through them with every step he took.

It seemed, however, that Filch would be using the ordinary whip again…

As Harry stumbled into the hall dragged by Filch and Snape, a complete silence fell instantaneously across the hall.

Harry was stopped in front of the middle of the high table, where the teachers stared at him, horrified.

He stood on his feet, legs shaking madly, but he would not give in to the pain, and he stood as straight as he could, a clearly defiant air about him.

Every student was staring at him; expressions of mixed shock, horror and fear on their faces, except for the Slytherins, most of whom looked quite excited and eager.

Harry did not notice Umbridge had been speaking, until she turned to him.

'…And now you will see what happens to liars and nasty, rule breaking hooligans in my school, wont we Mr. Potter?' she said, her voice honeyed once more.

Harry's eyes narrowed, he filled his dry mouth and spat at her feet. There was a collective gasp across the hall. Harry sneered at Umbridge's furious face.

'I s'pose we will.' He croaked matter-of-factly.

His eyes darted toward the Gryffindor table. He saw Ron, a look of pure terrified horror on his face, mixed however with pride. And Hermione, tears leaking unchecked down her face, devastated.

Umbridge had taken Filch's place, her grip extremely tight on his arm.

CRACK!

Harry clenched his teeth, not letting a sound escape him.

CRACK!

He screwed his eyes up tighter, still forcing himself to remain standing.

CRACK!

He coughed, gasped, and tried harder to keep his legs still. He could hear someone sobbing. There was a long pause before Filch continued, and just as Harry as getting over the sting of the first three lashes…

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, across his legs.

The whip had been laid across them in quick succession, in triplicate, and a pain more excruciating than ever racked his body. He cried out, falling to his knees.

Umbridge and Snape still had a firm hold on his upper arms, though both hung heavy and limp, forgotten by Harry completely in his agony. Blood still trickling from his wrists where the manacles had cut into them…

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, along his back this time.

Harry could not help but scream out again, his voice breaking terribly. Blood was trickling steadily down his back. A fantasy of Mrs. Norris jumping on him to lick it off and getting whipped in the process crossed Harry's mind, and his mouth flickered with an insane smile.

He could hear a few whimpers across the hall now.

And then he heard Umbridge call for Filch to stop.

Harry's body shook violently with pain, his head swimming drunkenly with it.

Then he felt Umbridge grasp his hair and his arms were released, so that he was only being held up, in agony, by the hair she had grasped at the back of his head, which she bent back.

'Perhaps you have learnt your lesson now, Potter?' she asked sweetly.

Harry, panting, opened his eyes and stared at her piercingly. In the complete silence, his broken voice carried clearly.

'What lesson?,' he panted in mock politeness, ' all I can say I've learnt…from you…is that…you seemed not to have noticed…how much…you look like a toad…professor.' Harry commented lightly, a mad smile playing on his face to watch her face contort with fury.

A buzz of gasps and exclamations swept the hall.

Umbridge, a sour look on her face, kicked out swiftly and caught Harry a sharp blow in the chest…and you better believe, she wore steel toed boots…

Harry doubled over, winded, blood trickling from his mouth as he coughed and gasped for air. 'I'll teach you a lesson, boy!' she hissed madly so that only Harry could hear.

Then McGonagall's voice rang through the still buzzing hall. 'Headmistress, please! He is delirious from this, let him go…' she said, her voice wavering uncontrollably.

'No, Minerva! He knows perfectly well what he's saying. He must be taught that this will not be tolerated under any circumstances by me.' And she whipped out her wand.

She got Filch to hold Harry by the hair again and she stood back.

'Nasty liars are taught nasty lessons, Potter.' She simpered.

And Harry, unexpectedly, even by himself, laughed. And his laughter, hard, cold and defiant, silenced the hall.

'Who's lying here? It'll be too late for you and dear Fudge when the truth gets out. I'd never thought before now that I would meet anyone who deserved all they got from Voldemort, until you came along…'

"CRUCIO!" Umbridge screeched.

Harry let out a blood-curdling scream as the curse sent a fire of agony through him. She kept cursing him until his voice died, until he gasped for breath, twitching involuntarily, and suddenly, just before he blacked out, she lifted the curse.

And she looked around at the one who had called out to stop.

Harry, his head still pulled up excruciatingly by Filch, forced his streaming, unfocused eyes open.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was standing, at the Hufflepuff table, all eyes in the hall on him.

He was looking at Harry, a horrified expression on his face.

'Why, might I ask, do you wish me to stop Mr. Fletchley?' sang Umbridge in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Panting, Justin swallowed, but he looked determinedly at Harry as he spoke.

'Professor…even if he is lying…if you-know-who hasn't returned…well…it makes no difference if you can torture us like some death-eater!' he said loudly, and though he stammered he sounded defiant.

There were a few murmurs across the hall, and Umbridge narrowed her eyes, smiling.

Justin was shaking, but he stared at her determinedly.

'There is a fine line, Mr. Fletchley, between torture and discipline. Mr. Potter's acts call for punishment to discipline him. Death-eaters would do this for fun, without reason, they are people who enjoy seeing pain. I, do not…'

At this point Harry chuckled croakily, cutting Umbridge off,

'You seemed to enjoy yourself enough down in that dungeon room.' Harry interjected bitterly.

Umbridge did not turn around or answer him, though her false smile flickered for a moment.

'As I was saying…I enjoy seeing learning and knowing I am teaching you valuable lessons. I think, Mr. Fletchley, that Mr. Potter has led you astray. You will be taught. Detention, Monday, at six o'clock. It is important you all be taught right from wrong. Sit down, Mr. Fletchley, while I sink the right message into Potter, a last time.' Her sweet tone made Harry feel sick.

She grasped his hair fiercely again, nodding to Filch, who stepped back. Harry gazed across the hall, seeing every fearful face on him.

He then gazed up at Umbridge, her toady face grinning maliciously, and he decided some last words were appropriate…

'By the way, Professor…there's something I forgot to mention…' he croaked painfully, his voice calm.

Umbridge looked down at him, eyebrows knitting in slight confusion.

And Harry lifted his shaking arms, and stuck both his rude fingers up at her, a mad grin spreading over his face again, his eyes glinting with cold satisfaction to the cheering that broke out at the Gryffindor table and the way her face contorted in rage once more.

And then she gave the signal, and the whip cracked. Ten times, in quick succession, hitting with cruel accuracy down his back, cutting deeper than ever…and an eerie silence fell instantaneously over the hall and the Gryffindors. The pain was so intense, he could make no sound, his back arched inward automatically from the agony, but Umbridge pulled his head further back by the hair and he was forced to endure.

When the whip was still, Umbridge released him. He fell silently, into a crumpled heap he collapsed onto the floor, his blood steadily staining the cold stone…though Filch would not let Mrs. Norris near it…

He shook violently, uncontrollably twitching from the pain, so intense still it paralyzed him.

'Mr. Weasley, miss Granger, yes, miss Weasley too if you wish… take him back to your dormitory. He is not to be treated in the hospital wing. If he is to be treated, it is by himself. You may help, if you wish.' Umbridge sneered as Ron, Hermione and Ginny rushed to Harry's side.

They managed to drag him to his feet together and between them he was not heavy to support out of the hall, though there was little Ginny could do to help, except perhaps shield Harry further from the Hufflepuffs some of which had been sick at the sight of his injuries. Harry, consumed by pain, was barely aware of anything else that happened to him as Ron and Hermione dragged him up the flights, through the castle, towards Gryffindor tower.

He tried as hard as his body would permit him to assist in getting himself through the portrait hole, but his energy was drained by lack of food and excruciating pain.

The other three managed him up to his and Ron's dormitory where they lay him gently on his bed.

Unable to stand the pain, he did not move, and breathing heavily, raggedly, he barely registered Ron's words.

'Harry, can you hear me?' he said anxiously. Harry nodded weakly, 'Ron…' he croaked in reply. He opened his unfocused eyes to try and see the face of the friend he had missed for how long he was unsure. '…Thank you.' He whispered, voice rasping painfully from screams.

Ron looked quite distressed. 'Oh god, what did she do to you?' he said in a voice of despair before naming her a number of profanities. Harry could not speak to tell him because his throat was so sore.

Ginny seemed to know this, because suddenly she helped him lift his head and she tipped a glass of water from his bedside jug, down his throat.

Harry drunk deeply and gratefully. He thanked her and focused back on Ron.

'She tortured me for information, (he gave a small bark of laughter), and got none. Waste of time and blood really. I couldn't tell her where Sirius and Dumbledor are of course, not that I would. And I lied till I was whipped raw about there being no D.A., though she called it my 'unlawful resistance'. And she couldn't force me to say I was lying about Voldemort to her, not under the Imperius or anything. She even tried veritaserum, but Snape must have known. He gave her some dud potion that just made me drowsy and I acted like the potion had worked and lied to her again.'

'Of course she didn't let that spoil the fun she had torturing me some more.' Harry said airily, thought there was a definite note of bitterness in his hoarse voice.

This all seemed to greatly disturb Ron and Ginny.

'Oh god Harry, you suffered all that for a secret you couldn't break anyway and so she would do in the rest of the D.A?…You…you didn't tell her anything…even through three weeks of…oh Christ…I, I couldn't have done that." He said weakly, looking ashamed of himself.

"You should never have to.' Harry said forcefully, his voice cracking and the haunted shadow in his eyes becoming more pronounced. Ron looked at him anxiously, not knowing how anyone could suffer so much and still keep living on with it, acting so…normally, as Harry did…not turning out like Neville's parents like he was sure he would.

Harry's back was not, as he would hope, aching less, but instead the stinging seemed to intensify the longer he lay there, blood soaking onto his sheets, making him feel slightly queasy.

'Are you alright Harry? You're really pale.' Said Ginny softly in concern.

'Of course he isn't alright, Ginny, he's just been tortured.' Ron said flatly. He put a hand on Harry's shivering, blood marked shoulder. It was ice cold.

Harry tensed automatically at Ron's touch. Three solid weeks of torture will have that effect…when the only time anyone touched him was to cause him pain.

Ron got up from his chair by Harry's bed and whipped a sheet off his own, which he draped over Harry's shivering form. Harry looked up at him, slightly startled.

'Thanks.' He croaked weakly. 'Where's Hermione?' Ginny asked suddenly.

Ron shrugged. 'She said something about making up a potion.'

They sat in silence for a long time, Harry with his eyes closed, trying to will away the agony that plagued his body.

The dormitory door suddenly opened and Hermione came in, her arms laden with strange items. She was flushed, and looked very anxious when she saw the amount of blood that had soaked Harry's sheets.

Ron gave her his seat and she began bustling about setting up bowls of liquid and cloths.

'Can you sit up?' she asked Harry gently. Harry tried to push himself up, but in the end Ron helped him to sit, slumped exhaustedly, on the edge of his bed, head hung drowsily.

Hermione sat next to him and dipped a washcloth in a bowl of warm water on his bedside. 'This might hurt.' She told Harry quietly. He nodded shakily.

She began cleaning the blood from his cuts. Harry gritted his teeth, trying hard not to worry her with the fact that it increased the stinging to almost unbearable levels, but she could not see him screw his eyes up with his head hung towards the floor. But eventually the heat spread through him and the water began to sooth the aching more than it stung the gashes, and it was much more bearable, even with his scar twinging irritatingly.

'Now, I'm going to use this potion to help heal the lacerations. It definitely will hurt.' Hermione told him anxiously.

Harry merely nodded again and braced himself. When the cloth of warm potion touched his wounds he let out a very small yelp of pain and winced as the stinging returned full force. Hermione seemed pained to continue causing him more agony, but he argued that if it was for the better, he didn't mind dealing with a bit more stinging…after all, he had come this far from the cruciatus, it wouldn't make that much more difference to him.

Far from consoling her she seemed a little more distressed, to look into those deep and haunted green eyes.

It seemed to take a very long time to soak the wounds properly, but finally, Hermione was done, and with a tap of her wand, his chest was bandaged and she had given him the incantation for dressing the wounds.

Harry gave her a grateful hug, preferring not to use his sore throat.

Hermione and Ginny then left to let Harry treat the wounds on his legs.

Ron sat down and occupied himself with a glass of water while Harry took off his blood soaked trousers.

'What day is it?' Harry asked Ron thickly as he adjusted to the stinging and heat of the water on his lashed calf muscle.

Ron looked up, slightly alarmed. 'Saturday.' He said.

'Good, I can sleep in and not miss any classes.' Harry said, now wincing violently from the potion he applied under his knee. Ron frowned. 'You're not going to classes on Monday?' he said, not really as a question. Harry's eyes blazed at the floor, though he did not see it. He was thinking about Umbridge.

"I'm not letting her get to me. She's not going to break me, not now. I'm not letting her after all this.' He said hoarsly, wrecking his voice even more with anger. Ron's mouth was open. 'Harry… it's not about that anymore, this is a matter of you just wont be well enough by then.' He said anxiously.

'I'm not going to let her think she's weakening me.' Harry said shortly, his throat tight.

"Please Harry, can't you see that's exactly what she's done! If you go on and she keeps trying to break you she…I'm afraid…Harry, she might kill you…on purpose.' Said Ron, his voice shaking.

Harry looked up at him, a lump in his throat. They stared into each other's eyes for a long time.

Harry looked down and bandaged both legs with his wand (which Umbridge had thrown back at him and Ginny picked up when they left the great hall).

'I'll go back when I'm strong enough to walk properly again.' He said quietly.

He changed exhaustedly into his pyjamas and dined gratefully on chocolate frogs with Ron (he had lived on nothing in those dungeons but tasteless nourishment potions and blood restoration serums for three weeks), before he finally lay down to sleep (after cleaning the blood from his sheets with his wand), and it was not long before he was finally able to shut out the pain once more.


Harry woke up again late Saturday afternoon, and by borrowing Ron and Hermione's notes was able to review many missed classes.

Whenever he was in the common room, people either stared at him constantly or would not look at him at all. This did not really bother him, though he was surprised at the number of people who came up to him, including the Creeveys, raving spectacularly about his giving Umbridge the finger. But other than this, he was not bothered by people's reactions; he had more important things to think about. He treated his legs with various potions he stole from the hospital wing using his invisibility cloak, trying to make himself fit to do more than stumble about, to be able to walk properly again by Monday.

To Ron's disappointment and anxiety, Harry was able to walk well enough to go back to class on Monday.

The hall was unusually quiet at breakfast, but Harry of course, cared little about this and had more pressing matters to deal with. And what was more, he was too busy enjoying his breakfast, which was even better than he had ever remembered…probably because he had more reason to appreciate it…

His first class of the day was Charms. Harry, to his surprise, picked up the freezing charm they were learning instantly. What glances Professor Flitwick shot him were nervous, and it seemed as though he felt if he looked at Harry to long he might burst into tears.

Thankfully however, he did not, and Harry was not embarrassed before the class.

In Transfiguration, the only hint of McGonagall showing any worries about him was a brief, pointed stare of anxiety, before turning her gaze away.

In Potions, as expected, Snape ignored him. This of course somewhat offended Ron, who cursed him quietly at Harry's side for a long time.

'Yea, that'd be right. He's pretending he had nothing to do with it…like he couldn't have stopped Umbridge, like he wasn't the one holding you up there while…' Ron broke off awkwardly, still glaring at Snape's back as he passed them.

'Actually…Ron…if he hadn't told Umbridge I wasn't lying… I'd probably still be down in that chamber…' Harry replied very quietly, cutting up his venomous tentacula leaves. He shot a side ways look at Ron, who looked quite taken aback.

'Harry…I,"

"It's ok. Its not like I expected him to do it…Dumbledor probably got wind of it and told him to.' Harry replied. And it was true, Harry did suspect as much. But at least Ron stopped fuming at Snape and was able to start on the ever-irritating actions of Malfoy, who was being as snide as ever.

"Well, well, looks like our new head is doing everything this school needs, finally. Firing the half-breeds, rewarding the right people, punishing Potty…hey Potter, tell me, is your poor little bottom still sore from getting whipped? Did Granger kiss it all better?'

The Slytherins all burst out in hardly suppressed laughter, Snape ignoring them as usual.

"Well you would know all about butt kissing wouldn't you Malfoy?' Harry replied coolly. Now the Gryffindors were hard put to quieten their laughter. Malfoy's face went red and he didn't say another word.

However, when Harry was leaning over his cauldron making sure it was hot enough, Malfoy walked by on his way to the ingredients cupboard and said 'Better watch that mouth of yours Potter, or I might have to land you back down in that dungeon…' and he slapped Harry hard on the back. Harry gritted his teeth and took in a sharp breath as the pain spread down his spine, while Malfoy walked away, cackling.

Harry was glad when lunch came as his back ached from leaning over his cauldron in concentration. And Malfoy's slap, which had not helped.

A hot lunch though, soon cured all his weariness, and although apprehensive, he felt ready to face defense against the dark arts.

Indeed as they walked up towards their classroom, Ron and Hermione seemed much more anxious about it.

Umbridge gave him a sickly smile and piercingly cold gaze when they entered the classroom. 'You sit up the front Mr. Potter. I don't want you disturbing your friends during their class time.' She said in honeyed tones, as though she were being helpful or motherly. But Harry saw the gloating, goading look in her beady eyes and toady face.

Ron and Hermione were anxious and angry but they knew better than to say anything. Harry sighed as he set himself up in desk right before Umbridge's. No one spoke at all.

Harry was staring blankly at his book on the appointed reading page, not really taking any of it in. he was daydreaming about what it would be like not to be believed a nutter, if Umbridge wasn't there, if Dumbledor was still there, if the whole fortnight and a half of torture were erased…

Harry jumped as something hit the desk sharply in front of him. He looked up to see Umbridge's toady face glaring at him with a triumphant smile. She had slapped her stubby hand down on the desk.

'That's another detention, Potter.' She said softly, her black velvet bow quivering.

'What for?' Harry blurted in confusion.

She narrowed her eyes, but he merely looked at her blankly, wondering what on earth she could find to pin him with.

'He hasn't done anything!' shouted Ron angrily and indignantly. Umbridge looked up at him with a shrewd, sweet smile of indulgence.

'Would you like a detention too, Mr. Weasley?' she said, as though asking if he would like some sweets. Harry, who was looking around at Ron, caught his gaze as he opened his mouth to reply, and gave a small urgent shake of his head. Ron closed his mouth and glared at Umbridge, who's face became toadier as her grin broadened.

'I didn't think so. It is not your concern, Mr. Weasley, as to my reason for giving a detention. Though I shall point out, that even when I separate him from you, it is clear from my observation he is still distracting you. Not to mention, no one could doubt the need for him to be taught better manners still after his display on Saturday.' Umbridge said, her voice even girlier than usual in her increasing happiness at having a reason to punish him.

Harry knew he wouldn't get away with what he had said and done in front of the school; he had expected that the moment he walked into the classroom…but distracting Ron and Hermione by not doing anything? Harry knew by this that she was grasping at straws…if he hadn't done those things, she still would have given him detention. However, it was also clear, from one look, as she went back to her table, that she was punishing him for daring to come back to classes so soon, and (supposedly) well enough to face her. She had probably hoped for him to hide in Gryffindor tower so she could go and drag him out and make a pitiful fool of him.

As soon as the lesson was over and Harry had joined Ron and Hermione, they began to rage as soon as they were out of earshot.

'She can't do that! She just can't! We should tell McGonagall…'

'I don't believe it, you didn't even move! How can she say you were disturbing us…'

'We were talking to try and get ourselves in trouble to get her off your case…'

'Please, don't worry about it…' Harry finally said to stop their anxious and desperate babbling. 'I wouldn't have been surprised if she had given me detention if I had bowed down at her feet and proclaimed myself legally insane.' Harry sighed wearily as they headed for the grounds for Care of magical creatures.

But Ron and Hermione continued their anxious conversation as to the lengths Umbridge might go to get Harry in trouble.

'…I mean, the trouble really all started when Dumbledor was forced to leave. Now I'm not blaming him at all, but it would have put her in a bad mood. And as Harry was there, I suppose she blamed him and wanted revenge, and as she was suddenly promoted, she had all the power she needed. It seems nothing could now restrain her from what she really wanted to do. She just snapped and she's finding any way she can to break Harry by physical torture. I'm…afraid… it might not just be writing lines with a bloodline quill that she'll punish you with Harry." Said Hermione, sincerely disturbed. Thankfully Harry didn't have to reply, as they came to Hagrid's hut and where the other gryffindor students were already standing. Thanks to Umbridge's decrees, all Hagrid could do in way of greeting was smile dodgedly through his blue and purple bruised face, only one beetle black eye rested anxiously on Harry as the other was puffy and purple.

To Harry's dismay, arriving with the Slytherins across the lawn, came Umbridge. Ron gave a soft moan of despair. But Umbridge did not even have her clipboard with her. She gave the class a leering smile before she stopped in front of Hagrid.

"I SAY, MR HAGRID," she said loudly and slowly, as was her unnecessary manner around Hagrid. "Hullo there professor!" said Hagrid in slight surprise, as he had not noticed her approach due to her height ( or more, lack thereof). "I suppose ye'll be wantin' yer delivery for yer demonstration, Wait 'ere a mo' and I'll bring it around from the back." Hagrid said, and he stumped off limpingly around the side of his house.

Harry, ignoring the sniggers from the Slytherins, was curious as to what delivery Hagrid had to give to Umbridge.

Hagrid came around again, carrying a large crate (which looked suspiciously just the right size for a skrewt), which had air holes and emitted a soft growl when bumped.

"THANK YOU! I (she pointed to herself dramatically) WILL BE BACK TO MONITOR (she mimed her pen and clipboard) YOUR LESSON SOON! (She pointed to her watch)", Umbridge yelled. And flicking her stubby wand, she levitated the crate along beside her up to the castle.

"Now, terday I got summat important to show yeh. Umbridge 'erself asked me ter teach yeh about it, 'cause SHE says there aint nothin' more dangerous than it at the moment…" Hagrid said in a dubious tone, as though greatly doubting this fact. "Now yeh all follow me over 'ere a bit, cause it likes the dark, funnily enough." Hagrid instructed, stumping slowly towards the forest with Fang at his heels.

Harry followed apprehensively, sure that if Umbridge was calling it very dangerous, it was probably only a Hinkypunk.

But not far into the trees, Harry saw a light, much stronger and erratic than that of a hinkypunk, and as he drew nearer, a sense of something much more dreadful grasped him.

And then there it stood… and Harry found himself alone, approaching it closer, even Ron and Hermione had halted a little way back.

It was terrible…yet something more fascinating was about t, in it's light…It was a huge, tall, horse-like creature, but there was also something very beastly about it, and it burned with bright flame from it's charred white coat. Its mane was a plume of leaping flame in the wind, and its tail a fountain of embers cascading to the ground, but disappearing into invisible ash. And flames licked up and around the hocks from above the line of the charcoal black hooves.

And it turned one great and terrible white eye to him, nostrils flaring red with hot air. The brightness almost hurt Harry's eyes, but he did not look away…he could not…

"W-What IS it?" stammered Hermione breathlessly. And that gave this creature some seriously scary feeling, because that was not something often said by Hermione. If she didn't know it, chances are hardly anyone did.

Hagrid, standing not far from Harry, answered with some solemn respect, if not awe. " 's a Heliopath."

"They DO exist!?" gasped Neville, wide eyed. The creature threw its head and grumbled. Harry shuddered.

"Yep. Native to Australia mind you, but they c'n be controlled by the right spells n equipment. They are fairly dangerous mind, they can breathe fire hot'r than a Dragon, and their bite is venomous. Brings on terrible fever. That is, if you survive an attack from one, which isn' real common where they come from".

"Did this one come from Australia?" Asked Harry blankly. "Nope. Bred by the ministry. They got a whole lot o them. They're mostly fer 'research purposes'" Hagrid replied, though he sounded dubious of this. "Can you touch them?" Asked Parvatti, trembling. "Well, I dunno if I recommend it as such… If it trusts yeh it wont burn, but it aint worth the risk if yer not entirely sure…" said Hagrid warningly.

But looking into the great, bright eye, Harry found himself compelled by a sudden urge, and wanted very much to get closer… he had no idea why… did this beast perhaps have some strange alluring power the ministry knew nothing of yet? Was he under its spell? Or did he just… like it for what it was?

"…If yeh really want ter though, yeh could try a freezing charm on it ter pat it…"Hagrid added thoughtfully. They all watched, suddenly surprised, fearful and apprehensive, as Harry approached it silently, as though drawn irresistibly toward it, wand undrawn. Hagrid could not find voice to give him a caution… or even encouragement or instruction, and merely stood watching, like the others, holding their breath as Harry slowly extended a hand to its head. It tossed its head a little, the bridal of iron secured by chain reigns to a peg in the ground jingled ominously. But as Harry's hand came into contact with the creatures skin, it did not burn. The sensation was much like floo-powder fire… a warm breeze-like sensation played around Harry's hand as he patted the creature's forehead and nose. It reminded him a little of buckbeak and he wondered how Sirius would have liked this creature. He would have to tell him about it in his next letter, but then he remembered how hard it was to communicate with his godfather thanks to Umbridge. A flame did burn him then, but it was on the inside.

The whole class seemed to release the held breath of tension as one. Harry patted the creature's neck as it bowed its flaming head comfortably, its licking tongues of flame harmless for the moment. Harry could not help but grin slightly. As with Hippogriffs, the initial shock of terror wore off and Harry began to better appreciate its subtle beauty and form. The graceful embering tail and surprisingly soft coat…

But a sudden shout shocked Harry and the rest of the class out of their silent trance.

"Potter! WHAT do you think you are doing!?"

Harry whipped around, stepping back slightly from the Heliopath. Umbridge had returned with her clipboard. She stood with her hands on her hips, squatter and toadier than ever, squinting meanly and suspiciously at him. Those near her drew away slightly. Harry opened and closed his now dry mouth and swallowed. It seemed hotter now, near the Heliopath, but Harry could not answer Umbridge…he could not explain why he liked the creature so much and had wanted to pat it, nor could he say how he knew it would not hurt him. Suddenly he felt very exposed and embarrassed… more so even than when she had pulled him up before the school…

He heard Malfoy sniggering and knew his face was going red. "That's a week of detention then Potter." She said, suddenly sweet again, and sounding extremely pleased.

No one, not even Harry, dared to defy her. He stood back again, and Umbridge dismissed Hagrid, taking over the lesson. She spent the rest of the double lesson trying to instill a fear of the Heliopath in them, though this proved difficult after Harry's 'taming' of it, and Umbridge threw him and the Heliopath a lot of dirty looks as it chewed the bark of a nearby tree in a rather non-threatening manner.

By the time the bell rang, it was getting dark and they were all, even the Slytherins, glad to be getting away from Umbridge. "EIGHT Potter! And tell your friends NOT to wait up!" She said flatly to him as he left, her sweet girlyness dropped in her exasperation and exhaustion. Harry was very silent during dinner, and the comment about Ron and Hermione not bothering to stay up weighed more and more heavily on his mind.

When Harry went up to Umbridge's office, his stomach writhing, he knocked once on the door. But instead of a voice telling him to enter, there were quick footsteps, and the door was opened. Umbridge's face appeared before him with a wicked smile. Harry did not like this at all…

"Come Potter, your detention will be held in the defense classroom tonight", she simpered, and she led the way ploddingly to the classrooms.

When they reached the usual classroom, Umbridge did not open the door. "You go in while I go and get something important. I wont be long." She said silkily with an increasingly innocent and girlish tone, which made Harry even more wary.

She opened the door and basically shoved him into the totally dark classroom. She closed the door and it gave a loud click. It was now locked. Suddenly, Harry had a bad foreboding feeling. He was locked into the dark classroom, with only bright full moonlight filtering through the far windows. Harry felt angry at his fear as he realized it was all probably just a scare tactic of Umbridges, and he strolled forcibly to the nearest desk and sat on it.

But suddenly, a thunderous growl from behind drained all his anger and doubled his fear. He whipped around in time to see a huge dark shadow with glinting eyes and teeth leap at him and he only had time to throw out his hands. He was bowled backwards with a hard fall to the floor. He tried to wrestle the beast off, his hands grasping firmly about its neck, but it slashed at his chest with sharp claws and Harry cried out in pain at the bloody mauling. His grip was weakened and the thing, writhing wildly, broke free of his hands and lunged with its teeth.

Harry let out a cry of agony as the jaws clamped him between neck and shoulder, teeth sinking seeringly into his skin. He felt something terrible seeping into the wound, like white-hot poison, and he went rigid as shivers passed down his body. After only moments, the thing relinquished.

Harry lay still, in shock and agonizing pain, when all of a sudden a great and excruciating sensation made him go rigid again. It felt as though his very bones were being broken, snapped, and crushed back together again. It seemed to last an eternity, but it was over within seconds.

Harry lay where he was, shaking as he listened to the contented growling of the werewolf.

Eventually, he mustered the resolve to look at what damage had been done. He felt the scratches stinging on his chest as he moved. He got to his hands and knees… he could not muster the strength to raise himself any higher so he stood on all fours and looked down. His stomach dissolved to see the black paws, his forearms covered in storm grey-fading to silver fur, claws scraping the stone floor slightly.

Harry's mind was reeling. He did not want to believe it…

I'm a werewolf…I've just been turned into a werewolf…and I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life…

It seemed absurd, to have these thoughts, but as he looked up and saw a reflection of glinting yellow eyes and a great terrible creature in the window pane, it hit him like a blow to the stomach.

He was so devastated that he did not quickly register the sound of the door, or the urgent muttered spell. But the green light of it caught his eye.

He heard a small flump, and the contented growling ceased. He looked swiftly at the other wolf, which lay, struck dead in the dark. He whipped around to face Umbridge, snarling uncontrollably as she closed the door behind her. Harry could not control his instincts. Before he knew what he was doing he had leapt at her. She waved her wand at him as he pounced…


When he transformed back, Harry was barely aware of anything that had happened that night. The heavy metal chain around his neck slithered off innocently, but he did not move or open his eyes. His arms and legs, and parts of his torso, were wet with blood and painful from vicious maulings.

The bandages that had covered his chest from the still open whipping wounds were now mere tatters under his torn jumper and robes. Suddenly, something grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him up, threw him around and forced him into a chair.

"You are weak, Potter. Let this be a lesson to you, not to meddle with things bigger and meaner and smatter than you." Said Umbridge somewhere above him, still with that infuriating and sickening girly voice.

Harry tried to open his eyes. He wiped blood out of them with a stinging, mauled hand. Umbridge told him to take off his robes and jumper, and he did so, too exhausted to protest. He was quite cold, bare chested, and Umbridge began applying a stinging potion to his arms and hands to close the beep bites and scratch marks he had inflicted upon himself that night. The wounds on his chest however, she left open and merely bandaged again with a flick of her wand.

She mended and cleaned his jumper and robes with a few more flicks, and the blood from his jeans, only bandaging the bare wounds there as well.

He put his clothes back on and she got him roughly out the door, it was very painful to walk.

"Up to your dormitory. I expect you at classes today. ALL of them. And no other teachers are to know of your condition. Not even Madame Pomfrey. Do you understand me?" She said simperingly. Harry swallowed his anger and nodded deftly, and she slammed the door in his face.

He walked strugglingly and agonizingly up to Gryffindor tower and mumbled the password groggily to the Fat Lady. "You look like the living dead my dear," she exclaimed airily. Harry could not answer. He dragged himself through the portrait hole, and forced himself up the last flight of steps to his dormitory. The door opened and closed soundlessly. Harry collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes wearily, exhausted, confused, morose, terrible… But he could not sleep… the pain would not go away, his thoughts kept racing.

The horrible truth gnawed at his mind and torn body, unrelenting and frightening. He wanted to run away, far away, to find a dark space where he could crawl up and die. He wanted… he needed, an escape, a release from all the terror within him. But what could he do to ease it?

Nothing… there was nothing he could do. He was alone. He could not express any of that which plagued him.

He lay in silent turmoil for a long time, trying to sort it all out, to come to terms… to calm himself… to stop thinking…

A voice, seemingly from far away, shocked him suddenly.

"Harry? Harry, god, are you alright mate?" said Ron as he looked down at him. His anxiety hit Harry and he broke down, everything, his mind was a mess of thoughts that had all suddenly shattered like glass and a sense of overwhelming panic took him. Harry suddenly grasped Ron's arm. Ron sat on the bed looking both alarmed and concerned.

Harry was barely even aware of thinking about any word that he spoke then, but it sounded as though all he had done for hours was lay there and practice the words in his head. He opened his dry mouth. "Ron, she's turned me into a werewolf. She set it up, she set me up to get bitten and she kept me chained up in the classroom all night. She's turned me into a half-breed… to make me suffer because she believes I deserve it as punishment for surviving and defying her." Harry said all this in a quiet, distressed and totally destroyed voice. Ron gaped at him for a moment as it sunk in.

"No…"

Harry bowed his head.

"No… she … she can't… you're serious?…you HAVE to tell someone-" Ron replied urgently. "I can't, she'll find out, she'll know. There is worse she could do to me. I had to tell you so you could be safe…" Harry croaked. "Worse? What could possibly be bloody worse than this?…" Ron whispered frantically. Harry shook his head, his face in his hands. His scar was still aching.

"I need to sleep… she said I have to be at all my classes… please, just… wake me after breakfast… I have to sleep." Harry croaked in pitiful surrender to his pain.

"Yea… of course mate… should I… tell Hermione?" He asked quietly and anxiously. Harry nodded. Ron got up and began dressing while Harry lay back and closed his eyes, praying for his mind and body to numb all thought and pain…

Only a few hours later, Harry was sitting in Transfiguration between Ron and Hermione, trying to concentrate through sleep deprivation, a massive headache, aching Werewolf wounds, an empty stomach and Umbridge sitting in the corner watching him smugly.

Every time he began to doze off, he would be awoken by a loud coughing noise. This happened so frequently that McGonagall told Umbridge to get a drink of water or shut-up, much to the classes delight.

Umbridge glared furiously at the towering McGonagal, who gave Harry a pointed stare of concern and slight anxiety while her back was turned to Umbridge.

Ron and Hermione elbowing or poking him whenever his head drooped slightly kept Harry awake through the rest of the lesson. By the end of the lesson, he was thoroughly irritated, but grateful to them nonetheless. However he hadn't really managed to take in much of the lesson after all that.

By the end of the Day, he was so exhausted; he was surprised that he was able to haul himself all the way up to Umbridge's office for the night's detention. She was there waiting of course, with a horrible smile on her pouchy face. A smile he had seen far too often before the cruciatus was cast upon him.

"Stand there, Mr.Potter. This won't take long…" She said sweetly, blinking at him with cold, bitter eyes. Harry stood in the middle of the office as she indicated, and felt like a prisoner led to Death row before a firing squad.

He did not even need her to say anything for him to know what was coming, but he braced himself. He still wasn't going to submit, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction, he would fight her…

"CRUCIO!" She said harshly, short wand pointed at his heart. Harry stood rigid for a moment as the shock of incredible agony hit him. He lost control of his legs, he was screaming… surely someone would hear?… The pain in his head was blinding, his screams deafening, the pain unbearable… throwing his nerves into chaos, causing his heart to pound painfully and his back to arch inward, to twitch violently… it would go on forever…

And then it ended, and just like every other time, Harry wondered if it had killed him. But the reminiscent stabs of pain in his aching body told him he was indeed still alive… to some degree. "Get up, worthless boy!" Umbridge said harshly, a little breathless with excitement. She dragged him by the scruff of neck and he stood on violently shaking legs. Before he could gather his thoughts he heard her again, "CRUCIO!"

Harry's screams seemed to tear his throat, but the pain of the cries was mute compared to the fire which consumed the rest of his body, as it caused him to writhe in agony, once more without control of his body.

This time the pain was worse, and it pierced his head so he thought he would black out before he died. But as the excruciating curse brought him to the edge of breaking and darkness, it stopped… or more to the point, diminished, though the aching lingered worse than before. Harry still twitched and shook violently, his nerves shot to pieces by the immense pain they had endured. But Umbridge did not let him rest there. She dragged him up to his knees and before Harry was aware of what she was doing, she kicked him in the stomach with her steel-toed boot. Harry doubled over, winded, gasping for breath, coughing, something warm trickling from his mouth, something with a familiar, bitter taste. Umbridge got him to his feet and threw him against a wall using her wand.

Harry took in large, desperate gasps of air and steadied his dizzy, blurred vision to focus on Umbridge. She was smirking at him as he cringed gingerly against the wall.

"Get out of my sight Potter, you filthy half-blood. You deserve all you get, remember that…" she hissed in his ear before grasping his arm and forcing him roughly out the door, slamming it behind him, it's closing cutting off the sound of her cackling. She had magically sound proofed it… no one HAD heard Harry's screams, no one could.

Harry, still shaking violently, began to stumble up towards Gryffindor tower. His stomach was writhing with shame at having been made to cringe at Umbridge's feet.

'You're weak… you're not supposed to be so weak in front of her… you're supposed to fight her, and what do you do? You fall to pieces… Harry Potter you're a FOOL…' he thought bitterly to himself, bitter and rueful.


It had gone on all week, and by Friday, people were beginning to take a lot of notice.

Umbridge wasn't in Transfiguration Friday morning after a long night of more than two Crucios.

So when Harry, still aching all over and feeling very stiff and bashed, fell into irresistible sleep at the back of the classroom, Ron and Hermione did not have the heart to wake him. McGonagal herself gave them a pointed look and said nothing all lesson, and so few people noticed.

But in Potions after lunch, Harry had to deal with ongoing pain, feeling quite ill and having to concoct a complex potion.

Snape, it seemed, considering Harry's nightly detentions, tried to ignore him by picking more thoroughly on other Gryffindors, who's potions were all turning out better than Harry's. Harry just could not concentrate, he was so tired, and a particularly loud cackle from Malfoy as he cracked a joke about Harry's scouring potion being as effective at scouring as a toad's backside, made him loose concentration at a crucial moment. He dropped too much Knarl bile in his cauldron, resulting in him being shrouded in thick black smoke. He inhaled quite a lot unfortunately, and his already sore throat was easily irritated and made him cough violently. Snape stalked over and dully scolded his potion making abilities (or lack thereof as he put it), but Harry did not hear him.

In no way should inhaling smoke cause this painful a reaction surely? But Harry was desperately gulping for air as his irritated chest was racked by violent spasms. Something was quite wrong.

And then, with a retching feeling, something trickled from Harry's mouth and onto the hand which covered it.

Harry swallowed, the coughing abating as he recognized the familiar taste in his mouth. He looked down at the large red spots of blood on his palm.

"…Potter, did you hear me?" Snape snapped in irritation before spotting Harry's hand. "Harry… is that…is that blood?" Asked Neville shakily, who was sitting next to him on the bench.

"…I…It's nothing…" Harry tried to mutter as he wiped the blood off his hand and mouth with the sleeve of his robes. "Hospital wing Potter, that's five points from Gryffindor and another zero…" Snape said silkily, but Harry replied nervously, "Sir I… I can't, go to the hospital wing… I was banned Sir…"

The whole room was dead silent, listening to Harry's hoarse reply with bewilderment.

"She CAN'T ban you from the hospital wing, surely?" said Dean Thomas incredulously. By 'she', they all knew he meant Umbridge.

"Very well Potter. Clean this up and stay behind after class." Snape answered flatly, giving him an odd look. Harry tried to ignore the glances the rest of the class kept throwing him. Parvatti and Lavender trying to see if there was more blood, Malfoy smirking knowingly, Neville looking frightened and Ron and Hermione anxious.

He was glad not to have to face them outside class after the bell.

When everyone in the class had filed out, Snape closed the door and Harry stood expectantly at his desk, awaiting snide comments or goading as was usual from the potions master. Instead, Snape swept up to him and took a large bottle of potion from his cloak, which he handed to Harry. Harry took it, confused. "Take that after the curses. It will numb the pain. You know you must tell no-one… you have detention. My office, eight o'clock, next Friday evening. Be there alone." Snape said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. Harry, slightly confused yet, grateful, nodded in understanding. He put his potion in his bag and moved off to his next class.

It did not take long for the news of the coughed up blood to spread, but no one said a word to Harry for fear of Umbridge. After a spate of long weekend detention tortures of which to Harry was a blur of pain, Umbridge's cruel sweet cruel tone and retching upon return to Gryffindor tower, Harry dragged himself to the first of a second week of detentions on Monday.

By now everyone in Gryffindor tower knew Umbridge was still torturing him, but how exactly, no one could say. They of course did not recognize the after effects of the Cruciatus, even Hermione, not the way Snape had the second he had seen Harry the previous week. Tonight was particularly bad.

Harry retched twice in Umbridge's office. But out of seven lengthy sessions of the Cruciatus, four times he fell only to his knees, and fought the curse, and would not fall any further. She was so angry by the end that she opened some wounds on his back and dismissed him. He stumbled several times on the way up to Gryffindor tower, each time finding it more difficult to drag himself to his feet once more. By the time he reached the Fat Lady and she looked at him with some concern, he was so exhausted that his brain could not even recall the correct password.

"mumbleless mim- I mean, mimbletona mumbu…lous…, mimbleness moonbliton…" he tried desperately, trying not to let his legs shake beneath him or collapse completely. The Fat Lady looked at him with a painful expression. "Oh, just go in, poor dear…" She mumbled sadly as she swung forward. Harry stumbled forward and almost fell through the portrait hole. He got quite a shock when he emerged into a crowded common room, for it was at least one n the morning.

He was aware that everyone was staring at him. He squinted against the brightly lit candles. "Dear lord what's she done to him?…" breathed a flabbergasted looking Angelina. "What's going on?…w-why are you all here?" Harry croaked in confusion to the silence. He did not realize that he was deathly pale, shaking and covered in sweat. "Harry are you… are you alright?" Ginny asked with deep concern.

"I'm… fine. Really" he said most unconvincingly, his voice cracking. "No you're not, look at you! You can't come in here half dead and tell ME you're OK." Said Parvatti incredulously. "Oh gees, he's got you all!" Crowed an exasperated voice. Harry's eyes darted to Seamus, who stood, looking angrily at Harry with his arms crossed. Everyone's face turned to him. "Can't you SEE he's just doing this for attention? So you'll feel sorry for him! WHY would Umbridge torture him when she already knows he doesn't have the information she wants. He's just sucking you all in, he's just a nutter, I bet he does it to himself-"

"THAT'S IT!" Bellowed another voice, cutting Seamus off mid sentence. Seamus was suddenly bowled over by a tall red haired and freckly whirlwind, which began punching him. Before Harry was even aware of what state he was in he dashed forward towards the two.

"I'm SICK of your BULLSHIT! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH ABOUT HIM OR I SWEAR…" Ron was yelling as he pinned a frantically thrashing, loudly swearing Seamus to the floor as they exchanged blows. Harry however, dove forward and pulled Ron off with one arm around Ron's and the other around his neck, straining his voice to be heard, "NO Ron, it's not worth it! If McGonagal hears… Ron… NO!…" but the force needed to restrain Ron was more than Harry had left in him, and his body could not cope with the sudden need for stamina he didn't have.

Mid sentence, Harry's breath was short and his body gave up. He collapsed, freeing a very distraught Ron.

"Harry! Harry I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" Ron stammered anxiously. Harry was leaning forward on his shaking arms, gasping for air to reply. "I'm, I'm fine…I," but with a rasping gasp for air, another coughing fit was triggered, and his body was racked with severe jerks. The violent fit was extremely painful and lasted several seconds before causing him to make a slight retching action. A large amount of blood trickled from his mouth onto the floor.

"Harry! Oh god…" Ron muttered, his voice higher than usual. Hermione was by his side as well, a hand on his back. She could feel his violently shaking body straining to stay conscious, but she knew how desperately he needed rest. "Tell me he's faking that!" said Ron angrily to Seamus, to anxious murmured replies around the room. "He could be!" spat Seamus, his left eye going black. "I don't think so… do you honestly believe he would do THIS to himself?" said Hermione gravely, taking a damp hand from Harry's back and drawing back his robes to reveal his bloodstained shirt, caused by the re-opened wounds. Many around the room made whimpering noises or gasped in horror. It was clear that they believed Harry incapable of self-inflicting such wounds. And indeed of course they thought so rightly.

"She's… she's still whipping him?… EVERY day!?…" Neville breathed shakily, wide eyed and horror struck. But amid the feverish murmurs around the room, Harry shook his head and tried valiantly to stand up again, but being so exhausted, managed only to stagger up and fall back onto one of the odd couches.

… "She can't do that! This is abuse!…"

"Then imagine what she'll do to the rest of us! Look at what she's done to Potter…"

"She's using him as an example, trying to suppress us under the ministry…"

"Oh god, has he lost a lot of blood? Will he be OK?…"

"Look…No…" Harry tried to raise his voice to calm them all down, but his throat stung and sudden stabbing pains in his stomach came on so intensely he doubled over. People who saw suddenly quieted to watch him. Some moved closer with anxious words of concern. Harry however, merely shifted to the edge of the couch and leant forward as unbearable pain wrenched his stomach and he felt the familiar symptoms before retching quite violently. Ginny looked at him, horrified, almost scared it seemed. "That isn't from being whipped… she's poisoned him…" she whispered quietly.

As Harry tried to recover, wiping blood tainted vomit from his mouth, a wave of fear passed through him. Did she know about the Lycanthropy too? Was her reference to poisoning by the bite?

"NO…she hasn't poisoned me… yet…" Harry croaked feebly. Everyone silenced as he spoke though. "Then what HAS she been doing to you Harry? Why can't you tell us?" Hermione asked gently. "Because if I do… if she finds out…" Harry took a deep steadying breath, "I don't want to end up back in that dungeon room." He said quietly, almost desperately, "… this is between me and Umbridge… and I am not going to let her get to me." He said, a strange intensity to his horribly cracked voice. Everyone in the room looked on solemnly as Ron then helped Harry up to their dormitory as Hermione instructed, also telling everyone else in her best prefect manner to get back to bed.

At least the debate had been settled among the Gryffindors, and all were now agreed, even Seamus silently, that what Harry was going through was terrifyingly real.

But for Harry, the night was not as restful now as he had hoped…

Though it did not take him long to fall asleep, he found himself running once more down the dark corridor… toward the department of mysteries…

Toward the weapon…

Yet although he had dreamt of it over and over in the long dark hours alone in that dungeon room, he still did not know why…

The door was ajar, a chink of blue light visible. He reached it and it swung open… again he was in a room with blue walls. He passed it quickly, for in his dreams his legs were not nearly as painful to move as in reality. Into the room with glittering walls, he did not stop to look, he just kept on towards the door at the other end. He passed through it finally, his scar beginning to ache. He passed rows and rows of high shelves full of dusty orbs, counting as he went. His heart was beating fast, excited… but he could not read the row numbers anymore. They began to fade, he lost count… his scar was aching so he could not see any more…

"Harry! Wake up or you won't get any breakfast!" It was Ron's voice. He shook Harry's shoulder slightly. Harry groaned and opened his stinging eyes. He sat up and tried to rub away the aching in his scar. "I'm up… thanks," he mumbled groggily as Ron stood, still looking anxiously at him. "You alright mate? You were talking in your sleep again." He said quietly as Harry swung his aching legs out of bed, still rubbing his faintly stinging scar. "Yeah, fine. Just a bad dream." Harry replied carelessly. Ron seemed satisfied, if not still anxious, but continued getting dressed. When Harry was ready, they met with Hermione and went downstairs for breakfast. Many of the Gryffindors at the table in the Great Hall kept shooting him grave looks, a few asking if he was feeling any better. The Creevey brothers even volunteered to curse Umbridge thoroughly to spare him a few detentions. They seemed a little taken aback at the ferventness with which he dissuaded them from doing this. The truth of it being, as he explained shortly, was that he didn't want them to have to endure detentions like his at the moment, as he was convinced they would not have any reservations in carrying out the suggestion.

Harry didn't end up eating much for the sake of it made him feel ill, and by any means he was sure that at the end of the day he would be vomiting most of it up. As much as this prospect disgusted him, it was not without truth.

The day was long and tiresome, though Harry did try and pay attention and at least managed their silencing spell in charms. And as Umbridge was not in Transfiguration, when Harry could only half-vanish his turtle, McGonagal advised him to practice on Umbridge, which did indeed cheer Harry and the rest of the class up.

In the afternoon of course, after Harry had tried and failed to digest some dinner, he made his way grudgingly up to Umbridge's office, wondering vaguely whether or not he should act on McGonagal's suggestion.


He arrived earlier than usual, that night, up in Gryffindor tower. White, shaking, exhausted and aching, he gave the Fat Lady the correct password and entered the common room. It was only eleven o'clock, but no one was there tonight.

Thankful for the lack of attention, Harry trudged up to his dormitory, entered silently, finding all occupants apparently asleep. He sat down wearily on his bed and reached into the draw of his bedside table, extracting the bottle of potion Snape had given him. He took a swig of the strong, alcoholic smelling stuff. As bad as it smelt, it tasted more like mild tea than liquor. By any means, it certainly helped. Most of the aching of the cruciatus left his body, leaving him with only the slight and constant prickle of his scar.

But his sleep, though he fell into it easily, was troubled again by the dark corridor.

The week was long, drawn out and painful… but not once would Harry bow to Umbridge's torture. He fought her all the way, despite the fact he could barely eat for the pain in his stomach and loss of his voice.

It was not until Friday evening after potions that Harry was reminded he had a separate detention.

"Potter, eight o'clock, my office." Snape drawled after class. Harry could not believe it… he had never imagined he would be so relieved to have a detention with Snape. When he voiced this, Ron looked horrified. "Mate, Umbridge must be worse than a barrel full of angry Skrewts for you to prefer Snape." He said incredulously. Harry merely nodded. Ron didn't realize just how much more he would rather deal with the skrewts…

At dinner, Harry found himself more able to stomach something, probably because it wasn't going to leave his stomach the wrong way again later. And at eight o'clock, he had descended the steps to the cool dungeon corridors and knocked on the heavy door of Snape's office.

"Enter," Snape drawled familiarly. Harry's stomach sunk when he saw Snape at his desk with the pensieve. Harry instinctively closed the door behind him. Snape dropped the last of his thoughts in the pensieve and replaced it on the shelf behind his desk. Harry stood in the middle of the room dumbly, his mind frantically trying not to think of what he did not want Snape to see.

Wordlessly, Snape faced him and drew his wand, and Harry followed suit, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind… trying not to think… trying to think thoughts which were completely different to what Snape should not see…

"Be ready… one, two, three, Legilimens!"

Suddenly, images began to flicker across Harry's vision…

"The stairs!" cried Dawlish…

Harry saw him dash from Dumbledors office…

Harry threw a punch at Malfoy's face…

He saw the dark corridor.

The memories stopped flashing, and one became distinct…It was dark, but there was singing… "Under a tall tree I imagine I lye, and let the hours pass me by…"

Harry didn't know what this memory was. Had he already accidentally reversed it into Snape's mind?

But another voice entered the memory, somewhere out of sight, which Harry remembered… "Well Mr. Potter, are we ready to tell the truth today?"

That sickly voice sent waves of anger flooding through him and a sudden yell snapped him to his senses and back to Snape's office. He was on his knees on the floor, but Snape was not standing over him impatiently as usual. To Harry's shock, he was sitting on the floor against the shelves, a bottle or two of smashed potion jars on the floor around him. It looked as though he had been slammed against the wall, and Harry wondered if he had used an expelliarmus accidentally.

Snape, rubbing his head and shaking slightly, looked up sharply at Harry and a strange expression flickered over his face.

"How long?… How long Potter? Answer me!" he said harshly, getting to his feet, but not taking his eyes of Harrys. Harry was totally non-plussed. "I…I've been able to disarm since second year, you know that…" he said hoarsely as he got to his feet. "Don't act smart, Potter! That was no disarming charm, tell me! How long have you been able to use the cruciatus? And don't lie or I'll find out myself…" he said viciously, raising his wand. The impact of this information confused Harry even more. "I… the cruciatus!?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes, Potter, how long have you-"

"I…I can't perform the cruciatus! I can't use unforgiveables, I'm only fifteen!" Harry burst out incredulously. Was Snape having him on? Was this his idea of a joke? Surely he didn't even have a sense of humor, let alone one that bad.

"You just performed, poor thought it was, the cruciatus curse. On me, Potter. That is NOT something one does accidentally." Snape said through gritted teeth, wand still raised. Harry stared, open mouthed, into Snape's cold black eyes. And it suddenly clicked.

"I…I didn't mean to… not on you… it was the memory, when I heard Umbridge, I was… I was so angry, and I…" Harry said quietly, trailing off. Had she affected him so badly that the curses she used were embedded in him… to the point where he may do something he might regret?

"It is just as I have said…" Snape growled as he leant on his desk, still breathing heavily, eyes piercing Harry coldly, "You have no control over your own thoughts and emotions. And you MUST control these if you are to harness your own strength, or you'll remain a danger to yourself and to others." Snape said coldly.

"W-what do you mean?" Harry said, non-plussed. Did Snape too know of his Lycanthropy? Was he talking about his temper, or his transformations? Harry was becoming increasingly worried about anyone finding out what she had done to him, especially knowing how Snape would treat him if he knew.

Snape however, looked impatient, but when he spoke as he sat at his desk, his voice was calm and cool. "Surely you would have realized by now Potter, that it is no accident that you have escaped death so often. Your first year, your second, third especially…have you not led a life so unlike any other student your age?" Snape said flatly, his lip curling as though in distaste of every word he himself uttered.

Harry sat heavily in the chair across from Snape. "Do you mean… the philosophers stone? That wasn't just me, if not for Ron and Hermione… most of it was luck, I-"

"Oh stop being noble Potter, it doesn't suit you." Snape spat, looking away from him momentarily. Harry scowled at Snape as he closed his eyes before snapping them sharply open to Harry again.

"Potter, you survived Quirell on your own when you were only eleven, you slew a Basilisk at twelve and at thirteen… I said it myself when I saw the patronus, that only a truly powerful wizard could have driven that many dementors away. Whether you want to act humble or not Potter, you have more power than you know, and if you don't learn to control it properly, you will not end up as 'lucky' as you have been previously."

Snape got to his feet, and Harry, trying to take in what Snape had said, followed suit reluctantly.

"Now concentrate Potter! You must not let your mind be penetrated so easily, get ready! One, two, three, Legilimens!"

Harry didn't have time to clear his mind, and the last thoughts upon it flickered in front of him…

A hundred Dementors swooping across the lake… the blinded Basilisk lunging… Quirell diving for him… then the memories returned to Umbridge's office. She smiled at him… he knew she was going to lead him to that werewolf… he couldn't let Snape see…

You want me to be strong Snape, fine…

And suddenly there seemed a black barrier… there were no memories… but Harry could feel Snape probing, could hear him questioning, what happened? Where is she leading him?

Harry supplemented the memory, making Snape think he had been led away to be crucioed. And suddenly the memories returned… and Harry was hit with the cruciatus, but before he could feel the pain, the curse was lifted.

But his aching body was heaving with effort, covered with cold sweat as he found himself flat on his back.

"You took your time Potter. At least, however, you're finally trying." Snape said blandly, straightening his sleeve. "However, I did break through that barrier with rather laughable ease… and I tell you now Potter, you must still gain greater control than that, for the Dark Lord is far more advanced in this than-"

"Actually Sir, you didn't break through it…" Harry cut in hoarsely as he stumbled to his feet again. Snape was looking at him with a shrewd yet inquisitive expression, so Harry continued hastily, "I let you through…"

"You let me through? Now really Potter…"

"Yes sir, because I gave you a different memory. It was similar, but not the same one." Harry explained, still panting slightly. Snape stared shrewdly into Harry's eyes for a moment, as though to discern whether he was lying or not. But after a few seconds, he blinked and an odd flash crossed his dark eyes. "Well-well Potter, that is better progress than I would have expected… once more I think, to test your endurance. One, two, three…"

But at the moment Snape went to raise his wand, Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in. "Professor Snape, sir-oh –sorry-"

Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise.

"It's alright, Draco." Said Snape, "Potter is here for a little remedial potions."

Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid. "I didn't know," he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to shout the truth at Malfoy- or even better, to hit him with a good curse.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Asked Snape.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir- she needs your help," said Malfoy. "They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the forth floor."

"How did he get in there?" Demanded Snape.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused."

"Very well, very well. Potter," said Snape, "we shall resume this tomorrow evening."


Harry was extremely grateful for a detention free weekend. He slept through most of it, to shut out the residual pain. But when he wasn't at meals or resting, he caught up on most of his workload.

Come Monday however, he had Defense against the Dark Arts and Divination in the morning. Which did little to lift his spirits. Ron and Hermione seemed even more apprehensive than Harry that morning though, as he caught them glancing anxiously at him several times. When they arrived at the class however, they got rather a surprise to see, upon walking into the room, that it was Snape sitting at the teacher's desk. His lip curled when he saw them, and Harry's stomach dropped. Snape looked away quickly, remembering to pretend Harry wasn't there.

Harry took a seat with Ron and Hermione at the back of the class. They both looked more relieved to have Snape as their teacher rather than Umbridge. Harry of course, had not told them anything about what he saw in that pensieve, and he had forced it to the back of his mind with work so he wouldn't have to think about the thing which was bothering him most.

No, I don't have time for this now, Harry thought, and he tried to concentrate on the page number they were set to read, which was dictated on the board in Snape's handwriting. Snape did not look up or speak at all. His presence was enough to discourage the class from making a sound.

There was at least ten minutes of silence before a knock at the door made the class jump. "Enter", said Snape lazily.

Harry's stomach sank lower to see Umbridge's face appear as the door was opened. Umbridge's toady little eyes rested coldly on Harry as she smiled a sickly expression at the class.

"Anything I can do for you, Professor?" Snape asked flatly. "Yes, I wondered if I might borrow Mr. Potter for a quick word." Umbridge simpered in more of an order than a request. With a short, sharp glance at Harry, Snape replied "Perfectly alright with me, headmistress." There was a strange vindictive note in his voice when he said this, and Harry knew Snape was hoping Umbridge would punish him. That this would be his revenge.

Harry got up and left the class, not looking at Snape or anyone else. Umbridge closed the door behind him. "Come with me Potter, don't dawdle!" She sang excitedly. Harry's long strides were enough to follow her stubby legged trotting as she led him up to her office.

Once she led him in, she shut the door hastily behind them, and Harry heard the lock click ominously. Umbridge bustled over and forced him into a chair. There she stood over him, her beady little eyes glaring over a toady smile.

"Would you mind telling me, Mr. Potter, what this is?" She said softly and sickly, holding up a piece of parchment in her hand. It looked like a letter. "Err… a letter?" Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even, wondering what she was getting at. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I can see that. But have you any idea who sent it?" she said pressingly, her sweet tone thinning. Harry shrugged. He had absolutely no idea what relevance this had to him. She moved around her desk, still talking, "Funny, Mr. Potter, that you have still not learnt that you cannot lie to me. Now, I KNOW that you pressured other students into sending this letter to me. I know that you have grown tired of our lessons," she said, her voice getting higher as she leaned on her desk, stubby fingers splayed, her toady face getting closer to his. "…But believe me, Potter, it isn't that easy to fool me. I am just becoming tired by your manipulation of others. But this will stop NOW." She said, straightening. There was an all too familiar look in her eyes.

"Professor… what did this letter say?" Harry asked quickly to stall the inevitable. She narrowed her eyes. "So you didn't conduct them on the contents? Very well. The students in question whom you forced into this unfortunate affair wrote to beg me to stop or face the consequences. They told me to stop, what they call (she gave a small laugh) 'torturing' you, or they would make me regret it. At least, words to that effect. By any means, Mr. Potter, another lesson to discourage anything like this again. Because I tell you now, it will certainly not help you," she leant further forward, "I will not hesitate to BREAK you if you step out of line again." She breathed quietly. She stood up straight again and fixed a falsely grim smile on her face. "Now, you know what you will get for this. Stand up, Mr. Potter."

Harry stood, his face blank. He had not protested the accusation because he knew it would do him no good. She was going to punish him for something he didn't do, and by now he was used to this. But to his dismay, the letter had not helped him as the writer had intended, but only defeated his resistance to Umbridge by making her think she was getting to him. The fact that she was pinning him with it was probably a form of self-flattery. As though she were really doing a good job on him.

Harry stood in the middle of the office as she told him. But somehow, he could not stir any more anger towards Umbridge. He felt strangely numb to the situation. He became somewhat uneasy to realize that he was not enraged like he normally would be at the injustice of the situation.

Umbridge pointed her wand at him, a broadening smile on her flabby face.

"Crucio!"

The pain that hit Harry winded him, and he made no sound as the agony forced him to his knees. The pain spreading, it seemed, from his chest outward, like some deadly poison.

The curse was lifted, but the intensity of the pain lingered for a few seconds. He was on his knees, shaking. He retched. But wiping vomit from his mouth, he got himself to his feet. Umbridge cleaned the vomit with a wave of her wand, and then pointed it straight back at Harry.

"Crucio!"

With a sharp breath, Harry's screams filled the room. It continued over as it had the first time for five curses, by which time the pain did not leave Harry's stomach. Umbridge grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the office as he stumbled on shaking legs. Although Harry's body was screaming for an escape from the pain, he managed to compose himself somewhat by the time they reached the classroom again. His sleeve was damp from wiping sweat and vomit from his face.

Umbridge did not bother knocking this time, but simply opened it and pushed Harry in. Everyone's eyes were on him as he walked stiffly back to his desk. They all noticed how shaken he was, despite how he tried to hide the effect the extra pain had had on him.

"I'm glad we had this little chat Mr. Potter. I shall see you again in detention tonight then." Umbridge sang ecstatically, and she nodded to Snape and left. Snape merely smirked in grim satisfaction, throwing Harry a piercing look of one who had gotten the revenge they craved. Harry, though he would normally be furious at Snape for this, was instead still troubled by how numb and empty he was emotionally. All he could feel for everything around him was his pain, unrelenting as it was.

Ron and Hermione could only shoot him anxious glances and glare at Snape all lesson, for which Harry was at least somewhat thankful. Snape's being there meant he did not have to divulge anything to them immediately. But it was unfortunate that he could not hide how ill affected by the torture he was.

His hand shook so badly and uncontrollably that he could not steady it even to take down notes from Hermione's book. Laying down his quill, Harry ran a hand through his hair, wishing at least for his scar to stop prickling, yet knowing it would not… COULD not…

Harry looked up to see Snape's scrutinizing gaze, which flickered away instantly. Though this didn't stop his scar giving off a painful throb.


That night, after Umbridge cursing him twice more, she told him to return again every night that week for detention. Without giving any further reason for this, she shoved him out of her office.

As usual, Harry stumbled up to Gryffindor tower. He wheezed the password to the fat lady and entered into a still occupied common room. Most of the occupants shot him anxious glances and whispered fervently with each other, but Harry merely made a b-line for the desk that Ron and Hermione were sitting at. He sat heavily in the chair beside Hermione and wearily got out his homework.

"I thought I ought to tell you Harry…" Hermione whispered to him as he opened his book, as though she'd been waiting for a chance to tell him all day. "…Since Ron told me about… your condition… I looked into the… the potion, the one Lupin takes. I managed to find a recipe, it's almost ready. So this Sunday, try and make it to Myrtle's bathroom after dinner, or detention if she gives you more," Hermione trailed off darkly.

Harry nodded, grinning. "I don't know how I'd survive this year without you." He muttered gratefully in response. Hermione gave him a small sad smile in return. "I just pray you will survive this year," she said, her voice wavering as she looked at him with shinning eyes, "I mean, I pray that every year, but especially now…"

Harry's face fell, but he placed his hand around hers, which held an uncontrollably quivering quill. "Hey, don't you worry about that. I'll last the rest of the year; it's not too long to go now. Don't you let worrying get in the way of your full OWLs." Harry said with what he hoped was a reassuring grin. She smiled waterily back and they resumed their work.

To Harry's surprise, Umbridge did not give him any weekend detentions, though he had enough OWLs homework to deal with by any means.

So on Sunday night, after a decent dinner, He, Ron and Hermione made their way inconspicuously to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Harry was glad to find, when he entered, that Moaning Myrtle was not there. Seeing the relief on Harry and Ron's faces, Hermione explained. "I convinced her she could make friends with other ghosts if she just stopped wailing about her own tragedies and started listening to what they'd been through and tried sympathizing." She said brightly as she pushed open the end cubicle door.

As she had in their second year, she was brewing the potion in a cauldron sitting on the toilet seat above a magical fire in the ceramic toilet bowl. It still seemed wrong to Harry, but he was too grateful to care how she had brewed the wolfsbane. It had obviously been complex.

Hermione was kneeling by the toilet, scooping a ladle-full of potion into a beaker while Harry and Ron stood watching apprehensively, listening to Hermione as she rambled on about the potion.

"…I mean, I knew the wolfsbane was complex, but it's worse than polyjuice! All those lessons I took toilet breaks were because I had to check on this. The essence of Griffon bile had to be kept at a certain temperature, and the beetlejuice had to be dropped in at half hour intervals. And then even FINDING the dragon eye distillation was-"

"I really appreciate what you've done for me here Hermione, but if you keep telling me what's in it I might not be able to stomach it so well…" Harry cut in, trying not to think of all the things she had just named. "Oh, yeah, sorry… well it's half Wolfsbane plant anyway. Here you are…" she replied, handing him the beaker.

Harry looked warily into the tea-coloured substance. Ron took a whiff of it and recoiled. "You sure this stuff actually helps?" He asked Hermione doubtfully. "Of course I'm sure, I made it exactly as it should be. It won't taste good, but it's better than ripping yourself to shreds." Hermione replied, her face a little taught with anxiety.

"Or someone else for that matter… oh well, cheers eh?" Harry replied, pinching his nose and sculling the pungent potion quickly.

He remembered the look on Lupins face as he had taken Wolfsbane, and suddenly quite understood as his taste buds protested against the unbelievably bitter onslaught of liquid. But Harry forced himself not to choke and quickly emptied the beaker. He gladly took the glass from his lips and screwed up his face as he swallowed the residual taste from his mouth. "Nasty Eh?" Ron asked bracingly. But Harry didn't answer.

Something wasn't right… it was effecting him… was it supposed to do that?

Harry's stomach lurched queasily for a moment, and then all of a sudden, he was doubling over from severe pains in the stomach. "Harry! Are you all right? What's going on?" Hermione started in bewilderment. "You stuffed the potion up Hermione! You've poisoned him!" Ron snapped angrily. "No I haven't! Go and get McGonnagal, quick! And make sure Umbridge doesn't turn up here too!" Hermione barked. With a quick anxious glance at Harry, Ron bolted from the toilets.

Harry was now on his knees, grasping his agonized chest and breathing heavily. Shivers were passing along his spine now and the increasing pain was spreading, seemingly, along his bones…

He suddenly realized what was happening. "Harry! Harry, what's wrong? What hurts?-"

"Hermione…" Harry gasped, "Run!"

But that was all he could manage before his body spasmed, and he felt the familiar sensation of breaking, grinding bones as he began to transform. Hermione sprang back in horror, yet watched, immobile with wonder and terror, as Harry began to change…

His face began to distort, his nose lengthened, pulling his jaws out with it. His hair lengthened, not just from his head and around his neck like a mane, but on his arms, a shinning grey pelt grew, fading to black on his hands, where his fingers curled and his nails became sharp. She saw, horrified, his ears become stretched, pointed, and covered with velvety black fur. From somewhere under the clothes which he was starting to tear out of, she glimpsed a long skinny appendage, which, as hair grew out, she saw was actually a bushy black tail.

And then, suddenly, curled before her in the rags of robes and a uniform, was a huge beast of grey and black stormy fur and shinning teeth and claws. It was Harry, but it was a wolf…

Suddenly, it sprang up to its feet, taking heaving breaths. It's head whipped around and it fixed its amber, slit pupiled eyes on her, opening its jaws in a snarl, flashing deadly ivory fangs. With a sudden small squeak of terror, Hermione backed into the cubicle behind her and slammed the door, locking it just as it was shaken by a great something hitting it. Harry had pounced for her. Her heart pounded painfully as it shook the door with another lunge against its thick planks.

Hermione, above everything else, could not get over the shock. It was Harry, but it couldn't be further from being Harry if it tried…

'IT', Hermione thought… that isn't Harry anymore, just 'IT'. The thought stabbed her heart painfully as the door was shaken by another blow. She had been over the scenario in her head before… had thought she could handle Harry changing into something like Lupin every month… she couldn't be biased, it was still the same Harry, it wasn't his fault… she was smart enough to handle any out of hand situation like this, she had thought. But she stood trembling helplessly as she heard the beast scratch frantically at the door. She prayed the lock would hold.

Suddenly, the creature's jaws appeared under the door, snarling, teeth gnashing, and accompanied by a paw and sharp claws swiping through the sizeable gap. Hermione squealed again involuntarily and scampered backwards. She took the bubbling cauldron off the toilet seat, set it on the tiles and jumped onto the seat. The werewolf Harry continued scratching and snarling under the door, nostrils flaring with the scent of its prey. Hermione shakily drew her wand from her robes, fumbling. She put out the fire in the toilet, then, hesitantly; she pointed it at the gap where the werewolf was getting through. "I'm sorry," She muttered shakily, before she used a stinging hex.

The wolf recoiled with a yelp and whimper before growling viciously and leaping at the door again. Only this time it leapt upwards.

Hermione let out a short scream as the paws heaved the creature up to try and climb over the door. Her wand still pointed at it, Hermione blurted out a repellent charm to keep Harry from the door, but so she wouldn't hurt him…

The werewolf slipped from the now untouchable door with a flump and a growl. Hermione crouched on top of the toilet, her heart thumping loudly and her breathing sharp and fast. She trembled as she heard the Werewolf trying to get over and under the door, recoiling as it failed to find a way. She heard it yelp a few times and was confused… her charm shouldn't be hurting him…

It's snarling grew to a thunderous pitch of excitement as it discovered a new front of attack. Hermione groaned as she heard it move into the cubicle alongside hers, watching it's shadow under the dividing wall. Hermione pointed her wand at the wall and muttered a frantic spell. The wall stretched magically to fill the gap beneath and add height to the top. It was roughly eight or nine feet high now. But the sound of the wolf came to her as it scrambled up onto the other toilet. She heard its claws on the ceramic as it leapt upwards, scratching threateningly down the wall as it fell back down again. It growled loudly, then yelped, not moving for a moment before resuming it's attempt. Hermione saw its paws as they tried and failed to get a grasp over the top of the high wall. They were covered in blood.

Harry had attacked himself, driven by his instinct and failed attack on her. The memory came back to Hermione of Lupin explaining how he had done it when separated from humans to bite. Hermione tried to put a repelling charm on the wall, but her hand shook so badly… and her voice would not work…

If she cast that spell, Harry's attack would turn wholeheartedly on himself. Hermione couldn't bear the thought of him enduring those wounds again. She would only have to hope and pray he couldn't get over the wall… but he must keep trying…

Hermione cowered on the toilet as she heard the wolf leap several more times, attempting relentlessly to get a good grip. Hermione heard him whine loudly and pause its onslaught. She shook with despair.

Then suddenly, she heard it scramble… and then she looked up as she saw, with horror, it's paws gripping the top of the wall, claws finding purchase in all the gouges it had so far scratched into the thick wood. It snarled in triumph as it scrambled with claws to heave itself over the partition. Hermione let out a whimper, tears leaking from her eyes as she watched it's head and forearms appear. Its mouth was bloody, its legs scratched and bitten, shoulders heaving, hackles raised. Hermione lifted her wand, still debating whether or not to stun him… what would the fall do if he hit his head on the other toilet? But what would she do if he came down on her and ripped out her throat before she could do anything?

It got its hind legs up on top of the wall, and was ready to drop down into the cubicle, when it's growling ceased suddenly. It seemed to get dizzy. It lost its balance and slid from the wall, claws scraping down the other side as the amber eyes disappeared from view.

Hermione was gasping, fiddling with the lock on the door as she heard the last pitiful whine.

She blasted the untouchable door open with her wand and bolted out to see him. She flung open the door of the next cubicle to se him lying on the floor, half naked and covered in blood and the tattered remnants of his uniform and trousers. He lay on the tiles, head down beside the toilet. He was holding his head and torso up on shaking arms, retching violently.

Hermione rushed in and dragged him up by the waist, her hands slipping on his blood. Once on his hands and knees, he was still vomiting uncontrollably. All Hermione could do was hold him up and wait for him to stop bringing up blood and bile. His diminished frame shook uncontrollably with his rasping gulps of air when he finally stopped throwing up. Hermione managed to drag him up into a sitting position against the wall. He gasped desperately for breath, his voice rasping as he tried to speak, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… oh god… oh god Hermione…I…"

"Shhh, Harry, it's… it's alright… don't talk, breath, rest it's ok, it wasn't your fault," Hermione muttered shakily, tears leaking down her face uncontrollably from the shock and fear still coursing through her. Hermione took off her robes and draped them over Harry as he shivered uncontrollably. His wounds bleeding fresh and strong, staining the material instantly. Hermione heard someone bursting into the toilets and looked around the corner of the cubicle to see Ron and McGonagall, who was looking quite flustered.

But when she saw Harry, all the colour drained from her face. Ron dropped down weakly at Harry's side. "What?… What on earth happened?" Mc Gonagall breathed, dumbfounded. "I… I don't understand. I brewed the potion correctly, I swear professor. I don't know what went wrong but… he… something in the potion must have triggered it, I don't know how… he transformed, and…"

"What on earth are you talking about Miss Granger?" Mc Gonagall cut in impatiently. "You weren't supposed to know…" Harry croaked weakly.

"Professor Umbridge got him bitten by a werewolf." Ron spat bitterly, his face hardened by anger at the thought. It seemed to take McGonagall a few moments to process this clearly. "If she… finds out you know… she said you mustn't be told… I'll be back in the dungeons…" Harry rasped weakly, seemingly already resigned that this would now be his fate.

"Not if I can help it Potter… now what EXACTLY happened miss Granger? What potion did you make for him to take?" Mc Gonagall asked sternly, if not a little shakily. "The Wolfsbane potion professor… I followed the instructions implicitly, I know I did, I… I don't know how this could have happened…"

"Are you telling me, Granger," Mc Gonagall cut in calmly and sharply, "…That you made this potion for Potter because Umbridge did not plan to give it to him, and that when he took it, he had a full transformation?" She asked somewhat disbelievingly. Hermione nodded weakly, "A full transformation with instincts unsuppressed… it wasn't his fault, he couldn't control what he was doing, I..." Hermione spluttered, unable to hold back more tears and shaky sobs. "What? This… this is most unnatural, I've never heard of it… a reaction to the Wolfsbane is not uncommon at first but never has it caused what it is designed to repress…" McGonagall trailed off, dumbfounded, most unbefitting for her. Her eyes snapped suddenly to Hermione's face in sharp realization. "What did you do to keep him from killing you?!" McGonagall asked in astonishment, apparently because Hermione was alive and without a scratch on her. Hermione attempted to calm herself in order to reply, wiping her eyes desperately.

She recounted to McGonagall and a somewhat flabbergasted Ron, what had happened when Harry had transformed. Harry drifted in and out of listening as pain flashed across his senses, the world beneath him still seeming to lurch slightly.

"I…I was frozen, sitting there, when it began to get on top of the wall... I tried to charm the wall, but I couldn't speak… I was afraid that if I stopped him getting in, he would turn on himself fully… but when he was over the wall, that's… that's when the potion wore off. He… he fell down the other side, into this cubicle, and when I got out of mine, I found him on the floor… he threw up an awful lot…" she said, paleing as she tried not to look at the pool in the corner that was already pungent on the air.

"We should move him out of here," Ron said weakly, trying not to touch the puddle he had only just realized was behind him. "It's ok… I'll get up… it's not serious…" Harry croaked as he struggled weakly to drag himself up. "Not serious! Potter this is deadly serious, this has not happened to any other werewolf victim on record…" Mc Gonagall exclaimed, exasperated, as Harry dragged himself to his feet, Hermione's bloodstained robes falling from his ragged, mauled torso. Ron and Hermione looked at him, stunned that he could even stand on his own. But when he tried to walk out of the cubicle, even supported by the wall, his shaking, bloody knees gave in. Ron had to catch him under the arms and help him walk to the sinks. Harry sunk irresistibly to the floor against the wall opposite the sink that held an old secret. Harry smiled slightly. Ron seemed distressed by this, possibly thinking he was cracking because of blood loss. "What's funny?" he asked anxiously.

"I wonder if I could trick Umbridge down there…" He nodded at the sink, "and lock her down in the chamber… that old basilisk would be a skeleton by now… still might scare her to death…" Harry mused. Ron's face relaxed. "Yeah, if only eh? Maybe she'd believe you for once if she saw it… I wouldn't mind seeing it, Ginny told me about it last year, she reckoned it was sixty feet, but I'm pretty sure she was exaggerating, I mean she was a midget when she saw it, she WOULD have thought it bigger than it was… not that I'm denying you killed it, but a twelve year old bespectacled half-pint doesn't survive a sixty foot basilisk…"

"Somehow, I don't think she would believe it even if she was down there, which by any means I doubt she would ever be. Not that I would protest to you leading her there Potter, but I'd be worried about you getting out again. However, back to the task at hand, is treating your injuries Potter. And investigating the cause of this reaction." McGonagall said with some contemplation. "How will we get him back to Gryffindor tower without anyone seeing?" Hermione said worriedly. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "Gryffindor tower? Miss Granger, he needs the hospital wing, not simple bed rest, you of all people have seen enough to know-"

"Professor, I can't…" Harry cut in weakly. McGonagall started slightly, staring at him. "What are you talking about Potter, you have no choice but to-" "I can't professor… I was banned, didn't she warn anyone? … She strictly forbids that Madame Pomfrey give me any treatment or know anything of my condition or injuries. You know what she'll do if she finds out…"

"WHAT!? She did what!?" McGonagall burst out incredulously, her lips thinning. Hermione jumped at her reaction. "Professor! Please, if someone hears…" she half whispered in fright. Undeterred, McGonagall checked her voice, though her nostrils were flaring. "This!… This is outrageous! How dare she, after what she has already done to… how DARE she!" McGonagall fumed in a tense whisper, almost to herself. She took a deep steadying breath before turning her eyes, now filled with anxiety, upon Harry. It was usually hard to decipher McGonagall's thoughts and emotions, but Harry could see plainly that she was wishing she had not left him alone that night Dumbledor left.

It wasn't your fault, Harry replied silently through his eyes, she would have found a way after to get me to that dungeon…

McGonagall turned away. She had to think. But it was so hard with the sight of Potters eyes still fresh in her mind. She did not remember having seen more pain in a person before now, not before seeing those familiar yet sharply, painfully haunted emerald eyes looking into her. Trying to convince her she had done nothing wrong. She closed her eyes, hoping to clear the thought and anguish from her mind… she hated how helpless those eyes made her feel.

Focus on the task at hand, she thought to clear her head. Her eyes snapped open when she had the obvious solution.

"Potter, you do still own an invisibility cloak I presume?" McGonagall asked calmly, one eyebrow raised. The bleeding heap on the floor nodded with a slight, sad smile.


At breakfast the next day, Harry barely touched his porridge, but this was not for lack of hunger. He was contemplating all that had happened the previous day.

After getting up to Gryffindor tower under the cover of his invisibility cloak, assisted by Ron because he was too badly wounded and drained to walk on his own. McGonagall had pulled them into an empty classroom before leaving them to go to their dormitories. She had told Harry he was to go to Snapes classroom the next night at eight, under the pretense of detention, so they could do tests to find out why exactly Harry had reacted to the Wolfsbane potion the way he had.

Harry was not looking forward to this to say the least. But he was interrupted in his musings by the arrival of the Creevey brothers at the end of the table where he was sat with Ron and Hermione either side.

The Creeveys sat opposite him, both grinning in a triumphant way that suggested they were quite pleased with themselves and thinking Harry should be too. Harry looked up, slightly bemused. "Well, did we settle her out or what?" said Colin smugly. "Bet it was a shock to her, someone standing up about all this. She looks pretty grumpy today, so I'd say it can't be all bad a result, eh Harry?" Dennis piped cheerily, swapping an eager glance with his older brother. "Err… excuse me, but I don't really follow… what's supposed to have worked?" Harry said flatly, not much moved by their bright disposition. Colin raised his eyebrows as if it was supposed to be obvious. "The letter of course! Did we set HER straight or what!" he said jauntily. Harry's face seemed to sap their confidence within seconds, the effect of which looked quite remarkable. His features were taught, as though he were silently enduring great pain, his eyes becoming piercingly cold. "That…that was you?" he said tensely, seeming to restrain himself from something. "Yea, of course… why? Did it not work?" asked Colin, disappointment slackening his features. "We can write another one! We can send her a parcel of dung and label it from the ministry!…" Dennis said eagerly.

"NO!" Harry exclaimed, louder than he intended. Colin and Dennis stared at him in shock and Ron and Hermione glanced at him nervously. A few people had looked around, but Harry tried to calm his racing heart and rapid breathing. "…No, it's…it's ok… listen, she got the message… it's fine guys, really… just don't write her anything else, it's… it's all sorted." Harry said calmly, checking his voice and trying very hard to look appreciative. Colin and Dennis perked up again. "No problem, if you ever need us again Harry, we're always glad to help." Colin said smoothly, and he and Dennis left looking quite elated.

Harry watched them go, his expression stony. He glanced at the high table automatically to see a smug faced Umbridge staring at him through narrowed eyes. Harry quickly looked away at his half-eaten porridge.

"Why didn't you tell them!?" Ron said incredulously. "Tell them what?" Harry said flatly, not looking up.

"You know what…"

"They don't need to know." Harry said shortly, slopping his porridge unenthusiastically with his spoon.

"Why are you doing this Harry?" Ron said, exasperated... Harry looked up at him sharply. "Doing what? If I had told them she blamed me for that letter they would only try more desperate and dangerous stunts to get to her, all of which she would blame me for anyway. What would I achieve in making them feel guilty?"

"A little retribution maybe, for what you copped for their stupidity?" Ron answered savagely.

"I don't work that way, you know that, and it wasn't stupid, I know they were just trying to help,"

"That's not the point, Harry. Y'know, maybe you should start working that way sometimes. It might not be noble, but for god's sake you deserve a little piece of mind for what you've been put through for the sake of every-bloody-one else." Ron said desperately, his eyes blazing with deep anxiety.

Harry looked away, shamefully unable to suppress the part of him which silently agreed with Ron.

"You don't have to do this alone Harry… If you just tell us what's wrong you know we'll help all we can…" Hermione started softly. "Do what? I'm not doing anything alone, it's what Umbridge is doing to me, and yes, I have to 'do' that alone because her fight is with me, and I don't want either of you copping it from her because of me. It's nothing you two need to worry about, I'll survive." Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even, continuing to slop his porridge distractedly.

"Why won't you just tell us what she's doing? Why can't you understand, we want to help make this easier, not harder for you…"

"You knowing what she does will not help either me or you, trust me, you don't need that, it would only make the whole thing seem worse and I don't want you to worry more than you have to, PLEASE," he said emphatically as she opened her mouth to protest…" please…just… trust me on this one… you don't need to know… I'll survive." Harry finished heavily, still not looking up at either of them.


When Harry entered Snape's classroom that night, he was greeted by way of a glare and curled lip by the potions master, yet was surprised to find McGonagall there as well. "She won't be suspicious about where you are will she, professor?" Harry queried McGonagall. McGonagall waved a hand carelessly, "Give me some credit Potter, she believes I am assisting Professor Snape out of necessity for the making of a complex potion. And knowing our… history… that is not something to be suspected as a joke. Your excuse is that the Professor is having you assisting as your detention, which is also an assuredly credible alibi." She explained lazily, though not without a hint of cool pomposity.

Snape cleared his throat tersely, and the two turned their attention on him. He towered menacingly over his desk where he had lined up a series of small and large amounts of ingredients and some empty beakers. "Now, in order to isolate the cause of the reaction I have to break down a few of the ingredients of Wolfsbane known to be problematic at times. We will be testing each one in small doses until symptoms arise to indicate any one ingredient. If this does not work, then a series of combinations will be triled. Understood?" Snape said softly with an air of doubt. Harry and McGonagall nodded. Snape sneered slightly, not looking at Harry. "Of course, there are certain, safety measures, that must be taken in this situation, to assure that if a serious reaction occurs, there will be minimum damage to staff and subject…" Snape explained smoothly, and even though he was not looking at Harry, he could tell that these 'safety measures' would not be altogether agreeable. Snape raised his wand and muttered something. Harry suddenly found himself shackled by a collar and manacles and a chain that was bolted to the wall at one side of the classroom. Snape's lip curled indulgently at Harry's indignant expression and McGonagall scowled vaguely at Snape, who went about preparing the first ingredient. He talked about it as he went.

"The first ingredient I will give you Potter is the other main component that in base with wolfsbane is what makes the potion effectively suppress the werewolf's instinct. It is called Stagthorn and is derived from the plant of the same name. Alone, it does not placate a werewolf, but instead aggravates and heightens the effectiveness of it's killing instinct. However, while in Human form, it should have no effect on you… we shall see…" Snape brought him a beaker with no more than ten milliliters of the pale teal liquid extract. Harry took the beaker in a slightly shaking hand, the manacles clinking in an awfully reminiscent way. Snape would not look him straight in the eye as he took the beaker and sniffed the contents warily before downing the liquid.

It tasted of nothing at first, though Harry detected a slightly sweet aftertaste. He felt nothing for a moment, not really expecting a reaction, as Snape had predicted… but then he felt a kind of hot sensation tingling in his chest… it came on slight and slow…

"Well? Potter, do you feel anything?" McGonagall asked patiently.

The hot sensation swimming uncertainly in his chest suddenly spread to his whole body. His breath caught as every muscle in his body tensed. The beaker slipped from his stiffened shaking fingers and smashed. "Potter! What on earth, Severus do something!" McGonagall started in alarm. "No, let the symptoms come…" Snape said firmly, watching with shrewd anticipation. Harry stumbled forward, pulling on the chains to their greatest extent. There was a smell… it filled the room, it was filling his mind, driving him crazy… but he could not get to it's source. His tense, closed throat suddenly released a vicious growl that made McGonagall jump backwards and Snape retreat a little. It was not just the growl of a human voice; it was a full wolven snarl, bloodthirsty and terrible.

Then without warning the mad heat ceased coursing through his mind and body and his muscles all un-tensed quite suddenly. Harry fell rapidly to the stone floor, chains clattering, knees and hands cutting on the glass of the broken beaker and the extended iron collar choking him. McGonagall rushed forward and helped him to his feet, waving her wand at the cuts to expel the glass fragments and heal them. "Interesting…" was all that Snape had to say on the matter.

"And why is Potter losing control and growling like a maniac 'interesting'?" McGonagall said sadistically, turning on her heel to face Snape once Harry had recovered himself. He looked up at Snape a little bitterly as his chains clanked while he rubbed his sore bruised throat. Snape, looking at McGonagall, raised one thin eyebrow slightly. "It's very interesting, because in a normal werewolf, as I said-"

"How is being a werewolf ever normal?" Harry burst out testily without meaning to have spoken his mind. Snape narrowed his eyes, sneering, and continued. "…As I said, in human form the Stagthorn should have no effect. The fact that the ingredient triggered his wolf to overpower him suggests that he was either bitten by a werewolf of strength hitherto unknown- perhaps a freak of nature. Or, that the werewolf species is somehow adapting to the potion… or that Potter is just weak." He finished crisply, daring Harry to respond. Harry ground his teeth but bit back the urge to loose any residual 'instinct' on Snape. "I think we can rule out weakness, professor, I'm sure you'll agree he has proven himself quite resistant to bestial and mental attack." McGonagall said firmly, to which Snape sneered more pronouncedly in reply. "Well, we shall see… if that was the only ingredient causing the trouble, we may never know the reason. However, it does not account for all symptoms. It did not and probably could not induce a transformation. Wolfsbane, however…" Snape replied silkily, measuring out some of the ingredient liquid into another beaker. He swooped over and shoved it into Harry's hand before stepping away a safe distance. When he turned, his eyes met Harry's piercing gaze for a moment, and he flinched, before Harry broke the eye contact by tipping the small amount of foul liquid down quickly so as not to hurt himself on more broken glass. However in a moment, that would be the last of his worries.

He stood for no more than three seconds before the liquid affected him. A shock wave swept down his spine as unimaginable pain wrenched his stomach, just like before. He doubled over, eyes shut and face set with unbearable agony. Then the fire swept to his limbs and along his bones, causing him to stand rigid. But the pain forced him to his knees, where it seemed the world beneath him lurched as his body was broken and twisted and pulled, then crushed back together badly, before after an eternity of torture the pain faded within seconds.

The smell… the smell filled him again. His screwed up eyes sprang open, shinning gold. The slit pupils discerned two shapes which were the focus, the source. Without realizing, his body sprang into action, getting up off the floor and lunging headlong at the prey. But as soon as he had leapt, he was yanked back by some inexplicable source. Growling viciously, he realized it was the metal chain and cuffs around his neck and wrists. His human half sighed with relief, but the wolf pulled at them and shook the chains savagely, hopelessly. Extending them to their fullest extent, it reared, lashing out towards the two, still standing, still watching.

The instinctive need grew to such a pitch that it was necessary to attack something and smell blood before having a heart attack. He automatically sunk his snapping jaws into a nearby flailing foreleg. He shrank back, whining, in pain yet slightly placated by the warm, bittersweet blood in its mouth.

McGonagall watched in horror as Potter doubled over, but resisted getting any closer to help. And she was right to, because within seconds she witnessed the horrific transformation from the tall, skinny boy to the large silver-grey and black beast that could easily rip her to shreds. It reared up, straining at the bonds McGonagall now found her self thankful for. "It', she thought… now why does he suddenly turn to an 'It'? She noticed the look in Potters eyes; the now unrecogniseable golden slit pupils were dilated and wildly popping, fixed on hers almost hypnotically. She saw the wild instinct in them, that terrible intensity of pure predatory desire, it seemed so appaulingly desperate, and it made Minerva feel exhausted just to see it. She gasped slightly as the eye contact with Potter was suddenly broken by him sinking his teeth into his forearm. His instincts were affecting him so intensely that they had to be relieved by blood before they overloaded his body with adrenalin and caused a heart-attack Minerva understood this, she remembered Remus telling her about it once. She had never witnessed it though, never seen such a transformation, never understood the ferocity or the pain nor seen anyone, transformed or not, inflict such gruesome damage upon themselves. She had to look away from the blood that flowed over the silver fur of Harry's forearm. However his instincts were quickly abated, and he jumped suddenly at them once more, making even Snape jump back slightly.

Potter was significantly stronger in his muscular wolf form as he pulled against the restraining chains, though Snape did not look worried. In fact he was merely viewing the creature before him with mild disgust and interest. Minerva however began to worry about how long the transformation seemed to be lasting.

Potter kept backing off growling, and then jerking forward in violent lunges to be free. Snape began to frown shrewdly at this behaviour, and Minerva was about to ask him whether Potter should have changed back by now, when a sickening crunching noise rent the room. Minerva's head snapped around to see the bolt in the wall break away and Harry lunge at them with a loud snarl of triumph. All colour left Snape's already sallow face, yet in a split second his wand was up. McGonagall dived away from Harry's leap for them and did not see exactly what Snape did, but she glimpsed Harry flying across the room in suddenly the opposite direction of his pounce.

There was a loud clashing, clattering THUD as Harry hit the wall hard, the chains chinking loudly against the stone floor as Harry fell sprawled and immobile on the ground. McGonagall got up and looked at Snape, who was breathing hard, leaning back against a desk, eyes fixed on what she assumed was the werewolf. She heard it give a loud, pitiful whine, which trailed off to a soft moan of pain.

McGonagall rushed over to the broken heap on the floor, once again in torn rags of a uniform and robes. He was crumpled in a heap against the wall, which Snape had thrown him magically in defense. "Potter, are you alright? Is anything broken?" she said urgently. Harry drew a shaking, wheezy breath and whispered in desperate pain, "My ribs… my chest, is… tight… can't breath…"

Minerva tore open his already torn shirt to reveal his bruised chest. The inward breaks were even horribly visible in his emaciated state. McGonagall ran her wand over each break and mended it magically with sickening cracking sounds, as the bones were drawn back into place and back together. Harry's face contorted in pain as the ribs moved, but slackened to a slight exhausted grimace when she was done. Minerva had him stay still as she stretched out his bitten forearm gingerly to inspect the damage. It made her terribly nauseous, his flesh was pierced deeply and the arm was covered with pungent, free flowing blood. "Severus! We need a wound-healing potion, quickly! This bite is too serious for spell work." She said as she tried to stop the bleeding magically. She managed to lessen it, but the bite marks kept weeping despite her best healing charms. She was good at charms, but she was no expert at healing spells, she needed Poppy for that… but thanks to Dolores Umbridge, her dragging Harry up to the Hospital wing could get him and herself kicked out of the castle. Though she wondered if at the moment that was possibly their best option. Severus appeared suddenly and knelt beside her to assess the injury himself. He wore a very neutral expression, holding a large bottle of opaque yellow and purple swirled potion with the cork out in his other hand. As Severus doused a handkerchief in the potion, Minerva looked down into Harry's face. He was flat on his back staring up at the ceiling, though he wasn't really looking at it. It seemed as though he was mentally trying to escape his current position but was being dragged through the reality by the agony of the wounds that he forced himself not to react to. He closed his eyes tightly and his face twitched slightly as Severus held the soaking handkerchief to his bitten arm. His ability now to suppress the natural reactions to pain astounded McGonagall, but it made her wonder and worry just how badly his suffering could be and she would not know it… in fact no one would.

In Harry's mind, he could only bear it so well by comparing it to the cruciatus, and the searing fire of the potion on the wound came nowhere near the threshold of agony Harry knew all too well from the cruciatus. The pain began to abate, and Harry opened his eyes groggily. "Potter?" Harry heard a bland voice call. He blinked and looked over at his arm as Snape removed the handkerchief. There was a large bite mark on his arm, but the wounds had been sealed as red raw marks and partially healed by the burning potion. But Harry, while he knew how he must have gotten the injury, he did not remember what had just happened. Why was he lying on the floor with his chest and back aching and a strong smell of blood filling the air? Had he hurt someone? His breathing quickened and he tried to get up quickly, but a stabbing pain rent his chest, though he merely tried to ignore it. There was a mess of voices and a firm hand on his shoulder, and somewhere he heard McGonagall say "Potter, calm down, you'll hurt yourself!" He stopped moving, sitting up still, "I don't know if it would make much difference professor." He croaked absently. "It makes a difference to me Potter, now sit still!" McGonagall replied, shaken by his tone of voice. "No one's hurt are they?" he asked urgently. "Do you not remember your transformation Potter?" Snape drawled blandly with slight curiosity. "I…I know I did, but…" Harry breathed raggedly. He screwed up his eyes, trying to remember. He remembered taking the wolfsbane, the pain of transformation… but then…then… "I can't remember what happened when I was transformed…wait, I think…" Harry tried to concentrate harder. Eyes closed tightly, he tried to remember that feeling; that helplessness, sitting at the back of his mind, watching, doing, but not controlling…

He remembered screaming… screaming in fear and agony, a scream no one could hear, because it was drowned out by the growling. He saw Snape and McGonagall standing there, the same expression on both their faces. He horrified them… he called out for help, but he felt the beast lunge for blood, to attack. It was so angry, and he felt the rage of it wash over him, sickening and strangling. He felt fear for McGonagall and Snape, knowing this beasts rage and lust for their death. Yet he had been relieved for he couldn't get near them. But the rage was still in him, blinding him, building. He thought it would smother him, kill him… but instead it burst in pain along his arm and ebbed away slightly with the blood in a mix of agony and ecstasy that now sickened him at the thought of it. He had flashes of remembering. He had broken free, he didn't know how… then the image of Snape casting a spell at him burst clearly in his mind and his eyes snapped open.

"You could have used a body bind jinx." He croaked bitterly with a dirty look at Snape as he attempted to stand himself up. McGonagall held his arm to support him as he forced his shaking legs to bear his slight weight. Snape stood to, a sour look on his face. "I'm sure when faced with a lunging werewolf you to would have time to deliberate what spell would least hurt it, Potter." He replied stingingly, before turning on his heel and swooping back to his desk. Harry noticed him measuring more potion ingredients as McGonagall repaired his clothes with waves of her wand. She seemed to notice too as Snape straightened with a beaker containing a small amount of slightly smoking potion. "Surely there's nothing more to test Severus?" she said, stepping slightly in front of Harry as he glided back over to them. His cold black eyes flickered up at her. "Just one. It is vital we see the results of both main components together. If they have no effect we will have to rule them out and continue to try other smaller part ingredients. If they do affect him again in combination… well, I'm sure Potter has been through worse." Snape said coldly, a slight sneer on his lips, yet an odd expression in his eyes. Harry bit back a retort that involved him mentioning it being preferable to dangling from the ankles and having his underpants removed in front of a crowd of students, but he thought Snape might just do it instead. Instead he straightened up and did not flinch when Snape magically chained him again (This time with double the chains and wall bolts).

Harry took the beaker from Snape in his heavy manacled hand, neither of them looking at the other. Harry took a deep breath or two to clear his head before downing the tiny amount of potion. It was terribly bitter but Harry screwed up his face and forced himself to swallow, McGonagall snatching the empty glass from his hand even as it burnt down his throat. Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He could feel a heartburn like sensation now, but other than that, it seemed not to affect him as fast as the straight ingredients. As the burning began to subside to a dull warmth in his stomach, Harry began to think that maybe Snape was correct about the combined ingredients ruling out their causing his transformation. Harry opened his mouth to say that he was sure they weren't the cause, but no words came out, because at that moment, a strange lurch in his chest gagged him. This lurch became an odd tense feeling, which moved down into him like a shiver down his spine. Then suddenly the tensity turned to agony as all his muscles contracted painfully. He went rigid, spine arching backwards, his throat too tight to speak or breathe or cry out in pain, as he would were it possible. He fell to his knees again. The excruciating pain was close enough to the cruciatus that Harry believed it would make him black out before lack of oxygen would. His limbs began to shake violently as his muscles spasmed, almost tearing themselves apart. Harry's throat was suddenly un-tensed and an unexpected, piercing scream sounded from him, echoing horribly off the stone walls. He did not, could not draw breath. His deafening scream trailed off as his lungs emptied. The bone breaking sensation was upon him again, he felt them snapping and cracking and crunching together. He knew his eyes were rolling but he could not see, could not hear or feel anything external. He was falling inside himself again, consumed by the wolf that now claimed his body as its own to use.

Harry felt anger, but not the wolf's anger, it was his own. He would not let this wolf of Umbridge overcome him so easily. He started fighting for control, trying to reach out and use whatever strength he had, whatever power he could muster to attack the wolf. He looked at his hands. They were gone, but he had claws, they would do. He saw the wolf's face, nose to nose with his, snarling at him. He made a swipe at it and got it across the right aide of its face. At the same time it got him the same blow and he yelped at the stinging, warm blood blurring his vision. He lunged at the wolf again, scratching at its body, biting it's fore and hind legs, scratching at it's throat, until he was bloody and exhausted and his limbs felt heavy and his aching mind and body slipped into darkness.

When he awoke, the wolf was gone, but the aching and stinging were worse. He groaned in pain, but his throat hurt so much it was barely inaudible. He became aware of people around him fretting about. He opened his bleary eyes, blinking blood out of them. He tried to lift a hand to wipe away the red forced tears, but his arm was agony to move. "Please, lie still Potter, your going to be alright, just lie still. Severus, the scratch on his face is still bleeding." McGonagall said, it seemed distantly, in a vice of forced calm. "I have to stop the bleeding from his leg first or he'll lose a lot more than is necessary. I doubt Umbridge will let us smuggle him out of the castle for a blood transfusion, no matter how much I suck up to her." Snape replied jerkily in an irritated manner. Harry could not see him, but he could feel a potion being sponged onto his aching left leg. He closed his eyes as McGonagall dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. He opened his mouth to thank her, but his throat refused to make a sound. "It's all right Potter, don't move, don't worry… just lay there until we've got you sorted out". McGonagall said, her voice definitely shaking this time. Harry did as he was told, mostly because he was in so much pain he had no choice, but as he lay he began to try and work out what had happened… he had transformed again… and it had been worse. He had however gained enough control to fight himself rather than try to eat McGonagall and Snape. How he had done this now, yet not been able to when he had changed in Hermiones presence, he did not know…

Harry yelped slightly as a potion was dabbed on his slashed face. Involuntary tears leaked out of his eyes from the stinging, but he felt the wounds cool and heal. He lay still for a few minutes more before Snape seemed satisfied that he had stopped Harry's bleeding sufficiently. McGonagall helped him to sit up, but his head swam and he had to lean against the nearby desk leg. Suddenly a beaker of potion was shoved at his lips and he had it tipped down his throat before he even realized what was going on. "That should help him regain the lost blood in sufficient time", Snape seemed to say blandly to McGonagall from further away than he was. Harry felt McGonagalls hand squeeze his shoulder slightly. "Are you alright Potter?" she asked gently. He had not heard her speak like this since she had announced Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Harry blinked the blurriness out of his eyes and focused them on her anxious face. "Yea… I'm ok…" he said groggily, exhausted. But no sooner than the words had left his mouth, he felt a sick, lurching sensation in his stomach. Heaving slightly, he lent to his right, supporting himself on the table leg, and as a wave of pain clenched his insides he retched violently. "Potter!?" he heard McGonagall say with some alarm and concern. "It is part of the reaction." Snape replied deftly. Harry's vomiting abated and he managed to hear McGonagall reply, "What do you mean? What is the matter with him Severus?"

Harry wiped his mouth and turned his swimming head to look at Snape. Snape was not looking at them, but packing away his potions. "I can only conclude from this that he is, for some unfathomable reason, allergic to both Stagthorn and, most viciously, Wolfsbane. His body, or perhaps the wolf venom, is rejecting both ingredients, in an extremely violent manner I might add. In short, he is and always will be a danger to everyone around him." Snape said listlessly, and though continuing not to look at them, Harry saw his lip curl at his last few words. "Now really Severus. That's a tad over dramatic for you. You know perfectly well the precautions that can easily be undertaken in the situation of a Lycanthropic student who cannot take the

Wolfsbane-"

"You think such precautions are fool-proof? They certainly WON'T be easily undertaken with Dolores Umbridge around." Said Snape snappily, looking up at McGonagall piercingly. "Umbridge will make sure I'm only a danger to myself if she wants to keep her job." Harry croaked bemusedly. Snapes eyes flickered automatically to his, boring into him with some surprise before he remembered to glare and turn away. "I'm afraid you're right there, Potter." sniffed McGonagall, vanishing the pool of foul smelling vomit with another wave of her wand.