Chapter two

So why? Why, after being ordered himself, did Albus have to pass on the orders of being Potter's spy and protector to me? Despite my few attempts to keep the boy alive I was not inclined to spend my entire year watching over the boy. Never the less, Potter's little display in the infirmary had been disturbing.

What man?

While I puzzled over the comment, and studiously ignored the two week old Defence against the Dark Arts teacher Gilderoy Lockhart, I searched the Great Hall for the scarred brat.

No Potter in sight.

Well, there was no point sticking around in the Great Hall anymore, was there?

As I swooped my way around the corridors, heading for the dungeons I heard three conversations. There was nothing incriminating so no detentions. What a pity. I could have used the stress reliever.

"Harry. Come on mate." I stopped dead in my tracks, quickly moving to hide behind a large statue of Timothy the Turophile. "Hermione will get better, the healer said so. Besides, you saw it for yourself mate. Hermione recognised me! Even admitted that I had to be alive! You know Hermione! She's strong! Why the hell are you giving up on her! Weasley was becoming distraught.

"Ron!"Potter snapped. "You need to stop. What you doing, it's just going to make things worse. I told you. Hermione is strong and very smart and very smart, but not even brilliant Hermione can beat this. Just be happy it wasn't you." Potter's voice grew soft and small, quivering. The sound caused a heavy brick to sink in my stomach. Brave and arrogant Potter shouldn't sound like that.

"Can't beat this! Why Harry? Because of the curse? Blimey Harry there is no stupid curse!" Weasley yelled. I saw him shift, the boy was tall for his age and I was sure he was towering over the infantile Potter right then.

"Ron"

"And 'Just be happy it wasn't you'? What's that supposed to mean! That's a horrible thing to say!"

Potter's voice was thick, like something was caught in his throat he was trying to speak around. "Is it? You're right. Only a monster would say that, but Ron, you were my first friend, right there from that first moment on the train to you saving me from the Dursleys. If I had cursed you!... I think – I think I'd be stuck in the hospital bed right next to you." Something about the way the boy said it made me want to gag.

There was a long silence and then I heard a rustle and a thump. I reckoned Weasley had slid to the floor.

"Ma-maybe," Weasley stuttered, sounding dead tired, "Maybe I'm the monster here. Maybe you need help like Hermione and I'm too selfish to hand you over, to let you get treatment. I – I – I just," he took a long breath, "school would be hell without the both of you."

There was a long pause.

"Are you going to?" Potter's voice was impassive.

"What?"

"Are you going to hand me over?"

The silence grew longer. "Nah, I think I'll keep playing the monster a little longer."

"Thanks Ron," Potter sounded... affectionate.

I left them there without drawing attention to myself. There'd be no stress relief in giving a detention to that morose pair.

~~*~~

Nothing much came up after that in the whole Potter mess. His potions work was just as appalling as ever and he and Weasley were still joined at the hip. Potter was also continuing his Quidditch career. With Draco Malfoy buying off my team I didn't really feel we had a chance for the Quidditch cup this year (no matter how many times I have the pitch to Slytherin over Gryffindor), though I'd rather kiss Lockhart before I told Minerva that.

Luckily, there was something to cheer me up today. Potter and Weasley were finally fulfilling their punishment for recklessly driving that infernal car to school. Despite the fact that they could have been spotted, Potter might have gotten them both killed! Though if they weren't trying to kill themselves by car I was almost sure they were trying to tempt me to finish what the Ford Anglia could not.

I seriously doubt anything Arthur Weasley built was safe to drive for anyone, let alone two children. Potter's head was thicker than his father's. He and the carrot top should have been expelled the moment they landed, anybody else would have been.

"Ron!" a voice screamed. I heard the sound of racing footsteps just in time to turn around the corner and spot a disappearing cloak. Potter? Well at least I could take pleasure in the fact that his detention had ended late.

But Potter sounded distressed, not just pouty or wingy, but actually distressed. My curiosity was pipped. What had happened to the boy? What blasted trouble had he gotten himself into this time that I'd have to battle him out of?

I had no idea.

I'd decided that rather than follow Potter, as I was sure I knew where he'd be headed, I'd investigate where he had been running from. I found myself lead to that imbecile Lockhart's office. Surely, Potter's detention hadn't been that terrible, had it?

Certainly plausible I suppose.

Without bothering to nock (the man had done nothing to earn any courtesies from me) I flung the door open.

I was greeted with the sight of Lockhart right in front of me, except he was facing out a window, eyes locked on the large and haunting moon. His breath was coming out as pants, wheezing, and he was clawing at his throat, blood trickling down his hands.

I had not expected this! What had happened? Was this what Potter was running from?

My feet were nailed to the ground and wouldn't move. I could feel myself standing there like an idiot, eyes sprung so wide they didn't seem to fit in their sockets.

His face turned to mine, eyes wide with pain and fear, his bleeding neck becoming a necklace of dripping crimson.

"I have to make it stop!" he rasped, voice dry and waspish. "It's there, inside me, a monster!" His mouth fell open with a scream, his jaw near cracking, nails digging further into his neck. I whipped out my wand only to witness as blood gushed from his throat, spraying and splattering around the room.

Gilderoy Lockhart was quiet possibly dead before he even hit the floor.