Hogwarts school was abuzz with excitement and anticipation as students pursued Monday mornings edition of the Daily Prophet, which featured a front page interview with Sharon Neil. Harry had sadly underestimated the impact this woman's interview would have on the eager Prophet readers. Passing him in the halls that morning, Tonks reported that he had already received dozens and dozens of letters from readers, which were fortunately still being held at the Auror office to await inspection. Harry wondered if the Aurors would be efficient enough to forward the letters to him at school. He hoped not.
A sharp breeze swept through the courtyard where Harry sat, turning a small stone over in his hand before pelting it at the wall before him, aiming for a particular spot. Watching his throw, Ron gave a remark of appreciation from beside him. "Good one, mate."
"Thanks," Harry murmured quietly as he leant back against the stone seat they sat before, his fingers blindly searching for another stone. It hadn't even passed lunchtime and already the day felt like the longest he would ever live. After persevering through double Potions that morning, Harry had been unable to bring himself to sit through Charms, choosing to instead follow Ron's lead in skipping class in favour of sitting in the gloomy courtyard throwing stones.
Retreating into near solitude Harry was able to relax again, taking himself away from the spotlight where his classmates now regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and sympathy. The day had started out badly enough, Dean and Seamus seemed unable to look him in the eye as he threw various books and quills into his bag that morning, and Harry wondered if Seamus had repeated everything that had said the day before. Only Neville seemed unaffected by the Daily Prophet article, cheerfully asking Harry what he had thought of the Transfiguration homework.
The moment he and Ginny stepped out of the common room hand in hand, the reaction to Sharon Neil's interview was apparent. Having been late for breakfast they missed the morning post and they had yet to read the article, but they received a full report from Hermione who had heard the gossip in the girls bathroom.
"She said a lot of obvious things, really," Hermione had told him as they passed through the dungeons on their way to Potions. "It was terribly sad to hear what happened to her in the first war. Did you know she had a young daughter? And when they were reunited, her daughter didn't even recognise her."
"That's great," Harry said absently as they had lined up outside Potions. He hadn't been listening, focusing his attention on Malfoy instead, who stood at the front of the line alone. Against the far wall stood a dark skinned man in Auror robes, watching Malfoy quite closely. Perhaps this was part of Malfoys punishment, the embarrassment of having an Auror visible as they guarded him. Thankfully Malfoy kept to himself throughout the lesson, keeping his head bowed over his work and hastily leading his friends out of the classroom when the bell rang, before Harry had even stood up.
"Okay," Ron started, raising his own stone up in front of him and taking aim. "I'm going to get this one."
"You said that last time."
"There was a breeze last time."
"There's a breeze this time."
Ron glared at him. "Stop being a buzz kill."
"Sorry," Harry replied with a sheepish smirk.
Ron threw the stone hard, giving an enthusiastic whoop when it hit the target spot on. "Beat that one," he challenged. "And no cheating, I can see you shuffling forward."
"As if you don't cheat." Harry took aim and threw his next stone, missing the target dismally.
"Pathetic," commented Ron as he raised another stone, stopping when Harry put his hand on his arm.
Looking around the corner of the courtyard Harry fell silent, hearing the sound of shuffling footsteps. He and Ron waited in silence, knowing it was nothing sinister, but not at all keen on being caught skipping class. After a few moments they saw Hagrid emerge around the corner, carrying the ugly pink umbrella that disguised his illegal wand. Fang was close in tow.
"Hey Hagrid," they greeted him cheerfully, the half giants face lighting up as he saw them.
"'Ello, boys," he greeted them as Fang trotted straight over to Harry, resting his head on his knee and drooling when he began scratching behind his ears. "What are you doin'?"
"Throwing stones," Ron answered nonchalantly, indicating to their target on the far wall, and throwing another stone for good measure.
"Ahh," replied Hagrid, gazing at their target reproachfully, looking for a moment as if he'd like to throw a stone himself. "Been keeping out of mischief?"
"Oh sure," Harry replied, thinking back to the Quidditch game on Saturday and the party that followed. "How're the pumpkins going?"
"Very well, they'll be ready for Halloween in no time."
"Does it look like rain, Hagrid?" Ron asked cheekily, indicating to the pink umbrella he held. They all knew exactly why the pumpkins were growing so well.
Hagrid glared at Ron for a moment. "Well yes, it does look like rain, don' it?" he answered, tucking the umbrella inside his moleskin coat. "Bes' be off, boys."
They farewelled him as Harry gratefully pushed Fang's head off his knee, leaving a large wet patch of drool behind as he quickly followed Hagrid, who suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"What is it?"
Frowning at them, Hagrid turned around to see them properly. "Shouldn't you two be in class? Er….Charms?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other for a moment. "Yeah," they replied simultaneously.
Smiling at them after a long moment, Hagrid gave them a hearty wave and quickly left the courtyard, as though trying to restrain himself from taking house points. Chuckling to themselves Harry and Ron each found another small stone, resuming their task of pelting them at the wall. Finally after a few minutes Harry couldn't help himself anymore, and he began laughing, giving Ron a sly smile. "Ron, I know what you're doing."
"What?"
"I know you're cheating," Harry continued as Ron threw another stone, hitting their target spot on again.
"I am not!" he denied innocently.
"I can see your wand!" Harry laughed, elbowing him playfully.
"My wand's in my pocket! I don't know what you're talking about."
"Admit it!" Taking a handful of stones and gravel Harry quickly pulled the back of Ron's shirt open and dropped them down his back, jumping up and darting away with a laugh before his friend could retaliate. With a great yell Ron jumped up and pulled the bottom of his shirt from his trousers, cursing Harry as the stones cascaded out of his shirt and back onto the ground. "Admit it," Harry insisted, still keeping a safe distance away from his friend.
"Alright, alright! I cheated!"
Glaring at Harry reproachfully Ron started towards him, rolling his eyes when Harry continued to back away from him. Ron instead approached the far wall to where they were throwing stones, tearing down their target in a great flourish before looking at it closely. "What a bitch."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, taking the picture of Sharon Neil that they had torn from the Daily Prophet, scrunching it up as she gave a silent squeal of discomfort from within the frame. The bell rang to signal the lunch break and he reluctantly followed Ron to the Great Hall, knowing that not much would keep him away. "Do you reckon I can skive off on my detention tonight?"
"Probably not, Reed's pretty tough. I wouldn't try it."
"Right," Harry replied, now dreading his detention even more.
"Hey, Death Eater," Theodore Nott snarled as they passed he and his friends. "Show us what the Dark Lord taught you."
"Show us your mark," another said as they bumped into him roughly.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Harry looked at the ground and ignored them as Ron let out a mouthful of filthy language after them.
"Just ignore them Ron, you're just making them worse."
"You sound like Hermione," his friend muttered as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, other students filing into the Great Hall after them.
"And what would be wrong with that?" Hermione questioned in a flourish, as she dropped her heavy school bag onto the ground and sat down. Neither of them saw her approach.
"Did you fart, Ron?" Harry asked as he scrunched up his face, smelling something that wasn't quite right.
"Me? Nope. You know me, I own up to my farts…with pride."
"Oh!" Hermione said in a low moan, removing her wand from her school robes. "That must be me."
"Hermione!" Harry and Ron exclaimed with a laugh.
"No, I didn't fart," Hermione clarified, looking highly uncomfortable as she cast a freshening charm over her robes. She hesitated for a moment before continuing quietly. "Someone threw a Dung Bomb at me when I left Charms."
"Are you kidding?" Harry asked in cold disbelief.
"Who was it?" Ron demanded from across the table, looking livid.
"I don't know," she confessed as she put away her wand, keen to drop the subject altogether. "I didn't see who it was, and sit down Ron!"
"Bull, as if you didn't see," Ron started, sheepishly taking his seat again. His face was quickly turning red with anger and protectiveness as he looked around the hall in search of a guilty face. Harry was half expecting a deep vein to begin throbbing like his Uncle Vernon's. "Who's the little twerp?"
"I didn't see them," she replied patiently. "Besides, I don't think they were looking to hit me with the with it."
"Why do you say that?" Harry asked, no longer interested in having lunch.
Hermione looked at him apologetically, but knew he needed to know. "Well, whoever it was, they yelled out something about Death Eaters."
"Well that solves it," Ron remarked, appearing relieved. "They were looking for Malfoy."
"Uhh…no…I'm pretty sure they were looking for Harry."
"I don't want to know," he stated.
"They did yell out your name," Hermione continued thoughtlessly. "And we do have Charms together, they must have thought you were following me out."
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered as he turned back to his lunch, admittedly with much less enthusiasm. "If that's what they've done to you, imagine the hell Ginny's gotta be copping."
"Gee, thanks Ron," Harry said sarcastically, his heart sinking as he thought of the possibilities. "That makes me feel better."
"Don't worry about Ginny," Hermione said soothingly, putting her hand on his arm. "I've asked Demelza and Luna to look out for her. Not that she can't hold her own, of course. By the way, where were you two? Why weren't you in class?"
"Don't change the subject," Ron answered.
Hermione glared at them both, Ron's answer was a dead give away to what they'd been doing. "We did a lot of new work on everlasting charms today, so you better have a good reason for skipping class. I hope those Aurors report you to Tonks."
"We were throwing stones at Sharon Neil," Harry told her without remorse, perhaps a little too loudly. Those around them seemed to glance at him a moment longer when he mentioned that woman's name. "Just her picture, obviously."
"I'm not sharing my notes with you," she carried on relentlessly. "We've got heaps of homework too, and I'm not helping you when you've been skipping class."
"We don't need your help," Ron replied courageously as Hermione raised her eyebrows.
Harry smirked to himself, knowing how easy it was to manipulate Hermione into helping him with school work. He'd yawn a little and doodle something on his parchment, giving a small wince of pain every now and then. If he did well enough she'd practically do his homework herself, just as she had with Transfiguration.
"And I don't care how much you yawn, or how pathetic you look, Harry. I'm not helping you either, I know what you've been doing to me!"
He joined Ron in glaring at Hermione reproachfully, he too declaring that they didn't need her help. But later that evening as he made his way to the Potions classroom, he would have done anything for her help. He'd briefly forgotten that he had detention every night for the rest of the week, and he knew he'd have to take advantage of his restless nights to get any of his work done. Not to mention the time away from Ginny that it meant.
It was ridiculous. He knew he was being controlling, but he couldn't seem to relax unless he knew she was nearby, as though being apart would put her in great danger. Aside from that, it was a great relief that someone besides Sirius and Tonks knew all about what he had faced over the summer, of all the damage that had been inflicted. She hadn't even flinched when she convinced him to show her the Dark Mark branded into his skin. Somehow she had even convinced him to show Ron and Hermione. He wondered how she had reacted to Sharon Neil's interview. Had she had the opportunity to read it since they were last together at breakfast?
Approaching the door to the Potions classroom Harry slowed down in dread, giving himself just a few extra moments of peace before subjecting himself to whatever punishment Professor Reed had in mind. He didn't like this new professor. He seemed too much like Snape, too cold in the way he spoke and acted, as though brewing a potion was the only thing that mattered.
"Come in," Reed called from inside the classroom, before Harry had even knocked. He sighed and took one last breath of freedom before he entered the dimly lit classroom that he had despised since his first year.
"Good evening, sir," Harry greeted politely.
"Good evening." Professor Reed sat behind his desk, writing filled parchment littered his desk. In appearance, he looked nothing like Snape. He was slightly smaller, with short blonde hair that was neatly cropped. If Harry didn't know him so well, he would have said that he appeared almost kind, almost in the way that Tonks does. He noticed that his hands were stained with ink as he stood up. He must have been marking school work. "Well Mr Potter, I hope it's not necessary for me to explain why you are here."
"No, sir," Harry answered, biting back the smart remark he had thought of.
"Good. I hope there is something you can gain from hard manual labour…perhaps some lessons in anger management?"
Harry didn't reply, keeping his face as blank as possible. His dislike for the man had grown exponentially in a very short time.
As though detecting his student's resentment, Reed got straight to the point. "I'm sure you know what to do," he said as he indicated to the side of the classroom, where the long sink held a dozen filthy cauldrons. "You will work until your curfew, at eleven o'clock tonight. You will not use magic."
"Yes sir," Harry replied tonelessly, turning to the sink without hesitation and removing his robes and school tie. He began to roll up his sleeves before thinking better of it, not needing another witness to what he bore on his arm.
The cauldrons were worse than filthy. The muck that Harry slowly managed to scrub away seemed as though it had seen burnt onto the pewter, and he wondered what potion the brewer had been attempting to make. His back and shoulders ached as he scrubbed and scrubbed, but he gave the pain little thought. He had endured far worse, for far longer.
He worked nonstop, soon growing worried that his arms would give out any moment, that they would go limp and refuse to cooperate. The pain and discomfort was becoming unbearable as he rinsed off the fifth clean cauldron and started on a new one. As the muck was removed to reveal the shining pewter underneath, Harry forced himself to think of worse moments in his life, times when he thought he couldn't go any further.
It wasn't hard to find such a time, his mind recalling the two long nights he had spent in the forest outside Little Hangleton. The more he thought the more clear his memories were. Even now he shivered as he recalled the icy cold rain that fell in torrents, and the sharp stab of the forest floor against his bare feet. Looking back nearly three months later, Harry still wondered how he managed to keep running for as long as he did, barely evading both Malfoy and Snape before he was eventually caught.
Something captured his thoughts for a few moments, and he remembered the moment that Snape had him cornered. He had thought about this moment more and more over the last few weeks, trying to understand what had happened in those few seconds. Despite being one of Voldemort's Death Eaters, had Snape really walked away from him? He had killed Dumbledore in cold blood, after all. But the more Harry thought about that crucial moment, the easier it was to convince himself that he had imagined it. Telling himself that he was crazy was far easier than considering the matter any further.
Releasing a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes for a moment and looked at the clock, his heart sinking as he saw it was only nine thirty. He still had an hour and a half ahead of him. Glancing up at Professor Reed he watched as the teacher stood up from his desk and left the room, no doubt heading into his office. Harry took advantage of his solitude, pausing his work and rolling his shoulders back to relieve the taught muscles.
"Are you tired, Potter?"
Looking around Harry felt no fear. He didn't even jump, vaguely recognising the voice that had spoken. Frowning for a moment he tried to remember who the person standing in the corner was, relieved when they saw his confusion.
"I'm Auror Campbell," he told him. "We met on your first day back."
"Right," Harry said with a nod, remembering now. He must have been one of the Aurors on guard duty that day, though this was the first time they had revealed themselves when there was no danger.
"You look tired," Campbell spoke again, waiting patiently for his answer.
"A little," Harry confessed, resuming his work again as the Auror moved closer to him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to see how you're going, to ask you myself. You've had a pretty rough few days."
"Isn't that more like Tonks' job?" Harry asked softly, trying to evade the question.
"I suppose so," he remarked.
Campbell fell silent and looked at Harry pointedly, waiting for him to answer. "I'm fine…really." Campbell didn't respond, forcing Harry to speak again, his patience growing thin. Couldn't he just finish his detention in peace? "What is it?"
"Why aren't you sleeping well?"
Harry paused, considering the question. "I thought the Aurors weren't allowed to come into Gryffindor Tower."
"They're not."
"Then how do you know I'm not sleeping well?"
"Because you just told me."
Glaring at the Auror, Harry realised how the man had tricked him. He scrubbed at the cauldron even harder as Campbell sat on the desk in front of him, watching him in concern. Looking up at him for a moment Harry gave him an answer. "I've already talked to my Father about this, there's no point in repeating myself."
"I know you have, I heard."
Harry looked at him incredulously. "Why do you ask a question if you already know the answer."
Campbell didn't answer. He just sat before Harry and watched him quietly, a look of sadness about his face. Frustrated with the man Harry ignored him and went back to work, glancing up every now and then to see if Professor Reed was about to return. He didn't. Scrubbing harder and harder Harry felt sure his hands were about to start bleeding, the smell of the detergent invading his senses, making his eye's start to water behind his glasses.
"C'mon, what're you doing here?" Harry asked in annoyance. Just the man's presence was frustrating him. "You're supposed to stay out of sight."
"I want to help you."
"Help me with what?"
"With what's happening."
Harry forced himself to withhold a groan of frustration. "We've been through this, I'm alright."
"You haven't figured out what you're going to do, though."
"There's nothing I can do!"
"That's not true."
"How am I supposed to stop the world thinking that I'm a Death Eater?" Harry asked as he threw down the steel wool he was scrubbing with. "How was I supposed to stop that woman telling them everything that happened?"
"Harry," Campbell implored him, getting off the table and coming to stand near him. "You know what to do, you've been in this situation before."
"I've had people calling me a Death Eater before?" Harry laughed sarcastically.
"No, but they've called you other things. They've called you insane, a liar, untrustworthy. You've been here before Harry, and you've overcome it."
Harry didn't reply for a moment, glaring at Campbell without regret. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Just think about it," he replied softly as he began to back away, looking around at the door to Reed's office. As he too looked at the door Harry vividly remembered that it used to be Snape's office, recalling the many hours he had spent in there trying to master Occlumency. Not that Snape had helped him at all. "I should go."
The Auror disappeared before Harry could even looked round, just as Reed opened the door and re- entered the classroom. Quickly picking up the steel wool Harry resumed his task, faltering for a moment when the solid muck on the outside of the cauldron simply wiped away with ease. He smiled grimly to himself as he realised that Campbell must be keen to get him back into Gryffindor Tower. Either that or he had developed some sympathy.
With the hard work taken out of his task Harry finished the cauldrons fairly quickly, but there was no early dismissal when Reed assigned him to scrub out the long and equally filthy sink. He was dismissed not even a moment before eleven o'clock, with the promise of more filthy cauldrons for the following evening. Walking through the dark corridors of the dungeons Harry dried the lower half of his sleeves which were soaked with filthy water, stuffing his school tie into the pocket of his robes and frowning as he entered the Entrance Hall and saw the shining gleam of the stone floor. He knew what Ginny must have been doing throughout her detention.
Gryffindor tower seemed like such a long way away, his legs growing tired with every step he took, fortunately passing nobody in the halls. Harry knew the Aurors were following him, he could feel their presence, and he wondered what it was that Campbell had been trying to tell him. When he finally arrived in the Gryffindor common room Harry pushed all thought out of his head, collapsing onto a squashy couch where Ginny was waiting, joining him in a similar fashion.
"Remind me never to pick a fight with Malfoy ever again…or to at least do it in private," Ginny groaned as they lay down, his arm firm about her waist.
"Okay…let me guess, you scrubbed the Entrance Hall."
"Yep, with a toothbrush."
"Your own?"
"Romilda Vane's," Ginny admitted without remorse. "And then when I finished Filch decided the portrait frames needed to be polished."
"I hope you returned the toothbrush," Harry smiled against her hair.
"Of course."
They fell silent as the common room around them became deserted, encouraged by Harry's arrival. He could feel himself drifting off to sleep right there on the couch, and he hardly fought it, kept awake only by Ginny. He wasn't quite sure how she managed it, but he soon found himself gently rubbing her shoulders as she sat on the floor before him talking quietly. Unlike Hermione, she had made it through the day relatively unscathed thanks to Luna and Demelza, who had subtly gripped her arms when they over heard certain gossip and name calling in the corridors. She had of course found time to read the interview with Sharon Neil, taking advantage of the Professors distraction in Muggle Studies.
"She said some of the Death Eaters sexually assaulted her," Ginny said quietly, turning around to see Harry. "How awful."
Harry nodded in agreement, not completely listening to her. He honestly didn't want to know what the woman had to say.
"Harry, did they ever do that to you?"
"Do what?" he asked, paying attention now.
"What they did to her."
Harry frowned at her, he had thought it was fairly obvious that there were similarities between their experiences, and then he realised what she was talking about. "Oh, Merlin no, they never did that. Where did that question come from?"
"Well," Ginny began slowly as she faced forward again, quite relieved. "You're always saying that you don't remember everything that happened."
"I would have remembered something like that," he insisted, immensely relieved when she appeared to drop the subject.
From the floor in front of him Ginny intertwined her arm around his calf, rubbing it up and down. "Harry, it wouldn't matter if they did, you could tell me."
"You don't believe me!" he accused, growing defensive.
"Well, it's just that I can understand why you would lie," she insisted, turning around again to look at him. "But you can tell me."
"Okay, Ginny," he implored her, running his hand over her hair how he knew she liked. "They did a lot of sick things to me, but they'd never touch me like that. It wouldn't get them anywhere."
Ginny looked at him closely, trying to determine his honesty. "Okay," she conceded, still looking unsure of herself.
Trying not to roll his eyes Harry pulled on the top of her arm, steering her onto the couch beside him with her legs across his lap. "It's nice that you care so much," he commented, kissing her properly for the first time that day.
"Of course I care."
They stayed like that for a few moments, each of them lost in their own thoughts before Ginny spoke again. "Today was awful, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, pulling her closer and resting his head on her shoulder. He wanted so badly to fall asleep right there, to grasp any amount of it that he could. But as always, Ginny kept him wide awake.
"We're going to have to do something," Ginny pressed him. "You can't go on like this."
"Gin," Harry began with a surprising amount of patience. "There's nothing we can do. We can't change the way people think."
"Surely there's something that will help."
"There's not," he replied in frustration, trying not to lose his temper. "Otherwise I would have done it!"
"Well that's not completely true," Ginny began, running her hand up and down Harry's arm. "I was talking to one of those Aurors after my detention, and I guess he just got me thinking."
"Oh God," Harry muttered, looking away from her. He could sense that he was not going to be pleased with what she said next.
Ignoring him, Ginny carried on. "What if I talked to Luna? She could ask her Dad for a favour, I'm sure he'd be keen to talk to you."
Raising his eyebrows, Harry looked at her incredulously, finally understanding what it was that Campbell had been trying to explain to him. He squirmed uncomfortably. "No way."
"C'mon, why not?"
Harry laughed shortly. "No. I'm not talking to a reporter."
"It doesn't have to be a reporter, you could speak to Luna's Dad directly, he writes pieces all the time."
"I'm not doing it."
"Why not? You might find it easier than you expect."
"You go right ahead if that's what you think." Harry slid her off his lap and stood up, rounding the couch and heading for the stairs when she followed his lead.
"We can't do nothing!" Ginny shouted after him, quickly changing the tone of their conversation.
"Shut up Ginny, please! Just stop it!" he shouted back at her, not caring if anyone could hear.
"No, I won't! Someone threw a Dung bomb at Hermione! They're abusing you and Ron!"
"I know! You think I missed that?"
"Well stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something to stop it! I don't care if I have to bully you into it."
Glaring at her furiously, he was determined to stand his ground. "I don't care how hard you try to bully me," he began scathingly. "I'm not talking to a reporter. If you think it's so damn easy, do it yourself!"
She glared right back at him and saw that he wasn't backing down. Without a word she pushed past him and stormed up the stairs, finally leaving him in the peace of the empty common room. Absolutely fuming Harry glared around the empty common room, kicking his school bag that Ginny had brought down. He turned around and sat back down on the couch, knowing there was nowhere else to go, his dorm mates would surely be awake, and he wondered where Ron was. After a moments consideration Harry thought he and Hermione must be hiding in their respective dorms, giving he and Ginny the privacy for her to convince him of her idea.
Biting down on his knuckle Harry couldn't escape the claustrophobia that had been setting in all day. Now it seemed that no one was on his side, even his friends wouldn't leave him alone, acting as though it was his fault that there was nothing they could do.
Thinking back to what Campbell and Ginny had both said, Harry knew that no amount of bullying or coercion would convince him to talk to reporters. It had been obvious how awful it was showing Ginny the Dark Mark and his wounds, how uncomfortable he had been showing the mark to Ron and Hermione. How could she even suggest what she had?
It was hours before he finally went up stairs, well past midnight, and Harry doubted that he would get any decent sleep. His dorm mates had long ago fallen asleep, Ron's snores filling the room as Harry changed his clothes and slipped into bed, still filled with determination. He was not talking to reporters.
