Chapter 8: Proffered Truce

Sunday, November 5, 1995

Instructions were, indeed, someplace. In several books found in the Hogwarts library, for instance. And all of them unanimously advised, "If the patient is not currently under the influence of a mind or personality altering potion, a flushing treatment can only have adverse effects. Even if an unknown potion must be counteracted, the likely results of removing all extant beneficial treatments is very damaging. When a mind or emotion altering potion is present, a flushing treatment must be administered carefully, as the abrupt change in internal state is extremely disorienting and can cause prolonged depression and self-doubt."

Harry disregarded those statements, preferring to charge ahead with his plans. Luna, however, was rapidly becoming his indispensable confidant. And comfort, the back of his mind whispered. She counselled that Harry look into what the effects would be, prepare for them, and then – and only then – take the anti-potion. Nah. With a determined grimace, Harry unstopped the flask and downed the contents in one long pull.

Within a (long) blink, Harry was sitting on the loo – now that was a frantic few moments. The wall opposite was covered in some amazing … Carrots? I didn't even eat carrots. His skin was oozing a bit – well, each little patch of skin was oozing a little, but all of his skin was oozing. It was uncomfortable. And incredibly smelly.

And Harry was suddenly ravenously thirsty.

Harry wanted to summon Winky, but the constant flow of food up his throat made speaking (or croaking) difficult. With a 'pop', Winky appeared anyway.

"Master Harry Potter Sir is being messy. I's being fixing mess. Dobby being fixing Master Harry Potter Sir."

The mad house elf popped in as well, and with a snap of his fingers, Harry was clean and … empty. It didn't stop him from wanting to … evacuate … from either end, though. Painful. With another 'pop', Harry was on a low cot in his bedroom and dressed in something that approximated adult diapers. Harry had the vague feeling that he should be embarrassed or insulted, but under a sudden and irresistible wave of pain and cramps and tiredness, he simply didn't care anymore.

A sipping gesture to Dobby was correctly interpreted, and an ever full glass of cool water was by his cot, complete with straw. Not plastic – what is it? When Winky popped in to take her vigil at the other side of the bed, the arrangements made sense to Harry's distracted brain; he was put in a place for the convenience of the house elves, instead of in his bed.

Whups – water coming up. The urge to vomit was lessening, as were the stomach cramps. Harry found that this was a good time to not be here, and consciousness fled.

-o-

He awoke slowly, with tremors in all four limbs. Luna was in an overstuffed high backed armchair, reading a book with her legs drawn up under herself. Harry smiled weakly at the sight. He whispered, "So what time is it?"

Luna answered absently, "An hour and a half to dinner. You may have left Gryffindor, but it hasn't left you." Her gaze turned to capture Harry. "You need to fix that."

Harry meekly said, "Right-o," and let his head drop back down to his pillow.

Luna placed a bookmark in her book, closed it, and said, "I've entrusted you with the care of my only friend, Harry. I expected that you would take better care of him."

Harry tried to deflect Luna. "I'm a bit weak, now. Could this wait until I'm not in danger of passing out?"

"No." Luna was uncompromising, which startled Harry a bit. Well, as much as he was capable of recognizing at the moment. She went on, "You are showing more scars than I've ever seen. Your bones are probably weak, possibly brittle. I've watched you as you sleep, and your emotions are swinging wildly, from euphoria to rage to despair to panic." She eyed Harry coolly. "There have also been a few instances of near-uncontrolled magic in the last hour. You've obviously been dosed with calming potions and magical rejuvenation potions in the past, and have been relying on them for internal regulation." She sighed, and came over to crouch at his side. "Harry, I'm a Ravenclaw. I don't deal with improvised planning very well. I need to be prepared before you pull something so completely stupid." Luna leaned over and kissed Harry's forehead.

She grimaced. "And I don't think that I want to do that again. You really need to bathe."

Harry smiled, and suppressed a giggle. Maybe she's right about the swinging moods. "I'm not completely unprepared, Luna."

Harry switched his attention to the elves, standing and trying to be unnoticed next to the doorway. "Dobby, please take my vault key and get 10 Galleons from my vault. Have Gringott's exchange them for Muggle currency. Find a muggle shop called a Chemists, or a pharmacy. If you can't locate one quickly, find one with a sign showing the letters T, E, S, C, and O."

Dobby broke in, "Dobby knows Tesco, Master Harry Potter Sir. Tesco has house elf store, but nasty Former Master never knows that his food be coming from Muggles."

Harry grinned weakly, "That's great, Dobby. Please go get two bottles of something called Nurofen." Harry spelled it, and had Dobby repeat it back. "Luna, is there anything else that a Muggle store would have that he should get?" Luna shook her head.

"Ok then, Dobby. Please get that back to me as soon as you can safely do so."

"Master Harry Potter Sir?"

Harry suppressed a sigh, "Yes, Dobby?"

"The Tesco House Elf store takes Galleons, not muggle moneys."

"Okay then, don't have Gringott's change the money into muggle money."

The Nurofen worked wonders for Harry; ninety seconds after taking it, he was back to being unconscious.

-o-

Harry woke that day for the third time, relatively pain free and feeling …. comfortable, to his surprise. Winky informed him that, "Master Harry Potter Sir is missing dinner, and Master Harry Potter Sir must not be skipping meals any mores, sir."

Harry acknowledged the admonishment with, "Thank you, Winky. Would it be too much trouble to have some food served here?"

Winky's look at Harry crossed species boundaries and said, plain as day, "It's already taken care of, you moron, sir." Harry was quickly eating a veggie-heavy selection of what was obviously the leftovers from the evening's meal in the Great Hall.

Each of the houses seemed to favor a different cuisine. The Hufflepuff table (easy to tell by the yellow house-themed crockery) was heavy on the comfort foods; lots of breads, sweets, and starches, the potato dishes featuring creams and cheeses. The Ravenclaws (with the cream and cobalt blue bowls and platters) had light, simple fare that weighed heavily on the seafood side of the scale, with no sauces or bright flavors. They seemed to use rice as their main grain, and the vegetables were green, foreign, and subtly flavored. The Gryffindor's palate was what Harry was used to, and those dishes were easy to pick out by the heavy use of spices and herbs on meat; subtle wasn't a Gryffindor trait in food, either, apparently. (Nor in their crockery – the bright red was a significant tip-off.) The absence of anything resembling a vegetable was a heavy clue as well. And the remaining dishes in deep green must have come from the Slytherin table – and these foods were perfection on the tongue. Tender meats that nailed the medium rare sweet spot; bright green vegetables that were hot, crisp, and flavorful; salads that presented varieties of flavors and textures without being soggy; pastas with subtle flavors and delicate sauces; breads that while being hearty and robust, were still refined and easy on the palate. The variety was also amazing; beans, of course, along with lettuce, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers in all their colors, tomatoes, melons, squash, zucchini, apples, pears, broccoli, cauliflower, berries, apricots, mangoes, not to mention some of the more exotic fruits and veggies that were completely foreign to Harry – but that he wanted to get to know much better. It was incredible.

The Slytherin table fare was a revelation to Harry. "Hey, Winky, can I get food prepared like the Slytherin dishes?"

"Of course, Master Harry Potter Sir. Does Master Harry Potter Sir want to stay with the food restrictions that he had before?"

Harry pushed his pate away, completely sated but not overfull. "Yes, I believe that Master Harry Potter does." And Harry was asleep.

-o-

Monday, November 6, 1995

Harry had awoken early, and now stood before his mirror in the bath. For the first time in eight days, he had slept well – between Voldemort's evening celebrations and Harry's own impulsive actions, sleep had been hard to come by for a while. Harry was still feeling emotionally unsettled from the absence of potions in his system; Luna's analysis was spot on when it came to Harry's internal state. His face hadn't changed from yesterday's removal of potions, but the effects were starkly visible on his arms, torso, and legs. Pink, almost-new scars were on his upper torso and arms, and it seemed like they would stay that way for quite a while before they faded into background noise like his other markings. His body ached, most especially his joints, but the Nurofen helped keep that manageable.

Harry's legs and arms seemed to be weaker, now; he could see himself visibly swaying in the mirror. Just brushing his shoulder up against the wall resulted in the pain that comes from poking a bruise – while he didn't see any bruise marks on his skin, there wasn't a place on his body that didn't react as if it was freshly pulped.

The pain and balance issues made getting dressed a bit difficult, but Harry was determined. Once back in his bedroom and dressed, Harry called out, "Dobby, I seem to need a cane. Is there one available?"

Dobby had popped in before the first sentence had completed. "Dobby can makes cane for Master Harry Potter Sir! Does Master want a tricksy hidden sword? Maybe bottom spikes that fly out like metal spells? And can Dobby add House crest to pommel?"

Oh, right. Old Man Malfoy had a cane. Dobby is an enthusiast. "Dobby, let's just go with a nice hardwood cane, and once I get the length and handle right, we can add all the stuff you want."

Promising a complex and specialized task to serve the head of his new house was exactly what Dobby craved. His eyes widened, and then he almost exploded in a flurry of efficient actions. Harry's limbs and joints were manipulated and measured; Harry let out a small "Eep!" at each inseam measurement (one for each side), although he would forever deny it. After an interminable few minutes, the whirlwind ceased, and Dobby stood in front of Harry with a dark brown cane laid across both hands.

"It being Borneo Rosewood, takes magic very well and is just right size for Master Harry Potter Sir's left hand. Dobby has five cane handles for Master to try."

Dobby handed the cane body to Harry and produced five handles that would screw into the top of the wood. "This being a matching derby handle," and he handed the traditional handle off to Harry, "and this being Dobby's try at a palm grip handle," and Dobby handed the odd-shaped lump to Harry again, "and these being special knob handles with Master Harry Potter Sir's crest." Dobby held them up, one by one, and Harry held back a grimace at the flashy red gem the size of a large doorknob. The white ball with the Gryffindor crest was right out as well (for what Harry thought were obvious reasons), but that last one …

"Dobby, what is the black crystal there?"

Dobby beamed. "It being a magic storage crystal. When Master has put magic into crystal, magic can be taked out when Master Harry Potter Sir be needing it." Harry took it and held it in his palm – the crystal was cold to the touch, and the edges felt sharp, even though they were fairly oblique angles. Harry handed it back to Dobby slowly; it felt wrong to add magical tricks and traps to his wardrobe. I'm preparing to show myself as I really am, with no embellishments. Using this would be a lie, of sorts, and I suspect that could be punished. Harshly.

"Dobby, I think that I'll go with the first one." Dobby whipped the cane body out of Harry's hands, and had the derby handle attached in a trice. Harry took it back in his left hand, and used it to balance himself. This feels good. It could stand to be a little taller, though. "Did you plan on adding anything to the bottom?"

Dobby nodded vigorously, shaking his ears roundabout his head. "Dobby needs to be adding a foot for cane to be hitting ground. Wood is too nice to be banging into castle flagstones and not lasting long enough."

Harry held the cane in his hands, looking at the end. This could get slippery … and then it came to him.

Harry met Dobby's gaze. "I want an end that looks like silver, but is made of very strong steel, to be screwed onto the wood. It should be about this long," and Harry gestured with his hands a little less than a foot apart. "And for the tip, I want you to find that floor polish that I made in Potions class. That should keep the cane from slipping."

Without breaking eye contact, Dobby raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. The cane shifted a bit in Harry's hands, the center of balance having changed. The bottom eight inches was a silvery steel, with a thin sheen of radioactive-green paste on the tip. "Perfect!" was Harry's verdict, and he immediately began to use it as he walked off to breakfast.

The students that saw Harry noticed the cane, but didn't comment on it. The staff had no reaction. Harry didn't notice the non-reaction from either group. He simply … didn't care.

-o-

Sitting in another useless DADA class, Harry was idly paging though his cowardly textbook (if nothing bad could happen, why are there so many directives to summon Aurors in case of danger?). His thoughts, however, were on the ritual he was planning.

The physical cleansing is to … take care of myself, and be the best I can, without presenting an illusion. The magical cleansing is the same. So how do I translate that for my spiritual self?

Harry let the idea ruminate inside him. Luna had refused to give him any pointers, saying that this ritual was about presenting him, as he was, to Heaven. If Luna directed Harry's actions, then Harry's actions would be tainted, and he would be presenting Luna's directives as his own ideas and actions: a lie. And the directions were quite emphatic about how lies were received; "… frequently fatal consequences …" went through Harry's mind.

So, I have to fix the problems I have been living with, the spiritual problems. I have to shed the burdens that I've been carrying around. The spiritual burdens. Harry sighed. There was no help for it – Harry needed to resolve issues, anything that made him feel anxious, irritated, or hatred. He had to let it go.

Who to approach? The list slowly formed in his mind. Snape, Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, Draco, Seamus, Dean … Harry considered Dumbledore. Harry no longer felt animosity toward the idiot Headmaster, rather, he had become (at least in Harry's mind) an unpredictable obstacle to overcome. Nothing more, nothing less.

As class was dismissed, Harry put his already closed book away in his pack and limped out the classroom door. Time's passing. Best get to it. Harry sighed. This promised to be moderately unpleasant, at minimum.

-o-

Harry hurried through dinner. It was vastly disrespectful to the food he was served – and oh, did the Slytherin table rate respect! – but needs must, and all that. As it was, Harry was only waiting a scant few minutes before Draco exited the Great Hall.

"Mr. Malfoy, might I have a moment of your attention? I mean you no harm, and wish only to converse," Harry said, as politely as he could muster.

Draco looked around in alarm at Harry's approach: Draco was alone, and thus severely outnumbered, but Harry's polite entreaty gave the blond his confidence and arrogance back.

"I could be persuaded to…"

Harry approached closer. "Is there somewhere we could be undisturbed?" He kept his hands at his sides, in plain view, cane pointed down. Draco was already a bit … antsy … and needed the kid glove treatment.

Draco narrowed his eyes, and looked around to confirm that they were alone. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He's dealt with me attacking while covered in my invisibility cloak before. Does he really think that I've got the only one? Or that I wouldn't lend it out? Well, Harry wouldn't lend it out to anyone now … except Luna …

"Follow me," said Draco. The usual sneer was present, but less strongly than normal, and Draco showed a bit of nervousness as well. They walked to a smallish room just outside (inside?) of the castle entrance. Draco said shortly, "What is it?"

Harry took a breath – mostly for courage. "We first met at MadameMalkin's. I was trying not to show that I was completely new to the wizarding world; I learned that magic existed less than twenty-four hours earlier." Draco gave a little start at that. "I'm pretty sure that I was inoffensive at that time – I was trying hard enough not to draw attention to myself. But the next time we met was on the Hogwarts Express. You came into my compartment, evidently looking for me, and insulted one of the first friends I ever made. You then all but ordered me to abandon him, and told me that Ron Weasley was not the right kind of person to associate with." As an aside, Harry went on, "That was good advice. Wish I'd listened." Draco gave another start at that admission.

Harry squared his shoulders; this was going to be the point where things could go … badly. "But over the years, I've become pretty sure that we're not going to be friends, no matter how badly I behaved before we were even sorted – and I'm sorry about that." He raised his eyebrow. "But I really don't think that you're suffering from the lack of my friendship, right?"

Draco snorted.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But I don't think that we automatically have to be at each other's throats all the time, either. Would you be willing to think about a truce?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What would your terms be?"

Harry shook his head. "No terms. Nothing formal. Just an understating between the two of us – I will wait until you attack to do anything to you. If you don't attack, I will leave you completely alone, so you can turn your attention and energies to whatever other schemes you're hatching."

Draco was suddenly hostile and formal. "Who told you about my schemes?"

Harry managed to turn his full-throated laugh into a mild chuckle. "Draco, you're a Slytherin. And you're breathing. By definition, you've got more than a handful of schemes going at any one time. I have no idea what they are or who they're aimed at, but I'm sure they're all ticking along nicely."

Draco had relaxed at Harry's amusement and explanation. "And if I'm not breathing?"

Harry smirked a little. "Then I'd stop looking for new schemes after I'd uncovered four."

Draco smirked back. "You seem to understand my House, after all this time." He paused. "But you're underestimating us. By a lot."

Harry shrugged. "I'm a Gryff. I don't have the attention span to unravel the snake's nest. But that's what I'm offering, in a way – you can spend all your attention on the rest of the school. As long as you don't attack me, you don't have to watch out for anything coming from my direction."

Draco studied Harry for a long moment. "Are there any others that you want to include in this? Maybe a house member or two?"

Harry shook his head and smiled. He tapped his tie with his right forefinger. "I'm surprised, Draco. I would have thought that the Slytherins would have picked up on my status and just kept it to themselves. Hogwarts took my house colors off my robes and tie about a month ago. I don't have a house right now."

Draco's eyes widened. "What happens to your House points?"

Harry shrugged. "No idea. Don't care, really. I'm pretty sure that McGonagall has no idea, and there are only two Gryffs that I'm sure know. The rest of them?" Harry snorted. "They can sink or swim on their own."

Draco went very still for a moment, and then shook his head. "Not happening. You are offering the status quo in return for … the status quo. I will not make any meaningless agreements, and this," he gestured between the two of them, "means less than most." Draco shook his right hand, and his wand dropped into his grip. "What are you up to, Potter?" Draco began to back his way to the door.

Harry brought his own right hand up, with his wand ready and pointed in Draco's general direction. Moving towards the door himself, he flanked Draco and said, "A meaningless agreement might lead to a meaningful agreement. You lost that. Pity. Let your father know how you shut down a possible negotiation with the Boy-Who-Lived, okay?" I didn't need the truce. I just needed to deliver the apology for first year. All the rest is on him.

And with that, Harry slipped out the door, leaving Draco to ponder just how badly his home life would deteriorate if Lucius Malfoy ever heard about this.