Disclaimer: Would JK Rowling update a novel on a chapter-by-chapter basis? No she would not. I rest my case.
Suspicion
Professor Snape found Colin's petrified body in the hallway, not far from the Gryffindor common room. There was no message on the wall this time, simply the words 'The Heir of Slytherin' on the wall, and the word 'Mudblood' was written in the same paint on Colin's forehead. The news of his petrification spread like wild fire the next day. Everyone was concerned now that a student had been targeted as well. The looks that Harry received that day were more than casual; Harry was once more a suspect in the eyes of the student body. No one came out and said anything to him though; if he could attack a first year over a photo, who knew what he might do to an accuser. His friends at least were very supportive.
"This is all so silly, Harry. They'll all realize that, you'll see, sooner rather than later."
Ron didn't seem so sure that everything would work out, but still he said, "We're behind you, mate."
Fortunately, most of his year mates didn't seem able to credit Harry as the attacker, nor could the quidditch team. Most of the first years though, we're terrified. There were times that Harry got very tired of this, and wanted to shout 'BOO' at the nearest cowering eleven year old, but also knew that Hermione would probably yell at him.
The professors, for the most part, didn't take Harry as a suspect seriously. Certainly, none of them seemed to think it was him, but they also didn't seem to do anything about Harry being a suspect in the eyes of the student body at large. It left Harry feeling distinctly disgruntled about the lack of support.
As Hermione pointed out to him though, there wasn't much for the teachers to do. No one, other than Malfoy, was actively antagonizing him, and Malfoy made sure not to get caught. None of the other students had so much as accused him to his face on the matter. She also pointed out that the other students were hardly sure themselves that Harry was the culprit. He got all of the attention simply because he was the only suspect available. Ron was quick to agree with the sentiment, and pointed out that if Malfoy had been found at the scene of the first crime too, then no one would think to suspect Harry. Harry wasn't sure he could credit all of that. Certainly Malfoy would make a much better suspect, but he wasn't one, Harry was. And Harry could see the looks of burning suspicion and fear wherever he went. So what if no one had accused him to his face, he could see the accusation in their eyes.
Had he pointed this out to Hermione, she would likely have told him that it was all in his head, so he didn't tell her. He did tell Ron though, but he shared Hermione's likely opinion. One way or another though, the attitude of the student body left Harry feeling grumpier than normal.
On the upside, Defense Against the Dark Arts was finally an interesting class, and after Colin's petrifaction, Professor Druthers seemed more inclined to challenge them. Unfortunately, he was prone to challenging Harry more than anyone else, as though Harry were more capable for being the Boy-Who-Lived. He did find himself studying more though, and he was getting better at answering the professor's often off-topic questions, sometimes even managing to avoid the deer-caught-in-headlights look when asked advanced extra credit questions.
As annoying as the Professor could be about it, it was nice to have his subtle support. Far from seeing Harry as a suspect, the man seemed to want to make sure he knew as much Defense as he could. If he sometimes felt a little foolish being the first to try a new spell, well that was an okay price to pay.
Still, the rest of the school was not so supportive, and so it was that Harry, rather than sit in the common room and study extra Defense while people were staring at him, sought out the seclusion of the second year boy's dormitory, a couple of weeks after Colin's petrifaction.
At least, he had hoped for seclusion, none of his other year mates had come up for bed. However, there were a pair of large eyes peering out from the wardrobe across the room from the door. Harry drew his wand, fumbled it, caught it again, and pointed it firmly at the wardrobe.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"Do not be cursing Dobby!" a short, and rather ugly creature cried as it crashed out of the wardrobe, tripping over what looked to be one of Dean's jumpers. Harry stared, mouth agape, as the purely odd creature cautiously stood, holding his hands up.
"Please, Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is here to help you."
Harry's first thought, that this was the mysterious creature from the Chamber of Secrets, was immediately dashed. This was clearly not the owner of the voice he had heard on Halloween. He lowered his wand, though suspicion remained.
"Dobby," he stated, seeking clarification. Dobby nodded eagerly. "And, er, sorry, but what exactly are you?" he asked.
"Dobby is a house elf, sir," the house elf said.
"And what exactly is a house elf?" asked Harry.
"House elves serve Wizards, Harry Potter, sir."
"Okay. Well, like all wizards, or just certain ones?"
"Dobby has a master, Harry Potter, but Dobby must not be telling Harry Potter his name."
"...Okay," said Harry after a moment. "So, why are you here, Dobby?"
"Dobby is here to warn Harry Potter, terrible things are happening at Hogwarts School."
"I know that already," said Harry. "I was just around the corner when Lockhart was petrified."
"Ah, but Harry Potter must not be around the corner, it is too dangerous."
"What?"
"Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts. Only then will he be safe."
"I can't leave Hogwarts," said Harry, aghast.
"But Harry Potter must, you must not be killed by the creature "
"Wait, Dobby, what do you know about the monster?"
"Dobby cannot be saying! Dobby cannot be betraying his master!"
"Then your master's behind all of this!" said Harry.
"Bad Dobby! Dobby must not be revealing Master's secrets." Dobby then turned right around and ran head first into the wardrobe. Falling down, he got up again and began to run back at it.
"Hey, cut that out!" said Harry in alarm, not wanting to be found over the unconscious body of a house elf. He grabbed the elf by the ratty piece of cloth that was his body's only covering. Picking Dobby up, Harry set him back down on Neville's bed.
"Would you stop doing that?" He asked quietly, but urgently. "Why are you hurting yourself?"
"House elves cannot be betraying their masters," said Dobby. "Dobby must punish himself when Dobby is bad."
Harry looked at the poor creature with pity. "Look, sit down Dobby," he said, taking a seat on Dean's bed.
The only word that could describe the look on Dobby's face was wonderment. The elf sat down promptly and said. "Harry Potter is asking Dobby to sit down across from him, as an equal?"
"Er, yeah. I guess," said Harry.
Dobby was crying now. "Dobby knew that Harry Potter was a great wizard, for he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but never did Dobby suspect that Harry Potter was so noble and kind as to invite such a lowly house elf as Dobby to sit down."
"It's nothing, Dobby," said Harry uncomfortably. "I'm not so great anyway."
But this was the wrong thing to say, as Dobby cried out "And so humble!"
"Um, right. But how often do you have to punish yourself like that?"
"Oh, all of the time, Harry Potter. Especially now that Dobby is trying to keep Harry Potter safe. Dobby had to jump off of the manor roof when he stole the potion for you."
"Wait, potion?"
"And it will all be for nothing if Dobby does not get Harry Potter safe from Hogwarts."
"Dobby, Hogwarts is my home," said Harry exasperatedly. "I'm even a ward of the castle now," he said. "I have nowhere to go, even if I wanted to."
"Harry Potter must find someplace to go, for Harry Potter will surely be killed at Hogwarts."
"I'd become a ward of the ministry," said Harry, "I'd probably wind up with someone like Malfoy."
"Harry Potter must not become a ward of Lucius Malfoy!" Cried Dobby. "If Harry Potter must, he should run away, and not be found by anyones."
"Look, Dobby, you keep saying I'm going to be killed, but no one's been killed yet. And I haven't exactly been targeted either. Like I said, I was right around the corner when there was an attack."
"It is only a matter of time!"
"Yeah, well I'm not abandoning my friends," said Harry. "If that means I'm in danger, then so be it." He had to die anyway, he wouldn't die a coward.
"Harry Potter is too courageous," said Dobby. "You is too important to be losing."
"What makes me so special?" asked Harry in exasperation. "A scar on my head? I'm no different from anyone else here!" Oh how he wished that were true.
"But Harry Potter is special," said Dobby. "Harry Potter saved the house elves from the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The lives of house elves was truly terrible then. Dobby will do anything to get Harry Potter to leave Hogwarts. Dobby will," he thought for a moment, "If Harry Potter leaves Hogwarts, Dobby will give Harry Potter his mail back "
"You have my mail?" asked Harry.
"And if Harry Potter is not leaving," Dobby said as though Harry had not spoken, "Dobby will enchant another Bludger to attack him."
"That was you?" asked Harry.
"Harry Potter must leave!" Dobby said firmly.
"Well Harry Potter won't bloody well leave," said Harry. "If I die, then I die, and it's my business. And you can do your worst with the bludger. Guess what, the first one was fun! I had a blast with that thing. Try two next time."
"Harry Potter must not be saying this!" cried Dobby, wringing his ears.
"Well I am saying it. My life is my own, and no one else's. If someone wants to take it from me, then I'll do something about it. So thank you for your concern, but unless you have some actual information to give me about what's going on, or you want to make another game of quidditch interesting, I suggest you go back to your master and turn in your resignation."
"Dobby cannot be leaving his master until his master is presenting Dobby with clothes."
Harry regarded Dobby sadly, his anger deflated. That would explain what he was quite certain to be a pillow case on Dobby. "Well in that case, you should get back to him before you have to punish yourself. Don't worry about me."
"As long as Harry Potter is putting his friends before himself, Dobby will be doing what must be done." And with a snap of his fingers, Dobby disappeared.
Harry sat down on the bed again in a huff, not having realized that he had stood up in his anger. For all that Dobby had been unable give Harry any details, he had sure given Harry a lot to think about. He needed his friends in on this.
Harry rushed downstairs and made his way across the common room to the secluded spot where he had been sitting with Ron and Hermione.
"Hey," he said when he had their attention, "come up to the dorm real quick."
"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"You'll see," said Harry, beckoning her on as he walked back to the dorm.
When he had taken a seat on his own bed, and Ron and Hermione were on Ron's, Harry told them what had just happened.
"Weird," opined Ron.
"He set the bludger after you?" asked Hermione. "He's trying to save your life? That thing could have killed you!"
"No ones ever been killed by a Hogwarts bludger," Harry said for what felt like the hundredth time. Hermione ignored him. "What was his plan? I don't think there's a physical trauma that Madam Pomfrey can't heal short of death."
"Well I've been wondering about how I think he might have saved my life," said Harry.
"What do you mean, 'saved your life'?" asked Ron. "Wait, we're still talking about the house elf, right?"
"He said he stole a potion for me."
"What potion?" asked Ron.
"He said he stole a potion for me, and all I can think of is me being in stasis when you guys found me. What if it wasn't my magic? He was stalking me all summer, what if he gave me a potion for that?"
They all contemplated that for a moment in silence. Finally Hermione spoke.
"It's possible," she said.
"Well if I hadn't been in stasis, I could have died before Ron found me, so if he did that, then he saved my life."
"Well maybe it was something else like the bludger thing," said Ron, "he was going to try and poison you, but he mucked it up somehow."
Harry shrugged.
"Well right now, I'm more interested in who his master is," said Hermione. "If he isn't behind the attacks, then he's at least involved somehow, and needs to be questioned by the authorities."
"Hey," said Ron, "do you suppose he's Malfoy's?" asked Ron.
"Malfoy's?" asked Hermione dubiously.
"Think about it, we know how he feels about muggle borns, and he is a Slytherin."
"I don't know," said Hermione, "I mean, he is a prat and all, but I just can't see a second year doing this."
"Why not?" asked Harry, "the whole rest of the school seems to think so."
"It is not the whole rest of the school," Hermione scolded.
"But that's just it," said Ron excitedly. "You've been linked to both petrifactions already. You were there when Lockhart got it, when he'd given you a detention, and then you were annoyed with Colin right before he got it. I mean, wouldn't Malfoy just love it if you took all of the blame for this?"
"You think he's trying to frame me?"
"It makes sense!" said Ron. "And all the while he's also getting rid of muggleborns, and anyone else he doesn't like."
"Twice is coincidence," said Hermione. "I'll bet if we looked around we could find fifteen other students that Colin managed to annoy that day, and some of them probably got in trouble with Professor Lockhart too. For all we know one of them did it, or there's just no connection at all, it could be random."
"I don't know," said Ron skeptically, "coincidence?"
Harry was starting to agree. What if the feeling that people were out to get him was more than just a feeling? Could Malfoy be behind it?
"He is a slimy git," he conceded.
"Oh Harry," said Hermione, "don't you see, this is the same sort of speculating that other students have been doing to you."
"Yeah, but I haven't given them a reason to, Malfoy's evil in the first place."
"Well, he's terrible, yes, but I think 'evil' is a little premature."
"I don't," said Ron.
"Well, we don't have any evidence either way," said Harry.
"That's right," said Hermione, "let's not point any fingers until there's more evidence."
"So let's get some," said Ron.
!
Harry and his friends soon discovered that investigating someone, without letting on, was harder than it looked. Ron and Harry had tried asking Neville Longbottom, who was the first person they could think of who came from an affluent pureblood family, if he happened to know the name of the Malfoy house elf. Augusta Longbottom, however, while running in a select few of the same social circles as the Malfoy's, would have refused an invitation to Malfoy Manor had she ever received one, which Neville did not think that she had. He had no idea who their house elf was, and didn't know of any house elf named Dobby.
When Hermione heard of this line of questioning, she put her foot down and told them not to ask anyone else. They didn't want Malfoy to know they were asking about him, and they certainly didn't want Dobby's family to know that Harry had had any interaction with him. Assuming that Dobby was on their side, that would only cause trouble for him, and while Hermione was still mad at the house elf, she didn't want him to be punished or killed for betraying his master.
Fortunately, she had a different plan in mind, though Harry and Ron both thought it was a little crazy. She wanted to get a restricted potions book and make a batch of Polyjuice potion, which would, she said, let them turn into other people temporarily. Her plan was to impersonate Malfoy's friends and use his trust to get information directly from him. She just needed to get the book first. Harry and Ron both thought that the plan was rather cool, if perhaps overly complicated. For Harry, the potion itself was one more fantastical magical experience to look forward to.
The coming of the first snow in mid-November held a magic all its own though, if of an entirely different sort. Students accustomed to staying inside more as the weather turned colder now rushed out once more to have some winter fun. For the first time in a while, Harry felt as though he had a little room to breathe.
Harry was busy stockpiling snowballs when Hermione tracked him down.
"Harry James Potter," she started, just to let him know he was in trouble.
"Yes?" he asked innocently. He'd been separated from his friends during an early melee, but he'd still been having a good time.
"Have you been terrorizing the first years?" she demanded.
"Well, by 'terrorizing' you mean?" he asked leadingly.
"I mean jumping out from nowhere, shouting, and pelting them with snowballs."
"Only the ones that are terrified of me," said Harry. It had been pretty funny.
Hermione gave him a dark look, and he could sense a lecture coming.
"It was Lee Jordan's idea, and Fred and George ironed out some of the details," said Harry. "Desensitization therapy, you see. They'll get over their fear if they see I'm just a guy with snowballs. Also, it was hilarious."
The look she gave him told him that she wasn't buying his explanation, so Harry switched to a different tactic.
"If you think they misled me, we can always avenge those poor first years with a retaliatory strike. I bet you're pretty good at enchanting a whole bunch of snowballs at once."
Apparently, Hermione thought that this was a good plan. Such a good plan, in fact, that she tested it out on Harry first, before they joined forces against the evil fourth years. Somewhere along the way Ron got taken as a human shield by his brothers, and Harry, apologizing, had to explain the concept of collateral damages to him.
!
"I'm worried about Harry," Hermione told Ron as they sat together in the common room. It was one of those evenings where nearly everyone was busy with activities across the castle, and a couple of second years could grab one of the good seats by the fire. Ron was finishing up an assignment last minute before Monday, and Hermione was keeping him company while Harry was at a practice.
"Hermione, you've been worried about Harry nonstop since the end of last year. What else is new?"
Hermione huffed in exasperation. "We'll I'm more worried now."
"Is this about earlier today?" asked Ron.
"Of course it's about today," said Hermione. "It's the absolute end! He could have drowned, or frozen to death."
"Look, said Ron, "I recon it's like he said, he was lost in his thoughts, and didn't notice how close to the edge he was."
"Of course he noticed, he must have passed ten signs: 'Danger! An icy death lies ahead."
"Well you know how he's been lately. Who knows what's going on in his head, but he hardly knows what's going on around him."
"He's just learned to ice skate, said Hermione. "If he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing, he would have fallen flat on his face."
"More like his arse," said Ron. "He must have fallen on that at least five times."
With the turning of the season, and the edges of the lake already beginning to frost over every night, Professor Dumbledore had frozen over a small section of it. That Saturday morning, the students awoke to find an ice skating rink set up. For much of the day, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and a couple of prefects took turns transfiguring shoes into ice skates. Harry was reticent at first, having never before been on ice, but Ron and Hermione had gotten him out and shown him how to move about. In short order, Harry was moving under his own power. Hermione had been sure to point out the dangers of the thin ice.
"Oh be serious, Ron," said Hermione.
"Well what are you trying to say? That he wants to have a terrible accident?"
"You saw the quidditch game," said Hermione.
"Well, yeah, but that's quidditch," said Ron.
"Oh, don't give me that," said Hermione.
"Well it is," said Ron. "I'm not saying it wasn't stupid, but people do stupid things for quidditch. Harry's not the first, and he won't be the last."
"He played chicken with a bludger," said Hermione.
"Yeah," said Ron, "he didn't just run into it, he tried to avoid it. Things just didn't work out quite right."
"So you don't think I should be worried," said Hermione. "You think it's all in my head."
"Yeah," said Ron.
Hermione shot him a dark look.
"I mean no!" said Ron quickly. "I mean, obviously we should be worried about him. He's not been himself. You're just taking it further than you need to."
"Well I still think we should be keeping a better eye on him, at least until all this attention dies down from the Chamber of Secrets."
"I guess," Ron agreed. "I almost wish someone else would be petrified, so people would start looking at other suspects."
"Be careful what you wish for," said Hermione.
"Any luck getting that permission slip?" asked Ron.
"No," said Hermione. "Professor Mcgonagall doesn't think I have a good reason to check it out, and Professor Sprout told me to ask Professor Snape. And I just can't think of a reason to ask Professor Flitwick."
"What about Professor Druthers?" asked Ron. "You could say you were interested in doing a defense project."
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't think he'd be such a good idea."
"Why not?" asked Ron.
"I don't think Harry's noticed," said Hermione, "not really. But the Professor suspects Harry; he'd think I was getting the book for Harry."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" asked Ron.
"It's little things," said Hermione. "The way he looks at Harry, the way he asks questions in class. It's like he's trying to trick Harry into revealing that he knows more about the Dark Arts than he should."
"Really?" asked Ron. "'Cause I never noticed anything like that."
"Good," said Hermione, "because if the rest of the school realized that the Defense Professor suspected him, it would only make things worse."
"Alright, so he's out," said Ron. "Who else can we ask?"
"I don't think there's another Professor I could have a reason to go to," said Hermione.
"Hm," Ron mused, "and if you just started to ask everyone, then word would get around that we really want the book."
"I think we're just going to have to rethink this," said Hermione.
"Well how else can we get Malfoy to confess if we can't turn into his friends?"
"Maybe it's for the best," said Hermione, "I mean, when it comes down to it, Malfoy isn't that much better a suspect than Harry is."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Ron heatedly.
"Nothing about Harry," said Hermione exasperatedly. "Just that any twelve year old would make a bad suspect."
"Not when that twelve year old has a father like Lucius Malfoy," said Ron agitatedly. "We've been over all of this."
"I know, but it's all just starting to sound a little silly now," said Hermione.
"Oh, so now I'm silly, am I?"
"That's not what I said," said Hermione, "but if that's how you want to take it, then I may as well have."
"You just think it's silly, because you can't think of how to get any dirt on him," said Ron.
"I'd like to see you do better," said Hermione.
"We could always jinx him until he talks," said Ron.
Hermione stared at him nonplussed.
Ron cracked a grin. "You know you want to," he said.
"Yes, well, how much I may or may not want to jinx Malfoy, I think we both know that that's not an option."
"Doesn't mean I can't dream about it."
"Well dream up another plan first," said Hermione.
!
Down on the quidditch pitch, Harry was unaware of his best friends' fantasizing, though he likely would have wanted to join in had he known. As it was, he was spinning in a tight corkscrew down towards the Earth. It was a move without much value to a seeker, but it was fun as hell.
A shrill whistle resounded from down below. It was the kind of fingers-in-the-mouth whistle that Harry had yet to master, and when he pulled out of his spin to see who wanted his attention, he affirmed to ask the twins for some pointers on it later.
Whichever twin it was, his presence likely meant that the rest of the team had arrived for practice, and Wood wanted them down in the changing rooms. Harry quickly flew down to the twin, George, he thought.
"So Wood wants to go over tactics for the third time this week?" Harry asked when he dismounted.
"Him, and someone else wants to talk to us," said probably-George.
"Madam Hooch?" Harry asked.
"You'll see."
Harry shrugged and went on to see who else wanted to talk to the team. He had an inkling of who it would be, and if he was right, it wouldn't be about anything good.
He was right, it was Professor McGonagall, and she wasn't smiling.
"Mr. Potter," she said with a withering glance as Harry walked into the unisex area of the changing rooms, where Wood usually gave his lectures, "here we are again."
"Again?" asked Harry, though he knew what this was about.
"When you were told that you needed to take more care with the maneuvers you perform during practice, did it not occur to you that this also applied when you were flying on your own during your free time?"
Harry licked his lips a little nervously. "Well, in retrospect-" he began, but he promptly shut up when Professor McGonogalls' lips thinned.
"Perhaps I should have been more explicit then," she said. Harry didn't reply, and she went on. "But, since all of the fault cannot be laid at my feet, Mr. Potter, I will still be giving you a detention tomorrow night. And now that you have been explicitly told what you may and may not do, and when you may or may not do it, you can rest assured that you will lose all flying privileges should you behave recklessly on a broom again."
Harry grimaced, but nodded to show that he understood. They had had this conversation before, after all, and only a couple of weeks ago. She had spotted him diving very close to the ground in a very unsafe position, nearly falling off his broom, and had come down to the pitch to lecture him and Oliver about quidditch safety. She had specifically said practices though, and though he knew that it was the same thing really, he had taken to flying on his own before practice. He wasn't sure what it was specifically that she had seen him doing, but supposed that that in and of itself spoke to the problem.
"Can you perhaps tell me why it is that you are so insistent on breaking your neck?" his professor asked.
What was there to say? That he wanted to have as much fun as he could before he died prematurely? That flying like a loon made him feel more alive and carefree than anything else he could think of? Or that when the blood was rushing to two different parts of his body at once, he could no longer feel the eyes of the student body on the back of his neck? He didn't know how to say any of those things, and he wasn't suicidal enough to just say that he got a kick out of it, so he simply shrugged.
"Well," said Professor McGonagall, "perhaps you will think of a reason why during your detention tomorrow night. In the meantime, I'm sure you'll be able to keep your nose clean for at least one night."
"He better," piped up Wood, "or he'll have us to deal with." His tune had certainly changed when the Professor had threatened to take away his star seeker, but the rest of the team too were giving him dirty looks as well that said that he better stay in line. As Professor McGonagall stalked out of the changing rooms, Harry couldn't help but wonder if his team would still believe he was innocent if he weren't their seeker anymore.
!
"Are you sure you don't want us to walk down with you?" asked Hermione.
"Of course I'm sure," said Harry. "I don't need body guards."
"No, but you could do with witnesses," she said.
"I thought you said that I wasn't that big of a suspect," said Harry after a moment.
"You're not," said Ron, "but next time something happens, wouldn't you rather have someone there to say you weren't there?"
Harry grumbled, but it made sense. "Alright," he said, "come on then. "But you do know that you can't stay with me during the detention, right?"
"Of course not," said Hermione, though Ron got a contemplative look on his face.
"We could stay there under your invisibility cloak," he said.
"Don't even think of it," said Harry. "Now come on, I've got to get going."
Ron gave a mournful look at the food left on his dinner plate, but as he was insisting on coming, Harry refused to feel bad about tearing him from his dinner.
"What do you think she'll have you doing?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know," said Harry. "She usually does interesting ones, but for me she might just make an exception."
"It would serve you right, flying like a daredevil," she said. "You could do with keeping your feet on the ground."
Harry gave her a dirty look. "Maybe I wouldn't fly like a 'daredevil' if things were a little more interesting around here," he said.
"Mate, if things were any more interesting around here, the aurors would have to invade the castle."
Harry smiled, he couldn't deny that Ron had him on that point.
"Okay, maybe something interesting that doesn't involve people other than Lockhart getting petrified."
Ron chortled while Hermione smacked Harry on the shoulder.
"How can you say that?" she asked. "The poor professor, missing a whole year."
"Well if he'd been a decent professor," said Ron, "then maybe he wouldn't have been petrified in the first place."
Already on thin ice, Harry knew better than to chime in with his agreement, though agree he did. Lockhart had been useless. Though the new guy was annoying at times, he was at least a decent Professor.
They found Justin waiting outside the transfiguration classroom door.
"You have a detention too?" asked Ron.
"Er, yeah," said Justin, giving Harry a nervous glance. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and stared at the wall behind the boy.
"What are you in trouble for?" asked Hermione, apparently trying to make civil conversation.
Justin shrugged. "She caught me trying to turn water into Glen Garioch."
"What's that?" asked Ron.
"That's the good stuff," said Justin.
"Alcohol?" asked Hermione, slightly scandalized.
"Whisky," Justin specified. "My dad let me have a sip once at a party. It tasted like nothing you've ever had."
"Well I should hope so," said Hermione.
"I as well, Mr. Fletchley," said Professor McGonagall, coming from around the corner. "Let us hope that we don't have a repeat of the incident."
"No ma'am," said Justin.
"Good," said Professor McGonagall. She glanced at Ron and Hermione. "I do hope that the two of you are not planning to keep Mr. Potter company."
"No, Professor," said Hermione. "We were just leaving."
Harry and Justin followed the Professor into the classroom. Harry took the seat nearest to the door, but Justin walked past him to the other side of the classroom.
"Well," said Professor McGonagall. "You both know why you are here, so I won't be giving any more lectures. I want you to spend your time transfiguring these wooden blocks into whatever variety of simple objects you feel like, please do not make any of them the same."
Justin and Harry boggled.
"That's at least a hundred each," said Justin.
"We learned how to do that last year," said Harry.
"Only the menial labor is for your edification," said Professor McGonagall, "I need the transfigured objects for my fourth years. And to be specific, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, it is one-hundred and twenty-five each. I will be in my office, let me know when you are finished, and I will let you return to your dormitories."
Harry sighed. She definitely wasn't going to let him do anything interesting. He was also pretty sure she didn't need them to all be different, that was probably just for the detention too. He got up from his seat and took one of the boxes of blocks from the Professor's desk. Returning, he took a seat in the middle of the classroom. He told himself that it was because it was the closest seat to him, but were he being honest with himself, he would admit to wanting to bother Justin. The glare he got from the boy as he made his way back to his desk told him that it had worked.
The box was actually two boxes nested, and Harry separated them, putting them on either side of himself so he would have something to put the finished blocks into. He pondered on the first block, before settling on simply turning it to iron. He dropped the now heavy block into the empty box and pulled out another block. A couple of tries later, and a rubber ball bounced down into the emptier box. A plastic globe followed it, with rough outlines of the continents.
The two of them ignored each other as they worked. The only speaking was the various incantations the boys used on their blocks. Somewhere around block eighty though, Harry started running out of ideas. Around block ninety, he sighed and grudgingly turned to Justin.
"You got any ideas for these?" he asked.
Justin stilled in his seat in the back corner of the classroom, (the better to see him, Harry thought). Justin didn't say anything though, and went back to transfiguring his blocks. Harry scowled and rolled his eyes as he turned back to his work. With a sudden bit of inspiration, Harry turned his block into a clay eye. A tad morbid, but Harry had ample excuse. Turning ten of his blocks into various body parts was a little creepy, but Harry didn't care.
Somewhere around block one-hundred and ten, judging by the blocks left in the first box, Justin finally spoke up.
"So is it all muggleborns you don't like, or just most of us? It's just that you're friends with Granger."
Harry stiffened, but as Justin had ignored him earlier, he went back to his work. Perhaps Freud could have made something of the stone knife he transfigured next, but Harry just threw it into the box. A pin cushion and a glass globe later, he turned around angrily.
"That's rubbish, you know?" he demanded. "There's no evidence against me. The teachers don't think I did it. Professor Dumbledore said I couldn't. But you just go ahead and treat me like I'm guilty anyway."
"Well let's look at the facts then," said Justin. "Lockhart gives you a detention, and then you're found standing over his body. Creevey ticks you off, and he's petrified not twelve hours later."
"How petty do you think I am?" asked Harry.
"I'd think it was just pettiness too," said Justin, "but then you go signing yourself as the Heir of Slytherin, and writing 'mudblood', and that changes things. Everyone knew that Creevey was a muggleborn, and apparently Malfoy was spreading a rumor that Lockhart was a muggleborn. So you tell me, should I be worried that I let slip that I'd been planning on going to a muggle school before I got my letter?"
"Who the hell listens to Malfoy? First of all, Collin's still a muggleborn, because he's not dead, you twit, and I don't know anything about Lockhart being muggleborn, because who the hell listens to Malfoy?"
"Says you," said Justin. "Like you don't argue with him five times a week anyway.
"Yeah, says me," said Harry.
"Then there's the thing with your muggle relatives," said Justin.
"Shut up," said Harry, his stomach felt as though the iron block had settled into it.
"Did they hurt you? Is that why you're a ward of the castle now? Is that why you hate muggleborns?"
"I said shut up!" Harry roared, standing up. "You don't know what you're talking about, so SHUT! UP!"
"But it makes sense, doesn't it?" said Justin. "Last year you were the Gryffindor golden boy, and now you're not with your relatives anymore, and all of this is happening."
"I said-"
"Just admit that you hate them," Justin interrupted angrily. "Is that so hard? You wrote it on Colin's forehead for everyone to see. Just admit it!"
"I don't hate muggles because my uncle put me in a coma," Harry shouted, "I hate my uncle! And I don't blame muggles because my aunt let him stuff me in my cupboard to die, I blame her! And if you're so sure that I'm attacking every muggleborn who crosses me, then why are you-"
"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall's scandalized voice rang out from behind him. Harry stilled in shock, and found that he was having a hard time taking control of his breathing. Across from him, Justin was white in the face, and seemed equally lost for words. Harry scrubbed at his face before turning back around to his desk. When had he moved so far from it? He couldn't remember. He tried to take his seat again, but Professor McGonagall held up her hand to forestal him.
"That isn't necessary, Mr. Potter. You may consider yourself finished. Go on to the Common Room."
Harry nodded woodenly, and picked up his wand and his bag.
"Not you, Mr. Finch-Fletchley," he heard Professor McGonagall say as he moved to the door.
Once outside, Harry broke out into a run. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. An incalculable amount of time later, Harry found himself outside, under the cold December sky. He was back atop the astronomy tower. His breath puffed away from him in turbulent clouds. Angry and frustrated, Harry kicked the crenulations in front of him. In pain now, Harry hopped about a couple of times, screamed at the sky, and slumped down against the wall, his hands finding fistfuls of hair to hold on to.
Harry closed his eyes as he tried to bring his breathing under control. None of this was fair. Why did everything have to be so hard?
Harry didn't know how long he stayed up on the tower, but the cold seemed to be seeping into his very bones by the time he thought to get up and go back to the common room. The cold had done nothing to cool his temper at Justin though, and it seemed his mood was immediately evident to his friends when he came in through the portrait-hole.
"What happened mate?" asked Ron, as he and Hermione came to greet him.
Harry stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He finally settled on. "Justin's a bastard, that's what happened." With that, he stormed through the common room, and up to his dorm.
Harry threw himself onto his bed and laid there for a few minutes before remembering that he was still wearing all his clothes. He wrestled with them for a while, before throwing them through his curtains. He turned over, no longer caring about the cold, and stared at the ceiling for most of the night.
!
Harry's anger had evaporated by morning, and it left him feeling empty. He didn't want to get up for breakfast, but Ron kept poking at him until he got out of bed. He went through his morning routine mechanically, all the time reliving his outbursts from the night before. Why had he said those things? Had Justin told anyone? Of course he had, he would only see it as further evidence against Harry. Walking down the stairs, Harry felt as though he were walking to his own execution. How long would it take for word to spread to the entire school?
Harry was the last second year to get down to the common room, where Hermione and Ron were waiting for him. They both smiled supportively at him, and Harry could tell that they had been talking about him. He ignored it. He said his good mornings and they left for breakfast.
The whole way down, Harry was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Malfoy would be the first to say something to his face, he was sure, it was only a matter of time. It happened sooner than he would have thought, but it wasn't Malfoy.
"Mr. Potter, I need to speak with you before breakfast."
Harry looked between Ron and Hermione, and the back at Professor McGonagall's unfathomable visage.
"Alright," he said. "See you at breakfast," he told his friends.
The professor bade him to follow her, and he trailed behind her, wondering just what form this conversation would take. Was she going to scold him? Or was she perhaps going to pour tea down his throat and tell him that everything would be alright? She had seemed rather sympathetic the night before; she had even let him leave early.
They wound up in her office, and Harry found himself seated across from her as she studied him silently. Finally she spoke.
"Have some tea," she said as she summoned a cup of the liquid and proffered it to him.
Harry sighed and accepted the cup. It was strange, for some unfathomable reason, a part of him had been hoping for the other scenario. Professor McGonagall kept staring at him, and Harry took a sip of tea to break the stalemate.
"Harry," she finally, said, and Harry was instantly put on alert by the use of his first name, "I had been planning to speak to you this morning about what happened with you and Justin last night. I know that these recent weeks have been difficult for you. But now I need to know if you went straight to the common room last night."
What little color that remained drained from Harry's face. In a rather small voice, he finally said, "Justin never got back to Hufflepuff last night, did he?"
"No," said Professor McGonagall, "he did not."
"Is he okay?" asked Harry.
"He has been petrified," said Professor McGonagall, "and he will recover with the others."
"I went to the astronomy tower, before I went back."
"What were you doing up there?" she asked.
Harry shrugged, not quite knowing himself. "It was cold," he said, as though it made sense.
Professor McGonagall sighed. "Did anyone see you up there?"
Harry shook his head. He had no idea when he had gotten back either, but Ron and Hermione would probably be able to tell. He felt like laughing, but that couldn't be right. There was nothing funny. He took a deep breath, and said in a rush. "Everyone in Gryffindor knows we had a row."
"I see," said Professor McGonagall after a moment.
"Now, everyone will know, and they'll say that I did it because I was angry at him, and he's a muggleborn."
"Most likely, yes," said Professor McGonagall.
"Why is this happening?" asked Harry. "Why are they being petrified, why is it always me? I just want to be left alone. Why can't I just get to deal with one thing at a time?"
"It's not fair," said Professor McGonagall for him.
"That's right," said Harry, "it's not. Why do I have to be the foster kid, and the suspect, and... and..." he trailed off and let his breath huff out through his nose, not knowing how to finish the sentence without saying more than he wanted to. Being a horcrux, wouldn't it be fair for him to get a little peace?
"It may not seem like it now, Harry, but things will work out in the end. It is difficult now, and it may not seem like it will get better, but it will. Whoever is doing this will slip up eventually, and everyone who suspected you will feel very foolish. In the meantime, you just have to keep your head up, and go to class."
"I guess I can do that," said Harry eventually.
"Good," she said. "Now finish your tea, and I'll walk you to breakfast."
Harry wasn't sure it was a good idea to be seen being escorted by a professor, but she insisted. When they got to the Great Hall, she stopped him before they could part ways. She put a hand on his head, trying to smooth down the hair that Harry hadn't even tried to tame earlier, before putting her hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Potter," she said. "I'll see you in class later."
Harry watched her make her way up to the head table, and wondered that perhaps she did know what she was on about.
A/N: So it's been a while since my last update. Sorry about that, things have been topsy-turvy for a while. In a good way though, so that's fine. I've been to Alaska and Vegas, both fun places in their own ways. Also, I jumped out of an airplane, an activity I highly recommend.
As always, please feed the beast! Read and review.
