Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

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Chapter 9:

Ten days after Dolores Umbridge laid down the new rules, Harry was silent, did no schoolwork, but hadn't been in any trouble. Snape was very anxious. Harry Potter had a temper, and it was being tested too far. He was expecting an explosion, but didn't know what to do about it, except to plead with him to be patient. He didn't know what the boy was thinking. He'd become very good at concealing his thoughts.

Roddy Liddicombe put his idea to John Pettit, "Get rid of him once and for all. If he's seen to be violent, they'll probably shift him to St. Mungo's, and we'll never see him again."

Roddy was younger brother to Peter Liddicombe, who'd been expelled as a Death Eater. His best friend was Blake Brooks, who'd been expecting to take the Mark in the next intake of new Death Eaters. They were in sixth year.

Pettit said doubtfully, "There are two Aurors. We can't take down two Aurors."

"Of course we can. We hit them in the back." Even Death Eaters were much inclined to go for the traditional face-to-face duel, Aurors even more so. It was the reason there was a high death toll among them.

"I tried to hit Harry in the back. I'm not sure how I missed."

"We'll need something to distract them, someone to call them to where we want them."

"Is it worth it? If we get caught attacking Aurors..."

"We won't get caught, and no matter what Harry says, they probably won't believe him."

"Obliviate? Can you do it?" The spell to change memory was supposed to be very strictly controlled, but a lot of young men learned it from older men, along with the anti-conception spell. It was for when they raped Muggles.

Pettit said, "Wizards are supposed to be a lot harder to successfully obliviate than Muggles."

Liddicombe shrugged, then laughed, "So if we mess up his mind, are we worried?"

There was more detailed planning, and a few more were roped in as lookouts and decoys, but no others were willing to actively participate. Draco Malfoy was a surprise. Not only did he refuse to participate, he stopped almost all the Slytherins. Liddicombe was Hufflepuff, Pettit was Gryffindor, Brooks was Slytherin. It was Inter-House cooperation, exactly as Dumbledore used to preach now and then. Quite a few people were aware that an attack on Harry and his bodyguards was imminent, but no-one told anyone in authority. Blake Brooks was a young man to be very careful of, and had assumed leadership.

Tuesday, and Harry was on his way to the Transfiguration class. The corridor was oddly quiet, but the Aurors didn't seem to notice. A girl's scream echoed from a classroom, and they stopped dead. Harry started to back away. That scream was not genuine, and where was everybody? Dawlish grabbed his upper arm, hard enough to bruise. "Oh, no you don't, Potter. We investigate, and you come too."

Harry gave him a look of acute dislike, but didn't object. Two fully qualified Aurors should have no trouble handling anything that school students could dish out.

The Aurors walked fast into a classroom from where the scream had seemed to come. There was another scream now, and a sound that could have been a scuffle. A girl's voice again, "No! Please...."

Dawlish snapped, "The office at the back," and started to hurry toward it.

Harry whipped around at a sound behind him, managed to wrench his arm free, and ducked and rolled, avoiding a spell. Dawlish cursed, and lunged for him, inadvertently avoiding the stunner aimed at his back. Still he was slow to realise, and was hit by a second stunner. Landen was already down, and neither had seen the ones who stunned them.

Harry tackled Liddicombe, and managed to bring him down and take his wand, then threw himself to the floor again as a spell hurtled towards him, the incantation for a Semi-Paralysis, rather than a Stunner or something to seriously hurt. There was no time to consider motives. Harry leapt for the door, dodging another spell. John Pettit blocked him, his wand aimed directly at him. Harry kicked his hand, sending the wand flying, grabbing it out of the air, as neatly as if it had been a disarming spell. He raised it as if to stab, and went for Pettit. Pettit hesitated for a fatal instant, was struck hard on the jaw, and fell, dazed. Blake Brooks aimed carefully from a distance, and as Harry ran out the door, he was brought down by a Semi-Paralysis.

They were wary of him. None went near, but Brooks carefully levitated him back into the room. Harry pulled himself up, and leaned against the wall, sitting. He felt better sitting. Liddicombe and Brooks both had their wands on him, unwavering, but stayed at a respectful distance. Pettit slowly got up, snarling. Looking straight at him, defiant, angry, Harry snapped his wand. Pettit yelled and took a quick step forward. Brooks said, quickly, "He'll suffer, don't worry."

There was not a thing that Harry could do, paralysed below the waist. The pain was beginning, that he hadn't felt for a while, the tearing, cutting pain inside him. He kept it to himself. He assumed he was to be killed, or at least badly hurt. His face showed nothing.

The Aurors lay where they were felled. Harry felt a brief satisfaction when Liddicombe went across, and kicked into Landen's side. Brooks smiled, "You're going to get the blame, you see, Potter. We'll leave them badly bruised, they'll blame you, and you'll be shipped off to a closed ward at St. Mungo's. Probably never see the sun again." He glanced at the others, "You do the Aurors, including faces, and I'll keep Potter covered."

Harry clenched his fists as Dawlish took a nasty kick on the head. The pain was increasing. He had to fight, but was helpless.

Brooks warned, "Be careful, Roddy. We can't risk them being badly injured."

Liddicombe continued to kick, but less severely, and avoiding his victim's head. Harry was relieved. He despised the Aurors, but seeing them hurt.... Dawlish groaned slightly. Brooks snapped, "Stun him again, then the other." A normal stun lasted usually about a half hour unless lifted. There were variations that lasted longer, but were more difficult to do.

The Aurors were re-stunned. There was blood now from Dawlish, whose nose appeared to be broken. Harry was very tense, ready to take the slightest opportunity. He was Harry Potter. He was a fighter.

Pansy Parkinson put her head around the door, "Hurry up. It's change of classtime in five minutes."

Brooks looked into Harry's eyes, grinned, and started to utter the single word, "Obliviate!"

Harry threw himself to the side, surprised to find he could suddenly move his legs. Maybe the spell had worn off. He had no wand, could not work magic. He ran. Pettit aimed at his back, but Brooks said, "Leave him. There's nowhere for him to go." He glanced around, ensuring that no evidence was left to connect them with the Aurors, and said to Pettit, "Treat the bruise on your jaw, quick as you can. No-one should see you bruised."

"He took my wand!"

"Replace it as soon as possible, preferably without telling anyone."

"It was my wand!"

"Surely your family keeps a few spares on hand, just in case."

Pettit sighed, "I'll ask my father."

"Discreetly." He looked around, "Not a word, from anyone!"

Harry still ran, wanting to escape the castle before they knew he was gone. There was no point protesting his innocence. There never had been any point, from the time he'd been very small. Quite often, even trying just got you hurt more. A few students saw him, and Filch, who started to yell something about no running in the corridors before seeing who he was, and ducking away out of sight instead. In each hand, Harry held a half of the broken wand. He'd use them as weapons if he had to. No-one was stopping him now.

Without pausing for breath, he fled deeper and deeper into the Forbidden Forest, avoiding the place he'd been found before. The pain was increasing, and he started staggering under the weight of it, finally curling himself into a ball between thick high roots of a parasitic Fig Tree. He could see it, the pain inside him, a jagged ring holding him helpless. A series of rings, holding him, like claws or sharp teeth. He felt a fury at the unfairness of it all, at the Aurors, at Dumbledore and the Ministry, and most of all at the searing pain of the magic of the Binding Bracelets. He screamed at it in his fury. It broke, shattered. But then the pain totally overwhelmed him, and he started to thresh, still screaming, and then fell into a full fledged epileptic fit.

***chapter end***