A/N: Sorry for the long wait!
Disclaimer: You all know that I don't own this, right? Props to JK.
Guilty
Ron's birthday party couldn't come soon enough. Harry had a sense that a good birthday party could set everything to rights. Well, maybe not everything, but it could perhaps get him out of his slump.
March first dawned without a cloud in the sky. Spring was showing the first signs of stirring, and that made it an excellent day to have a birthday party outside. It was Ron's thirteenth, and Harry's present for his friend had arrived a week ago. The package had arrived at breakfast, so Harry knew that Ron knew that there was a present, but Harry had managed to keep the contents a secret.
It was a small gathering out on the grass near Hagrid's hut. Everyone from their year in Gryffindor was there, as were Ron's siblings. The twins brought food, smuggled out of the kitchens. Percy had shot them a look, but turned a blind eye in honor of the occasion.
Ron's birthday, precisely one month before the twins', was on a Sunday this year, which made it almost ideal for for a party. It would have been better had Ron already finished his homework, but even Hermione only glared at him once for this trespass.
The party was a huge success, small though it was. Everyone was ready to let loose for a while and laugh. After they had eaten the pastries that the twins had brought, it was time for presents. By chance, Ron picked up Percy's gift first. When he saw the tag, Ron gave his brother a look that, to Harry, looked as though he didn't expect anything good.
Unwrapped, the gift revealed itself to be a copy of 'Twelve Effective Study Habits,' by Sally Sanders.
"Ooh, that's a good book,"commented Hermione. "I almost got it for you myself."
Ron gave her a sideways glance before giving a strained smile to his brother. "Gee, thanks. This'll come in handy."
"No it won't," said Fred. "But this will." He handed Ron a small box.
"This isn't booby-trapped is it?" asked Ron warily.
"Why we would never!" said Fred in outrage. "What do you think of your poor brothers?"
"Oh go on," said Harry, "it'll be good for a laugh either way."
"Good for a laugh for you," said Ron, but he started tearing away at the newspaper that wrapped the present.
"Oh, sugar quills," said Ron, "these will come in handy."
"Mind you, we would have jinxed it," said George, "but Percy'd tell Mom, and we'd never hear the end of it."
Ron nodded in agreement.
Like the twins, Seamus and Dean had pooled their resources to buy Ron a box of chocolate frogs. Ginny gave him a couple of psychedelically colored quills. Next up was Harry's present.
Ron shook the box a little. "Well, it's big, and it's not a book," he said optimistically. He shredded the wrapping paper in moments and opened the box.
"Oh cool," he said, pulling out a blue shirt.
To Harry's delight, Ginny had provided a catalogue for a company that could put any quidditch team's logo onto whatever clothes you wanted. That meant that he could get his friend some Chudley Cannons clothes that weren't vibrant orange. He was quite certain that the gift would be appreciated, as Ron, like Harry, had grown up always wearing hand-me-downs, not having clothes bought just for him. In the box, there were two outfits extolling the virtues of the Chudley Cannons.
"These are awesome," said Ron. "Thanks, Harry."
"Yeah mate," said Harry, grinning back at his friend.
Hermione was last, and she had given him a new chess set.
After the presents, the festivities petered off, and a number of their year mates wandered off, as did Percy, who had prefect duties. They lay on the blanketed grass nibbling on left over treats talking and laughing.
When they got to discussing past memorable birthday celebrations, Harry had thought that he would have nothing to add to the conversation, having never had one, but he somehow wound up talking about the time with the Dursleys at the zoo. Of course, his eleventh birthday had been quite eventful, but Harry didn't think it quite fit the topic.
"So there I was commiserating with this boa that looked like it would rather be in Brazil, when Dudley crashes into me so he can get a look at the snake, who was moving around then. There I am fuming at him, when suddenly the glass he's pressing against like an idiot vanishes and he falls into the enclosure."
Everyone laughed, knowing that it was Harry's accidental magic that had vanished the glass, and that his cousin was still alive, so nothing too terrible could have happened as a result.
"You should have heard him screaming, like the thing was going to eat him, even though it never touched him, just slithered away making a bid for freedom. Then he was wailing about being bit by a poisonous snake, even though constrictors don't have fangs.
"Mind you, I got in trouble for it, even though my uncle wouldn't acknowledge magic. It was still worth it though."
Here the laughter got a little nervous, as Harry realized that he had tread close to subjects that he was not of the habit of discussing, namely the reality of his treatment at the hands of his relatives.
"Anyhow, that was the last time I did magic before I found out I was a wizard."
"The last time?" asked Seamus. "How many other times were there?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Harry. "There was the time I grew my hair back after a terrible haircut. The time I shrank an awful jumper my aunt wanted me to wear. There were a couple of times locked doors opened for me. I think the time Dudley's shoes tied themselves together when he was chasing me was magic. There was the time I turned my teacher's hair blue. The one that had to have been magic was when I teleported onto the roof of the school cafeteria."
"Eight times!" Exclaimed Neville.
"You apparated?" asked Seamus.
"I think it was eight times," said Harry, "and what's apparating?"
"It's where you disappear from somewhere and reappear somewhere else in an instant," said Hermione. "That's an awful lot of accidental magic, you know."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't even know that it was magic at the time," he said. "I remember I tried to explain to my uncle that a gust of wind must have caught me, when my headmistress sent a letter home about the cafeteria incident."
"I only ever did accidental magic that one time," said Neville.
Everyone still there seemed to agree that eight was a lot for accidental magic, and that apparition was most impressive. Out of the rest of them, Ron had had the most instances of accidental magic, of which there were four. Neville, who had heard all about other children's accidental magic growing up, as he was being coaxed into showing some of his own, was certain that he had never heard of anyone apparating on accident before.
Harry, who was feeling a little self-conscious at this point, and wishing he hadn't shared so much said, "Ah well, the Dursley's were so boring, my magic just had to make things interesting."
Ron gave him a look, and Harry found himself being able to interpret it quite easily. The Dursley's hadn't been boring, they had been plain horrible; if anything, that was why Harry's magic had been needed so much when he was younger. But no one said this aloud, and Dean took up a story about his first bout with magic. It was another hour until they made their way back to the common room, where Hermione cajoled Ron into finishing his homework.
That night, Harry saw Ron neatly putting away his new clothes before going to bed. Ron caught his gaze and smiled.
"Thanks again for these, mate," he said.
"Yeah," said Harry. "They seemed just right when Ginny showed me the catalogue."
"Alright," said Ron. "Well, I'm knackered. Night, Harry."
"Night, Ron," said Harry.
!
A month went by without major incident. Harry was still glared at and harassed in the hallways, but still, no one challenged him to his face. Another month passed, and people began to relax again. Hermione was still set on solving the mystery though, and Harry spent more time than he would have liked in the library with her and Ron looking for hints about the monster.
It was the day of the match against Hufflepuff, and Harry had heard the voice again that morning while out walking with Ron and Hermione; nothing had happened though. Still, it was was more motivation to try to figure out the mystery, and they once more found themselves spending a Saturday in the library, after the quidditch match (victory to Gryffindor). As the hours wore on, Harry's motivation dwindled.
"You know," said Harry, feeling incredibly bored and twirling his wand in his fingers, "I wonder if Old Flat-Nose ever tried to find the Chamber of Secrets, I bet it would have been right up his alley."
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Hermione, her nose still inches from the book in front of her. "He might even be the one to have opened it last time. We don't know when he went to Hogwarts."
Ron was staring at Harry with a half-amused/half-horrified expression on his face.
"What?" asked Harry, feeling a tad daring in his restlessness. "Would you prefer Big Ugly? Moldyshorts? Garlic Face? Voldy-kins?" Ron put his face in his hands and shook his head.
"I told you," said Harry. "I don't have any insulting powers, heck, I bet you'd be better at it than me. Go on, give him a nickname."
"Oh, but that's it!" cried Hermione, standing up in her seat. For once, she didn't seem to care that she was in the library.
"What's what?" asked Harry.
"Special insulting powers," said Hermione.
"Huh?" asked Ron.
"Harry, what if you could insult people, in a language no one else knows?"
"I don't get it," said Harry.
"I'll be right back," said Hermione, "I need another book. But oh, if I'm right..."
She dashed off, bumping into Patrick Bailey, a chaser Harry had just faced on the quidditch pitch. Though it was Hermione who had knocked into him, it was Harry who he glared at, before stalking off. Harry ignored him.
"Hermione," Harry called after her, Madam Pince had begun stalking over to their corner of the library because of the commotion, "I only speak English." She didn't respond, and kept on her way. "I only speak English," Harry repeated to Ron. Ron shrugged in bemusement.
Madam Pince reached their table. "What is the meaning of all this racket?" she asked sharply.
"Sorry," said Harry, "been sitting down too long, it's not good for us."
She glared at them, and threatened to expel them from the library if there was further disturbance. Harry rolled his eyes as she advanced on another corner of the library, looking for trouble. He and Ron went back to their books, knowing that there was no use trying to get answers from Hermione until she was ready to give them.
A great crash came from behind him, across the library, in the direction Hermione had gone.
"Hermione!" cried Ron.
Harry was up and out of his chair in a moment, and Ron was already past him, running towards the commotion, where things were still falling. Three book cases were down, and books had gone flying everywhere. Harry ran over.
"Go fetch Madam Pomfrey!" Madam Pince directed a student.
"Where is she?" Harry shouted. There was a lot of shouting. He and Ron stood at the edge of the scene of destruction, and cast about trying to find her. His seeker eyes saw her first.
"There!" he shouted, pointing at what looked like a bit of bare forearm that was visible through two of the bookshelves on the topmost case.
The bookcase levitated suddenly; Madam Pince cast it off to the side, and Harry and Ron rushed to their friend.
"Be careful!" Madam Pince cried. "There may be other students under there."
Ron started clearing books away from her, while Harry tried to get a look at her face. She was lying on her stomach, and not moving; Harry wanted to see if she might be conscious, but her eyes were closed.
"Help me turn her over," said Ron, and Harry helped cradle her head as Ron rolled her. Harry settled her head on his lap, searching for signs of life. She was breathing, thank Merlin. He was aware of shouting, but he focused on Hermione. How had this happened?
A hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, jerking it back. Bailey stood behind him.
"Get away from 'er, ya' header!"
"Get the hell off me!" Harry shouted.
Ron took a swing at Bailey, but the older boy sailed away at the last second, Madam Pince once more flicking her wand. Bailey landed nimbly a few feet away.
"You, boy," she said to Bailey, "go wait outside. I've had enough of this nonsense. Potter, step back so I can clear her away. Begin clearing away books, see if anyone else has been trapped."
With another flick of her wand, Hermione rose a few inches into the air before hovering over to the nearest patch of bare stone floor. Reluctantly, Harry and Ron began carefully picking through the debris with a couple of other students, but no one else was found.
It wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey bustled in looking flustered.
"What's happened in here?" she demanded.
"Some manner of accident or prank," said Madam Pince. "Miss Granger was struck by a falling book case."
Madam Pomfrey began examining Hermione. "I should hardly think it's a prank," she said. "Not with a petrified student just outside."
"What?!" asked Madam Pince, and the sentiment was echoed through the library by the students.
"Mr. Bailey," said Madam Pomfrey. "Professor McGonagall is with him now."
"But I just sent him out there," said Madam Pince, aghast. "He had been trying to pick a fight with Potter after the bookcases fell."
All eyes were upon him now, and Harry knew what they were thinking; he could see it in their eyes. Not that he had been vindicated, at last with an alibi, but that he had somehow orchestrated the attack while not being there in person. He wanted to shout at them all. Did they think he had hurt Hermione too? That was probably what Bailey had been shouting about in the first place, after all. How could they think he would hurt one of his friends?
"Is she going to be okay?" asked Harry.
"Well I should think so," said Madam Pomfrey, "I'll need to get her up to the hospital wing." And with that, she levitated Hermione and made her way out of the library.
Professor Dumbledore was the next one in. He examined the scene of the crime before waving his wand and guiding everything back to where it was supposed to be.
He interviewed everyone about what had happened, but no one had seen or heard anything, except for that Hermione had exclaimed that she had figured something out, and that Bailey had been saying something about Harry having his wand out when the bookshelves had fallen over. Harry remembered that he had been fiddling with it while he was studying. Ron defended him though, pointing out that Harry was hardly likely to be able to cast silently behind his back. Professor Dumbledore waved this away; he still did not consider Harry to be a suspect.
As he spoke to the other students, he sent them to their dorms when they finished, until it was just Ron and Harry left with him.
"Now, boys," he addressed them together. "Do the two of you know anything of what Miss Granger believed that she had discovered?"
They both shook their heads.
"I don't know, sir," said Ron. "She wasn't making any sense."
"I was calling Voldemort names," said Harry, "she said something about me being able to insult people in other languages, like that explained something. But I don't speak any other languages."
"Another language," Professor Dumbledore mused.
"Yes, sir. That's what she said."
"I see," said Professor Dumbledore. "Well, hopefully she will be able to put that into a better context when she awakens."
!
Hermione was the first victim from Gryffindor, and though she had never been very popular in their house, the hostility that Harry had been faced with from the rest of the school had now taken firmer root in the lion's common room. He heard the whispers, saw the looks as soon as he got back from the library. If Harry could do that to his friend, what would he do to someone else? If Harry could orchestrate an attack while under the watchful gaze of the school librarian and all of the students in the library, then who was safe? Harry went to do his homework on his bed, his curtains drawn, telling Ron that he didn't want any company.
He didn't manage to do any homework though, and he only just managed to stare at a blank roll of parchment for near a half an hour. Eventually, he tossed his quill across the bed and put on his shoes. Down in the common room, the mood was still grim, and Harry got a few looks. However, he managed to get out without drawing Ron's attention. No one else tried to bother him, and Harry got through the portrait hole without trouble.
It had been a while since he had had a proper wander, everyone being so concerned that he have an alibi. Now he was a suspect even when he had one! Well, there was no sense in chaining himself down when it didn't do him any good. He'd let his feet carry him where they would.
What had Hermione figured out? Harry would know if he could speak another language, wouldn't he? Maybe Hermione was thinking of the voice that Harry had heard before some of the attacks. But whatever she had figured out, Harry hadn't a clue.
So lost in his thoughts was Harry, that he never noticed the person who had come up from behind him until an arm wrapped around his neck, making it hard to breath, much less shout. He tried to scramble out of the hold, but he was pinned tight. Whoever had grabbed him used his other hand to bring the front of Harry's jumper up over his head. Seriously panicking now, Harry tried to kick back at his assailants legs, but they were too far back for him to get purchase.
Was this how it ended for him? Harry had thought the Heir of Slytherin had been more interested with framing him than killing him; he had never truly considered that he himself was unsafe walking the corridors. His vision dimming, Harry desperately began clawing awkwardly at the arm around his throat, his arms at funny angles due to his jumper. If Harry had to die, it would be on his own terms!
Though his clawing had seemed to be ineffective, the arm around his throat loosened, as his attacker's free hand clamped down on his mouth. Sensing an opportunity, Harry redoubled his struggle for escape, when suddenly all of the air in his lungs was expelled in a sickening lurch. Someone had punched him in the gut.
Harry sagged for a moment, focussing now on the silhouettes he could see through his jumper. In that moment, the person behind him and someone else wrestled him to the ground, the hand remaining clamped to his mouth, keeping him from shouting, or making any other sound. A foot came down hard on his chest, pinning him, and making it hard to breath again.
Something was wrong with this, the Heir of Slytherin couldn't have this many allies, could he? Whether he could or not, they all started kicking Harry.
In all the years of Harry hunting, Harry had never withstood such a brutal attack. Try as he might to get away, or just curl up into a protective ball, he couldn't, pinned down by his chest and head, as he was.
His arms were still positioned awkwardly due to his jumper, but he tried to bring them down to protect his sides. When he did though, one of the attackers kicked his left arm twice in just the wrong way. Harry heard a wet pop as his arm dislocated. It was just more pain on top of everything else though, and still, he could't scream.
How long it went on for, Harry could not say. It seemed to go on forever, but he knew from experienced that they always seemed to. It went on long enough for them to be thorough though, leaving only his head unscathed.
At some unspoken signal, the attack stopped. Breathing heavily through his nose as best as he could, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that it was finally over. The foot on his chest remained though, as did the hand covering his mouth.
Harry stayed very still as a new hand clasped the top of his jumper and pulled it down. Not enough for him to see, but his forehead was bared. Something sharp came down almost gently on his forehead, and Harry bucked, thinking it was a knife. More hands, there seemed to be an unending supply of them, held his head still. The point on his forehead began to move, and though it was rough on his skin, Harry realized that it was not a knife, but a quill. Harry squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, and tears escaped as he realized that they were writing something on his face.
It felt as though someone were trying to write a novel on his forehead, but finally this ended as well, and the people, students, Harry had realized, started shuffling back from around him. A sudden burst of angry defiance shot through him though, as the hand over his mouth started to move away, and with his one good arm, he grabbed that hand before it could get far, and he shoved it into his mouth, jumper and all. He clamped down hard, and finally someone yelled. Harry could feel bones between his teeth, and after a moment, skin yielded to the warm blood within.
His moment of retribution was short, and the owner of the hand started hitting him in the face hard until he released the hand. Still, the punches came, until the other students pulled the boy away.
"Evanesco!" Someone whispered. Harry felt his mouth go dry as the blood and saliva there were vanished. The students all ran away then. Harry stayed on the ground.
!
Ron was very worried. He was worried the most about Hermione. Someone had tried to silence her, that much was certain. Would they try again when Madam Pomfrey woke her up? He hoped Professor Dumbledore thought to protect her; what if someone tried to get her while she was still unconscious? Things at Hogwarts just kept getting worse and worse, and no one seemed to know how to fix things, not even Dumbledore.
Ron was also worried about Harry. Especially when there was nothing he could do for Hermione, and especially when Harry was missing. Harry knew better than to just wander off, but Ron couldn't find him in the dorm or in the common room. He'd checked the loos and everything. He wanted to ask if anyone had seen anything, but he didn't want people to know that Harry was missing, especially if something else happened while he was gone. He decided to check the dorm again.
Making his way up the stairs, Ron found his way blocked by a sixth year, who's name he didn't know.
"Looking for your boyfriend?" the boy asked.
"Piss off," Ron said aggressively, intending to push past him.
"Yeah, well I saw him slink off, looked like he was up to no good."
"You trying to say something?" Ron demanded heatedly.
"I'm saying it's about time you got your head out of your arse and stopped supporting that nutter."
"You'll want to close that mouth of yours, Sachet," a voice called from further up the stairs. It was one of the twins.
"You wouldn't want us to show you who the real nutters are around here, now would you?" said the other.
"You're as bad as he is," said Sachet. "Just hope that by the time you see the truth, it won't be too late for you." He stalked off down to the common room.
"What's going on?" Fred asked Ron, when he had come further down the stairs.
"It's Harry," said Ron, "he's gone missing."
"He's probably just off to blow some steam," said George.
"I don't like it," said Ron. "He know's better, it's not safe. Someone's clearly out to get him. I don't suppose either of you know where he went?"
"Nah," said George. "We've been up in our dorm."
"Thanks anyway," said Ron. He went past them to his dorm. Once more he checked Harry's bed and the loo. With a sigh, he went back down to the common room.
He had only just sat down though, when his brother's plunked down on either side of him.
"We asked around," said Fred. "Someone saw Harry heading up to the astronomy tower."
"They did?" Ron asked. "Who was it?"
"Don't worry about who, just go get him," said George.
"Right," said Ron, "thanks." He got up to head out of the common room.
What was Harry doing up at the astronomy tower? He was sure that Harry had already finished his Astronomy homework. He supposed that his friend was just off on a walk, but he'd make sure to give him an earful about going off alone.
Ron made his way up to the top of the astronomy tower, and sure enough, there was Harry. Ron was more than a little alarmed to see him sitting on top of the crenellations, his back to Ron, and his shoulders hunched.
"Harry," Ron called out to him. "What are you doing up here?"
"Go away!" Harry called back. Ron had never heard Harry sound so miserable.
"No I won't go away," said Ron, advancing on Harry. "Hermione's been crushed by a book case, and you disappear when you know someone's out to get you. I don't care if you're upset, we need to get back to the common room."
"Just leave me alone," Harry said miserably, and was his voice also tinged with pain? Ron walked up closer.
"Look, you can stay or you can go, but I'm not leaving y'- Bloody Hell!" Ron finally had a good look at his friend. "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"
Harry turned his bruised face away from him. "I was jumped," he said.
"Why didn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?" asked Ron, while his gut twisted with horror and rage.
"I didn't want Hermione to see me. I didn't want you to see me, either. I'm not going anywhere."
"It doesn't matter," said Ron. "Hermione's seen you hurt before, and so have I. You're going to the hospital wing."
"I'm not," said Harry, sounding a lot younger and more petulant than his twelve years would suggest.
"You are so," said Ron, grabbing Harry's arm, but Harry cried out in pain.
"Shite," said Ron. "How bad is it?"
"It's nothing," said Harry, swallowing the pain. He still wouldn't turn to face Ron.
"Look, this is ridiculous," said Ron. "You really are cracked if you think this is nothing. Get down from there, and come with me."
Harry was quiet for a moment, and then finally, he shifted his weight to get off of the crenellation. As he got down, he still tried to keep his face away from Ron. Ron didn't let him though, and moved so Harry couldn't avoid him. There was a black eye, a swollen jaw, and something written on his forehead. Harry looked down.
"What's it say?" he asked.
"Don't worry about it," said Ron nervously. "Madam Pomfrey will take care of it."
"Just tell me," said Harry, "I'll just find a mirror; I can read backwards."
Ron sighed. "'Dark Lord. Leave Hogwarts, or we'll make you.' Are you happy now? Just ignore it. They're tossers anyway, and they'll be the ones getting kicked out for this. Now come on." He started leading Harry down from the tower.
"I just wish this was all over," said Harry.
"You and me both," said Ron. "Just wait, Hermione'll be awake by now, and she'll have everything figured out, and Dumbledore'll take care of everything by dinner time."
They walked down the stairs in silence and started down the hallway. Harry kept his head down.
"I thought things would be better, you know?" he said eventually.
"I guess I thought the same thing," said Ron. "When Bailey was petrified, that was the first thing that popped into my head. That doesn't sound right, but it's true. I thought, 'Now people can finally say that Harry wasn't there when someone was attacked.' But people are acting even stupider instead."
"That's not what I meant," said Harry.
"Oh," said Ron, but Harry didn't elaborate straight away. Ron let the silence fall.
They walked down another floor, and started down another corridor when Harry spoke up again.
"It was the whole year that was supposed to be different. Hogwarts was supposed to be wonderful in the first place, but Quirrell ruined things last year. He sucked the magic right out of the castle, but this year was supposed to be right."
Finally, Ron understood exactly what Harry meant. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for him to grow up as a muggle, trapped with the Dursley's, to find out that magic was real, and that he was going to go to a magical castle. For him, Hogwarts was the expected destination; it always had been. But that didn't mean that it wasn't tremendously special to him. He had dreamt of Hogwarts since he was a small child, soaking in stories from his parents and older siblings. He could remember being four, and Bill and Charley had come back from Hogwarts with their trunks and their wands, telling tales of Quidditch and the house cup.
Quirrell had perverted his first year of Hogwarts; he had cast a malevolent shadow over what was supposed to be wondrous. Ron remembered the fear of watching Harry hang in midair, only just holding onto his broom. He could remember the feeling of dread as it sunk in that Voldemort was going to come back, and it was up to Ron, Harry, and Hermione alone to stop him. But didn't Harry understand that this was also what had made the year amazing as well? A fully trained dark wizard and Voldemort himself had tried to destroy Harry on two occasions, and Harry had won. The three of them had pitted themselves against the best tricks the professors of Hogwarts could come up with, and they had prevailed. Ron still had a scar on his scalp from where the black queen had struck him to prove it. Yes, everything had gone to Hell, but they had been victorious!
Everything had gone even worse this time, Ron could see that; and maybe things wouldn't work out this time. But he couldn't understand why Harry focused on what was wrong with last year, not when it had turned into a shining beacon of their ability to overcome the odds. Why should they see their first year so differently? The attitude was there in everything that had seemed off about Harry since Harry had woken up in the hospital wing last June.
"I guess you're right," said Ron. "This year is all wrong. You saved everyone last year, and now they all think you're some sort of dark wizard. But you're wrong about last year. We were real Gryffindors last year, and everyone knew it. Everything worked out. How's that wrong?"
"You don't get it," said Harry.
Frustrated, Ron silently agreed. Harry didn't say anything else the whole rest of the way down to the hospital wing. Hermione was nowhere in sight when they got there.
"As though I don't see enough of you, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey rounded on them. "Now you've been fighting?"
"He hasn't been fighting, has he!" said Ron heatedly. "He's been beat up."
"Who's done this to you?" asked Madam Pomfrey indignantly, getting a good look at him.
"I don't know," said Harry. "There were a bunch of them, I never saw their faces. They didn't say anything either."
"Where are you hurt?" she asked.
Harry shrugged with a wince. "Everywhere."
"Alright," she said, gesturing to a screened off bed. "Down to your underwear. I'll need to inform your head of house."
"Hold on," said Ron. "Where's Hermione? Haven't you woken her yet?"
Madam Pomfrey's face darkened. "It wasn't just a blow to the head. Someone's cursed her. She'll be alright, but there won't be any waking her for quite a while."
"What do you mean, 'for a while'?" asked Ron. "How long is she going to be out for?"
"It could be a matter of weeks," said Madam Pomfrey, "unless the castor reverses the spell. We should consider ourselves lucky that it wasn't worse. The assailant was a powerful wizard."
"But can't you do anything?" asked Harry.
"I am doing something," said Madam Pomfrey. "She'll be getting a potion every morning. If not for that, she would never wake up."
She turned to go to her office.
"Blimey," said Ron, helping Harry over to the bed. "She must have really figured something out." He started helping Harry wrestle out of his clothes.
"Why didn't they just kill her?" asked Harry darkly. "It's like they're playing a game, and they don't want it to be over too soon."
"What are you talking about?" asked Ron.
"It's a dark wizard, whoever's doing this. Using some deadly monster, since it's supposed to kill all the muggleborns, but no one's been killed, not like last time. Then Hermione finds out too much, and he just curses her to stay asleep. Everything points to me, but they aren't going for the kill. But then, they'd probably close the school if students were being killed, wouldn't they? He's drawing this out, whoever it is. I wonder if he had anything to do with me getting jumped."
Ron wanted to tell Harry that that he was being crazy, but his theory all seemed to fit neatly with what was going on. "I don't know, Harry."
Harry was down to his boxers now, and he looked terrible, covered in bruises.
"You don't have to stay," said Harry.
"Bugger off," said Ron.
"You won't be staying if that's what your language is going to be like." Madam Pomfrey announced as she bustled in.
Ron wasn't in the mood to be lectured, but he wasn't in the mood to be kicked out either, so he stayed silent and hopped up on the bed next to Harry, giving the Matron plenty of room to examine his friend.
"They've done a number on you, that's for sure," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Can we get this over with?" asked Harry.
"No need to be snippy dear," said Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand about. "Cracked ribs," she said. "Plenty of bruises. Small fracture in your arm. Did you dislocate your shoulder?"
"I popped it back in," said Harry.
"Honestly," Madam Pomfrey tutted. "That's not something you do on your own, not when I'm a short walk away."
Of course, Ron thought, Harry had been avoiding the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand about, healing this and that. She pulled a small clay pot out of her robe and began briskly rubbing the salve in it into Harry's bruises. Harry grimaced, but didn't say anything. When she finished, she handed the pot to Harry with instructions to rub some into any bruises hidden by his underwear. She and Ron gave him some privacy.
!
Left to his own devices, Harry very nearly just sat there doing nothing. However, with the rest of his body healing up, the bruises on his hips and around the upper portions of his legs were starting to throb most spectacularly. With a slightly shaking hand, Harry got a dollop of salve before standing up and disrobing completely to apply it.
He had never felt so low. Certainly he was used to being beaten up by his cousin and his cousin's gang. He was used to going to going to a school where everyone thought ill of him, but somehow his early childhood experiences in Little Whinging, Surrey couldn't compare to this day in Hogwarts. He felt as though he were drowning, and could not keep his head above the surface. He remembered the time that Dudley had sat on his chest, and he couldn't manage to breath in; his vision had begun to go black before his cousin had gotten up. Hogwarts wasn't supposed to be like that. It had been corrupted by the heir of Slytherin, and its inhabitants with it.
There had been a Gryffindor involved in the attack, he knew that. Probably more than one, even. He hadn't passed anyone in the hallway before being attacked; someone had to have noticed him leaving the common room. What had been the plan? Wait for the next attack, and be ready for the first time that Harry was out alone afterward? If there were Gryffindors involved, then Harry was hardly safe inside his own dorm. And how ridiculous was that? That Harry should be afraid of mere students when he had faced down Voldemort himself and won, and yet now he was afraid of school boys when he went to bed. Never mind that Harry was just a school boy himself, and a young one at that.
He wondered what it would be like to go through these experiences without the horcrux hanging over him. It might make a difference; maybe he would just spring right back up with a kick in his step. Maybe he wouldn't have been a suspect in the first place if he hadn't been so gloomy through much of the year. Harry could hardly remember what he had been like, before the horcrux.
Harry thought about the words written on his forehead. The scratches were gone, but the ink, he knew, remained. They wanted him to leave Hogwarts. They should understand that Hogwarts was his home, the only one he had, and the only one he wanted. He could no sooner leave Hogwarts than he could stop flying. Harry sure as hell wasn't going to leave Hogwarts, but that certainly meant future conflict with the boys who had attacked him. Harry resolved himself; they could try, but Harry wouldn't let them uproot him.
New sounds reached Harry's ears, and he could make out Professor McGonagall's distinctive Scottish brogue. Harry finished applying the salve and got dressed again. Mostly healed up now, it was a lot easier than it had been to get undressed. Not particularly wanting to speak to Professor McGonagall, but knowing that he needed to, Harry huffed and poked his head outside of the privacy curtain. Not saying anything, he simply approached the small group. Madam Pomfrey was still going through the list of injuries.
"And there were no injuries to indicate that he had been fighting as well?" asked Professor McGonagall when the nurse was finished.
"Not a one," said Madam Pomfrey.
"Alright," said Professor McGonagall, sounding weary and sad, she gazed down at Harry. "Well, Harry," she said. "I'll need to hear what happened from you."
Harry nodded self-consciously. A part of him knew that it was irrational, but he felt as though he had let his head of house, his de facto guardian, down by having been beaten up. Shouldn't he, as a Gryffindor, been able to put up a better fight?Still, he needed to tell her what happened.
"I went for a walk," he said. "Maybe I shouldn't have gone alone, but I figured I didn't need an alibi anymore since I already had one, and it wasn't doing me any good."
"I do understand your desire for solitude, Harry," said Professor McGonagall, "but I think we can both agree that it is well outside of your best interests until this year is over. You will have to make due with your dormitory."
Harry nodded, resigned. "I don't know how many of them there were, or who any of them were. Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled my jumper over my face. They kept me pinned down and my mouth covered the whole time. There were a bunch of other kids kicking me. Then someone wrote on my forehead. They were all about to leave, but I managed to bite the hand that had been covering my mouth. I broke the skin, but they vanished all the blood. Whoever it was is who hit me in the face to get me to let go. Then they all ran away."
Gone was the sadness, Professor McGonagall looked outraged.
"A cowardly attack," she said. She proceeded to ask questions about his perceptions of the person who had grabbed him, the foot that had held him down, the one who had written on his forehead, the one that had cast the spell. She asked if he had been able to make out anyone's figure through the material of his jumper. Harry gave what answers he could, but felt entirely inadequate in his responses. It was only as things were winding down that the spark of outrage that had lit in him as he had stood behind the privacy screen kindled again and burst. It washed away the shame, and he felt himself stand up straighter under the gaze of his head of house.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I'll have to admit, the students who did this were clever about it. But they weren't clever enough, because they should have known that I will not let this stand. I will do all that is within my power to find those responsible and see them punished."
"Thank you," Harry said a little awkwardly, his outrage fleeing in the face of Professor McGonagall's personal attestation of her resolve.
Professor McGonagall nodded down to him. "Do take care of yourself, Harry. Or at least, allow your friends to do so for you."
Harry blushed and nodded. Professor McGonagall turned to Madam Pomfrey.
"The writing on his forehead?"
"I recognize the ink used," said Madam Pomfrey. "It's a new joke product, I believe. I've had a few cases of it already, though nothing so malicious. Unfortunately there hasn't been a counter developed for it. Anything that I could use would burn the skin, and there's been enough trauma tonight. It will fade within forty-eight hours."
Professor McGonagall twisted her lips. "Well, Harry," she said. "It seems you'll be displaying your house colors for a couple of days." She pulled out a fresh handkerchief and waved her wand over it, before handing it to Harry. He saw it to now be a red and gold striped head band. Under the watchful eyes of Professor McGonagall, Ron, and Madam Pomfrey, he found himself modeling it for them.
"Yeah," said Ron, "it looks good."
"Thanks, Professor," said Harry.
"Thank me when I find who did this," said Professor McGonagall.
Harry nodded, having nothing to say about it. Just then, the doors to the hospital wing burst open. Hagrid stood on the other side of the doorway, holding a tray that was dwarfed by his hands. He looked fit to chew nails.
"Y'all righ' there 'Arry?" he asked.
"Er, yeah," said Harry.
"What a rotten thing to do to you," said Hagrid. "Why if I get my hands on the ones who did it..."
"Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said. "When I asked you to fetch some dinner for him, I had hoped that you would have calmed down by the time you had gotten here."
"It's one thing, the Heir of Slytherin petrifying students," said Hagrid. "Evil will do wha' it does. But students mobbing students? And 'Arry at that!"
"Yes, it's quite dreadful," said Professor McGonagall, "but let us at least remain civil in the hospital wing."
Hagrid looked a little abashed.
"You brought dinner?" asked Ron. Harry hadn't even realized that it was dinner time already. He didn't have an appetite.
"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Didn' know you'd be here too though."
Ron looked crestfallen.
"I thought that you might prefer having your dinner here tonight, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall.
Harry nodded. "I guess I would," he said. A part of him said that it was giving a victory to the ones who had attacked him, but the louder voice saying that he just wanted to be left to himself drowned it out.
As Professor McGonagall said her goodbyes, and Madam Pomfrey made herself busy, Hagrid settled Harry down on the side of the nearest bed with the tray on one of the tables that rolled around to allow patients to eat in bed. Ron sat down next to him, and Hagrid across from him. Harry began nibbling on the food, knowing that to do otherwise would be to incur the wrath of Madam Pomfrey.
"You're all healed up then, 'Arry?" asked Hagrid.
"I'm alright," said Harry.
"Not that you'd tell us if you weren't," said Ron. Harry shrugged. "You know, he went all the way up to the astronomy tower after?"
Hagrid blinked in surprise. "Why'd you go up there for?"
"Don't know," said Harry, nibbling on a roll. Of course he did know; though he could not be honest with his friends, he was honest with himself. When the attack had been over, Harry's mind had turned to his first night back at the castle, the first time he had trekked up to the astronomy tower alone. Sitting up there, Harry had wondered if Hermione would have been attacked if she hadn't been his friend. Harry wondered how many twelve year olds thought of such things.
He glanced over at Ron who was gazing longingly at the tray of food. Harry nudged him in the side with his elbow and gestured for him to help himself. Ron didn't need any more prompting, and he and Harry shared the food.
Harry and Ron found themselves talking about their research in the library, and whatever it was that Hermione thought that she had figured out. Hagrid couldn't think of any other languages that Harry might speak either.
"I've no idea what she was thinking, though I guess the Heir of Slytherin did," said Ron. "What I want to know is who opened it last time. No one will tell us who died, or how it happened. It's like were looking at only half a chess board. I don't know how we're going to figure any thing out unless we know more about what happened fifty years ago."
Hagrid began fidgeting, and Harry's eyes opened owlishly as he realized that Hagrid knew something that he didn't want to say. Before he could say anything though, the doors to the infirmary were opened again, and in walked a peculiar man with a lime-green hat on his head. Harry had never seen him before, and immediately worried that he was some wizarding law enforcement officer, here to interrogate him.
"Minister Fudge," said Madam Pomfrey in surprise. "What brings you to my infirmary, tonight?"
"Terrible business, I'm afraid," said Minister Fudge, looking very much like he wished he hadn't run into Madam Pomfrey.
"I can't see what business you would have in my infirmary," she said. "None of the victims can tell you anything."
"I'm not here for the victims," said Fudge. He turned towards Hagrid. "Hagrid, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."
"What's going on?" asked Harry, as Hagrid said, "But I never! You know I never!"
"I'm afraid your record is against you," said Minister Fudge. "You've no idea the pressure we're under at the ministry, something must be done. So you see, I have to take you in, or people will start to ask why I haven't!"
"What's going on?" asked Harry again. "Hagrid hasn't done anything!"
"Yeah," said Ron. " How could you say that Hagrid has anything to do with this?" he asked heatedly.
"Mr. Potter," said Minister Fudge, addressing only Harry. "I am the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and as Mr. Hagrid was implicated the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, I'll have to take him."
"Take me where tho'," asked Hagrid.
"Well, I'm afraid..."
"Not Azkaban!" cried Hagrid, sounding more afraid than Harry could ever imagine him being.
"It is only for a little while," said Minister Fudge. "Should someone else be apprehended, then you will be released with our apologies."
Harry didn't know what Azkaban was, but he had heard enough. "You don't even think he's guilty!" He shouted as Ron chimed in with agreement. "Professor Dumbledore won't let you take him."
Now Fudge looked annoyed. "I think you'll find that Professor Dumbledore does not have the power to stop me." Madam Pomfrey scoffed. Fudge gave her a look. "And if I were you, Mr. Potter, I would be keeping my head down. There are those at the ministry who would have had me come for you tonight instead."
Harry's mouth opened wide, whether in outrage, shock, or dismay, even he didn't know. Hagrid cut in before he could make sense of his own feelings or make a retort to Fudge.
"Quie' Harry," he said severely. He had never spoken to Harry in such a way, as an adult does to a child that they need to follow directions. Harry found his mouth closing on it's own accord."
"But that's ridiculous," said Ron. "He has an alibi now!"
"There is no such thing as an alibi when we don't even know how the attacks are being orchestrated," said Fudge growing weary. "Now, Hagrid, it's time to go."
"I'm comin'," said Hagrid gruffly. "But remember this Fudge: if you ever go after 'arry, you'll have a lot more than me to get through."
Fudge clearly became flustered at this statement, but Hagrid stalked past him before he could say anything. He didn't exit the hospital wing though, stopping in the doorway. He turned back to Harry and Ron.
"Abou' wha' we were talkin' abou' earlier," he said. "You jus' need t' follow the spiders. Tha' aught t'take care o' things."
Harry and Ron shared a confused glance. Minister Fudge didn't spare them another moment, and blustered off after Hagrid.
The only adult left in the room, Harry and Ron turned to Madam Pomfrey.
"What was that all about?" asked Ron.
"It's a matter of public record, I suppose," said Madam Pomfrey, "Hagrid was implicated in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago. He has always maintained his innocence, however, and the Headmaster believes him."
"So why didn't you say anything?" Harry demanded. "You just stood there while he took Hagrid away!"
"And what did you expect me to do?" asked Madam Pomfrey indignantly. "Hagrid knows that he has my support, and he doesn't need any empty gestures to show it, which is what I would have been doing had I opposed the minister. It's my job to look after you all, and I can't do that if I'm in trouble with the ministry, now can I? Now, you're healed up and fed. Off to your dormitory, and get plenty of rest."
Off Harry and Ron went, frustrated and angry, venting about the unfairness of it all on the way up to the Gryffindor common room. There was someone waiting for them there when they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Professor Dumbledore!" said Ron in surprise.
"Mr. Weasley," said Professor Dumbledore in greeting. "I'm afraid that I need to a moment of your friend's time."
"Er, alright, sir," said Ron. "I'll just go inside then."
"Do have a good night," said Professor Dumbledore.
"Thank you, sir," said Ron before giving the password to the Fat Lady. "And you too." He went into the common room, and closed the portrait behind him.
Harry and Professor Dumbledore stood alone in the hallway.
"I am afraid Harry, that I have some bad news for you."
"Er, I know about Hagrid, sir. But can't you do something about that."
"I'm afraid that that would be outside of my abilities. I may hold the highest seat on the Wizengamot, but I am only one voice. For now, Hagrid is outside of my reach. Hagrid mentioned that you were there when he was arrested, and I am sorry that you had to see that, Harry, but that is not why I am here. You see, I must leave the school."
"Leave the school," said Harry. "I don't understand."
"The school governors have decided, as is their right, to remove me from the school, seeing as I have not put an end to the attacks. I leave tonight."
"But you can't leave!" Harry exclaimed. "You're probably the only thing keeping us alive!"
"I think that you will find that I am not the only capable professor in this school Harry. Remember, help will always be given to those in this school who need it. This may well be a good thing, if I can be clever enough." The look in Professor Dumbledore's eyes said that he did in fact believe himself to be so clever. "I now have more time to research such matters as the Chamber of Secrets, and other issues that we have discussed.
"I came here to make sure that you knew, that though I am gone, I have not given up. Not on you, and not on this school. Today of all days has been difficult on you, but you must stay strong. Again, I must ask you not to give up faith."
Harry swallowed, and stayed silent for a long moment.
"It's just become so hard," he said finally.
"It may become harder still," said Professor Dumbledore. "Remember that this is not the first time you have had to withstand adversity, nor will it be the last. You have survived it before, and will again. The trick is, Harry, to dwell on the other times. Stick close to your friends, and not just because it is safer. I don't intend to be gone for long, but if I am, remember that I have not forgotten about you."
Harry nodded, even as it felt as though the world was being dismantled around him. First Hermione, then the attack, then Hagrid, and now Dumbledore. What would be next.
"Goodbye, sir," he said.
"Good night, Mr. Potter," said Professor Dumbledore. "You will forgive me, I hope, but this is not good bye. Sleep well, if your are able. I dare say, you will need your rest."
And with that, he was gone. Harry wondered if he ever would see Professor Dumbledore again.
Harry made his way into the common room, letting his eyes take in it's occupants. Which one had it been to alert the others? Had they joined in on the attack itself? Whether or not the Heir of Slytherin had had any kind of hand in the attack, Harry didn't know, but it was the suspicion generated by him that had brought this down upon Harry. More than anything, Harry wanted to find the Heir, and expose him.
Harry made his way through the common room, noting the mistrustful looks from many of his fellow students. He held his head high as he walked through to the stairs that led to the boys dorms. He opened the door to the second year dorm.
"Wait, Harry!" Ron cried from the middle of the room, holding his arms out in a useless gesture to hide from Harry what was behind him. Neville stood on Harry's bed, fumbling with a knot that someone had tied around one of the posts on his bed. Harry followed the rope to the object hanging below.
It felt as though ice had encased his vital organs, and for a moment, Harry stopped breathing. Hanging by the neck was a white plush owl; the message was clear. Harry stormed past Ron to his trunk. From it, he pulled out the knife that he used in potions. Neville scrambled out of his way as Harry got onto his own bed. Pulling the cord taught, Harry sliced through it, before tossing the knife on the bed and storming out of the dormitory.
Down the steps he went, to stand at the base, staring at the occupants of the still full Gryffindor common room. The room fell silent in moments, such was his current ignominy. Harry spoke coldly.
"I was attacked today by no fewer than six cowards today." He reached up and pulled the head band off from his head, and he tossed it into the common room. "They wanted me cowed. The wanted me gone. Well I know two things. One, that at least one of those cowards was a Gryffindor. And two, I am not cowed, and I am not going anywhere. I've had my body broken before, and I suspect I will again." He held up the rope that held the owl. "But if anyone hurts anyone I care about, and that includes Hedwig, then they'll learn to fear me far more than they ever feared the Heir of Slytherin, because the Heir only petrifies his victims."
Harry cast the owl away from himself as well, and turned to ascend the stairs for one final time that night, slipping between a stunned Ron and Neville. The silence in the common room continued until he had passed the seventh year boy's dorm, and then it sounded as though everyone was talking. Harry didn't care. He would keep his promise, and he would start with the Heir.
A/N: So, once again, sorry for such a long wait. I hope all of you remember enough of the story to get back into it. Grad school has been super crazy, and Winter break was super busy. I did go to Hawaii though, so I can't complain. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Remember, every time you review, an angel gets it's wings, and I write the next chapter a little bit faster.