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Chapter Twelve—Testing the Waters
Harry twists and comes out of bed fast, one hand clawing at the air. He's gasping and sweating, and Lion curls next to him, hissing softly. He sleeps on the pillow most nights, since Harry tends to roll around. Harry grabs him now and puts him on his shoulder, shuddering.
"Harry? Are you all right?"
Blaise is sitting up in his bed, hair sticking out. He tries to pat it down and focus on Harry at the same time. Harry smiles and manages to hold onto the smile as he gets out of bed and walks to the bathroom door. "Fine. Go back to sleep."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I just need to get a drink of water," Harry lies, closing the bathroom door behind him. He listens, but Blaise either believes him or is tired enough not to think he can stagger his way over to the bathroom, because no one follows him.
Finally, Harry turns around and faces his reflection in the mirror, while Lion rears and nudges his cheek and says, "Bad dreams. Tell someone."
The werewolf scars are brighter than they have been in a long time, streaks of horror down his cheek. But it's his forehead scar that's really horrifying. Harry swallows as he watches the crust of blood on it break and a trickle make its way down his cheek. He scrubs at it with a washcloth, but the movement breaks the crust completely and more blood cascades down.
He ends up sticking his head under the faucet and washing off as much as he can that way. It was another dream of Greyback and Voldemort. Greyback was running across a meadow this time, waving two things in the air. It was only when the perspective in the dream flashed closer to him that Harry realized they were two enormous pieces of flesh from a human body, probably cuts in the thigh.
He knows his study of Occlumency with Snape is working. He doesn't feel Voldemort's emotions as much now, and his scar bleeds more but not for as long. It doesn't stop the dreams completely, though, and he's not sure he knows of anything that will.
When he steps out of the bathroom, an owl is waiting on his pillow. Harry frowns at it, and Lion hisses a warning. Harry draws his wand before he walks over.
It's an ordinary tawny owl, though, giving him a sleepy hoot and extending one leg with a rustle of feathers that Harry has seen Hedwig do sometimes when she's tired. He opens the small message to find familiar writing there, even though he hasn't seen it that often.
If you would like a stronger way than mere Occlumency to hold the dreams at bay, then come to me, and we'll talk.
There's no signature, but Harry knows, he knows, it's from Dumbledore. Far more than the message itself, the timing of it chills him. Did Dumbledore make a guess that Harry would wake up tonight from bad dreams and go into the bathroom to soothe his scar? Does he have monitoring charms that told him Harry got out of bed, and he guessed the reason?
Or does he have spying charms, far more intrusive, that let him watch the blood drip out of Harry's scar and then send the owl right away?
Harry shoos the owl out of his bed, ignoring its scolding hoot as it leaves without a return message, and casts a spell that Severus taught him a fortnight ago. The bed sizzles with light for a second, and then small rips appear in the curtains near his pillow.
Yes. Listening and watching charms. Spying charms. They're gone now, but the really unnerving thing is that Harry has no idea how they got into a Slytherin bedroom in the first place. Did Dumbledore come down here during the summer? Did he have someone else plant them for him?
Great, Harry thinks as he closes his eyes, sighing into the pillow. Now I have so much to tell Snape in the morning, and none of it is going to make him happy.
Harry finishes his recitation, and looks at Severus. Severus stares back, and wonders for a moment if his intention to move his timetable up and create an undetectable poison to take care of Albus is visible in his eyes.
Harry leans slowly back, Lion whipping his tail around Harry's neck. "Sir?" Harry asks, in a nice, neutral tone.
I cannot resort to murder yet, I cannot resort to murder yet, Severus chants in his head. He manages to incline his head and give Harry what he knows is more of a grimace than a smile. "It would be good form from now on to assume that Dumbledore is spying on you everywhere you go," he says. "Assume he can watch you in the Slytherin common room, practicing with your friends—"
"On the toilet?"
Harry looks nauseated as well as horrified. Severus tries to tone down his glare again. "Yes, you might as well assume there. I doubt he has any interest in your bodily functions, but in how often your scar bleeds? He will want to know that."
Harry nods slowly, his gaze fastened on the floor in front of him. He swallows. "Sir, given that you're telling me this...do we have to assume that he has spying charms in this room, too? Can we discuss anything anymore?"
"This room is warded against them. I can teach you how to use the wards on a room, but they would not work on a bed. The most you may be able to do is ward the room where your practices with your study group take place and the bathroom you and the other Slytherin boys of your year use."
"That would be enough. Thank you, sir. I just—the thought of him spying on me or Blaise or Draco or Theo—or knowing what any of us do in the bathroom—eurgh."
And still you put others before yourself, Severus thinks, but he's wise enough by now to know that probably won't change. He nods and says, "Come back this afternoon and I will teach you the wards."
Harry gives him a smile and departs from the room, looking as though he will endure classes today more easily than he otherwise would have. Severus settles back and persuades himself, again, not to kill Albus.
He might still be needed.
Harry steps out of the classroom where his study group has been practicing, and stops. There are two sixth-year Slytherins walking slowly towards him. Harry thinks he recognizes the girl, Florentia something; she's one of the prefects. The boy is a stranger.
Blaise and Theo are bickering behind him about the right technique to deflect a Stunner when you can't raise a Shield Charm, but they shut up instantly when they see the older Slytherins. They're the only ones left behind from the study group; the others have gone on ahead to dinner. Harry casually lets his hand drop until it's near his wand.
"Can I help you?" he asks, smiling with only his mouth.
Florentia glances at the boy. He shakes his head as if he's not going to say anything. Florentia shrugs at him and turns to Harry. "We wanted to join your study group," she says. "We hear that you're getting higher marks than anyone else in school."
"That's my friend Hermione. Maybe you should talk to her instead."
The boy starts to say something, but Florentia puts her hand on his arm and calms him. She sighs then. "Maybe I should have said highest marks as a group. We know that individual students might do better, or might do well no matter who they study with. But we're interested in being part of a group that's doing so well."
Blaise leans over Harry's shoulder as if to look at the two older Slytherins. Out of their sight, his hand presses tight against Harry's back. Harry shrugs and gets it off. Yes, he knows not to trust people like this. He doesn't need the reminder.
"Who told you that we were doing so well?"
"Oh, one hears it here and there. But I think the one who mentioned it specifically to me was Zacharias Smith."
Harry knows she's lying without having to be a Legilimens like Snape is, without needing to hear the breath that Theo hisses from behind him. Zach wouldn't brag about things like that. He's smug when he's in the group with them about how well he's doing in Herbology and Defense now, but he wouldn't brag to other people because he thinks the group does better when it's relatively small. He wants to keep his secret.
"I think I'll have to talk to some of the other members of the group about that. It's their decision, too, you know."
"You mean that you don't just speak as Harry Potter and tell them to obey you, and they do it?"
Harry starts to answer, and the boy standing next to Florentia raises his wand and casts a corkscrewing red curse at him.
Harry reacts immediately, raising a Shield Charm behind him that fills the doorway and will keep Blaise and Theo safe. Then he snaps his arm forwards, hissing, "Lion, fly into his face and take him down without biting him."
Lion launches with his wings spread out like a bat's, and the boy screams once in fear. Harry whirls back to deal with Florentia, who does indeed have her wand out the way he anticipated she would.
She pauses for a moment, and shakes her head. "We really did just want to join—"
"Don't insult me."
Well, at least she doesn't do that, when she begins to carefully cast a series of curses that Harry has never seen before at him. He might not know the specific counters to them, but he knows how to dodge, and he knows how to listen to Lion and the boy and hear when the screams become groans of pain, and he knows how to stretch his hand out and focus his will, waiting for the moment when there's a slight pause in the barrage of curses.
The moment there is, he uses his magic to tug Florentia's wand right out of her hand.
She gasps and shakes her hand as if it's stung. Harry drops the wand on the floor and steps on it heavily with one foot, watching her. Her eyes widen the closer he comes to snapping her wand.
"Do you want to reconsider your attack?" Harry asks. She stares at him, and he realizes he spoke in Parseltongue without meaning to. He sighs and repeats himself in English, looking away from Lion when he lands triumphantly on Harry's shoulder.
"I—you don't understand the kinds of pressure that we're under." Florentia wrings her hands for a moment, then seems to realize what she's doing, and clasps them instead. She refuses to look away from Harry, and he supposes that might be someone's definition of bravery, although it's not his. "Our families—they insisted that we had to—"
Someone runs up the corridor behind Harry. The minute Florentia sees that person, she shuts up and bows her head. Harry turns around. He's not all that surprised to see Professor Snape. He thinks that maybe there's more than one set of monitoring charms watching him.
Snape stares narrow-eyed at them all, then casts a Stunner. It somehow forks in midair, one stab of it Stunning the boy on the floor and the other one going to Florentia. Harry blinks. "I'd like to learn that."
Snape's silent. Harry's skin prickles as he glances at him again and realizes how deeply and how thoroughly Snape is pissed. Harry raises his chin and refuses to flinch. He didn't do anything wrong. He just defended himself.
"If this is about me using Lion—"
Snape makes a motion with his wand, and something ruptures behind him. Harry glances over his shoulder just as the Shield Charm breaks and Theo and Blaise march out with shadows in their eyes.
Oh. This is about being angry that I didn't let other people help me. Harry pauses and thinks about the moment when he raised the Shield Charm. He didn't think about it in terms of fighting by himself. He just cast the Shield Charm and entered the battle.
He waits for the detention, or the angry words. Theo and Blaise walk past him without a word, which hurts, but it's their right. Harry didn't think before he acted.
Snape simply studies him for long moments after Theo and Blaise leave, and then he floats Florentia and the boy into the air. "We have an appointment at the Headmaster's office," he says.
He walks away. Harry walks behind him, petting Lion on his shoulder and listening to his snake's proud tale of the battle.
At least someone gets to be happy for longer than a day, Harry thinks wistfully.
Albus looks at the two unconscious Slytherin students, at Harry and Severus, and sits back with a wave of his hand. "Please tell me what happened."
He listens carefully to the tale of the battle and how Harry used the Disarming Charm on his attacker, shaking his head when he hears that Harry also used his snake. He knew it would happen, but he expected a little time to pass before the boy broke such a simple rule.
When the story is finished, he turns to Harry. "Do you have any idea why they attacked you, my boy?"
"Albus, if you once attempt to imply—"
"Please, Severus. I don't mean to imply that the boy is responsible for his own assault. I only want to know if he has any idea, if there is a personal grudge involved that might tell us why he is the target."
In truth, with both Errant and Languire being Dark families, Albus doubts the possibility of a purely personal motive. But he's looking for a way to use this to his advantage. Even if the only way he can do that is to hammer home to Harry how unlikely it is that Slytherins will be on his side of the war, he will take it.
Harry lowers his eyes, an inconvenient habit he's picked up over the summer, and strokes his snake's back. "Florentia—the girl—said something about their families insisting on something. On their attacking me, I think."
Albus nods. This will make it easier. "It is a strong possibility. Of course, she may only have been saying that as an excuse. But if their families put pressure on them, well, it is often hard for young people to resist the pressure of their parents."
"Albus."
I really will have to do something about Severus. "Again, Severus, I'm not trying to say that Mr. Potter should have done something else. He took them down, and without any loss of life and even with minimum wounds. That was very well done, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you, sir."
Wary eyes, stiff posture, his hand never leaving the snake. Albus would sigh if it would serve any purpose. Honestly, confront the boy with the treachery of Slytherins and he still acts like one. What a world we live in.
"I am only saying that there are many children who would find it difficult not to bow to the weight brought to bear on them, perhaps even the threats, if coming from someone other than their parents. And Miss Languire and Mr. Errant are both underage."
"Albus, they have to be expelled! They did not use the Killing Curse, but they used everything but! Torture curses, pain curses, curses that would have twisted Mr. Potter's will and trapped him in his mind—"
"All of which he seems to have avoided handily." Albus smiles at Harry. He sees his way forwards from this point. Honestly, it's a pity that it has to be like this, but he needs control over the boy. It's the only way to be sure that he controls the Horcrux as well. "I think that we can let this go, although of course with hefty detentions for both Mr. Errant and Miss Languire."
Severus draws himself up. "I will not be overseeing them."
"I thought that giving them to Argus would settle the problem."
Severus says nothing else. His furious eyes convince Albus that there is no way to win back the man's loyalty.
But. Isolate Harry, have him suffer attacks by the members of his House, and he's likelier than not to turn his back on that House, isn't he? He drifted away from Hufflepuff and people in Gryffindor in his second year who believed him to be the Heir of Slytherin. Let Slytherin see him as Voldemort's enemy, which he is, in all truth, and Harry will have no choice but to widen that rift by defending himself.
Albus need not take a hand, which is the way he prefers to do it. He need not even do anything about Harry's Slytherin friends. He listened to the tale of the battle, and how Harry sealed two of those friends behind a barrier, and it is clear from the murderous expression on Severus's face when that was mentioned how angry he is about it. The two young Slytherins will be angry about it, as well.
They will all drift away from him. It will be easier to guide Harry back to him that way, and if he is lonely for people beyond Ron and Hermione, then Albus can see that he receives some proper friends.
When Severus stands and says to Harry, "We have things to talk about, Mr. Potter," Albus closes his eyes and nods a little to himself. It is already beginning.
He need do nothing. Harry Potter was simply not meant to be a Slytherin or an ally of those on the Darker side of the war. The world is arranging itself to Albus's satisfaction.
