No more pre-written chapters, sorry. Hopefully, there won't be long time between updates.

Thanks to all my reviewers, favoriters, lurkers, and alerters.

Unbeta'd. Read with caution.

Hailey Face: The killing curse doesn't work on him; idk about other spells and how Benjamin's elemental powers would work against them. Most likely, I haven't thought that far ahead yet, lol.

Another commonish question I have received is: is Harry Benjamin's mate? The answer is yes, but the romantic love won't happen for awhile. ;)

Milky Way

Harry's upper chest ached.

More accurately, his collarbone hurt. A lot. It was a heady mix of rapid bone regrowth and miserableness. Harry tried to stay in one position. The stiff sheets underneath him weren't making it easy.

The long row of empty beds mocked him. Harry was the only one in the Hospital Wing. Everybody else was in the Great Hall gorging themselves on the Halloween Feast.

Harry sucked in his cheeks.

Malfoy traipsed in earlier today. Fake sympathy oozed from him as he told Harry that his Father had regaled him with stories about the Halloween feasts. Hogwarts went all out. They served cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, bat brownies, scream cheese, and all sorts of glorious, one-of-kind magical confectionaries. Malfoy even said the Great Hall's ceiling would be enchanted to show the Harvest Moon. It was such a shame Harry would miss it.

Harry groaned.

He just had to be hit with that bludger! It wouldn't have happened if he hadn't got distracted by the flash of gold that buzzed around the Quidditch stadium, begging to be caught.

"Mr. Potter! I'll just be a second. Stay here!" said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry lifted up to see Madam Pomfrey pick up her white skirt and run out of the Hospital Wing. He watched the opened doors. He waited to see her matronly face poke back in, or her scold to lay back down. A second passed… another… another… a whole five minutes had gone by; Madam Pomfrey didn't come back.

This was his chance!

Harry bolted from the bed. His collarbone protested with a barbed sting. "Sorry," he said.

He looked at the bare bed. Madam Pomfrey would be upset for sure, but he was fine. If he had any major problems he'd come back, or well, he presumed someone like Hermione would notice and force him to come back.

Harry scurried to the doors. He peeked out. Left, his head went - right; nothing. The coast was clear. Harry headed straight across to the Quad; the fours towers poked through the dark clouds. Harry pulled his robes closer to his body.

It was chilly tonight.

There was an eerie silence that coated the Quad. It was a totally different atmosphere at night. There were no shouts of students, or the safety of the sunlight. It was just dark, scarily so, with the dim flickers of the torches in the distance.

The Quad reverberated with a guttural roar. Harry stumbled back.

What?

Had he imagined it?

Harry forced himself forward. "One foot in front of the other," he said. He made it to the tower where the Great Staircase was located, the Headmaster's office above that, it was safe — what was that revolting smell? It was akin to fancy cheese on the asphalt in the summer sun atop of unwashed football gear. Harry squeezed his nose. The fine hairs on his neck refused to lay down.

Another roar. Harry froze. His eyes darted around for the source. Did the stench get that much stronger? Again, he forced himself to move. He hurried out of the tower into the small hallway, which would lead him to the Great Hall — God.

Harry's mouth opened in a silent scream. He saw a scrap of purple cloth in peripheral vision, it was going away, and Harry wanted to go with it, but he couldn't will his legs to move because… because… It was in front of him.

It loomed over him. Its lumpy head brushed against Hogwarts' ceiling. It had green-brown warty skin and It dragged a heavy brown club, thick as a tree trunk, behind It. A dirty cloth covered It for modesty.

"Monster," Harry gasped. A leg moved back. No, that wasn't right. He remembered Professor Quirrell's introductory stutters on the first day of class "We-We'll be learning abo-about Tr-Trolls, ff-first."

This was a Troll. He didn't know what to do. Benjamin said that if he was in danger he should run, run straight back to him. But Benjamin wasn't here.

Harry had a sinking feeling that running wouldn't do any good. Harry was fast, yes, but the Troll only had to reach out and pluck him.

Beady black eyes fixated on Harry.

It bellowed.

Harry yelled. He turned tail and ran. The Troll followed him, Its heavy footfalls rattled the ground and It swung Its club like a baseball bat and Harry ducked and ducked —

His heart was at the pit of his belly. His vision the clearest it had ever been, there was only so much corridor left, his foot snagged in his pants, and he tumbled.

Harry had a moment of reprieve on the ground before he was back up. He stayed on the ground. He scuttled back, back, and back in an awkward crabwalk. The Troll slowed to lumber. It watched him with menacing eyes.

Professor Quirrell said Trolls were dumb brutes. Harry saw mean intelligence in Its eyes. It knew Harry had nowhere to go.

Harry tried to think about Professor Quirrell's lessons on beating Trolls. But, all he could think about was his inevitable doom and Malfoy's sneering face when the news would be delivered the next morning: Boy-Who-Lived wasn't so great after all, offed by a mere Troll. Harry also thought of the new friends he made: Hermione, Neville, Theo, Hagrid, and Benjamin, Mum — Hagrid.

Harry fumbled for his wand in his robe pocket. The wood felt sticky in his hand. Hagrid said that direct sunlight could kill Trolls, but Harry didn't know any sunlight spells. He only knew the Latin word for sun, sol.

"S-Sol," he stuttered. He pointed his wand at the Troll. Nothing happened.

Harry trailed back more. "S-Sol," he repeated. "Sol!Sol!Sol!Sol—"

Why wasn't it working? His thoughts grew more frazzled – magic… magic was more than dead words that no one understood Professor Flitwick had said. It was swish and flick and intent. 10 percent swish and flick, 90 percent intent.

Harry had to mean it.

He stopped his retreat. He waited, shudders wracked his body, his eyes on the Troll that moved at snail's pace until It was stone's toss away. The Troll roared louder than ever. The sound nearly popped Harry's eardrums – Harry pointed his wand firmly at the Troll.

He thought of the brightest summer. The sun in all of its glory, its long yellow rays that touched everywhere. He gathered all of his magic "Sol!" he said.

A glaring flash engulfed them. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His wand arm never lowered. He thought he felt the pleasant caress of sunlight. He thought he heard the Troll's distressed howl.

The light faded. Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He peeked.

Harry gaped.

The Troll was in front of him. Its club centimeters away from his head. The Troll was a solid-stone grey. A statue!

Harry only had moments to admire his handiwork. His wand fell out of his hand as he tipped back, a dull pain started in the back of his head. He couldn't quite describe it, but he felt, empty.

And was it him, or was there a sudden influx of black dots in his vision?

Harry just… he just needed to close his eyes for a minute, yea - just for a min…

…

Harry tried to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

Harry inched up from the mattress, groaning. What happened? Why did his body hurt so much, and he was so tired. He nearly checked to make sure he wasn't wearing chains. Plus. His stomach growled, a hand moved to his belly; he was hungry.

He could use a pumpkin pasty.

Merlin!

He gripped his bedsheets. "Troll! Halloween! I...I...I..." he said.

Harry ripped the covers off. Where in the world was he? The stone walls. The empty rows of beds. The stiff sheets. Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and Professor McGonagall and their gargoyle faces.

Wait – he didn't have time to fix the thought. The three women were at the foot of his bed. Harry swore if the three were able to shoot lasers out of their eyes, they would've, and he'd be a puddle of goo and charred bone at the moment.

He put the covers back and tried to look apologetic with his shoulders lowered and his bottom lip a tremble. Obviously, it didn't work because they glared harder.

"In all my years! Lily certainly never attempted so foolish and James, he knew his limits!" Professor Sprout said.

"September 1975," Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall said in creepy unison. Their expressions flat.

Harry suddenly wanted to know what happened in 1975. He almost asked, but it thought it best to save the question for later. He had bigger issues. The biggest was to not let this accident get back home.

"We have owled your guardians," Professor McGonagall said sharply.

Harry recoiled. Benjamin was going to kill him. Mum would too. Aunt Tunia might break out the wooden spoon and use it for real.

"But," he said, his voice reached a feeble whisper.

"No Buts. You went against deliberate directions to stay-put. You put yourself in danger, Mr. Potter – taking on the a full-grown Mountain Troll– nearly depleting your magic. What were you thinking?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry shrugged. The Hogwarts Halloween feast, he just wanted to go. Harry was sure if he said it aloud it would be met with the type of belittling mockery adults were specialists in.

"I guess I wasn't," Harry said lowly.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff," said Professor Sprout said. Harry hated the disappointment found in her voice. "For reckless behavior."

"Five points from Hufflepuff for going against express directions," Madam Pomfrey said with a sniff.

"Five points to Hufflepuff for taking down a threat to the school," said Professor McGonagall. Harry chanced a look at her, was she serious? Her facial expression didn't change. She — they all, looked down at him with their gargoyle expressions. Nonetheless, he could see it in their eyes, a glimmer of relief that he was all right.

Harry smiled.

"Another stunt like that and you're off the Quidditch team," Professor Sprout said. Harry's smile dwindled. "Get some rest. Your makeup work will be waiting for you," she said. She tipped her head at him, a trickle of dirt fell. She left.

Professor McGonagall didn't say anything even though Harry was sure she wanted to. She dipped her head and she was gone.

Harry faced Madam Pomfrey. She fretted around his bed. She tucked in his covers and replaced the medicine bottles at his bedside. He caught her saying "Just like James! Another fresh crop of grey, mark my words."

"What happened while I was out?"

"You were unconscious for three days, Mr. Potter," she said. "Your magic sapped with the force of your immature spell." She brushed brown-grey hair from her face. "You're very lucky we got there in time, Mr. Potter."

Harry swallowed the ball in his throat.

"You are young, your magic and strength will be restored. You'll recover within a week."

Harry nodded. "And the Troll?" he ventured.

"A lawn ornament for the greenhouses. Pomona wanted it."

Harry blinked at her. Professor Sprout kept it? His cheeks reddened, he felt a burst of affection for his Head of House. Maybe, she wasn't so mad at him.

...

Benjamin was here.

It was Harry's last day in the Hospital Wing. Professor Sprout said his guardian had owled back. She didn't elaborate. He caught up with most of his homework. Tomorrow, he'd rejoin his classes and see his friends (part of his punishment was no visits.).

Benjamin was here.

Madam Pomfrey spoke to Benjamin. She didn't look particularly happy to be talking to him, that was odd. Everyone, besides Aunt Tunia and Uncle Vernon, he knew liked Benjamin. Still, Madam Pomfrey left them alone.

Benjamin was here.

Benjamin sat in single chair placed at his bedside. Harry fiddled with his covers. Did he ever mention how stiff they were? He had managed to wear them out a tad for his comfort, and they were such a peculiar color, grey and light blue mixed together.

His heart took residence in his throat. An iron weight had settled in his stomach.

"Harry."

Harry flinched.

"Harry, look at me."

There was no playfulness in Benjamin's voice. It was reserved. If Harry looked at Benjamin, what would he see?

"Harry."

It was slow. Harry tried to drag it out. His eyes went from his covers to the rusted -metal that held his mattress to the stone-tiled floors up to the varnished wood of Benjamin's chair to Benjamin's black jeans to Benjamin's long-sleeved shirt, up, up, up his stomach to his chest, to his long neck and then, his face.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he held. There wasn't any sign of displeasure; he hadn't disappointed Benjamin. He breathed once more. Benjamin's face held a whole lotta concern and fondness, although his eyes were blacker than Harry had ever seen them. It was familiarity. It was Benjamin.

Harry's throat contracted. His face felt hot and itchy.

"Harry – munchkin, I leave you for two months and you're breaking bones and fighting trolls," Benjamin said, his lips curved.

"I can't help it!"

Benjamin frowned. "Yes, you can."

"No, I — !"

"Har-ry." The two syllables shut down his argument. "Trouble finds you, true. But you can help it. Don't go looking for trouble."

"I didn't go looking for the Troll! I just wanted to eat at the feast and It was there, and It was going to kill me and —"

"She – Pomfrey – told me that she told you to stay."

"She just said stay, she didn't tell me there was a Troll prowling around! I wasn't doing anything wrong, I just wanted to go have fun at the feast!"

That wasn't the right response. The plump of Benjamin's lips went away. Harry felt infinitely small under Benjamin's appraisal. Harry fidgeted.

Infinity passed. Benjamin finally spoke.

"I got your first letter, the collarbone. I thought I was lucky, only a broken bone. It was the middle of night when I got the second letter. The letter told me that you were on the precipice – on the brink – of death, Harry. You were hundreds of miles away in critical condition on death's doorstep. I couldn't get there. I couldn't get there. You have no idea how," Benjamin stopped, he abruptly spoke fast in Arabic, his hands rapidly moving in the air.

Benjamin switched back to English "...they sent another letter, you were stabilized and still, I couldn't come to you. A couple days later, a personal letter from your Head of House: you were awake and were talking, no mention of how to get to you. Two days ago, the last letter came with a portkey, a transportation device.

"At last, I see you today with your smile and your blood circulating, well, I'm relieved. I'm more than relieved. A weight has been lifted, you understand? I'm sure when I report back to your Mum, she'll feel even better than me. You're important to me, to us."

Benjamin's smile was back.

"I know it's hard for little boys like you to follow directions all the time."

Harry disagreed. It was not, if adults didn't make stupid rules all the time...

"I don't expect you to be perfect. I do, however, want you to try and rationalize your actions before attempting them. If you think your mother or I, or any of your professors would disapprove, it's probably best you don't do it. Your school medic says stay, then, it's probably in your best interest to stay… even if you're missing the best bloody feast on this side of the Atlantic. Okay?"

Harry slowly nodded. He didn't want Benjamin to see how much his words affected him. He rubbed under his glasses.

"When do you have to go back?" Harry asked.

"In about twenty minutes; wanna tell me more about Hogwarts?"

Yes!

"Did I ever tell you about Malfoy? He's the absolute worst. Like worse than Dudley, and you know no one can be worse than Big D…"

Twenty minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. Harry was in the middle of telling Benjamin about the obscene length of parchment Hermione almost always used in her assignments.

"Munchkin, it's time."

Harry would've liked to say he put on a brave face; he tried too. Madam Pomfrey came in. In a clipped tone, she told Benjamin the word he'd use to reactivate his portkey and where he could safely use (outside of Hogwarts perimeters.).

"Can I have a hug?" Benjamin said.

Harry reached over and hugged Benjamin; he didn't want to let him go. Seeing Benjamin reminded him that he missed home. Hogwarts was great, really. He was coming to love it and its eccentricities, but home was with Benjamin, Mum and Aunt Tunia in Surrey.

"No more Hogwarts owls?" Benjamin asked.

"No more Hogwarts owls," said Harry. Benjamin let him go.

"Just a month more until the holidays, be good," Benjamin said. He dropped a kiss on his forehead, and he was gone.

Harry swore he wasn't going to cry.

It was a few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey was at the foot of his bed. She was tense. She glanced from the door to Harry, and back to the door again. Harry wondered if Benjamin forgot something.

"Er, is something wrong?"

"Mr. Potter, does… does…"

"Benjamin?" Harry said slowly.

"Benjamin – has Benjamin ever done anything strange?"

Harry looked at her curiously. "What d'you mean?"

"Strange in habits, activities. Does Benjamin ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

"Nope," Harry popped his p. "I mean, unless, he doesn't eat and he doesn't like the sun all the much, and he's a little cold." The curiosity of nine lurked underneath eleven. "But Aunt Tunia doesn't eat all that much either and she only likes the sun in small doses." Harry shrugged. People were weird like that.

Madam Pomfrey inhaled. She wore a stretched smile. "Benjamin doesn't harm you though, he doesn't force you to do anything you don't want to do, or do anything that makes you uneasy?"

"It makes me nervous when Benjamin leaves," Harry said. A spark of irritation welled up of that time.

"Please feel free to come to me if Benjamin does anything that makes you uncomfortable in the slightest, Mr. Potter." She nodded to him once, and she was gone too.

Harry decided Madam Pomfrey was the strange one before he fell asleep.

He dreamed of high and cold laughter, purple ribbons that slithered like snakes, and Mum's anguished scream.