Harry Dursley and the Philosopher's Conundrum 20
The winter vacation ended with little to no glory, and when the New Year came around, Harry was no longer happy to begin with. Sometimes, he would just blink himself awake after having stared at a portrait for long enough to make the portrait itself worry about him, and other times he had come to terms with Machiavelli's abilities to escape captivity whether someone liked it or not.
Argus had offered his pity to Harry, as well as hand delivering to him a pair of stiff wool gloves for the cold weather. He had seen no need to wrap up the gift, and considering Harry had 'gifted' to him in turn cleaning products, they both were on good terms. Soon, the lessons would start again.
He was currently using his wool gloves to their best, by making snow puppets on Hogwarts' ground, when he heard a strange crackling sound and a bellowing high yelp coming from Hagrid's hut, before the door suddenly lurched open and Fang dashed out of it. The giant dog was apparently running for his dear life, the back of his tail burning slightly as it dashed through the snow.
"Fang! Come back 'ere!" Hagrid exclaimed, moving out of his hut with half his body singed and his flesh badly burnt. The fact he was actually smiling and acting as if he just wasn't suffering from third degrees burns meant nothing, of course.
Harry's hand had already gone to hold the handle of his wand that was held attached to the small chain that ended up with the metal band at his wrist. The cloak was invisible, and would not hide his body, or the clothes he wore beneath, but apparently, it was able to hide wands.
He should have asked the Grey Lady how the thing worked, but he had yet to meet her again. Even the portrait in the common room had been empty for days now. The Bloody Baron was nowhere to be found, and even the other ghosts had gone missing from his sights.
Nobody had cared of course; nobody except him. Still, the fact that the half-charred giant was suddenly looking at him, smiling and gesturing him closer, made Harry gulp down in nervousness. What had the man been doing that it nearly burned him alive?
"Harry! Been a whil'!" The half-giant beamed, "Had a good Christmas!?"
"Yeah." Harry smiled back at the giant, "What happened?" He asked a few seconds later, "You alright?"
"Nothin's wrong!" The giant quickly, maybe too quickly, replied while shaking his head and hands. "Everything's fine!"
Just then, a light screech came from behind the giant, forcing Hagrid's eyes to widen almost comically as he exited and closed the door behind him. Harry heard a light roar, as well as seeing from the cracks of the hut's door smoke filtering out.
"Dragon?" Harry asked curiously. He knew it sounded stupid, since after all there was no way it could have been a dragon, but he had grown up with dungeons and dragons too, and if something roared and made fire…well, to him it was either a dragon or…a dragon.
"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed, "Please don't tell anyone." The man implored, "I'm takin' care of it since it had nowhere to go and…"
"I…Hagrid: it's a dragon." Harry hissed back. "You can't keep a dragon in a wooden hut!" In truth, Harry was surprised the thing hadn't been on fire. "Look at you! You can't hide burns like those around! And you need to be checked by Madam Pomfrey!"
"But Norbert has nowhere to go! They'd kill him if they found him out…" Hagrid mumbled, only for Harry to take a sharp breath in, as he heard the claws of the dragon tear against the wooden door. Just how the hell was a dragon of all things staying inside the wooden hut without burning it down? Of course…Harry rolled his eyes as he remembered that 'magic' was indeed the answer to that question.
"Hagrid: do you want to die?" He asked, "I don't know much about dragons, but even the muggles know the story of how vicious and evil they can be!"
"He's a softie! I swear! He thinks I'm his mama!"
"Hagrid. Listen to me." Harry muttered, "Dragons should be free. Not kept in captivity." Possibly, dragons shouldn't even be near schools, children or anyone else who didn't have armor plus five and a ring of fire resistance, and probably coupled with a Vorpal sword.
"If you really love him, you should let him go." He added hopeful that a teary sit-com line would work on the half-giant. The fact the man's shoulders were actually trembling…oh that couldn't really be all it took to make the man change his mind! The giant took out a handkerchief and blew his own nose, tears pooling out as it nodded slowly.
"You'r right ya know? Yer really smart and all…that's a raven for ya I s'ppose…but where should I let him go? The forest's not a good place...unicorns are dying an' all…"
"Ehm…why not ask Dumbledore?" Harry hazarded, "He's the Headmaster…of course he's the one you should go to if you have any troubles! And he's really kind!" The boy scrunched his face a second later. Why Dumbledore? Why not professor Flitwick, or professor Snape? Why not the professor for the Care of Magical Creatures actually? Well…it wasn't important.
"Of course Dumbledore's kind! Ya know he gave me a job and a place to stay? Well I s'ppose I could go and talk to him, b…"
And then the hut's window cracked open, and a small black winged lizard flew out of it.
"Norbert!" Hagrid yelled, opening the door and entering the hut, to emerge a few minutes later with a pink umbrella. "Come back her'!" The giant began to give chase, his pink umbrella quite comically held in front of him. Harry blinked, before taking a deep breath and turning to leave.
He had done his job: he wasn't going on a dragon hunt and he definitively wasn't going to risk his neck for that. His eyes travelled to the snowy grounds and then towards the lake: he'd head there for the moment. Somewhere his subconscious was probably telling him that being close to frozen water with a dragon flying around was a good and smart thing to do, and thus he trotted in that direction, looking for stones to throw at the thin ice sheet that rested floating atop the water's surface.
He was giggling like a mad man a few seconds later, as he grabbed a really big stone and flung it in the lake.
"Opsie daisy!" He brightly chuckled, before deciding that there was a pretty looking flower nearby…completely frozen stiff. He blinked, looking at his surroundings once more. He had apparently entered the Forbidden Forest, if the amount of trees near him was of any indication.
"Watson?" He asked, "Watson, where are you?"
Who was Watson to begin with?
A ghost maybe? Had he followed a ghost till there? Why would he follow a ghost named Watson into the Forbidden Forest? As he turned around, trying to find any point that could lead him out, he came face to face with Professor Quirrell, who was eying him curiously.
"Mr. Dursley?" The man asked, slowly. "What are you doing here?"
"Professor! I…I lost Watson!" He babbled, gesticulating, "And…And Watson's important!"
"Now Mr. Dursley, is Watson your pet?" Quirrell murmured, "While I understand your intention of looking for him, why did you not call a faculty member? The Groundskeeper would have probably fared better than you in finding him out."
"Watson's not my pet!" Harry exclaimed hotly, "He's my friend!"
"You mean there's another student in the forest, possibly lost?" Quirrell's eyes narrowed, as he took out his wand a second later. "The Forbidden Forest is a really dangerous place to get lost into, Mr. Dursley…please do follow me out."
"But Watson…"
"He will be fine Mr. Dursley…" The muggle studies professor muttered, before adding, "Can you remember how you two got separated?"
"Ehm…" Harry frowned, bringing his right hand on his temple to massage it, trying to remember. "No."
"I see…" The man then looked at him with a strange gleam. Why was he eying him like that?
"Can you describe Mr. Watson then?" The professor suggested to him, and as Harry vividly nodded he soon stopped. Could he really describe Mr. Watson?
"He…Well…He's got…" Harry shook his head. "Who's Watson?" He finally asked, as the professor was looking at him a bit strangely, actually.
"No-one Mr. Dursley, unless you're referring to Sherlock Holmes side-kick, the character written by Arthur Conan Doyle…"
"Oh! Why are we talking about Sherlock Holmes?"
"To make conversation…would you kindly stay next to me, Mr. Dursley? I'd rather not lose you in the forest." The man commented, grabbing a hold of him by the arm. "Your head of the house will of course come to know of this."
"What? Why!?" Harry exclaimed. He had done nothing wrong, nothing!
"Because…"
Harry was looking at the curtains of his bed.
They were a nice and bright blue and bronze color. It was really shiny too. He liked shiny things.
He closed his eyes shut for a moment. Something was completely wrong. He had been walking around, he had met Hagrid, seen the dragon and then he had gone over to the lake. Why had he ended up later on in the Forbidden Forest? Who the hell had brought him there!?
Watson. He only knew that name…but who or what was Watson?
He was in his pajamas, but resting on his chest was a small bundled weight. He blinked, and after touching it for a while realized it had to be some small stone of sorts. His shoulders sagged in relief when at the light of the moon it came out as a Bezoar. So he had gotten a bezoar once more?
Just where did he get it though, and why? Well, the why was obvious: to avoid poisoning. A better question would actually be what he was going to do with it.
He didn't feel sick or poisoned, but he did feel kind of tired. Had he done some heavy working recently?
It was warmer now, and as his eyes closed he kind of wondered just when the lessons would start again…he was getting bored with nothing to do around the castle.
His muscles began to spasm as he sat down while gritting his teeth at the Ravenclaw table, the next morning. There were four tables once more in the dining hall and every student stood at his own table happily chatting to one another. A few blinks came his way from the Slytherin table…maybe they had dust floating around?
He shook his head slowly, before looking towards the Headmaster, who had apparently stood up.
"With the end of the last term, and the start of the new one, I hope you will all have new purposes and objectives at hand. More important, however, is to remember to be united against harm, and to always, always remember what is really important in life."
"You must remember: you are the son of James and Lily Potter, and Lillian Potter is your sister. Apologies." He blinked. His eyes zeroing on the woman next to the headmaster, bright red hair and green eyes, scanning the crowd…then they moved to yet another man, with dark hair and a pair of glasses, doing pretty much the same with a bright smile on his face. Both were looking at the Gryffindor table, where Lillian was currently talking happily with Hermione and Ron.
"Hogwarts is a school where bonds of friendship are formed, and where we help one another to grow to new heights." The old headmaster continued. "It is a place where trust is place from your parents, to provide for a safe and nurturing environment."
"Hogwarts nurture her children so much, it suffocates them with pillows."
"Professor Quirrell will be indisposed for the remainder of the academic year." The silver haired man added, "But a replacement has already been found."
Somehow, Harry found himself not caring much. He had never met Professor Quirrell, had he?
"Poor sod. 'Indisposed' is another way to put 'mauled to near death'." A voice muttered near him, making him turn and stare at Draco. What was he doing at the Ravenclaw's dining table? He blinked for a moment, before realizing they were actually walking alongside the corridors together.
"Anyway, we got the Switzerland." Draco commented. "It's…strange." The Slytherin boy whispered. "I mean, Vincent was being pranked by the Weasleys yesterday, and Abbott, the Hufflepuff girl you know? Well, she punched Fred or George in the shin, never been able to recognize who is who, and then got a Ravenclaw prefect, Clearwater I think, to take points from the twins…it's the first time the Weasleys actually got caught doing a prank…"
"They…Listen Draco," Harry began, now visibly scared, "There's some…"
"Thing going wrong." He finished, blinking at the sight of a wooden door.
"What the hell is going on!?" He yelled, looking around the room. It was a simple room, with dust and chairs and no windows. Yet the light came in from someplace, and when he narrowed his eyes, he finally recognized what the light was. It was the refraction of a ghost, standing in a corner of the room. Peeves was standing there, floating and eerily silent. His eyes glazing over him but not actually looking…he did seem kind of petrified on the spot.
"Finally we cornered the bugger." Another voice loomed behind him, making him turn around and look at the ghostly forms of Helena Ravenclaw and Henry Slytherin. In the back, he barely saw the tip of what seemed a tail disappear within a hole in the wall, that slowly closed itself as if it had never been there.
"I…I…What's going on!?" Harry exclaimed, only to crumple on the floor and hold his robes tightly. It was just as if by letting them go he'd forget again and end up somewhere else.
Henry looked at Helena, who in turn was wearing a contrite and sad face, before shaking her head.
"Harry, look at me." The Grey Lady whispered, "Please?" It was probably the pleading tone that convinced him to look up, instead of at the ground.
"I…I don't want to forget or end up somewhere else and…"
"Harry, calm down." The ghost murmured gently, "You were hurting a lot, but now it's over."
"What is over? Why can't someone just tell me what's going on!?" Harry hissed, only for Henry to float forward, pushing gently aside Helena.
"Your mind was breaking up, child." The tone was severe and stern, and Harry was on the verge of whimpering only for having heard it, "So shut up and be a man. Let Helena finish will you?" More than a question, however, it was a statement.
"Yes…Well Henry, now that you managed to scare him out of his wits, you can return to the corner, alright?"
"Hel…alright." The Bloody Baron's head appeared downcast, as the ghost floated near the corner.
"Now, Young Raven…" Helena whispered, "You should feel a strange pressure around your neck, is that right?" At the question, the boy looked down and touched for a bit, before his fingers wrapped against a strange silk-like surface before touching his clothes.
"I never got around to explain what the Invisible cloak did, right?" The ghost smiled slowly, as Harry took out from within the cloak a small pocket watch.
"That, my dear boy, is Salazar Slytherin's watch of misdirection." Helena pointed out, "My mother gave it to me when I was elven years old, but now I'm giving it to you because you will need it, and also because we finally found it."
"I told you that Salazar was a devious man." The Bloody Baron piped in from his corner. "Only he would have had Peeves, of all people, hide something."
"Anyway," Helena rolled her eyes, "Salazar knew the powers and the effects of some of the worst curses imaginable, but if there was one thing he feared, it was to lose his knowledge and his cunning." The ghost added quietly, "The watch's small arm will turn to where a spell is being cast, while the longer one will turn to where the spell will end up hitting…but the watch only protects against a single, specific, type of spell."
"So no blazing through battle spells, boy! You'd end up shred…" Helena's death glare on the baron made the man whimper in a corner.
"AS I was saying…it redirects Obliviates and Legilimency, and fools the wizards who cast the spell not by simply failing, no…it gives them the general impression that all is well and nothing is wrong."
Harry looked at the ghost, while clutching the pocket-watch that was held by a small golden chain around his neck, "Obliviates? Leg…Legilimency?" The boy asked, worry in his voice.
"Indeed my child." Helena nodded, "Obliviate is a spell that tears apart a man's mind to destroy thoughts, remove memories and generally leaves the target shaken and suffering from mild headaches…when repeatedly used over a small period of time, it can lead to long lasting effects like mood swings, local amnesia, short term memory loss and more…"
"What day is it?" Harry asked, suddenly scared and trembling.
"We're at the Ninth of February, Harry…" Helena whispered sadly, "You were in and out of your mind for a few months."
"…" The boy did not speak. He just shook his head slowly, before looking at both of the ghosts. "Why did nobody notice? Why didn't you notice?"
"If we had done nothing," the Baron began slowly, "Your mind would have fragmented even more. Dumbledore may be a powerful wizard, but with the work he did it would have been luck for you if you turned mad at age fifteen…so we had to do something quickly."
"We took turns in possessing you, Harry: that's why you don't remember seeing any of us, or what happened during these few months. We completely possessed you." She added, "not the mere hovering behind and influencing thoughts…we normally can't do that to students, it's in the rules of the castle…"
"Except when it's to help said students." The Baron remarked, "And in your case, we were helping you remain sane…You lost two months of life, Harry…" The ghost whispered, "And there is no excuse for something like that, but…we managed to get everything back in order at least."
"Back in order?" Harry mumbled, eying both ghosts curiously.
"Indeed." Henry nodded, "None of the ghosts or portraits will willingly report anything to Dumbledore now. Not after what he did to you…Peeves, who was the wildcard…well…let's just say we had 'Watson' take care of him." The man smiled.
Harry turned once more, looking at Peeves paralyzed face. The poltergeist was outright frozen.
"Watson? Who's…"
"That's for another time, child." Helena piped in, "In any event, we managed to safeguard what we could...you will have to catch up unfortunately, but as long as you keep the invisible cloak on nobody will realize anything."
"Why? What is there to realize?" Harry asked, curious.
"The cloak does not hide the person, but hides all that is a trinket on it." Helena remarked, "And it hides it from everything and anything. May it be location spells, eyes, scrutiny, or even patting: except with the will of the owner, the cloak will not remove itself…and so anything within its pockets."
Harry frowned, looking at his clothes where of course he could not see the cloak. He hadn't expected it to be that magical…he had just thought it was something cool to hide the wand. Like with Flitwick's wand chain.
"My mother used to lose a lot of stuff, and was increasingly paranoid," the Grey Lady added, "She made the cloak so that at least she could keep the really important things somewhere where…never mind."
"Someone used those 'Obliviate' spells on me, right?" Harry asked quietly. "And this…mind reading too, yes?"
"Yes." And with that, Harry took a deep breath. Magic could also make someone read your mind. Magic could erase memories, and change them, and…and it was bad.
"Who did it?" He asked, hesitantly…and then he stilled, "No." He whimpered, "No…No, no."
"Young Raven…" Helena began.
"The Headmaster did this?" Harry muttered, "The Headmaster? The guy who defeated the magical Nazi? Who defeated Grindelwald? He did this to me…why?"
"That is a good question." The Bloody Baron remarked, "But unluckily one we cannot answer." It added, "The portraits in the Headmaster's office belong to the previous Headmasters, and they, differently from those in the hallways, are bound to obey his will."
"So what? The Headmaster wants to make me mad?" Harry whimpered, "I'm alone. My family disowned me, my real family apparently has better things to do than even consider I exist, and…and…"
"Young Raven!" Helena snapped, "We had this conversation once! You are not alone!"
"But…"
"Oh Helena, let me if you please…" Henry remarked drily, floating closer to the boy and grabbing a hold of the ghostly sword at his side. "Now Young Raven…let me ask you: is Mr. Malfoy your friend?"
Harry blinked, but the ghost kept on talking. "What about Filch? Or Binns? What about the Navigator or Don Chisciotte? What about Machiavelli and the other Ravenclaws? What about the ghosts? You see boy…your family left you, alright. It's sad. It's bad. It's horrible…but whimpering and crying? That will not give it back to you. I told you once, and I will tell you again! What do you need to have power!?"
"…Ha…Hatred?" Harry whispered. As Helena instead was now trying to interrupt the baron.
"Yes!"
"N…"
"Oh shut up Helena!" The ghost snapped, before addressing once more Harry, "You know why you were abandoned? Your guardians called you a freak, right?"
"Yes…" Harry gulped down nervously, as the baron instead retorted quickly.
"THEN SHOW THEM FEAR." The ghost roared, brandishing his sword, "Show them that it is not 'a freak' they should have called you, but a 'monster'! Show them to fear you, to respect you! Show them what a Wizard is! What a Warlock is! Show them what magic's true power is…and show the whole world. Show them all…Prove to me, Harry, prove to me that you are neither a Dursley nor a Potter, but your own person…prove to me, that you are my worthy descendant!"
"Wh-What?" Harry exclaimed, clenching his fists and recoiling slightly in order to avoid the ghostly sword's swishing in the air by the hand of the Bloody Baron.
"History is made of one percent facts and ninety-nine percent poetical additions," the Baron remarked drily, "I certainly did not kill Helena here because of a bout of anger…I killed her because she lied to me and hid my child, our child, away from me!"
"It's too soon Henry!" Helena snapped, "Too…"
"Wh…"
"He did grow up well in Albania…then the line moved on to France, where it became D'Orsay…" The Ghost commented, "Later on, it entered England, and it became…"
"Not another word Henry, not another word!" Helena hissed, "That's enough! Harry, get out of here and go to lesson! You have Transfiguration now! Move it!"
With a startled yelp, Harry ran. The corridors of the school met him with little to no problems, as the classes hadn't probably changed. What changed was that as he sat down in the back row, looking with a bit of relief at the people entering in one after the other, his mind was assaulted with all the thoughts of just what he had learned.
The Headmaster wanted him…dead? The…school staff was on his pay roll, wasn't it? With magic flourishing and everything else…was there really someone he could trust? The seat next to him was suddenly taken by Hermione, while on the other side of him Ron Weasley apparently sat. In front of him he realized much to his dismay that his sister had taken the seat. Practically, he had been 'bunked' in.
That didn't bode well at all, especially considering how when Draco and the other Slytherin entered, their hands made the subtle gesture to get to their wands, but stopped midway. Harry's gaze was kind of shocked and surprised at such a display, but when the rest of the seats were filled, it was with the most bizarre checkered formation ever. On one side, all Gryffindors and him, while on the other the rest of the other houses…there were a few unlucky Hufflepuffs in the Gryffindor side, but they stood in a corner, making as much space as possible between them and the Gryffindors.
"Harry." Hermione curtly greeted him, before taking out her transfiguration stuff.
Harry blinked. Now that he didn't have to worry about blacking out, the question still remained on what the hell was going on. What did those ghosts do to him? What did they make him do? As he took out his stuff, and prepared himself for taking notes, Ron's elbow just so casually pushed his ink well down, making it fall on the ground and crash.
"Sorry mate! Wasn't looking!" Ron spoke with a smirk, before said damn elbow, as the red haired boy opened his book, hit him in the sides making him wince.
"Sorry!" The boy muttered a moment later, but Harry could have sworn 'You bastard git' had been added to that.
"Ron!" Lillian exclaimed, having turned her head, "Tell me again: how were your holidays back at home?" Was the girl taunting him, now? Did she know about his guardians leaving him? Did they…oh, of course. The Potters probably didn't have the money to take him in. They didn't have it at first, it was no surprise they didn't possess it at the time. So that was why he had become a ward of the ministry: in the end his father's brother had…
Harry blinked.
Lillian was his sister, not his cousin. It was his father who hadn't wanted to bring him in.
He had been left to the Dursleys, and…Petunia had told him they hadn't expected him to become a wizard. Was that the reason? They had thought him a squib and abandoned him to the muggle relatives? And even then, even in that moment, they didn't want him back?
So Lillian wasn't taunting him because he spent the holidays at Hogwarts. He was driving the nails deeper into his wounds because he didn't have a home to return to. He would never have one. Thinking like that, he completely missed Ron's remark, or the fact that Lillian was apparently entering a great length of words on how her mother and her father had filled her with gifts.
It was February: why the hell were they still talking about Christmas? He took a deep breath, as from his school bag he grabbed one of his spare pens. Sure, they had said they had to bring quills…but there was no rule against writing with pens, was there?
Writing on a parchment was difficult, but with McGonagall explaining both Ron and Lillian turned silent, scribbling notes. His eyes moved to what Hermione was writing, and was particularly surprised when it turned out the girl wasn't writing, but had her wand out beneath her desk, and pointed at him.
She saw him looking at her, and at the wand, and bit her lip.
His eyes probably betrayed his shock at the matter, because Hermione suddenly whispered.
"What do you know about Nicholas Flamel?"
"Wh…"
"Not another word." Hermione hissed slowly and in a low voice. "Tell me what you know, and I won't jinx you…even if you do deserve it."
"Yeah mate, I'd listen to her." Ron muttered with his own wand out beneath the desk…and it was then that Harry realized he had been bunked in…and ambushed. Just what had those two ghosts done by possessing him!? Why were they actually holding him at wand-point, by now, and why was the professor not actually seeing what was happening.
"Nicholas Flamel…" Harry muttered, wracking his brain to try and remember what the hell this guy was. He had heard about him…he was in one of his books on warfare, wasn't it?
"I don't know."
"Bullshit." Ron hissed at him, jabbing the tip of his wand into his side. "You overheard us yesterday and taunted us on it. Now out with it."
"What is the worst you can do, Weasley?" Harry queried, his eyes locking on those of the red haired ginger. "Because, last I checked, I killed a troll. Would a ginger give me more trouble I wonder?"
The nerves of this…this baby who thought that pointing a wand at him would work. A wand was more than a gun, and he'd debase it by simply using it as such. He didn't know the spells Harry knew. The brat could end up skewered in at least two different ways, and yet here he was, probably menacing him with a jinx.
"You wouldn't want to walk naked out of here, would you?" Hermione whispered quickly, seeing how Ron was at a loss of words.
"Or with a runny nose or maybe with both." The girl added, but she was no longer 'menacing'.
He was Harry, the troll killer. Really did these pitiful kids expect him to bow to their tantrums and outrageous demands?
"Why don't you go and eat a frog, Mudblood?" Harry whispered with a bright smile on his face. "That would teach you to…"
"Mucus ad Nauseam!" Ron's spell was cast outright in the middle of the class, hitting him full-front and sending him on the ground. The shrill shriek of McGonagall came immediately.
"Weasley! What do you think you're doing cursing a fellow student in the middle of the class!? Twenty-five points from Gryffindor!" At the vocal disagreement that soon followed, Harry didn't manage to hear much else in the middle of it, because someone had firmly grabbed him and had begun to bring him out towards the infirmary.
"That was pure genius." The voice belonged to Draco, but Harry heard little to nothing. Was there mucus coming out also from his ears? Or was it the ringing from the curse's hit?
"Now the Gryffindors will have a hard time saying they aren't bullies. And did you hear Weasley's excuse? You calling Granger a mudblood? Nobody will ever believe that: you're muggle-raised." Draco was still talking, when the infirmary came into view.
Harry could have sworn, as Draco left him on the bed of the infirmary, that the boy had mumbled something.
It was either 'isn't this the third time you're in the infirmary?' or 'I'll call the nurse', but certainly, whatever it was, it did kind of made him feel better.
He had a friend after all.
And now, he also knew who his enemies were.
Madam Pomfrey took less than a few minutes to get the small jinx out of his system, and once she did, he merely laid down on the infirmary's bed to get a few minutes of rest. It was then, that he saw another friendly face come in from the door.
Basileus was tapping on his Prefect's badge as he moved to sit on the chair next to Harry's bed.
"Well, now that you will have to explain to me. Why would you do that, Harry?"
"Do what?" The boy whispered, looking at the man with both of his eyebrows rising up in surprise.
"I was called to ask what your version of the story is concerning the event. I doubt you would call Miss. Granger a Mudblood without cause, if actually calling her that. That does however bring us to what you did to have Mr. Weasley actually send a spell your way, unless…are the Gryffindors bullying you?" The voice was clear, but the question came with an icy underlying tone that was surprisingly scary for the meek but light hearted teen.
"N-No sir." Harry squeaked, shaking his head.
"Good. You know of the term 'a murder of crows', Harry? We take bullying very seriously, and we strike back with viciousness…so, what happened?"
"I…I don't know." Harry whispered, his eyes downcast, "Suddenly they surrounded me on all sides, and…and they acted all mean and all with me. They took their wands out from under the desk and wanted to know who Nicholas Flamel was and when I said I didn't know they said I was lying…and then I told Hermione to go and eat a frog, but Ron attacked me then and so…"
"I understand." Basileus remarked, his mind thoughtful, "and you actually did give them a good suggestion…Nicholas Flamel is on a chocolate frog card after all." The teen commented with a light chuckle. "He's the creator of the philosopher's stone, and is at least a hundred and more years old…they didn't tell you why they were asking about it?" The prefect's voice was now tinged with curiosity, before something passed over the man's eyes. "Oh…It could have something to do with the forbidden corridor I suppose."
"Eh?"
"Nothing for a Raven as young as you to look into, kid." Basileus remarked, "In fact I'll bring up the possibility of idiocy being genetical in the Gryffindors, next time around…" The teen ruffled the boy's hair, and for just a second, Harry winced slightly as the red haired boy quickly removed his hand. He stood up quickly, briskly walking out of there with a simple goodbye.
Left alone, except with the distinct feeling he wasn't actually alone, he stretched slightly on the bed. He'd need to sleep everything off…hoping he wouldn't suddenly awaken somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else.
*Hermione*
"Why did you do that, Ron? I had everything under control!" The girl hissed at the red haired boy, who was currently eating dinner without a care in the world.
"He called you that!" Ron exclaimed, with his mouth half full.
"And because of that not only did we lose points, but you got kicked out of transfiguration! Something even the twins didn't manage!" Lillian muttered. "I thought it was clear we just had to warm him up a bit, and then ask him about Nicholas! Why did you have your wand out to begin with?"
"Well, Hermione had hers out!" Ron replied, looking at the bushy haired girl who flinched slightly.
"Because last time I spoke with him, it was clear he just wanted to be left alone. I thought he'd answer if I promised not to hurt him, and you, instead, had to rile him up!" Hermione hotly exclaimed.
"I riled him up? You held him at wand point first!" The Weasley's exclamation was met with the silence of the dining hall. Turning sharply around, everyone's gaze was apparently held on the boy, Harry, who had just then arrived from the door of the common room and was heading towards the Ravenclaw's table together with a couple of Ravens from the older years.
"Look at him. Like he's some sort of noble prat…" Ron hissed.
"My-My," Nearly Headless Nick commented, appearing right over Ron. "I didn't want to believe it was true. Resorting to violence and to menaces? Gryffindors? You truly bring dishonor to the house." And with those harsh words, Nearly Headless Nick flew away, straight through the walls without even waiting to hear a reply.
Yet Hermione couldn't shake out the feeling that something was apparently wrong now. Gryffindors were quietly eating, and even the Weasley twins weren't much active. Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students instead were happily chatting among themselves of this and that…
Something was wrong. Now, if only she could understand what it was…and who Nicholas Flamel was…
Her hand grabbed one of the chocolate frogs that had been set at the table as a desert, munching onto it distractedly as she removed the card. Dumbledore's card was one of the most common, with the back speaking of how he was a really powerful wizard, a leader, a friend with…
Eat a toad.
"I found Flamel." Hermione whispered.
"Huh?" Lillian replied curiously.
"Look…" and with that, the card was passed to Lillian, and later on to Ron.
As the trio began to talk and decide on what to do, a pair of bright green eyes looked at the tables, and a small sigh escaped the person's lips.
Life was never simple, was it?
Author's notes
I think it's best if I outright explain the 'biased' POV, before someone misunderstands.
As you may have noticed, Lillian spoke of her time at home, thinking rightfully so that Harry had gone home too for Christmas. Because no-one knows that his guardians left Harry, then she doesn't know about it. She had planned on warming up to him, but what 'she' didn't know was that Ron instead had been 'harassing' Harry by elbowing him.
When warming up didn't work, Hermione tried the second route of wand point.
However to Harry this further on demonstrated how the three were working together to gank on him.
Hope there won't be any misunderstandings further on the line…