Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling. Also this story is inspired by 'A Shattered Prophecy' by Project Dark Overlord.
Chapter Thirty Six
Harry pulled at the chains with all his might, but they refused to give. His wrists were already chaffed, as his perpetual attempts to get free were slowly rubbing them raw. But still, Harry struggled, panic blooming in his chest when his attempts left him with bleeding wrists instead of freedom.
He gave up, dropping listless in the chains, breathing erratically. His skin prickled with fear as he glanced around the dark, windowless cell. How did he end up here? He couldn't remember. He had woken up, chained to the wall, both arms stretched painfully wide and shackled in heavy manacles.
Out of the darkness, Moody suddenly appeared. Harry flinched back as the Auror's scarred face loomed before him. A twisted smirk spread over the Auror's face.
"I warned you," he growled in his gruff voice, "you can't get away with killing people."
"Where am I?" Harry asked, angrily.
"I'll get every drop of information out of you, that's what I promised." Moody reminded him, "and I don't care what anyone does, I'm going to fulfil that promise."
Harry's bound hands clenched into fists.
"Let me go!" he yelled.
Moody stepped closer, standing a mere inch away from Harry.
"You're a murderer." he stated, quietly, "you took away a father from a child today. You don't expect to walk away unhurt, do you?"
Harry fell still, eyes blazing at the Auror.
"That's right," Moody leered, "deep down, even you know, you deserve this!"
Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes flashed in anger but still, he remained silent.
Moody smiled and lifted his wand to gently part the hair falling over Harry's forehead, revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar. He smirked.
"Time to test my theory, boy!"
His wand lightly traced the scar and Harry almost stopped breathing when fire erupted in it's wake. He twisted in the chains, grunting, his head dropped and eyes squeezed shut in effort to stifle his cry. A brutal grip of his hair and his head was wrenched back up again, so he could meet Moody's mismatched eyes. Moody took aim, holding Harry still by the grip on his hair, and rested his wand onto Harry's scar.
"No!" Harry managed, struggling to breathe through the pain, "d-don't!"
"If I cast the cruciatus curse right here," Moody pressed his wand into Harry's scar, "would he feel it?"
"No!" Harry cried, "it...it doesn't work like t-that!" the pain in his scar was building, working it's way up in intensity. But the panic he felt at facing Moody's wand while completely helpless was worse than the pain. "No...! Don't...!"
Moody smirked, his eyes reflecting nothing but complete madness.
"Crucio!"
Harry scrambled up in bed, breathing heavily. Almost instantly, his hand flew up to his scar, which was aching with pain. He was covered in sweat, his breathing still harsh and uneven. Harry pulled his hand down from his scar and dropped his head into both hands.
Long minutes ticked by and eventually, the pain in his scar dulled down. Harry pulled his hands away, rubbing one last time at his scar before he fell back down on his back. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Moody's taunt that day in the hospital wing, about his scar and what he wanted to do, had stayed with him. It was the reason why his blood still boiled with anger, but he didn't know it affected him to this extent that he would have nightmares about it. His thoughts went back to the day's events and he felt every muscle in his body tense when he remembered Moody's attack on him. Even the scarred Auror had no idea how deep his words would cut Harry.
'Sleep with pride tonight, that's another child you've orphaned.'
Harry let out a pent up, frustrated sigh and turned to his side, trying to fall back asleep. He eventually did fall asleep again, but it was a restless sleep, filled with dreams of Moody's taunts and a strange faceless women and child, weeping and calling out Paul Jackson's name.
xxx
Harry was the first one to get up and get dressed in the morning. After a fretful night, Harry was in no mood to talk to anyone, especially his dorm mates. He slipped out the room while the other boys slept and quietly made his way downstairs. He stepped into the common room and stopped in surprise.
"Hi," Damien said, looking equally surprised at Harry's sudden appearance, "you're up early."
"I could say the same to you." Harry replied.
Damien grinned, one of his wide annoying but strangely endearing smiles, and tapped the parchment before him. "Transfiguration essay. It's due in today, so..." he shrugged and grinned again.
Harry walked over to the table Damien was sitting at and silently slipped into the chair opposite him.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.
Damien narrowed his eyes questioningly.
"Last night, when Moody asked about me talking with anyone in Slytherin," Harry reminded, "why didn't you say anything? I know you have your suspicions about a certain Slytherin."
Damien's expression changed and he straightened up a little. He tapped his parchment with his quill, seemingly figuring out how to answer.
"I know you're friends with Malfoy," he said at last, his voice alone told Harry how he felt about it, "and Merlin knows how much I would love to get that pale faced twerp back for everything he's done. And truth be told, when Mad-Eye asked me, Malfoy's name was on the tip of my tongue." he paused, hazel eyes darting once to Harry, "but I...I couldn't do it."
"Why?" Harry asked.
Damien smiled a little.
"Because of you," he answered, "I looked over at you and I saw the panic in your eyes. I could feel how much you wanted to keep Malfoy a secret, how badly you wanted to protect him." he shrugged, "I couldn't do it, not to you, even if it meant I lost an opportunity to get Malfoy his ass handed to him."
Harry's eyes flashed at the last part, but he didn't comment. He looked intently at Damien, before silently clearing his throat. With noticeable difficulty, he uttered two words he usually reserved for his father and his father alone.
"Thank you," he said, "you have no idea how important it was to keep Draco away from the Aurors."
Damien smiled back.
"It's alright," he replied, "that's what brothers do," his eyes sparkled at Harry, "have each other's back."
Harry was, quite honestly, speechless. He shook his head, mentally telling himself to not say anything. Damien was obviously not going to give up on this brother thing, not without one hell of a fight it seemed.
But at the same time, Harry found himself smiling at the boy's continued stubbornness, for a reason he couldn't really understand. He leaned forward and glanced at the parchment in front of Damien, in effort to change the topic.
"So, transfiguration, huh?" he asked.
"Yeah," Damien scratched at his eyebrow, "I'm almost done, I just can't get this last bit to make sense."
Harry reached across the table and pulled the parchment towards himself.
"Let me have a look."
Damien sat back, initially surprised, but a wide grin spread across his face. He noticed, as did the growing number of students, that Harry knew a lot about a lot. His grades were a discussion point between a lot of students, who assumed his worldwide travel and shifting from school to school was responsible for his vast knowledge and skill.
Damien felt a strange warmth spread inside him. His big brother helping him with his homework. That was a fairly normal family moment, wasn't it?
xxx
"You actually said that?" Sirius asked, wide eyed.
James nodded.
"And I meant it too."
"Where would you have gone?" asked Sirius.
James pushed his glasses further up his nose and sighed.
"To be honest, I don't know." he replied, "if I was to take Harry and leave, I wouldn't have a clue where to go. But I wouldn't continue to stay here and have my son exposed to Moody and his antics."
Sirius shook his head.
"You actually threatened Dumbledore?"
"No, not threatened," James shook his head, "I warned him."
Sirius looked both, impressed and worried on his friend's behalf.
"I can't believe Dumbledore sent Moody away," he said, shaking his head, "your warning must have hit him hard. Albus Dumbledore isn't one to give in, to anyone."
"He had to give in," James replied, "he couldn't excuse Moody's behaviour, no matter how hard he tried." his hands clenched into fists as yesterday's events played back in his mind. "It's wasn't safe to keep Moody around. He's got a vendetta against Harry. No matter what happens, Moody brings it all back and pins it on Harry. You should have heard the stuff he was accusing Harry of, it's ludicrous!"
Sirius went quiet, his expression clouded as he struggled with what he wanted to say.
"Is it?" he asked finally. At James' shocked look, he held up a hand, "just hear me out, Prongs. Moody's a paranoid, idiotic, royally screwed up fool. But he's a fool who knows his crap." Sirius shrugged, "maybe what he's suggesting, Harry finding some way to communicate with Voldemort, maybe it's not that far fetched."
"Yes, it is! It's far fetched and it's ridiculous and I don't know why you're siding with Moody here!" James snapped.
"I'm not siding with anyone," Sirius pacified, "all I'm saying is, just keep a closer eye on Harry. I mean, he was there, outside on the grounds when that body was thrown down. Maybe he knew it was coming."
"No, he didn't," James shook his head, "you weren't there, Sirius, I was. I saw the look on his face. He was just as horrified as the rest of us."
Sirius fell quiet and nodded his head. He looked back up at James with a lopsided grin.
"You're really in his corner," he commented, "it's good. I'm glad to see you have such trust in him. You've got Harry all figured out."
James gave him a small, sad smile.
"Far from it," he admitted, quietly, "Harry is still...a stranger, in some ways," he admitted, "in the four months that he's been with me, I've failed to get any closer to him." he ducked his head, "it's just...when Moody was accusing him of getting Jackson killed, I could see it in Harry, how much Moody's words were affecting him. When Moody mentioned Jackson's kid, Harry looked like he had taken a physical hit, it left him reeling." he shook his head, "you can't fake something like that."
Sirius nodded, his heart breaking at how dejected his best friend looked.
"Give it time, Prongs," he consoled, "you'll get there. Harry may not respond to you yet, but he's your son, your blood." he grinned, "how long can he stay mad?"
xxx
Breakfast was, as usual, noisy and crowded. What was unusual, was the topic of discussion; Paul Jackson, the dead body that dropped at the gates of Hogwarts yesterday. Every student, from first year to seventh, from all four houses, was deeply engrossed in discussions about it. It seemed everyone had an opinion and a theory.
"It was obviously meant for Hogsmeade, it's only by accident that it fell here." said one.
"Maybe it was sent here on purpose, to cause more of a scandal." said another.
"I heard he was still alive when he was dropped. It was the fall that killed him." claimed some.
"He was dead hours before." claimed others.
Throughout all of this, Harry sat quietly at the Gryffindor table, snippets of conversations made their way to him. Damien and Hermione sat across from him, Ron and Ginny sat on either side of Harry, all of them uncomfortable at the topic of discussion.
"Can you just imagine," Eric said, "what that guard must have done to the Dark Prince, to get killed like that?"
"He must have tortured him." Lee said, "judging by how badly he suffered, he must have dealt out some pretty serious damage to the Dark Prince."
Damien looked over at Harry, but he gave no reaction. Harry had his head lowered, absently playing with his bowl of porridge.
"That's...that's so wrong." Angelina said, shaking her head. "They got the Dark Prince, they shouldn't be torturing him. That's...it's not right."
"Not right?" Seamus frowned, "Angie, did you see the guard? He was butchered! Was that right?"
"Of course not," Angelina shook her head, "but neither is hurting another person, while he's trapped in a cell, morally right either."
"Who says the Dark Prince is human?" Lavender scoffed.
"Exactly, he's killed Merlin knows how many, he deserves all the harsh treatment he's getting." Parvati added.
"Nah, I'm with Angie on this one," Dean said, "we got him, we locked him up. That should be it. Hurting him for whatever reason makes us no better than Death Eaters."
"They should have just killed him," Lee said, with a shrug, "less trouble."
Damien cleared his throat loudly, wanting to put an end to this particular topic of discussion.
"Hey guys," he called to Angelina and the rest, "isn't the owl post late today? It should have arrived by now, no?"
It worked, most of them raised their eyes to the ceiling, frowning at the lack of owls this morning.
"That's strange," Lavender muttered, "they're usually here by half eight."
"I wanna see what the Daily Prophet says!" Parvati added, "they must have had a field day!"
Harry raised his eyes to the ceiling too, his brow creased when he noticed the lack of owls flocking in, carrying mail and newspapers. Lavender was right, delivery was usually done by half eight in the morning and now it was almost nine.
A series of loud claps had Harry pull his gaze from the ceiling, turning to the staff table. Dumbledore had risen to his feet, attracting everyone's attention. The Great Hall quietened down at once.
"Thank you," Dumbledore smiled, "as many of you may have noticed, there has been no owl post this morning." he started. "I'm afraid, after the most unfortunate incident yesterday, Hogwarts has become a no fly zone."
Murmurs started at once, but Dumbledore's voice carried over them.
"There will be no owls delivering any mail either to or from Hogwarts, until further notice." he continued, "if there are any matters of urgency in which you need to contact your homes, please speak to your Head of House."
Harry's furious gaze tore from the staff table, straight to the Slytherins, seeking out the shocked looking Draco. Green eyes met grey and it was all Harry could do to remain seated. His eyes burned, fists clenched and his heart hammered against his chest.
No fly zone over Hogwarts meant no owls could get in or out.
Which meant Draco couldn't receive anything from Lucius.
Which meant Harry wasn't getting his portkey.
xxx
The day passed tortuously long. Harry went from one class to the next, silently seething at his situation. He was fucked, royally and truly fucked. His father's warning had backfired spectacularly and resulted in his escape plan being screwed to hell. Now he wouldn't be able to get the portkey for God knows how long and he was condemned to stay here, with the Aurors watching him closer than ever. He consoled himself, 'at least I haven't seen Moody all day, that's something!'
Harry was itching to talk to Draco, to vent out some of his frustration, to scream and yell at him and accuse him again that all of this was his fault. But he couldn't even do that. He himself had warned Draco to stay away. True to his expectations, the Aurors were keeping a closer than usual watch on his every move. James was back by his side again, walking alongside him instead of a few paces behind him. It was enough to drive Harry almost crazy.
When it came to lunch time, Harry was so worked up, he couldn't eat. Leaving Damien and the rest at the Gryffindor table, he walked out of the Great Hall. He passed by the curious Aurors at the stairs, walked past the ones stationed at the ends of the corridors and the ones that seemed to appear behind him, no matter where he went. Harry headed to the empty common room, hoping that was the one place they might leave him alone. He was right, but not for long.
Harry had just pulled out his History of Magic homework, wanting to distract his mind from his current predicament, when the portrait door slid open and a dark haired Auror clambered inside. Harry looked up at him and felt his whole being tense.
Sirius smiled widely at him, shaking his long hair out of his eyes.
"There you are!" he greeted, walking over to the table Harry was seated at, "I've been looking everywhere for you." his eyes roamed over him, "you not hungry?"
Harry didn't reply.
"Me too, had a big breakfast." Sirius grinned, patting his stomach.
Harry looked away and picked up his quill, head lowered over his parchment and started his homework, choosing to ignore Sirius.
Sirius stared at him for a moment before pulling out a chair and sitting opposite him.
"What you workin' on?" he asked.
Harry tensed when Sirius sat down, but he kept his eyes fixed on his parchment and continued writing.
Sirius leaned over to glance at the parchment.
"The Goblin war?" he shook his head, "I hate History of Magic, such a waste of time, when we could be playing Quidditch, right?" he held up a hand, waiting for Harry to 'hi-five' him. Harry ignored him. "Aww, come on, don't leave me hanging."
Harry grunted.
"There's an idea." he muttered, lifting his eyes to glare at him.
Sirius dropped his hand, but the amused smile never left his face.
"You know, I'm great at Quidditch." he continued, pretending he hadn't heard Harry, "your dad is good, but I'm bloody brilliant!" he grinned widely, "heard you're almost as good as me." he tilted his head to the side, "how about a one-to-one? The day's clear enough for a quick game. How about it?"
Harry continued working, scribbling lines across the parchment.
"Come on, Harry," Sirius fell back in his chair, "you really not going to talk to me?" Harry gave no reply. "I came just for you." Sirius tried, "took time off work, so I could spend it with my Godson."
Harry paused, his quill coming to a standstill, before he forced himself to continue writing. Sirius waited, blue eyes fixed on the stubborn boy. He sighed and leaned backwards, putting both hands behind his head and smirked.
"Doesn't matter, if you don't talk." he said, "I can do enough talking for the both of us. I could talk for Britain!" he grinned again, "man, how awesome a job would that be?" he laughed, his bark like laughter boomed across the common room. "It would be nice if you had something to say, but it's okay, I can talk for us." he lowered his hands and tapped the table with his fingers, "what should I talk about?" he mused, "oh, how about the dilemma with goat's milk! Did you hear about it? It's awful, isn't it?" Sirius shook his head, "I mean, goat's with pink milk? I don't know about you, but I don't want to be caught drinking pink milk. It's a travesty! I mean, yellow, yeah I could manage, even green would be doable, but pink? No way, I won't be caught drinking pink milk, not even..."
"Actually, I do have something to say," Harry interrupted, "shut up!"
Sirius paused, his blue eyes shone at Harry.
"Ha! Made you talk." he smiled.
Harry had enough. He got up and gathered his parchment, quill and ink pot and shoved them into his bag.
"Aww, Harry, come on," Sirius pleaded, "don't go, I was just trying to make you laugh."
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and walked to the door.
"Harry? Harry, wait." Sirius followed after him, overtaking him and blocking the door, "don't leave, I'll go, okay, you don't have to go." he paused, his eyes softened. "I just...I don't get it." he said, "why are you like this? Why are you so angry? Can't you even try? Give it a shot, get to know us? You might be surprised." he took a step closer, looking somewhat solemn. "Stop fighting, Harry." he pleaded quietly, "give your mum and dad a chance. You don't want to talk to anyone else, fine, but talk to them. You have no idea what they're doing for you, who they're fighting to keep you safe. Give them one chance, just one, and you'll come to see how much they love you."
Harry stepped closer, anger radiating from him in waves.
"I know all I need to about them and their love." he hissed. "Potter can try every dam trick in the book, he's never going to fool me."
"No one is trying to fool you, Harry." Sirius shook his head, "you're doing a bang up job of that yourself."
Harry smirked.
"We'll see who the fool is," he challenged, "me, for trusting my instincts," his eyes turned colder as he glared at Sirius, "or you for underestimating me."
He walked around the Auror and slipped out the door, leaving a dejected Sirius alone in the common room.
xxx
The day didn't get any better for Harry. After a stressful block of afternoon classes, Harry was ready to call it a night. But his growling stomach and Damien's insistent demands for him to eat something, had Harry dejectedly trudging to the Great Hall. Halfway through dinner, Harry got news that easily trumped the morning announcement of the owl post ban.
He saw Professor McGonagall, handing out a sheet of parchment to each student, working her way down the table. A quick glance to other tables and he saw the three Head of Houses doing the same. He waited until the Professor worked her way to him and held out his copy of the single leaf parchment. Harry took it and quickly scanned through it. He didn't understand. It was a list of books, essays and reading and...it was homework but it was enough to last a fortnight.
Harry got up, parchment in hand and hurried to McGonagall, who had just handed the last Gryffindor her copy.
"What is this?" Harry asked, holding out the list.
"What does it look like, Mr Potter?" she replied, "it's your holiday homework, to be completed and handed in your first day back."
"First day back?" Harry asked, blinking in confusion, "back from where?"
"From Christmas break." McGonagall answered. Seeing his blank look, she elaborated. "The Christmas break is spent at home, with family." she met his wide green eyes and smiled, "you're going home, Mr Potter, back to Godric's Hollow."
xxx
The common room was bustling with students. The fireplace crackled loudly and the flames licked higher and mightier than ever. Parvati and Lavender giggled as they sat before it, sharing gossip and stories. They stole longing glances at Harry, who was sitting in his usual chair, looking lost in depressing thoughts.
"I can't bloody believe it!"
Ron's loud exclamation broke Harry out of his daze. He looked around to see the red haired boy glaring hatefully at the homework list.
"Huh? What's wrong now?" Damien asked, sleepily from the chair opposite Harry.
"This! This is what's wrong!" Ron waved the single leaf parchment at Damien.
"Oh, right." Damien muttered before snuggling deeper in the chair, his eyes slipping shut again.
"It's not that bad, Ronald." Hermione said, sprawled out on her front, quill in hand as she finished her Runes homework.
"For you, maybe," Ron argued, "but for everyone else, it's a bloody joke! I mean, we're on holiday? Doesn't that, by the very definition, mean no work? It's appalling that we're expected to complete what...?" he scanned the sheet again, blue eyes narrowed, "...six essays, two projects and eight reading assignments! Eight! It's a joke!"
"We're all laughing," Ginny said dryly, head bowed over her own textbook and parchment, her quill scratching away at the ten foot scroll.
"I swear, it's not even worth going away from Christmas break, if we're going to be working anyway." Ron grumbled, "may as well just stay here."
Harry looked up at that, his heart leaping in his chest.
"You don't mean that," Ginny said, "remember your first year? You cried because everyone went to see Charlie and you had to stay here."
"I did not!" Ron objected, his ears turning pink, "shut up, Gin!"
But Ginny only giggled, winking at Hermione who was smirking as well.
Harry moved, shifting to sit at the edge of his seat.
"You can do that?" he asked, surprising the other three. He rarely ever spoke to them.
"Erm, do what?" Ginny asked.
"Stay here?" Harry asked, "over the holidays?"
Ginny shared a look with her brother and Hermione.
"Yeah, I mean, over Christmas holidays."
"How?" Harry asked, a note of desperation in his voice, which surprised the other three. "How do I stay here?"
"I...I don't know." Ginny said, "I've never stayed over the holidays."
"I had to stay once, my parents arranged it." Ron explained.
Harry went quiet, he leaned back, looking lost.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, "you want to stay here, over the break?"
"Doesn't matter." Harry muttered.
"Don't you want to go home for Christmas?" Ginny asked, before she could stop herself.
Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes dark and clouded.
"I do," he replied quietly, "but no one will let me."
It didn't register right away, but when Ginny understood, she felt her heart skip a beat. She didn't know what to say. She looked away from Harry, her eyes glanced over the sleeping Damien, silently thanking Merlin he wasn't awake to hear Harry.
Harry got up and went upstairs, leaving the other three to stare after him, feeling a strange mix of surprise and empathy for the notorious Dark Prince.
xxx
The next morning, everyone left for breakfast, everyone except Harry. His appetite had withered away, ever since yesterday. First the news about the owl post ban, then the trip back to Godric's Hollow. It was enough to sap all the energy out of him.
Harry rubbed at his tired eyes, he had hardly slept all night. He was sitting on his bed, pulling on his shoes when there was a knock at the door. Harry sat back and took in a deep breath. He wasn't ready to deal with Potter today. But the door opened to reveal not James Potter, but someone else.
Harry's eyes narrowed at the visitor.
"Ron's not here," he informed, pulling on his shoes, "he already left."
Hermione clicked the door to close behind her. She cast a cautious glance over the boy, before stepping forward.
"I know," she looked nervously at him, "I...I wanted to speak to you."
Harry glanced sideways at her.
"What about?" he asked.
Hermione faltered, her fingers twitched, playing with the strap of her bag. Without a word, she opened her bag and pulled out a parchment. She stepped forward and held it out.
Harry took the parchment from her and scanned it quickly.
Subject Selected :
Current Mark :
Professor's Signature -
Applicant's Signature -
Head of House's Signature -
Harry glanced up at the bushy haired girl.
"What is this?"
Hermione took in a breath.
"MLs" she said, "Merit Lessons, taken by students who want to better their marks or gain a higher level of understanding in a chosen subject." she nodded at it. "If you submit it by the end of this week, you can stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas break and do those lessons."
Harry was rendered speechless. He glanced down at the form and then back up at Hermione.
"Why would you give me this?"
Hermione looked caught off by the question. She paused before she answered, shrugging her shoulders a little.
"You don't need any extra lessons, I know that. I just...I felt..." she looked up at him, her face melting into a smile, "I don't think it's right for anyone to be forced or pushed into doing anything they don't want to." she explained, "even though, you should go home and be with your family, you shouldn't be forced to go there until you really see it as your home." she held his gaze. "I remembered picking this up at the start of term. I've wanted to stay over the years but..." she chuckled, "...my parents always raised objections."
Harry looked down at the sheet again before meeting her gaze.
"Just remember, hand it in to Professor McGonagall before the end of this week. Otherwise, they can reject it. They need sufficient notice to arrange the lessons." she moved towards the door but stopped, turning back around to face him. "Do me a favour? Don't tell Damy, I was the one to give you this." she pointed at the form in his hand, "I don't think he'll ever forgive me."
Harry's lips lifted into a small smile. He nodded and Hermione smiled. She turned to leave.
"Hey," Harry called, stopping her. She turned around to face him, but Harry struggled for a moment, looking like he didn't know what to say, before he lifted up the sheet, "guess we're even now?"
Hermione smiled, her eyes softening.
"I wasn't keeping score." she replied.
Harry watched as she opened the door and left, leaving him with a way out, of at least one, of his problems.
xxx
It was the day of the big match. Gryffindor against Hufflepuff. The day was cold and dreary, but it didn't stop the rest of the school piling into the Quidditch stands, shouting encouragement to the two teams. Even the drizzly rain couldn't dampen their spirits, as they cheered and yelled joyfully, waving their flags and banners around.
Harry watched from the pitch, his broom gripped tight in his hand. His gaze scanned through the sea of red, blue, green and yellow students, soaking in their sheer enthusiasm but still wondering, why they were so passionate about a silly game?
His gaze flickered to Damien, who was standing a few paces away, watching their team captain shake hands with Hufflepuff's captain. He knew Damien was just as passionate, just as idiotically attached to Quidditch. He felt the uncomfortable jolt in his chest when he remembered how their last match had ended. He mounted his broom, as Madame Hooch brought her whistle to her lips, ready to start the game. Harry was the reason Gryffindor lost last time. He vowed not to be the reason this time.
The whistle sounded and the fourteen players all shot upwards into the grey sky. Harry's gaze flickered from one player to the other, watching the quaffle as it got tossed from one chaser to the next. Damien got a hold of it and went tearing down the pitch, heading for the three hoops to score a goal. He threw it in, past the keeper and scored the first goal for Gryffindor, mere seconds after the game started. The crowd of red in the stands erupted in cheers.
Hufflepuff soon caught up, scoring two goals in the next half hour, bringing the score, 20-10. In that half hour, Harry spotted the tiny, fluttering golden ball twice, but he couldn't catch it yet. He had to wait, until Gryffindor was at least seven goals ahead. That part was easy. The hard part, was keeping Paul Pedersen, Hufflepuff's seeker, away from the snitch. Every time Paul detected the snitch, he went tearing down the pitch after it. And every time that happened, Harry blocked him, keeping him from grabbing the golden ball. By the end of the first hour, Paul was openly glaring at Harry, to which Harry couldn't help but smirk.
The score hit 50-20, Gryffindor in the lead. Harry waited and watched. He found himself mentally willing his team to keep on scoring. His green eyes glowed with pride every time Damien scored a goal. Ron surprised Harry, by blocking Hufflepuff's goals, all but the fist two. Finally, the score hit the mark Harry was waiting for. As soon as Lee's booming voice announced the score as 90-20, Harry tore down the pitch, after the tiny golden ball, Paul at his heels.
It was at the precise moment, when Harry reached out a hand to grab the snitch, that it happened. His scar erupted in sudden pain, intense enough to make his vision flash white. Harry gasped, the hand that was reaching out for the snitch flew to his forehead instead. His broom shook and Harry slowed down to come to a stop, one hand steadying his broom, while the other was clutched at his forehead. Paul zoomed past him, chasing after the snitch.
Sitting in the stands, James rose to his feet, his mouth dry and eyes wide as he stared at Harry. He had eyes only for his sons during the game. So he had seen and understood what was happening to his eldest. He scrambled out of his seat, pushing and forcing his way past the crowd to get down to the pitch and get Madame Hooch to stop the game-play and get Harry to safety. His wand was gripped in his hand, his eyes darting to Harry's unsteady form, ready just in case Harry fell.
The other person to have noticed Harry was Damien. He forgot all about the game, all about the quaffle and the score and what he was supposed to be doing. He shot forward, racing to his brother's side.
"Harry!" he hovered next to him, reaching out with one hand to grab at his shoulder. "You okay?"
Harry was panting, his eyes squeezed shut. Slowly, his hand came away from his forehead to grip at the broom, blinking furiously to clear his vision.
"Yeah." he breathed.
The pain dimmed, just enough for Harry to get his breath back. He met Damien's worried gaze before turning to see Paul, hand outstretched, chasing the snitch.
"Get back to the game," Harry managed. When Damien didn't move, Harry narrowed his bloodshot eyes at him, "go!" he pushed.
Damien still didn't leave, hazel eyes narrowed at Harry, picking up clues of the still lingering pain on him. Harry swerved his broom around and took off after Paul, leaving Damien behind. Reluctantly, Damien returned to the game, but his gaze was still fixed on Harry.
Harry caught up with Paul, his broom levelled with the other seeker, knocking against him. Paul threw a disgruntled look Harry's way but the other boy hardly noticed. The burn in his scar was starting again, accelerating faster than ever before. Harry clenched his teeth together, his eyes burned with the pain and he squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment. He had to force them open again a moment later, to keep the golden ball in sight.
The snitch was just in front of them flying at an incredible speed, darting this way and that. It started to descend and the two seekers dived down after it, hands outstretched to grasp it. The ache turned to the dreaded acute pain that elicited a strangled moan from Harry. It always felt like a sharp knife being dragged slowly across his scar. Harry's vision started to cloud over, the snitch nothing more than a blurred golden blob. Wetness dripped from his nose, the scarlet drop fell onto the polished wood of his broom. His nose was bleeding. But still, Harry refused to give in. He was more than happy to lose to Slytherin but he would be damned if he lost to Hufflepuff.
The golden blur swerved to the right, closer to Paul and Harry acted on instinct. He lunged blindly at it, snatching it right from under Paul's fingers. Harry's fist closed around the fluttering wings but he lost control of his broom. Already in a steep dive, the broom shook at Harry's sudden lunge to the right and the wooden tip knocked against the ground and Harry was propelled off and thrown across the field. He hit the ground, hard, his cry of shock and pain lost as all the air was knocked out of him.
Harry barely heard the crowd erupt with cheers at Gryffindor's victory. So there was no way he could have heard James and Damien's panicked calling of his name. All he knew was pain, emitting from his scar, so intense, he barely registered the smarting ache in his back. He didn't even see Damien land and throw his precious broomstick to the ground and come racing towards him, to fall to his knees at his side. His eyes had closed by that point and he was already slipping into the comforting bliss of unconsciousness, the golden snitch still fluttering madly in his fist.
xxx
The white ceiling was the first thing to come into focus when Harry opened his eyes. He blinked at it for the first few moments and then cursed. How many times was he going to wake up in the hospital infirmary? It was seriously getting ridiculous.
Slowly, Harry's senses returned to him and he grimaced at the dull throb in his scar. Gingerly, he lifted up a hand and touched his forehead. It still felt hot under his fingers.
'Guess father found out about the no-fly-zone at Hogwarts!'
He thought to himself as he dropped his hand away and slowly pushed himself to sit up. He stopped as pain lanced up his spine, stealing his breath. Slowly, Harry lowered himself on trembling arms, to lie back again. He had almost forgotten how he had been thrown off his broom. No wonder he felt like he had been trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs.
Steeling himself, after a few moments, Harry pushed himself again. He managed to sit upright this time, even though hot pain raced down his aching back. With equally slow manoeuvres, Harry moved both legs off the bed and got ready to stand up.
The door to the hospital wing creaked open and Damien hesitantly peeked inside. He was still in his Quidditch robes, mud streaked across his knees. His worried hazel stare met Harry's and his mouth dropped open.
"Harry?" he breathed, "you're awake!" he hurried to his side.
"Looks like it," Harry replied. He turned to look at Damien, "what happened?"
"Well, you fell off your broom." Damien replied, still a little terror-stricken.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, I kind of figured that part out myself, what with an aching back and all." Harry groused, "I meant what happened afterwards? Did we win the match?"
"Yeah, we won." Damien said, a wide smile started to spread over his face. "The whole of Gryffindor is going crazy with joy. Gryffindor have actually got a chance at winning the cup now, the final score was 250-20. Angie scored just before you caught the snitch."
Harry smiled at Damien's excitement. He sincerely hoped that Damien won the Quidditch cup this year, but at the same time, prayed even harder he wasn't still here at Hogwarts for the final match.
The door to the office opened and Poppy Pomfrey walked out. She stopped at the sight of Harry, sitting up in bed. Her wide eyes scanned over Harry before she seemed to steel herself and slowly, she walked over to him.
"You shouldn't be sitting up," she spoke quietly to Harry, "lie back down. I have a few tests to run."
Harry looked away from her.
"It's okay, I'm fine." he replied and pushed himself to stand up.
The sudden movement had agony course up his spine and he couldn't stop the pained gasp. An excruciating wave swept through him, making his knees weak. Both Damien and Poppy had grabbed hold of an arm each and guided Harry back to sit on the bed.
"For heavens sake!" Poppy hissed, her famous temper slipped from her grip, "enough of this stupid rebellion! You're staying here, until you heal. You need my help and that's final!"
Harry got his breathing back under control and turned his head to the side to look at her.
"I don't need help. Not from you." he uttered quietly.
He pushed himself to his feet again. Damien was quick to grab a hold of his arm, to steady him, or help him back to the bed, whichever he may need.
"Harry..."
"Madame Pomfrey," Harry cut across her, "your services aren't required."
Poppy fell quiet, her eyes brimmed with tears as she stared at him but her mouth pressed into a thin hard line.
"That's for me to decide." she returned quietly, "as the school nurse, it is under my jurisdiction to determine if a student needs medical attention or not." she met Harry's green eyes. "and you, Mr Potter, need medical attention."
Harry smirked.
"Nice try," he said, "but you're forgetting, I'm not a student." his eyes flashed at her, "I'm a prisoner, remember? And prisoners don't get medical attention."
"That's where you're wrong, Harry," a new voice said from behind them. Harry and Damien turned to see the Headmaster and James standing at the door. "You're not a prisoner, you never were." Dumbledore said quietly. "One can never be a prisoner in a place they belong."
Harry straightened up, gently pulling his arm out of Damien's grip. His green eyes burned with anger at the sight of the Headmaster.
"And why do you get to decide where I belong?" he asked.
Dumbledore smiled.
"My dear boy, I don't decide anything. There are stronger forces than you and I, that determine our fates."
"Fate is an excuse for the weak to hide behind," Harry returned, "a man makes his own fortune."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and he smiled softly.
"Indeed, Harry, indeed." the blue eyes moved from Harry to the younger boy and he nodded politely. "Mr Potter, I would be grateful if you could give me and your father a moment to speak with Harry, in private."
Damien's eyes moved from Dumbledore to James and he nodded quickly.
"Yeah, erm, sure." he looked back around at Harry. "I'll...I'll just wait outside."
"No," James interrupted, "it's okay, Damy. You go back to the common room. I'll bring Harry once we're done."
Damien looked set to argue, but he noticed the Headmaster's gaze on him and he backed down. He nodded at James and turned to give one last look at Harry before he walked past them and slipped out the door.
"Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore called, "if you wouldn't mind, just a few minutes, please."
Poppy nodded and turned to look at Harry before quietly going to her office and closing the door behind her.
"Take a seat Harry," Dumbledore offered, walking towards him, "I daresay, you must be still sore after that fall."
"Just spit it out," Harry snapped, "what is it?"
Dumbledore paused, his eyes shadowed. He met the boy's eyes and held his fiery gaze.
"You know that I am aware of your curse scar." Dumbledore started quietly.
Harry's angry gaze darted to James and he scowled at him.
"Yeah," he bit out, "you're spies are doing their job right."
James ignored him, but his heart jolted at the mistrust in Harry's eyes. He knew it was deserved, but it didn't make it any easier to handle.
"I know that this is a sensitive subject for you," Dumbledore said, "and I wish not to upset you..."
"Too late." Harry interrupted.
Dumbledore paused, his eyes softened.
"Harry," he whispered, "believe me, the last thing I wish to do, is cause you any sort of distress."
"Really?" Harry asked, "is that why you had Moody attack me? Why you have Dementors around? Why you have Aurors trailing me day and night?"
"All of these things were not my decisions," Dumbledore said. "It was the Minister's demand that the Dementors stay here and the Aurors are here on his request."
"Was it the Minister's demand that you tell the Order about my scar too?" Harry asked, his quiet anger was making his words come out with a slight hiss. "I mean, really, Dumbledore? You have nothing better to do than gossip to your pathetic Order about my scar?"
James looked between Harry and Dumbledore.
"The Order doesn't know about your scar, Harry," James denied, "we haven't told anyone."
"So how did Moody find out?" Harry asked, "according to him, every Order member knows about it."
"He's lying!" James objected vehemently, "I don't know how he found out, but no one else in the Order knows about your scar. Even Lily doesn't, I swear!"
Harry didn't believe him. It was apparent in his expression.
"Alastor must have overheard our discussion," Dumbledore gestured to James, "he lied to you, Harry and I apologise for that. He must have been trying to get a rise out of you, by telling you that the Order has been talking about you and your scar. I assure you, that is not the case."
Harry narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore.
"Is that why you've come here? To apologise on that paranoid bastard's behalf?" he smirked and shook his head, "that can't be it. The great and mighty Albus Dumbledore, come to make apologies?" his expression hardened, "so why don't you save the sweet talk and just tell me, why did you start this conversation about my scar?"
Dumbledore pulled the nearest chair and wearily sat down, looking tired all of a sudden.
"When James first told me about your curse scar and that it was responsible for giving you headaches and nosebleeds, I was immediately concerned."
Harry scoffed.
"Were you now?" he smirked, "careful, Dumbledore, you might just convince me you have a heart."
Dumbledore smiled sadly, but otherwise ignored Harry's remark.
"I don't know how extensive your knowledge is on curse scars, Harry, but I know mostly how they work." he gazed at the boy, "curse scars act up from time to time, but they don't cause nosebleeds and headaches, intense enough to cause blackouts."
Harry's expression changed from annoyed to serious. His narrowed eyes studied Dumbledore gravely.
"You're worried about it, I can see it in your eyes," Dumbledore told him quietly, "you told Poppy the first time your nose bled was when you were captured and brought to the Order headquarters. You haven't spoken to Voldemort. He most likely doesn't even know about your nosebleeds..."
"What's your point!" Harry snapped.
"You don't know what's happening to you," Dumbledore continued, "but I do."
Harry looked surprised.
"Have you ever wondered, why you have that scar?" Dumbledore asked, "what it means? Why you were given it?"
"No," Harry replied sharply, "I know what it is."
"And that is?"
"None of your business."
Dumbledore smiled tiredly.
"Very true, it's not my business, but it is yours." he held Harry's gaze, "and I think it's time you understood it." He cleared his throat. "I am sure you know of the Prophecy?"
Harry looked taken aback. His gaze darted from Dumbledore to James in confusion.
"Prophecy?"
Dumbledore took in a breath.
"Before you were born, there was a prophecy made about the one who could defeat Lord Voldemort, 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who-"
"- have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, blah blah blah." Harry raised an eyebrow, "please, I know all about that crap. What I don't know, is why you're bringing it up."
Dumbledore paused for a moment.
"Your scar is not just a curse scar," he said quietly, "it's your mark, given to you by Voldemort, marking you as his equal."
Harry's eyes widened then. He stared at Dumbledore before slowly looking over at James.
"Did you never wonder why you were taken from your parents?" Dumbledore asked, "this is why. It's because of the Prophecy; because it's about you and Voldemort."
Harry didn't say a word. He continued to stare at James and Dumbledore. Very slowly, his expression changed, his lips curved into a smile and his eyes sparkled. He started laughing, a deep chuckle that shook his shoulders and he dropped his head, shaking it in amusement. The sound reverberated in the hospital wing, piercing into James as he stood, shell shocked at Harry's reaction.
Harry's dark chuckle died down and he looked up at Dumbledore.
"You son-of-a-bitch," Harry whispered across to him, green eyes glowing, "I knew you were going to come up with something, but this?" he shook his head, "this? Really? Is it the only fucked up, screwed up fairytale you could come up with?"
"It's the truth, Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly, "you're the prophesied one."
"What happened to Longbottom?" Harry asked, "huh? Had enough of him? He's not as much fun to play with now? Think you can just click your fingers and change toys?" Harry's amusement quickly left him and his eyes narrowed to slits, "be careful, Dumbledore, I'm not a toy to be played with. You can brainwash Longbottom, but don't even think you can try that crap with me!"
"Harry..." James started.
"You can just shut up!" Harry cut him off, his anger returning almost ten fold, "you have nothing to say that I even remotely want to hear!"
"It doesn't matter if you want to hear it or not." James continued, "the truth is what it is. You are suffering because of the Prophecy. That scar on your forehead is the mark Voldemort gave you and it's the reason that you're in pain. It's weakening you..."
"Weakening me?" Harry snarled, fists clenched and eyes burning, "Nothing can weaken me? I'm stronger than you can ever imagine, Potter!"
"You are strong," Dumbledore agreed, "very strong, Harry. But it won't remain that way, 'either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives." Dumbledore quoted.
Harry scoffed.
"We've been surviving together, perfectly for the last sixteen years."
"And if I had to guess, the pain in your scar has been slowly getting worse in these last sixteen years." Dumbledore replied.
Harry fell quiet.
"Please, Harry," James pleaded, "just think about it, just calm your mind and think! Everything in the Prophecy applies to you..."
"No matter how much you'd like it, the Prophecy has nothing to do with me!" Harry said.
James paused.
"Trust me, Harry, if things were how I'd like them, you'd be the farthest away from the Prophecy."
Harry's brow furrowed. He could hear the pain and hurt in James' voice and it confused him.
"It's not our intention to upset you," Dumbledore brought Harry's attention back, "but you need to know that the pain you feel in your scar is only going to get worse, the longer you and Voldemort co exist together."
Harry's expression twisted to show his anger, green eyes burned with fury.
"I get it," he hissed, "so this is the angle you're working now? All else failed, so you think you can use the Prophecy to try and turn me against my father? Scare me into turning on him, to save my own life?" he glared coldly at Dumbledore, "you can go screw yourself, Dumbledore! The Prophecy is nothing but utter crap, made up by you to dupe some sorry bastard, like Longbottom, into going up against Lord Voldemort!" he shook his head, "It's not going to work, not on me!"
"If you allow yourself to see, you will come to realise what I've told you is the truth." Dumbledore said.
"Fine!" Harry snapped, "let it be the truth! If that Prophecy crap is true, then I hope that I am the prophesied one!" his sharp eyes moved from Dumbledore to James, "because then you lot are royally screwed! I'll never hurt my father," he met Dumbledore's eyes, "even if it means my scar slowly kills me, so be it!"
Outside the hospital doors, Ron turned to a wide eyed Damien. The box of Berties Every Flavour Beans in his hand, went clattering to the floor.
xxx
Hermione and Ginny were ushered into Damien's empty dorm room, away from the victory celebration in the common room. Pale faced, Ron told what he and Damien had overheard in the hospital wing to both girls, watching as both paled to the hue of a ghost. Silence fell across the room once Ron was finished, the girls not being able to find their voice at first.
"The prophesied one?" Hermione whispered, shaking her head.
"So, it was never, Neville?" Ginny asked.
"No, it's always been Harry." Ron confirmed. "Apparently, when the Prophecy was made, there were two children that fit the description, Harry and Neville." Ron cast a sideways glance to the quiet Damien, "Mr and Mrs Potter explained this to Damy."
Both girls turned to stare at Damien, making the thirteen year old sink lower in his seat.
"You knew?" Ginny asked, "you knew Harry was the prophesied one?"
Damien nodded.
"Yeah, mum and dad told me the day I found out about Harry. They explained it all."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Hermione asked.
Damien shrugged.
"To be honest, I didn't really think about it." he looked up at the three shocked looking teens. He sighed, "look, I know how this is going to sound, but, I really don't give two hoots about the Prophecy. No one should be weighed down with the responsibility to save the world. I didn't like my friend having that responsibility, let alone my own brother." he shook his head, "I just...I want to get to know Harry because he's my brother, not because he's the one destined to save the world. I don't want a hero, I want my big brother. That's why I didn't tell you guys. I knew you would fall into the trap and treat Harry good, because at the back of your minds, you would be hoping he turns against Voldemort." he shrugged again. "But now, whether you like Harry or you hate him, it's because of who he is, not what he's supposed to become."
Ginny nodded, understanding what Damien was meaning. Whatever she felt for Harry, their, albeit short, discussions were not based on a preconceived notion that Harry was the prophesied saviour. It was because they had build an, admittedly weird and strange, friendship.
"It makes sense," Hermione breathed, her furrowed brow relaxing, "it all makes sense! Professor Dumbledore saving Harry from the Kiss, bringing him here, keeping him safe at Hogwarts. It's not so that he turns and gives information on You-Know-Who," she turned to look at Ron, "it's because he's the prohesised one. Professor Dumbledore is trying to protect Harry, keep him safe! Because if Harry's destroyed, if he gets the Kiss then...then no one can defeat You-Know-Who. "
"Should have heard him, Hermione," Ron muttered, "he's not fighting against You-Know-Who, not in this life anyway." he shook his head. "he's ready and willing to kill himself but he won't go against his father!" he shuddered at the word.
An awkward silence fell across them, each immersed in their own thoughts.
"There's always hope," Hermione offered, "no matter how small."
xxx
Harry made his way to the common room, his conversation with James and Dumbledore still swirling in his mind, making his hands ball into fists, so tight his nails were biting into his skin.
'How dare they! How dare they try and trick me!'
They tried being nice. They tried using Moody to scare him. They tried using Hogwarts against him. Now they were trying to use the Prophecy to scare him. Harry swiped a hand viciously at the suit of armour he was passing, wandlessly knocking it to the ground, making the loud clatter ring in the air. The metal suit picked itself up and straightened itself, shaking a steel fist in indignation at Harry's back.
Harry was too angry to notice. He continued making his way to the common room. Each step of his was accompanied by a sharp jolt of pain, aching up his back. But Harry forced himself to ignore it and continue on, wanting to get to his dorm room quickly and go to bed, with the drapes shut tight around him, blocking everyone and everything out.
It was as he approached the portrait door, that he heard the familiar drawl.
"In a hurry?"
Harry turned to his right, eyes narrowed dangerously at the blond Slytherin, standing to the side of the corridor. Harry quickly looked around, no one seemed to be around. He quickly walked over to Draco.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, grabbing hold of Draco's arm and pushing him into a shadowed corner, "I thought I made myself clear, do not come and meet me like this!"
Draco only smiled at him.
"Relax, I made arrangements. The Aurors are currently busy, helping the unfortunate idiots that fell into the lake." he shrugged at Harry's look, "accidents do happen, especially with first years." he straightened his robes and smirked at Harry, "and this particular corner already has the silencio walls set up." he smirked again, "I had to come out to call to you."
"You shouldn't be here! Any of the Gryffindors could've seen you!"
"You'll want to hear this, trust me." Draco grinned.
"What is it?" Harry snapped.
Draco stood tall, grey eyes glinting with excitement.
"Pack your bags, they're coming."
Harry paused, his heart leapt in his chest.
"What?"
"I got called in to Snape's office." Draco explained, "it was a firecall, from father. The Dark Lord found out about the no-fly zone over Hogwarts," his grey eyes lifted to glance once at Harry's forehead, where his dark bangs were hiding the infamous scar, "but you already knew that, right?" he smirked, "how was the fall down, by the way? Looked like it hurt?"
"I can throw you down seven floors, you'll see what it was like!" Harry snapped.
Draco chuckled.
"Serves you right, winning for Gryffindor." he muttered derisively.
"Get back to the point!" Harry hissed, "what did Lucius say?"
"He said your father was royally pissed," Draco continued, "and that he's had enough. He's not willing to wait out the owl post ban. He's coming for you."
Harry's eyes widened.
"Here? Father can't come here!"
"That's what father and Bella argued." Draco said, "it wasn't easy, but they stopped him. The Dark Lord has issued his orders, though, made it official. The Death Eaters are coming here, the day after tomorrow, to get you out."
Harry's heart beat that bit faster. The day after tomorrow? He was going home, finally!
"You've to get yourself onto the grounds by eight in the evening," Draco continued, "they can come onto the grounds but they can't get into the castle."
"Yeah, I know." Harry muttered. He lifted his gaze and met the grey eyes. He smiled. "Thank you, Draco."
Draco looked beyond shocked. He couldn't remember Harry ever thanking him, for anything.
"Y-you're welcome." he replied.
Harry instructed Draco to leave, using the shadowed corridors. He watched until Draco disappeared before walking away, but he didn't go into the common room. He walked to the stairs and just stood there, leaning on the barrister, allowing his mind to soak in the news. He was going home. The day after tomorrow, that was all the time he had left here in Hogwarts, the prison that was slowly killing him. Harry grinned, he would be back by his father's side, back to the life he knew and understood.
His wandering gaze caught sight of two dark haired men, that walked in the main doors, leading in a long line of wet and sobbing students, wrapped in blankets. The rest of the Aurors piled in after them. Harry watched as Sirius Black and Kingsley Shacklebolt led them to the stairs, obviously heading to the hospital wing.
A slow smirk spread across Harry's face as a plan slowly formulated in his mind. James Potter had done a lot to make Harry suffer. Dumbledore had underestimated him by bringing him to Hogwarts and holding him here against his will. Harry slowly straightened up, his eyes still on the dark haired Sirius.
'They tried to turn me against my father,' he thought to himself, 'they thought they could manipulate me. They'll regret it, both of them!' he smirked.'Dumbledore crossed the line today, he'll pay! And as for Potter?' his green eyes flashed. 'It's time he paid for his sins!'
xxx