"Harry!" Her voice sounds down the halls, and a few people turn their way as if hoping to see another fight break out. When they realize it's just Hermione calling for her friend, they turn away again, disappointed. Potter's mouth sets into a scowl before he can stop it, but Hermione, when she catches up to him, doesn't seem to notice.

"I've been looking all over you!" She admonishes. Ignoring Potter's muttered apology, she continues in a hush, "You still haven't told me what happened."

Potter hears someone snickering at how close he and Hermione are, and his stomach churns to think of what rumors Daphne has been spreading. He takes a step away before responding. "Yes, I did. You're already caught up in all of our classes, and—"

She closes the gap between them again. "Oh, you know what I mean! Are you trying to hide something from me?"

Potter risks a glance at her face, and she looks so insulted that he knows that he has to give in to avoid seriously offending her.

"Not right now," he concedes. "Later, when no one else can hear it."

Brightening immediately, Hermione nods and disappears to finish an essay that's no doubt already twice the recommended length. Some things will never change.

The mocking laughter that trails her, however, is new.

XXXXX

She meets him in the library after dinner, and Potter searches for a place to begin the story. Despite all of his good intentions in the hospital room, he suddenly finds himself very reluctant to touch upon the journal and the soul that it houses. After all, how could anyone else understand that even though Voldemort is evil, Tom might have saved their life? Besides, if Tom does have a violent temper, surely telling Hermione this would only provoke him.

"Well?" Hermione prods, and Potter settles on the truth… mostly.

"I was hearing voices," he admits, "when the strange things started happening, and I was beginning to have black outs right before things happened. I thought that I was the killer, at first. I guess I didn't realize that the blackouts were happening when there weren't any attacks, too. I didn't put it together, at first, not even when Jay… well, she got very, very angry about something, and… Harry decided no one should be switching out for a while. But I guess he stayed for a switch that really should have happened, because we discovered first hand just what Lockhart was up to." Potter pauses a moment to steady himself, but realizing that this might invite unwanted sympathy, he quickly barrels on. "Whoever was taking that wasn't the only alter that we discovered, though. The cruel alter from before? Blaise discovered that one. It's an introject of Vernon, apparently, extremely intolerant. As for people knowing about us, well, Draco found out, too, not too long ago…" This time, when Potter pauses, his nerves are too strong for him to continue. How many people know about them now? The entire teaching staff and four students? That's too many people! What will happen next, the entire school finding out?

Hermione waits for him to focus again before she begins asking questions. Potter tries to humor her without actually letting too many details slip, but he's afraid that he's not doing a very good job. She's not called the brightest witch of their age for nothing, after all, and it doesn't take long for her to look skeptical of some of his answers. Still, she says nothing about this, for which he is immensely grateful.

Finally satisfied, Hermione leaves Potter so she can check out more books—apparently, she's not convinced that she's completely prepared for the end of term exams even though everyone else is convinced that she is—and Potter goes back to his dorm. He needs time alone to think.

XXXXX

"Oops!"

Potter remains frozen, instinct insisting that unexpected touch means an attack, and the person who bumped into him, consequently dropping their meal onto him, laughs.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaims, distraught. "Here, let me help you!" Within moments, she and her wand have left Potter clean, and the student thanks her in such a sickly sweet voice that she glares daggers long past when they've left.

"You didn't tell me that the bullying was this bad!"

Potter moves only to further tense his muscles. "It's nothing that I can't handle."

Hermione's frown deepens. "You should tell someone! I know that Snape is a… a… well. But he might be able to make them leave you alone!"

Potter just snorts at that, throwing a dark glance at the row where the professors sit.

"Potter!" Hermione insists.

Ron breaks in to rescue him. "Come on, Hermione, don't be dense. It's not like the kids bugging him are exactly subtle about it. The professors here all just get weird when it comes to Harry."

"He's right, you know."

Defeated, Hermione throws down her fork and stands up in a huff. "Well, I'm not just going to sit here and watch him be bullied—"

"Stop saying that word. "

"—whenever you're ready, Potter, I'll help you all, alright? But I won't sit there and watch it happen. If you're just going to let it happen…" She shakes her head firmly before grabbing her books and leaving. Ron and Harry aren't the only ones that watch her go. Potter's sure, though, that he's the only one no longer allowed to touch his food. It seems that Petal, too, is resistant to change.

XXXXX

Hermione watches them carefully for the next few days, but for a while, this lends to no results. She may look frustrated when someone spills Potter's ink all over him in Charms, but she says nothing. She may glare so long that the upper classman who "accidently" shoved Potter down a flight of stairs hurries away with a red face, but she doesn't try to tell any professors what happened. She's always watching, though, and it's not long before she begins to watch Daphne more closely than any other would-be bully. Potter's beginning to curse her intelligence.

It's a Friday when it all comes to a climax. Potter isn't prepared for any serious fights to break out, not with everyone so busy with test preparation, so when a group of students start chanting something under their breaths, he cheerfully flips them off and continues on his way. He has better things to worry about than a bunch of stupid second year students.

It's not until he hears Daphne's voice over the others that it occurs to him that this might be a larger problem than anticipated. As if reading his mind, the crowd begins to edge towards him. Beside him, Draco just scowls, quickening his pace and shooting the occasional glare behind them.

"I don't know what you did to piss them off, Potter," he mutters, "but I suggest you don't do it again."

Louder, to the crowd, he calls, "If you don't leave off, my father will hear about this!"

To Potter's amusement, a few of the younger students turn white and slink away from the mob. Daphne, however, remains strong, and so do the older students clustered around her. They're advancing faster now, despite Potter's refusal to really acknowledge them and Draco's continued spluttering that people dare to disrespect the power invoked by his father.

Before the two groups can meet, another voice breaks through the fray.

"Do you all really have nothing better to do than chase around a second year? That's pathetic!"

Without having to look, even if he hadn't been able to recognize that voice, Potter already knows that Hermione's the one who said it. Now that there's a temporary hush in the hall, he can hear Ron beside her, reiterating his previous insistence that everyone would be better off if they just let Harry handle himself, see how well he's already doing? Potter, however, knows better. Trying to convince Hermione not to try to help would be as useful as trying to convince Snape to get a haircut. It's just not going to yield any results.

As expected, Hermione shakes Ron off and dashes in between Harry and his tormentors. Unfortunately, the shock of the crowd wears off about then, and many of them begin laughing. After all, what can little bushy haired know-it-all really do?

Daphne hushes them with a flick of her hand, moving out front to examine Hermione herself. A sneer touches her face.

"Oh, look. It's Potter's little Mudblood girlfriend come to the rescue. I—wait a second. Does that make her Lockhart's girlfriend by proxy, I wonder?"

Hermione's mouth drops open in shock, and even a fair number of Daphne's supporters draw back, obviously previously unaware of just what they had been getting themselves into. Daphne ignores all of them, staring at Hermione with an unwavering gaze, a certain hunger in her eyes that makes Potter feel ill. He recognizes that look. He wonders how many times that need to destroy has been on his own face.

It's not now, though. Instead, his face is hardening into a mask, fury laced with the appearance of calm. Potter can feel Tom behind him, Anger in front of him, and when his mouth opens, he's not surprised by the words that march out.

"You leave her the fuck alone."

More students back away now. Daphne just stares in amusement, and anger surges through Potter. His magic hums inside of him, barely contained. He's trembling as he adds, "You can say whatever bullshit you want to me, Daphne. Look, I don't even care if you're a coward about it and hide behind your stupid friends—oh, look, are they abandoning you now? Not really your friends, huh?—but don't you dare drag anyone else into this. I can promise you, Daphne. You will regret it."

With his speech finished, all but a few of the older students back away, shame faced and trying to disappear into the crowd watching with baited breaths. The ones who remain cast anxious glances at Daphne, waiting for her to redeem them.

Daphne just laughs.

XXXXX

When Dumbledore returns, one of the first things that he does is call Potter to his office. If there was anything that Potter did miss about Dumbledore, these meetings were certainly not it, and his inclination is to put off the meeting as long as possible. However, something tells him that he doesn't need any more enemies right now. So, only a few minutes after being alerted that the headmaster wants him, Potter is standing outside of Dumbledore's door as if waiting for a life sentence.

"Come in," Dumbledore calls out, and Potter enters the room. Dumbledore smiles at him, the same eye crinkling smile as always. "Lemon drop?"

Potter shakes his head and sits in the same chair that he always does, trying not to fidget as he always does, refusing to meet the headmaster's eyes as he always does. His discomfort couldn't be more apparent. As always, Dumbledore ignores this in favor of his own agenda.

"I hear that quite a few things have happened in my absence."

"I suppose that you could say that," Potter offers, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. The headmaster beams in response.

"Yes, yes. Well, I'd dare say that you handled them all rather well, Mr. Potter."

Really now? Potter's hands tighten around the chair he's sitting in, and he has to fight off the urge to get up and throw the chair at the man in front of him. Handled things well? How? Is this in response to his failure to interfere with the petrifications? To his silence in regards to Lockhart? To his silence in regards to his classmates' cruelty? Just what is being complimented, here?

As if reading Potter's mind, Dumbledore notes, "Your classmates don't seem to understand how important a role you've played in stopping the attacks. Surely, the beast would have done far more damage had you not been in its way. It's a shame that the poor boy—Nitin, was it?—lost control so quickly. Truly a shame. But yes, Harry, you were very important, very important indeed."

Potter would laugh, would spit in the man's face. You understand nothing, he wants to sneer. Nor does anyone other than Tom, than younger Voldemort! But he says nothing. He freezes a smile onto his face and waits. Maybe, if he perfects his smile enough, it will become permanent. Maybe eventually, people will realize how incredibly creepy is the one who always smiles even when the rest of him cracks and breaks. If his false cheer could scare them, even just one of them, it would pay off for all of the practice such a thing would require.

"I think I'll tell them that," Dumbledore muses.

"What?!" Potter's distant musings shatter in a moment. Dumbledore can't be planning to…

"Now, now, my dear boy. I know that you're quite modest, but you can't hide in the shadows all of the time."

"You can't," Potter whispers, feeling sick. Is Dumbledore trying to kill him? Is that what this is about?

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll just make sure that they improve their attitudes a bit. Snape tells me that your classmates have been rather cruel lately. Now, are you sure you don't want anything? Tea? Biscuits?"

"I have homework." Potter abruptly leaves without another word, without waiting to hear the headmaster's reply. If his classmates hated him before, they'll despise him when Dumbledore is done with them, Potter's sure of it! And the headmaster must know this, he must…

Potter's beginning to understand how Daphne and Tom must feel. How ironic, if Dumbledore's ministrations were to create the very thing he aims to destroy.

Potter tries not to dwell on the fact that the thing destroyed would be a Dark Lord created from lack of care to a scared child.

XXXXX

A/N: Sorry for taking a bit longer than usual to update; I was having technical issues. As always, thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed in the meantime!

InDaBayou: Honestly, I had never considered Blaise either, not until I found myself writing it! As for Tom, Harry is the one who likes him. And I'm glad that you like how I write Tom!
Yes, Lockhart is dead. Mrs. Weasley is angry that Dumbledore was allowed back because he's the one who hired Lockhart and allowed so many students to be injured.

Biblioholic: Well, Lockhart is out of the picture now, at least. As for your other question, I wish that I could say no. Unfortunately, victims very often blame themselves, yes, and society often blames them, as well. I can't even count how many times I've completely denied that I was even abused, let alone how often I try to insist that my parents have done nothing wrong and that if I say otherwise, I'mthe one with something wrong with them. My parents weren't even the ones who abused me, just the ones who've left me crying in the corner because of how harshly they demanded that I "prove" that I was abused. They don't mean harm, but they have no idea how to deal with what I tell them, and organizations like the False Memory Syndrome Foundation (which exists because a bunch of parents accused of sexually abusing their children got together to try to prove that all repressed memories are 100% false), don't help! I'm lucky enough to have good friends who keep me sane, but not everyone has that support. In truth, it's usually far easier to blame oneself for "inviting" or "deserving" abuse than to really think about how the people who were meant to protect you have hurt you.

On a lighter note, thanks as well to katerena and Michy Drarry Shipper for reviewing!

Happy New Year, everyone!