"Headmaster," Snape said while Harry desperately tried to control his rising anger. That silly book Barty had given Tom would come in handy right about now. "You cannot seriously suggest a first-year student cursed the Messrs. Weasley with a class 2 dark curse."
Dumbledore was the picture of a man full of regret to have to reach these conclusions. "Mr Potter may not have cast the curse himself, but he could very well have asked an older student to do it for him."
"Albus," Madam Pomfrey fumed, planting her fists on her hips as she glared at the headmaster. "Mr Potter has not left the hospital wing. He's barely left his bed to use the bathroom. And the only visitors he's had have been other first-years."
Dumbledore shook his head sadly while he gave the others a look that clearly communicated he knew something they didn't. "So it is merely a coincidence that the Messrs. Weasley are cursed right after Mr Potter wakes up?"
"Yes," McGonagall snapped, surprising Harry with the amount of venom in her voice. "Anyone could have sent that curse. Since the letters were destroyed by some self-destruction charm we have no physical evidence. Likely the curse came from outside of Hogwarts, from some well-meaning witch or wizard deciding to avenge Mr Potter. Even though you've kept it out of the Prophet, by now every student has written about it to their families and the whole wizarding world has heard about it."
McGonagall had no idea how close to the truth she got, but Harry had enough of the whole argument. Dumbledore had zero proof Harry had anything to do with it because Harry hadn't cast it. He knew who did, but that was it. Harry briefly remembered he was trying to play the part of a student still malleable to the headmaster's manipulations, but his anger at these unfounded accusations, merely because of Dumbledore's prejudice against anything Slytherin, overrode his common sense.
"I died!" Harry all but yelled at Dumbledore, who raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. "Those boys cracked my skull open like an egg and I died." Harry inhaled a deep breath and continued, speaking quieter. "I saw my mum and dad. They told me it wasn't my time yet and that they were proud of me. Well, my dad seemed a bit shocked by me being in Slytherin but my mum told me it didn't matter at all."
Snape swallowed audibly while McGonagall had a hand pressed over her mouth. Pomfrey looked like she wanted to give him a hug.
"Mr Potter," Dumbledore started, but Harry spoke right over what else Dumbledore wanted to say.
"I didn't curse those boys or had someone else do it on my behalf. But I wish I had!" Harry glared at Dumbledore, despising the man more than he'd ever despised Voldemort. "They killed me and they deserve punishment. I'd like to believe my life is worth more than twenty points. Each. It's no wonder no one in our House likes you." And with that, Harry yanked the curtains around his bed closed with a flick of his wand. He threw himself back against the mattress, instantly regretting his outburst, but he couldn't help it. Dumbledore and his manipulations had gotten him killed in his previous life when Harry had done everything Dumbledore wanted him to do, had been supportive of Dumbledore even in the face of prosecution by the Ministry, and had loved the old headmaster like a mentor, a grandfather even.
And all that time, Dumbledore had merely used him. He'd never cared for Harry. He couldn't, because Harry's soul was intertwined with Tom Riddle's, and Dumbledore had loathed Tom Riddle since the moment he'd met him.
No one disturbed him further and Pomfrey all but kicked the others out of her infirmary, muttering about patients needing rest.
At least Harry had the good sense to lie about meeting his parents, to present himself as the young orphan who loved his dead family more than anything. That might make up for him speaking his mind like he had. Yes, he could play his behaviour off as a traumatized child who'd suffered a near-death experience and had seen his dead parents for the first time. Hopefully Dumbledore would buy it. If not, perhaps the old man would share his thoughts and plans with Snape, and Snape might share them with Harry to warn him. Snape had, after all, sworn an Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry. If he got wind of any plans from Dumbledore that involved Harry's execution he'd surely let Harry know at once.
Harry just never wanted to get caught out unawares again like he had been in his previous life when it came to Dumbledore and his plans for him.
Pomfrey woke him up about an hour later with a tray full of breakfast foods. Harry hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep again. He was hungry, though, so he dug into a plate of eggs, bacon and beans with gusto. After finishing his meal, Pomfrey urged him into the shower, and Harry had to admit he felt like a new man once he was full, clean and dressed in fresh pyjamas.
The next hour was spent going through the many cards and gifts he'd received. Harry diligently used detection charms, even on mail that was already opened, but he didn't find any suspicious items. He recognized many of the student names that had sent him cards. Some from opposite Quidditch teams he'd played against in his previous life and some from the DA. Other names were a complete mystery to him and Harry suspected they were probably from people not attending Hogwarts. In any case, he'd received a generous amount of well wishes. And that was heartening for more than one reason, namely that aside from knowing people cared about him, people didn't care as much that he was a Slytherin. Harry had been worried just a bit that the public might not appreciate a Boy Who Lived with a green and silver tie but it looked like he worried for nothing.
An hour before lunch Marcus Flint stopped by.
"Potter, got your head back in one piece I see," Flint said as he stood at the foot of Harry's bed with his arms crossed.
"Yeah," Harry replied with a grin while patting his own head. "Turns out a brain works better when it's covered. Who knew?"
Flint snorted, his lips twitching with amusement ever so much. "You won us the game, Potter, so you're still on the team, no matter what the old man says. You'll keep practicing with us and next year you'll replace Higgs."
"Sounds good, Captain," Harry said with a cheeky little salute.
Flint tilted his head slightly as if assessing Harry for a moment. "Call me Marcus."
"Sure, Marcus. I'm Harry."
"You get this week off, Harry, but I expect to see you at training next Monday," Marcus said with a significant look, as if daring Harry to disagree.
"I'll be there, don't worry." As if Harry would let something as mildly inconvenient as a lethal accident keep him from playing Quidditch.
Marcus looked over his shoulder at the beds holding the silently screaming Weasley twins. Pomfrey had secured them to their bedframes with magical bonds earlier when they were hurting themselves flailing their limbs about. "What happened to them?"
"A class 2 nightmare curse. No, I had nothing to do with it, but it is nice to look at." Harry shrugged while smiling sweetly. "It lifts my spirits."
This time, Marcus laughed outright. "Good to see they're being punished for real. We've been making Gryffindor bleed, but those two are a pair of slippery eels that refused to be trapped."
"They've been well and truly caught," Harry said with a snicker.
"That they have. Couldn't have happened to a nicer pair of Gryffindors." Marcus shook his head in obvious amusement. "See you soon."
"Thanks for stopping by," Harry said and waved at Marcus as he strolled out of the hospital wing. Sagging back against his mattress, Harry briefly considered calling Tom or Barty on his mirror, just to have a friend to talk to but ultimately decided against it. There was no telling who might be visiting the hospital wing during the day and Harry did not want to risk anyone discovering his connection to Bartholomew Crouch or Thomas Gaunt just yet.
And when less than half an hour later Mr and Mrs Weasley with Ginny in tow stormed inside the hospital wing, Harry knew he'd made the right decision to keep his mirror hidden.
McGonagall was with them, leading the Weasleys to the beds holding the suffering twins. Ginny was the one who spotted Harry first and instantly turned beet-red. Harry ran a hand through his loose hair and sighed. He really did not want to see Ginny, even if she was just a ten-year-old child at that moment and not his ex-girlfriend who had betrayed him.
Mrs Weasley wailed as she touched one twin and then the other over and over again while Mr Weasley asked Madam Pomfrey about their prognosis. Harry was lying half propped up on his pillows and watched the whole show quietly. It's not like he had anything else to do, after all. After about five minutes of wailing from Mrs Weasley and stupidly staring from Ginny, Harry was finally spotted by Mr Weasley.
"My word, is that Harry Potter?" Mr Weasley said in wonderment as he looked at Harry, who raised a single, almost challenging eyebrow in reply. Mr Weasley seemed to realize how awkward it was for him to be fawning over the boy his sons had all but killed a week ago and quickly cleared his throat while turning away from Harry.
"Harry Potter?" Mrs Weasley whipped around and the moment she saw him she stormed over to his bed. "You cancel that curse right this minute, young man."
Harry was speechless and blinked at Molly Weasley, who was glaring at him with all her might.
"Molly," McGonagall said, quickly stepping up to Mrs Weasley. "Mr Potter had nothing to do with this curse."
Mrs Weasley turned her formidable glare on McGonagall, who seemed entirely unfazed by it. "Dumbledore said Mr Potter had gotten his revenge on my boys. Over a Quidditch accident."
"The entire stadium saw my brain after your sons cracked my skull open," Harry called out towards the Weasleys. "Just in case you were unclear on what kind of 'accident' it was."
"Well, you're fine now," Mrs Weasley snapped and then pressed a handkerchief against her mouth as she looked over at the twins. "But my boys aren't. Arthur, tell him to cancel the curse."
"I don't think a first-year did this," Mr Weasley said quietly, proving once and for all he was the brains in that particular marriage. "Besides, Madam Pomfrey said they'll be fine once the curse wears out."
"They'll be good as new," Pomfrey said with a kind smile.
Meanwhile, Harry observed his once surrogate family and felt very little. He'd been so envious of Ron and his amazing family once upon a time. And to an attention-starved eleven-year-old the Weasleys would have appeared as a wonderful family. Warm and chaotic and caring.
But to an eighteen-year-old the Weasleys looked entirely different. An overbearing matriarch who'd driven her two eldest sons out of the country with her unrelenting smothering and unreasonable expectations. The third son had allied himself with the Ministry out of shame for his family and Molly Weasley had never appreciated the talents of the twins. Not until they'd managed to start a successful business. Mr Weasley lacked ambition to the point of keeping his family in poverty instead of moving up in the Ministry's ranks and thus earning a better salary. They told the world it was because he loved Muggles so much, but Harry privately thought it was because Arthur Weasley, while a kind man, utterly lacked drive and magical talent.
And when Arthur and Molly found themselves temporarily caring for a boy who obviously suffered abuse at home, they'd pretended they didn't notice a thing and stood back year after year while Harry was sent back to his abusers. Sure, the Weasleys had welcomed him into their home for a week or two, but they had never really done anything to stop Harry from going back to the Dursleys' when they knew they barely fed him, dressed him in rags and locked him in a room with bars over the windows.
The more Harry thought about it, the more he saw through the facade of a perfect, loving family and realized the Weasleys were people, just like everybody else, and they had plenty of flaws to prove it.
And nowadays, when Harry thought about what family meant to him, he thought about Tom and Barty, and about Kreacher and Hedwig. And maybe, at some point, he might think about Sirius.
The Weasleys had never been his family, no matter how much he'd wished for them to be once upon a time, Harry knew that now. If they'd been his family, they would have fought tooth and nail against Harry's execution, no matter what anyone claimed about Harry needing to die, instead of quietly standing aside while two Aurors dragged him to his death.
Yes, Harry felt very little as he watched Mrs Weasley bicker with McGonagall and cry over her tortured sons while Mr Weasley patted her hand and told her everything was going to be alright.
Lunch appeared on Harry's side table, and he drew the curtains around his bed shut so he could eat in peace without being gawked at by a flustered child version of his ex-girlfriend. As he tucked into his Cornish pasty he could hear Ginny whine.
"Mum, Mum, Harry Potter closed his curtains, Mum, I want to see him, Mum."
"Just because you can't see me doesn't mean I can't hear you. I'm not an animal in a zoo for you to stare at," Harry called out, which earned him a mortified squeak from Ginny and a grumbling about manners from Mrs Weasley. Harry went back to his excellent lunch.
After finishing his food, Harry closed his eyes for a well-deserved nap, and when he woke up again some two hours later, the Weasleys were gone. Thank Merlin for small favours. Harry hoped they would stay gone the rest of the day so Harry wouldn't have to see them again since he'd be out of there the next day.
Harry expected his friends to visit him right after their classes, but Millicent stopped by first. Unfortunately she'd brought Draco along. Or, as Harry suspected the case to be, Draco had invited himself along once he realized Millicent intended to visit her Potions partner in the infirmary.
"Hi, Harry," Millicent said with a shy smile. "I'm so glad to see you've recovered."
"Yes, Harry," Draco butted in as he sauntered up to Harry's bed. "So glad to see you're still alive after you so publicly demonstrated why you shouldn't be playing Quidditch." Draco's smirk was as smug as Harry had ever seen it. "Some of us know how to handle a broom while others just about lose their heads trying to fly."
"Thank you, good to see you, too," Harry said to Millicent, meanwhile rolling on his side as if to get more comfortable, but in reality to stick his hand under his pillow and curl his fingers around his wand. Harry had promised himself at the start of the year he would always remember that these were just kids and that they were bound to say stupid things from time to time and to let most of it just slide off him like water off a duck's back.
For the most part, Harry had done just that. But now Harry was just done. Completely and utterly done. And how Draco thought it was at all acceptable to react completely without empathy when his roommate had been grievously injured was beyond Harry. It was time Draco learned a lesson.
"As for you," Harry said, looking a still smirking Draco dead in the eye. "If you're going to act like an ass, you might as well look like one." And while keeping his wand hidden under his pillow with only the very tip poking out, Harry silently transfigured Draco's ears into a pair of large, grey donkey ears. Then he finished it up with a little modifier that made the transfiguration highly resistant against any kind of reversal magic until it had weakened enough, which would take a week or so.
Millicent inhaled a sharp breath while she stared at Draco.
Raising a hand to his head, Draco released a incredulous shriek which slowly morphed into a wail of despair and brought Madam Pomfrey running.
"What on earth is going on?" Pomfrey demanded as she took in a still wailing Draco who was trying to pull his own ears off.
Harry bit his lip to seem contrite but in reality to keep himself from bursting out in laughter. "I think I may have done that," Harry said while giving Pomfrey his best miserable expression. "Draco was saying mean things and I imagined him with donkey ears and suddenly he had them."
"Accidental magic," Pomfrey concluded, waving her wand over Draco's head. "Not uncommon at your age, Mr Potter."
"Fix me," Draco demanded while visibly trying to hold back tears. "Get rid of these things."
"Mr Potter's accidental magic was quite strong, I'm afraid. Come back at the end of the week and we'll get it reversed," Madam Pomfrey said, tucking her wand away. She didn't seem at all impressed by Draco's superior attitude.
"What?" Draco gaped at Pomfrey, pulling on his donkey ears again. "I can't keep these for almost a week. I can't walk around like this."
"Of course you can," Pomfrey said and turned on her heel, marching back to her office. Once she was out of earshot, Harry finally let go and burst out laughing.
"You," Draco said, almost shaking with humiliation and anger. "You did this, Harry. Fix me now!"
"Not a chance," Harry said, gasping for breath. "Not until you learn some empathy." Harry liked to think he wouldn't take pleasure in hexing an eleven-year-old child. Harry was lying to himself about that. Draco needed to learn a few lessons, spoiled little brat that he was. Better he learn it now, through some fairly innocent yet humiliating transfiguration then later should he ever accidentally piss off someone like Tom.
Not to mention, Draco looked hilarious with a pair of huge, fuzzy ears growing out of the side of his head.
"You won't get away with this," Draco said, keeping his ridiculous ears pulled down as he shuffled backwards out of the hospital wing. "I'm telling Professor Snape."
"Tell him I said hi," Harry said while he watched Draco leave, finally getting his breathing back under control.
"How did you do that?" Millicent asked him in awe, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Ah, I cannot reveal my secrets," Harry said with a waggle of his finger at Millicent. "But you have to agree Draco had it coming."
"Definitely," Millicent said quickly. "He's been insufferable for the whole week. It was only a matter of time before someone hexed him. I might have done it myself but I don't know any hexes yet."
"Did you just hex Draco with donkey ears?" Theo asked as he and Blaise strolled into the hospital wing. Blaise was grinning so wide it almost looked painful.
"Harry," Blaise said as he stopped beside Harry's bed and beamed at him with pride. "Teach me how to do that, I beg you."
"Can't," Harry said and winked at Blaise. "It was accidental magic. Madam Pomfrey said so."
"Ah, yes, accidental magic." Blaise nodded knowingly. "The one thing they never punish children for."
Neville burst through the hospital doors. "Did you hear? Someone hexed Draco Malfoy with donkey ears."
Theo, Blaise and Millicent all pointed at Harry, who took a bow as well as he could sitting up in bed.
"I should have known," Neville said, utterly unsurprised by that particular plot twist. Then he shrugged. "Well, I guess he had it coming. Everybody was getting tired of his utterly unsympathetic bragging." Neville spotted the Weasley twins and his mouth sank open. "What happened to them?"
"A class 2 nightmare curse," Harry said as they all took in the tormented expressions and twisting bodies. "They're stuck in their worst nightmare and it might last for two weeks or more. And no, that wasn't me."
"Yes, a class 2 dark curse seems a little much for accidental magic," Blaise said, seemingly enjoying the sight the Weasley twins made. "Whoever cast it, though, deserves a reward. It's the perfect punishment. No permanent damage but a few weeks of torment to drive the point home you've done wrong."
"That's one way to look at it," Theo said, his face pale as he stared at the twins. Neville was paler still, his hands trembling and almost too late did Harry realize Neville might be reminded of his parents when looking at Fred and George twisting violently as though they were in pain.
"So, what have I missed this past week?" Harry asked loudly to offer a distraction. Neville looked at him with a grateful smile and sat down in an empty chair.
Harry chatted with his friends and accepted a stack of copied notes and homework assignments. He wasn't worried one bit about having missed a week's worth of classes. His friends stayed until right before dinner. Just as they were leaving, Snape stalked into the hospital wing and narrowed his eyes at Harry.
"It was accidental magic, Professor," Harry said with his most innocent smile. "Madam Pomfrey said so."
"Indeed," Snape said, mouth curling into a smirk. "That was an amazingly accurate yet accidental modifier, Mr Potter. I do believe an accidental detention is in order for your accidental magic. Perhaps disembowelling some more amphibians will curb your accidental tendencies." Snape gave Harry a pointed look. "You will come to my office tomorrow evening after dinner." And with that he stalked out of the hospital wing again.
Message received. Snape couldn't give two shits about Harry hexing Draco, but he wanted answers about Harry's peculiar situation and now he had the perfect excuse to interrogate Harry for a few hours without disturbance. Harry should have realized Snape would take advantage of a situation whenever he could, that sneaky Slytherin.