Thank you to the beta of this chapter- Born-of-Elven-Blood

Chapter Nineteen- The Truth Comes Out Part One

"So I was thinking that we could go and see Harry before classes start?" Hermione announced as Ron emerged from the stairway to the boy's dorm into the common room. "I have the notes I took yesterday for him," she added.

"Sure." Ron shrugged, not knowing why Hermione added an excuse to see Harry when he was going to agree anyway. "I was thinking about inviting him to Hogsmeade tomorrow. See if we can get him out of the castle," he suggested.

"Oh...," Hermione replied hesitantly. She wasn't sure forcing Harry out was such a good idea. "We can ask, I suppose," she mused as she headed for the door. "Let's just…"

Suddenly she stopped short, the corner of her eye catching the headline of a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet on one of the tables.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked, snatching up the paper in a white-knuckle grip.

"What!" Ron yelled, startled.

Hermione, eyes wide as saucers, slowly turned the paper to show him the front page.

"Oh Merlin..." Ron murmured, devastated, as he absorbed the contents of the article.

…

Harry got up early to find that Snape had already gone for the day. A note left on the table informed him that there were supplies to make breakfast in the kitchen, and that he was expected to eat.

Harry only shrugged as he opened the cupboard. He had served meals for his aunt and uncle nearly all his life, so he was no stranger to cooking.

He took out the eggs along with some mushrooms and peppers for an omelet and was just about to crack the eggs into a bowl when there was a knock on the chamber doors.

Thankfully Harry felt no anxiety since Snape put in a one way peephole that couldn't be seen from the other side.

He quietly made his way over to look through the hole, and a small smile spread across his face to find his two best friends on the other side.

"Hey guys," he said a bit awkwardly as he opened the door, moving aside to let them enter and closing it behind them.

"So...how are you doing this morning?" Hermione asked uncertainty. Had Harry read the paper this morning?

"Oh… did… did Professor Snape tell you about yesterday?" Harry asked worriedly.

"What? no...what happened yesterday?" Ron asked, though from what he'd read in the paper, he could guess.

"Nothing!" Harry said with a shake of his head. "It's not important… but I'm fine," he added, forcing a small smile.

Hermione frowned. She didn't know what to do. Obviously he hadn't seen the morning paper, or he'd never be able to claim he felt "fine". And the idea of being the one to wipe that tentative smile off his face made her insides squirm. Would it be better to allow him to find out for himself?. Would he even want them there when he found out?

No, that was her nerves talking and she knew it. Better that he have it from his friends than someone else.

"Harry…" she said. His face fell slightly at her grave tone. It fell further as she held out her crumpled copy of the Prophet to him.

"What's this?" Harry asked as he unfolded it to the front page.

"The Boy Who Lived Raped"

"Sightings of Harry James Potter entering 's hospital yesterday have been corroborated, but further investigation has revealed that the purpose of the visit was something far more sinister than a hex gone wrong or a mere case of Dragon Pox. The purpose of his visit was to meet with none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, famed author, adventurer and former professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. During the visit, reliable sources within the hospital reported witnessing an emotional exchange between the young wizard and his one-time Defense teacher.

"During the confrontation, Potter accused Lockhart of multiple instances of sexual abuse during his second year at Hogwarts. Potter, only twelve at the time, claimed the crime had been covered up using a Memory Charm, which only recently wore off.

"Of course, as Lockhart has himself lost his memory as a result of a misfired Memory Charm, we have no word but Potter's that the incident occurred as reported. Some have speculated that the incident is nothing more than a fabrication to garner attention for the troubled teen, who has a history of acting out for publicity. Only last year he snuck his name into the Goblet of Fire to gain the glory of winning the Triwizard Tournament (during which another Hogwarts student, Cedric Dighory, lost his life under suspicious circumstances). Rumor even has it that perhaps it was not Lockhart, but Potter himself who cast the Memory Charm that broke Lockhart's mind.

"Of course, none of this can be substantiated at this time - only Harry Potter knows the truth for certain..."

The article went on, but Harry couldn't bear to read any more. He felt his heart stop as his breath got caught in his throat. This was on the front page of the morning paper. By the end of the day everyone in the school, along with the whole magical community of Britain, would know what had happened to him. And there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He would no longer be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, but Harry Potter, the Boy Who Was Raped. The boy that couldn't protect himself. The boy that would have to spend the rest of his life I'm hiding.

After all, how could he be expected to defeat Voldermort when he couldn't even protect himself?

Suddenly the walls of the chamber seemed to close, as though they would fall in around him. His vision narrowed to a distant pinpoint, and he couldn't seem to get enough air.

"Harry?" Hermione exclaimed in a panic when she saw that Harry was hyperventilating.

It was Ron who saved the day. He quickly led Harry to the couch,made him sit, and pushed his shoulders down until his head was between his knees, just as he'd seen his mom do this with his brother Percy when he'd once received less than perfect marks on a report card.

"Harry you need to take some deep breaths… in… and… out… in… and… out..." Ron spoke, performing the actions himself so Harry would be able to copy him.

Harry only shook his head, pushing Ron's hands away. He couldn't do it, couldn't get any air into his lungs! It felt like someone was holding a pillow over his face.

And there was a small part of him that hoped he wouldn't get anymore air, that he would die. That way he wouldn't have to deal with what was to come. He wouldn't have to deal with the stars and the whispers as he walked past people in the corridors or in the streets. He wouldn't have to wonder what they were thinking about him, about how weak he was...

"What do we do?" Hermione cried just as Professor Snape came barging into his chambers and straight over to Harry.