AN: Would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take our freedom?!... Shit, I did it again, didn't I? Note to self: remind Bill to remind me to stop opening up notes with quotes from franchises that have nothing to do with the story. Let's try this again... Hello there! Have you- no. Not going to do that twice in one note.

How have you guys been? So I know that in the last chapter I said to not expect chapters very quickly from me, but after the absolutely massive amounts of support that I saw for this story, I just had to write out another one as quick as I could. I mean seriously you guys, you're fucking awesome. 40 favorites, 70 followers, and 556 views as of the time that I'm writing this. And that was done in two fucking days. You are beyond awesome, and I am beyond thankful. So without further ado, I will let you guys get to reading. And again, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU.

Word Count (without the AN included): 4,704 words

Harry and Hermione had remained outside just a little while longer after sorting everything out. It wasn't until it began to snow, and they realized it was just about freezing, that they retreated to the castle. They held hands the entire way, drawing more than a few stares from the students they passed, not that they noticed. There could have been a swamp in the middle of the hallway, and they would have walked through it without batting an eye.

When they reached Gryffindor Tower, they stopped in front of the Fat Lady and once more became lost in each other's eyes. It took several minutes of the Fat Lady trying to get their attention before they gave her the password. They walked in, ignoring her comments. ("Honestly, teenagers nowadays! Do they think I have time to sit around and wait all day?"

"In case you've forgotten, you're a painting, dear. You'll be here long after they've graduated."

"Nobody asked you, Violet!")

As they entered the common room, they began to make their way to their usual group of tables in the corner. However, before they could make it to their destination, they were stopped by a very red… thing in their path. It took Harry several seconds to recognize that it was Ron that stood in their path.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry looked at Ron, quirking an eyebrow at the ginger-haired boy. "Well, Ron, it would appear that Hermione and I are walking to our usual spot in the common room," He said.

If it were possible, Ron's face got even redder at Harry's words. Ron balled his hands into fists, his arms stiffening at his sides. "I mean, what the bloody hell is that?!" Ron yelled, pointing at Harry and Hermione's joined hands.

"What? Hermione and I holding hands?"

"YES!"

Harry then looked up to Hermione, and with a look, she understood what he was asking. She let go of his hand before walking past Ron, going up to her dormitory. Meanwhile, Harry and Ron continued to try and stare each other down. Despite Ron having an inch on Harry, he was not about to back down from the gangly boy.

"I don't think it's any of your damn business," Harry said coolly.

"Well, I think it fucking is!"

By now, Harry's anger was starting to get the better of him. "And why the fuck is that?"

"Because I love her!"

While most people had stopped to watch what had become common entertainment in the Gryffindor Common Room, most of the upper years had still gone about their business. But at Ron's words, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. It was possible to hear a pin drop; it was so quiet.

"What do you mean, you 'love her'?" Harry asked incredulously

"I mean that I'm in love with Hermione!" Ron said, pointing towards the girls' dormitories.

By now, Ron had managed to make Harry both very angry and very confused. "Ron, what the fuck do you mean you love Hermione? All you fucking do is belittle her and argue with her!"

"Yeah, but that's just a sign that we're meant to be together! Y'know the saying, 'arguing like an old married couple'?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted his eyes shut, trying his hardest not to lash out at Ron. He knew that the boy was jealous of what Harry had; he always had been. Harry knew that he shouldn't hold that against Ron, but how couldn't he? All Harry wanted was a friend, and instead, he had gotten a leech, looking to suck a little bit of his success for himself.

"Ron, that's not a good thing. That saying is for an old couple who has begun to hate each other. It's not a sign of good things to come."

"No, you're just saying that so you can have her to yourself! Just like you get everything! Why can't you just let me have this one thing?!"

Harry had had enough. "BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE EVERYTHING! YOU THINK THAT JUST BECAUSE I HAVE THE FAME, THE FORTUNE, THAT I HAVE EVERYTHING? WHAT ABOUT A FAMILY? WHAT ABOUT A MOTHER THAT LOVES ME UNCONDITIONALLY OR A FATHER THAT I CAN LOOK UP TO? BROTHERS THAT I COULD'VE PLAYED WITH AS A CHILD? A SISTER THAT I CAN BE OVERPROTECTIVE TOWARDS?" Harry's face was almost as red as Ron's by this point. "I may have material wealth, Ron, but I would give it all up in a heartbeat to have a piece of the virtuous wealth that you possess."

"Oh boo-hoo," Ron said mockingly. "'I'm Harry Potter, my parents are dead, and I have to whine about it every chance I get!' In case you haven't noticed, Harry, nobody gives a fuck! Do you think you're the only one to have lost their parents in the war? News flash: you're not! But you don't hear anybody else bitching about it every chance they get!"

It was like Harry had been slapped in the face. How could he ever have been friends with the boy that was in front of him? How could he not have seen the true face of Ron?

"You know what I don't get, Harry? How you can be so goddamn ungrateful. You've been handed everything in life, and you still find a way to bitch about it. You get the money, you get the girl, you get the fame, and you still find a way to complain. Do you understand how many people would fucking kill to be in your position?"

Harry was beyond fed up with Ron by this point. It was past time that Harry put Ron in his place. "Me, ungrateful? How about you?! It's like you haven't been listening to a word that I've said over the past four years! You may not have the wealth or the fame that I have, but you have the thing that I've wanted most for the past fourteen years: a loving family. You said that people would kill to be in my position? I would kill to be in yours! You don't understand what I would do to come home at the end of the school year and be treated with the barest amounts of decency. You may have claimed to be my best mate these past four years, but you don't know me at all, Ron. I don't think you ever did."

What Harry didn't expect was for Ron to start laughing. "You think you deserve decency? You don't deserve the dirt on the bottom of my boot. You're a backstabbing traitor who cares for nobody but himself. How long will it be before Hermione no longer fits into your selfish agenda? What will you do to her then? Throw her aside, and prove me right? No, you wouldn't do that. You're probably one of those 'if I can't have her, nobody can' types, am I right? You'd kill her before you-"

However, Ron wasn't able to finish his sentence because he was interrupted by Harry acquainting his fist with Ron's nose. With a sickening crunch, Ron dropped to the floor, holding his nose. But Harry wasn't finished with him just yet. How dare he insinuate I would hurt Hermione? Harry grabbed Ron by his shirt collar, lifting the boy's torso off the floor.

And then blank. All Harry could hear, could see, could feel was the rage and hate he held in his heart for Ronald Weasley. How dare he make those comments? How could he think that Harry would ever lay a finger on Hermione? Somebody needed to put Ron in his place, and Harry would be the one to do it.

"Harry, stop!"

"Harry, let go of him!"

"Harry, you're going to kill him!"

Good! That'd teach everyone to stop fucking with him so much! Why was it so hard to understand that he just wanted to be left alone? To be normal? Ron would be an example to them all!

"He's not stopping! We have to knock him out!"

"Stupefy! What the- it did nothing!"

"Together! We've got to do it together! On three! One… two… three!"

"Stupefy!"

And the world went dark.

/\/

-O.O-

When Harry finally awoke, it was to a familiar smell that was unmistakable: antiseptic and alcohol. That could only mean one thing: The Hospital Wing. Harry could hear muffled voices but couldn't quite make them out. That would indicate that the privacy curtains were raised, preventing Harry from eavesdropping.

Figuring that he had stalled long enough, he opened his eyes, the familiar sight of stone archways greeting him. 'Honestly, Madame Pomfrey should just reserve this bed for me. I'm in here often enough,' he thought. Harry tried to remember what he had done this time to end up in this bed once more, but for the life of him, he couldn't. 'Huh, that's weird. I've always remembered what landed me here. Was I hit in the head?'

Harry was torn from his thoughts at the sound of the curtains being drawn back. Standing in front of him was the matron of the ward, Madame Pomfrey. While she was a formidable woman capable of getting her charges to follow her orders no matter how much they didn't want to, she wasn't the person Harry was concerned about. Standing behind her were Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. Harry audibly gulped because if they were here, it meant that Harry had seriously messed up.

"Ah, good to see you awake, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?" Madame Pomfrey asked him.

Harry took a moment to respond, trying to figure out just what he had done that had attracted the attention of Dumbledore. "I feel like I was trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs before being attacked by a swarm of Dementors," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Anyone get the number of that lorry?"

Harry hoped that cracking a joke would ease the room's tension, but it was to no avail. All three of the adults bore grim expressions, making Harry more worried by the moment.

"The headache and fogginess are to be expected. You were hit by three stunners, after all." Madame Pomfrey informed him.

Harry's eyes bugged at her final words. 'Three stunners? What the bloody hell did I do?'

"Three?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, three. If it were not the actions of a few of your older housemates, Mr. Weasley would have much more severe injuries than a broken nose and severe bruises," Professor McGonagall said irately. "Just what were you thinking, attacking another student like that? Never in all my years have I had a student in my house act so barbarically!"

With her outburst, Harry slowly began to recall what had happened before he had been knocked unconscious. 'Ron… our argument… those vile words… and me. I really did a number on him, didn't I?'

"Is he going to be okay?" Harry asked.

"Mr. Weasley had to stay the night here to grow back several teeth you had knocked out and repair some of his facial bones, but yes. He will be alright." Madame Pomfrey said.

Harry looked down at his lap, trying to figure out what had happened. One moment they were just arguing, and the next, he was like an animal. He had never acted that way before, even around Malfoy, which was saying something.

"You still have not answered my question, Mr. Potter. What were you thinking, attacking a fellow student like that, a close friend no less?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry's head snapped up, looking his head of house in the eyes, a fire lit behind his. "He is not my friend."

"Come now, Harry. Surely it was just a misunderstanding between you and Mr. Weasley?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"No, Professor. Ron ended any chances of us having any kind of friendship after my name came out of the Goblet. His words yesterday only cemented that sentiment." Harry said heatedly.

"And what words would those be, Harry?"

"Ron said I was ungrateful for having the fame that I have because I said I would give it up just to have my parents back. But it was what he said about Hermione that really burned that bridge."

There was a moment of silence before Professor McGonagall asked, "And what did Mr. Weasley say about Hermione?"

"It was more about what I'd do to Hermione. He accused me of not loving her, saying that once I was bored of her, I'd kill her because if I couldn't have her, then nobody else could."

Again, there was silence in the ward for a moment, Professor Dumbledore breaking it this time. "I'm sure that wasn't what young Ronald mea-"

"That's exactly what he meant, Professor," Harry said, venom dripping from his voice. The very memory of what Ron had said was almost enough to send Harry into another rage.

"It still does not excuse your actions, Mr. Potter. You know there are rules against fighting, with or without magic. Why would you ever think it was okay to put your hands on another student?" Professor McGonagall said.

"I wasn't, okay?! I wasn't thinking! I was just so angry. I honestly don't remember beating him the way you're telling me I did. I remember hitting him once, and then all I remember is rage. I can't tell you why I attacked him the way I did because I don't know exactly what happened."

Professor Dumbledore's brow furrowed, and his lips pursed at these words. Harry could tell that he had an idea of what happened, but it was obvious that the older wizard was not in a sharing mood.

"Regardless of whether you were aware of your actions, you still need to be punished for what happened. Due to your actions, you are barred from attending the Yule Ball." Professor McGonagall said.

"Ah, but alas, Harry must attend the ball, Minerva. It is part of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and as such, Harry must attend the ball to complete the tournament. If you bar him from attending, the Goblet will see this as a breach of contract, and it will strip Harry of his magic."

Harry's face paled at the thought. Having his magic stripped from him? That would mean that he would be forced to leave the wizarding world, and he would have to live at the Dursleys' full-time. Harry could think of few fates that would be worse than that.

"So, you would have him be let go without punishment?" Professor McGonagall asked incredulously.

"Of course not, Minerva. I believe that a far more reasonable punishment for Harry is not to be allowed to join his classmates on their journey to Hogsmeade tomorrow."

And suddenly, one of those worse fates had found Harry. He was planning on using that Hogsmeade weekend both as a first date with Hermione and as an opportunity to acquire a pair of dress robes for the Ball. If he weren't allowed to attend, not being able to dance would be the least of his problems if he had to attend the Ball in his Hogwarts uniform.

"Albus, he savagely beat another student! How can you possibly think this is an apt punishment for the boy?"

"Trust, Minerva. It will be enough of a punishment for Harry."

"But-"

"That is all that I have to say on the subject. If our business is concluded, I do believe Poppy has some business of her own to conduct with Harry."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to argue the point further, but a look from Dumbledore shut her down. With a "humph," she turned and briskly left the Hospital Wing, with Professor Dumbledore following at a more sedate pace.

"About time. This is a Hospital Wing, not a courtroom. If they want to have a hearing and dole out punishments, they can do it on their time, not mine." Madame Pomfrey grumbled, moving around Harry's bed. She ran several diagnostic spells on the boy before nodding her head in satisfaction. "All right, Mr. Potter. I can't seem to find a reason to keep you here, so you are free to go. Do try to stay out of my ward for the remainder of the year, will you?"

Despite the punishment he had just been given, Harry still found it within himself to smirk at the matron. "No promises," he said, leaping off the bed.

Harry walked out of the Hospital Wing, making his way back to Gryffindor Tower. The entire way, every student he crossed paths with would either stare at him or turn to their friend and start whispering something. He knew that by now, the Hogwarts rumor mill would have made sure the events of yesterday were known all over. Now, on top of being known as a cheater, he was probably being called things like "mental" and "unhinged."

Harry arrived at the Fat Lady, giving her the password quickly. Once the portrait had swung open enough, he entered the common room, finding that it was still populated despite being later into the evening. Harry knew that he had missed dinner, but all that he cared about was finding Hermione. He had to talk to her. Luckily, he knew just the place to find her.

He went to their usual corner, finding his girlfriend with her head buried in a book, as per usual. He stood there, watching her for several moments, enjoying the expressions she would make as she read the passages of what looked like their potions textbook. Honestly, he could sit there and watch her for hours and never get bored. He loved it when her brows furrowed when she reached a passage that she couldn't understand right away or when he would bite her lip when thinking of how to word an essay. Hermione Granger would never cease to amaze him, and Harry wouldn't have her any other way.

Despite enjoying watching her, he really did need to speak with her. He lightly cleared his throat, breaking her concentration on the text. A slightly annoyed expression crossed her face, but once she saw that it was Harry, her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, shooting up out of her chair.

She engulfed Harry in one of her Granger-Hugs™. He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of being so closer to her. This was something else that he knew he would never tire of. Come to think of it, he would probably never tire of anything if it had something to do with Hermione Jean Granger.

"Oh, Harry. I was so worried. When I came back down, all I saw was you and Ron on the floor, with several seventh years pointing their wands at you. Neville told me what happened, the terrible things that Ron said. But…"

Harry knew why she trailed off. She was nervous about bringing up his outburst, but that was why he needed to talk to her. If anyone would have any idea as to what happened, it was Hermione.

"I attacked Ron." Harry finished for her softly.

She just nodded, looking down into Harry's chest. She was worried that if she mentioned what happened, Harry would become defensive and shut her out. She knew how her boyfriend could get, and she wanted to avoid causing him to become withdrawn from her. They had just established a new chapter in their relationship, and she didn't want to compromise that by saying the wrong thing. So, it was safe to say she was surprised when Harry opened up without a fight.

"I have no idea what happened, Hermione. One moment we're shouting, and the next, all I can feel is rage and hate. It's like something pushed me into the passenger seat, and someone else was driving. It didn't feel like me," Harry said, his voice trembling on those last few words. "What if it happens again? What if it happens with you?"

Hermione could see the fear in his eyes, something she knew Harry did not like to broadcast to others. If it were up to him, nobody would know what he was thinking or feeling. It was an unfortunate side effect of his upbringing with the Dursleys due to his beatings being worse if he showed any emotion through the ordeal.

Hermione took another moment to gather her thoughts before she gave Harry a response. "You won't," she said, raising a finger to Harry when he tried to interrupt her. "Let me finish. You won't do it because we're going to figure out why you acted the way you did. We'll figure it out, and you won't ever do it again. From the way you describe it, I'd say someone Imperious'd you, but we all know that you fight it off."

"I guess we have Professor Moody to thank for that," Harry said, nodding his head. "It definitely wasn't the Imperious. That feels like there's somebody is whispering in my ear, trying to convince me to do what they want. This was more… direct. I can't exactly describe it, it- it was like- imagine I'm a video game character, okay? It was like rather than me holding the controller, somebody else ripped it from my hands and started playing."

Harry could see Hermione get a faraway look in her eyes, knowing that her mind was working in overdrive to think of a reason behind what was happening. He hoped that she would have an idea about what it could be and that they could fix this soon. He didn't want to be attacking anybody that slightly annoyed him. Malfoy would be dead within a week.

"I can't think of anything that could do what you're describing, aside from possession. And with the warding on the castle, there's no way that a ghost could take control of your body without your consent."

"There are wards against possession here?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes," Hermione said, rolling her eyes and stepping away from Harry. She sat down at the desk she had been occupying and picked up her book. "It's in Hogwarts: A History. How many times have I told you to read that book? There may be something in that book that will help you one day."

Harry elected not to say anything, instead heading up to his dorm room to retrieve his school bag. The issue of why he attacked Ron would have to be tabled until Harry could go to the Library tomorrow. After all, he would have all day since he could not go to Hogsmeade.

Harry walked into the room and headed to the foot of his bed. He picked his bag up off the lid of his trunk and made to leave the room, but something caught his eye. Something was sitting on his pillow that wasn't there when he had left the room the previous day.

Harry set his bag back down on his trunk and walked over to what he could now tell was a book. It was a black-colored tome, its cover bearing a strange purple design, with white cross pattées above and below the title. Harry's eyes scanned the title itself, wondering what a book like that would be doing on his pillow. Secrets of the Darkest Art.

Harry used a basic curse-detecting spell that Professor Moody had taught them not long after his lesson on the Unforgivables. After finding that the book was safe to touch, Harry picked it up, flipping open the cover. Inside was a note with very messy handwriting on it.

"D- daw-bee?" Harry read, unsure of what it could mean.

The next moment, there was a crack, and standing on Harry's bed was none other than Dobby the House Elf.

"Harry Potter be calling Dobby? Oh! Harry Potter be receiving Dobby's gift!" the House Elf exclaimed.

"Dobby?" Harry asked, confused as to what was going on. "What do you mean, your gift?"

"Dobby was tasked to bring Harry Potter this book, and Dobby has done it! Has I done a good job?"

Harry was still unable to figure out quite what was going on. Someone had wanted Dobby to bring him this book? Why? Who were they, and why did they use Dobby to deliver it? There were many more direct ways to get something to someone that didn't involve using a House Elf.

"Dobby, who asked you to bring this to me?"

"Oh," Dobby said, suddenly becoming incredibly nervous. "Apologies, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby was asked not to tell you who they were. Dobby would be a very bad elf and have to hold his hand over a kitchen burner if he revealed Geengass was the one to ask."

Dobby's eyes widened in realization, and Harry rushed to grab Dobby. He snatched Dobby up and wrapped him in a hug, preventing him from going anywhere. Dobby was doing all he could to escape from Harry's grasp, but the emerald-eyed wizard wasn't going to let him.

"Harry Potter must let me go! Dobby must punish himself!" Dobby said, resorting to attempting to headbutt Harry.

"Dobby, stop it!"

"No! Dobby must punish himself! Dobby failed at his task!"

"Dobby, I don't even know who Geengass is! I don't know anybody by that name!"

After Harry's words began to register, Dobby began to calm down. After a minute, Dobby had stilled, so Harry gently placed him back onto his bed. Dobby was looking down at the ground, ashamed of the fact that he almost did the one thing he was not supposed to do.

"Dobby, it's alright. You don't need to worry about whoever ordered you to give me the book getting mad. Like I said, I don't know anybody by that name, and I have no idea who could be called that."

Dobby peeked up at Harry, keeping his head down. "Harry Potter does not understand. Geengass will know that Dobby failed. Geengass will punish Dobby if Dobby does not punish himself."

Harry was taken aback by Dobby's statement. Someone would hurt Dobby for failing them? Who the hell did they think they were? Dobby has been nothing but a good elf! He's done nothing but try to help me, and this is how someone is going to repay him?

Harry once more began to feel rage and hate boil up from within, threatening to take hold. And now that Harry could recognize what was happening to him, he was scared. He didn't want to lose control again, especially not in front of Dobby. The last thing that Harry wanted to do was hurt the little guy. Then again, if memory serves correctly, Dobby can take care of himself. He did knock Lucius Malfoy on his ass when Harry was twelve.

Harry could hear a crack, and it was like the fog was lifted. Looking down, Harry saw Dobby, holding his hand up with recently snapped fingers. Dobby was able to prevent Harry from going berserk? How?

"Dobby? How did you do that?"

"Many wizards do not know it, Harry Potter, sir, but House Elf magic can accomplish much, much more than just household chores."

"Do you know what's happening to me?"

Dobby shook his head and pointed to the book. "No, sir. Geengass does! She said it would be in the book Dobby was to deliver."

Harry picked up the book, staring once more at its cover. A crack drew Harry's attention, and by the time he looked up, Dobby was gone. Looking back down at the book, Harry flipped open the cover once more, turning the pages to the table of contents. Harry didn't know much about the Dark Arts, but he knew that, as the title suggested, the magics enclosed in the pages were some of the darkest known to man.

Harry's eyes scanned the page, finding that one of the chapters was circled. It looked like this "Geengass" wants him to look at a particular chapter. Harry had just one question at the moment: what the bloody hell was a Horcrux?