Unlikely Savior – Chapter 5 (No Closer to the Truth)

Desmond had followed the blood trail that led from the second-floor corridor. He didn't really need to use Eagle Vision. Apparently, the attackers didn't care because there was no trail of magic to hide the blood.

It wouldn't have mattered if they did. Desmond would have been able to track the signature through his Eagle Vision.

So, he followed the trail up the Grand Staircase. It was like yesterday, when he first saw the blood. But instead of following where it led to, he was after where it had come from. Then the blood went in a different direction. It no longer went in the direction up the flight of stairs. It went down the corridor of the fourth floor. He was heading for the library.

Desmond had almost reached the doors when he noticed it was gone. It was once he used Eagle Vision, was he able to see where it had begun. Kneeling down, Desmond took a long look at the stained wall.

Thrown back, perhaps? There were many spells and curses that was capable of doing that. He could try to trace it, but he wasn't sure he was capable of that kind of magic. He would have to be more familiar with their magic.

Tracking the exact spell or curse would be easier. Though he could try to find out through Harry's magic, it was a start.

But he had all that he needed, he wanted to find out where it had started from. To get an idea on how some of the injuries may have happened. But without anyone as witnesses, he hoped that Harry remembered who had done this.

In normal circumstances, Desmond wouldn't have been as worried to get back to his rooms. But this wasn't really a normal circumstance to begin with. Though Minerva was there, this wouldn't be a single day of recovery. And she had classes to teach, unlike Desmond who could spend hours studying in those rooms.

Though the walk back felt a lot slower going downstairs instead of up.

"How is he?" Desmond immediately asked.

Minerva sat up from her seat, she probably hadn't moved since she walked through Desmond's Floo Connection.

"He hasn't woken, but I assume you have some answers."

"Looks like it started on the fourth floor, by the Library. There was a blood imprint on the wall, several feet from the doors to the Hogwarts Library. How good are you at tracking magical signatures?"

"I wasn't a professor and trainer for nothing," Minerva commented.

Desmond nodded, that was the only answer he needed. He just hoped that she was a lot better at tracking than he was. Plus, she was probably more familiar with the students' magic. He didn't think he could ever be a professor. But it definitely suited Minerva, no wonder she had made a good instructor and trainer.

He watched as she left, back straight looking just as fierce and defensive as a lioness protecting a cub. He wondered though, how she would cope if it had been a Gryffindor. There were only four houses the attacker could have come from. The Ravenclaws seemed the least likely from what information he had. Hufflepuffs would feel slighted for Cedric. Slytherins had a reputation for fights with Gryffindor and apparently didn't need much to instigate a fight. Gryffindor's should've been the least likely, supporting their champion like Hufflepuff for Cedric. But all Desmond could see was the angry faces when Harry left the Great Hall after his name came out. They were furious that 'one of their own' had 'cheated' and 'shamed them'. They had their own truth, and that worried Desmond.

From what he had seen of Gryffindors, you couldn't really predict what they might do. Perhaps that is what made him worry the most. He knew it wasn't confirmed on who may be responsible, but his instincts haven't failed him yet.

Though he supposed that probably wasn't the most concerning right now. First, it was having Harry wake up and dealing with the aftermath of the attack. That would be his number one priority. He doubted that arguing with a stubborn Gryffindor would be very fun, but he was up for the challenge.

The second one was finding why he hadn't gotten a reply for his damn letter. It was starting to irritate him. Though perhaps the second one would be finding out if Harry wanted to go back to Gryffindor Tower or not.

Desmond probably should have known that Harry would be unpredictable at best.

The Gryffindor should have still been asleep when he started to stir. But apparently nobody decided to tell Harry that so he could listen to it.

He hadn't been very far away to begin with. He had never moved Harry from the transfigured bed. Though he hadn't planned to develop the habit to start reading his books on the couch. He found his bed much more comfortable. That wasn't to say that he never did, because the couch was comfortable to sit in. But it hurt when he would fall asleep in that position. And given the number of scars he had over the years; he didn't need another reason to hurt.

Turn to find out, Hogwarts did have a few books on healing and curses. Though he may have nicked some from the Restricted Section. It wasn't like he was banned from the section like students were without a note from a professor. To everyone there that didn't really know him, he was just another member from the Ministry.

The Matron of the library didn't even question on why he wanted those books either. Which Desmond preferred, the less questions, the better. It wasn't like the books were all that questionable to begin with.

Well… maybe some of the books on curses might be. Those books were more for research than anything. Desmond wasn't just studying to take those blasted NEWTS exams. He wanted to know more about these subjects that interested him.

But it had been one of those books he had been reading over before hearing a loud groan.

His attention immediately shifted over to the bed several feet away. He could see Harry's eyes flickering open before flinching at the brightness of the room.

"Gahhh!"

Desmond's lips twitched in humor; he had the same reaction sometimes when waking up.

Harry's hand went up to block the bright light away from his eyes. Then he tried sitting up.

"Harry! No!" Desmond cried when he noticed the movement. The last thing he needed was for Harry to get up and make his injuries worse. That would only prolong the healing which was already long enough to start with.

He noticed Harry wincing when he had tried to sit up. Though he didn't mistake the flinch from his shout. So, shouting was something to avoid. Noted.

"Harry… you are safe. You are in my room and need to take it easy. Deep breathes," Desmond coached, his voice soft. He made sure to keep his tone calm and collected as he walked over slowly and deliberately. Giving Harry time to see him approaching and not panic further. He didn't know what state his mind was in yet.

Harry had to blink a few times; his head felt dizzy. There was a throb of pain, but he ignored it.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Desmond asked carefully, his heart starting to sink.

"Uhh… not much. Flitwick had us reviewing. Something about where the OWLS are coming up."

"Harry… you were on the fourth floor. You were supposed to be in Transfiguration," Desmond said. Though he couldn't prevent the sigh, this was not what he had been hoping for.

"But that don't make any sense! McGonagall's class isn't until after lunch!" Harry outburst.

"You took a major hit to the head…" Desmond soothed. "It is normal to forget, sometimes hours before it occurred. I had hoped you would remember who did this."

"Wait… Someone did this to me?" Harry asked, shrinking down, trying to make himself impossibly small.

Desmond had to restrain the sigh that wanted to escape. That wouldn't help matters, obviously Harry had no idea what was going on.

"Yes… but I am in the process of figuring out who. As is Professor McGonagall who is tracing what spells may have been used. I am hoping that she will find the magical signature and recognize it," Desmond said, his voice smooth.

Harry flung himself backwards on the pillows behind him. He sighed loudly.

"Why me?" He groaned theatrically.

Desmond's lips twitched, "I believe you are not the only one that has thought that." Though he had to stop himself from snickering.

"Fuck! First this stupid tournament. Now this, I should have known I wouldn't have a normal year!" Harry ranted, unable to stop now that someone was listening. Knowing that someone would listen and not just tune him out. "I blame my father. Everyone says he enjoyed the chaos. It jinxed me!"

Desmond raised an eyebrow at the language. He had not been aware that the Gryffindor cursed. Everyone had always commented on how he was the perfect Gryffindor. He was used to cursing, he did it most of everyday. Though he tried not to think of exactly what he thought of his own father.

"What happened to me? Harry asked suddenly. His green eyes staring unflinchingly at Desmond, wide and innocent but demanding the whole truth. Uncertain that it would be given to him or not.

"Desmond frowned before explaining, "nothing good. You had a head injury, and someone decided it would be a good idea to inflict a Reverse Knee Curse. Which is why it is not a good idea to be walking. Your bones are trying to mend from the damage they took. You had a few lacerations, which are starting to heal."

Harry went a little green, but Desmond was impressed that he didn't back down or ask him to stop.

"How long before I can get up? Can I still fly?"

Desmond rolled his eyes, of course he was worried about flying.

"I just told you that you are still healing… from a head injury and broken bones… and you want to fly?!" Desmond couldn't tell if Harry was mental or not.

Harry shrugged, his fingers playing with the top of his blanket.

"Nothing else matters. No one has expectations of who you are up in the sky. The way the broom responds to you and you don't have to think or play a part. Peaceful," he admitted. He only really spoke of his love for flying with his grandparents and godfather. Everyone else thought it was all about Quidditch, which he loved. But nothing compared to flying for the sake of flying. Escaping the world below.

Desmond had a soft smile, "I know what you mean. But you have a good week or two of healing before you can even think of trying to walk or even put the pressure on your feet and legs. That won't help you balance while on a broomstick."

He had flown before; he wouldn't say he loved it. But he liked the feeling of being in the air above everyone. Its why he enjoyed being on the rooftops and towers. Knowing that he couldn't be seen by others.

Harry groaned loudly again, "two weeks?! What about classes? Stuck in a bed for two weeks? This sucks!"

Desmond chuckled, "Minerva warned me you are a monster to have on bed rest."

"You realize that nothing stops you from doing homework while on bedrest?" Desmond grinned.

Harry gave him a deadpan glare so reminiscent of Dorea when he would be sarcastic it had startled him.

"You are messing with me, right?" Harry asked sulkily.

Desmond crossed his arms, "does it look like I am? You said it yourself. It's your OWLS year."

The one thing that Desmond did not mess around with was studies. Besides his Assassin duties of course. He had been lucky that he was able to take his OWLS. But because of the fucking Templars, his education was cut short. It had been a living hell. The constant worry about when he was going to be killed and why he was still alive had been strong. He would have never believed that he would live.

"But that won't keep the boredom at bay!" Harry cried. If anything, it would add to it. Some classes were fantastic. He loved his Charms and Transfiguration class. Even Runes had its moments. But some classes he could do without the lessons, let alone the accompany of homework.

"It's not supposed to. It's called bed rest for a reason. There are going to be moments where your potions will make you fall asleep, so you don't feel the pain," Desmond deadpanned.

"They never work. When I had the bones removed from my arm, I had spent most of it in misery and pain. I barely stayed asleep twenty minutes whenever I did drift off," Harry tried to explain. Merlin, Lockhart had been a tool of epic proportions.

"I couldn't take dreamless sleep with Skele-Grow either," Harry recalled.

"You realize this is not a sleeping potion. It is laced with healing ingredients you need. But its effects will make you sleepy. It is something I created. Minerva has already informed me of how sleep potions do not work for you. I have the same issues. You will be surprised by its effects," Desmond replied.

"Really?" Harry asked, sounding vulnerable again. "I can sleep through the pain?"

"And of course, you can't take both at the same time. They have to be taken separately!" Desmond said.

Though his voice grew soft, he knew what it was like to be going through that pain and have to suffer through it. No potion had ever helped him. It was the reason he took Healing. If nobody could find something to help him, he would.

"I think you will find this one actually works."

"Why are you helping me?" Harry asked, curiously, tilting his head to the side. "Why did you agree to watch me?"

"Perhaps I see a bit of myself in you. Even some of the similarities surprise me. Though honestly, I had been your age when I had been ripped from Hogwarts and my own home. The difference was, I did not have someone who gave a shit about me. Though, you kind of bring out a protective urge I didn't think I had. I didn't even know what I was signing up for when Dorea had requested me. But I wasn't going to say no. This isn't just a mission or duty. Do I have to help you? No, I don't. I just have to make sure that you are not killed by whoever entered you into this tournament. I am doing this because I want to."

"I… You… Thank you," Harry stuttered with a blush. He loved the raw honesty and how Desmond never seemed to try and get away with half-truths or avoiding answers. There were never any excuses that he was too young.

Desmond gave him a sincere smile at that. He couldn't recall the last time someone had thanked him. He still wasn't sure why he felt so protective over Harry. But that didn't stop the feeling of determination of being there every step of the way.

"You don't have to thank me, but you are welcome," Desmond said, voice slightly deeper with emotion. "I promise you, when you get off bed rest. I'm going to make sure this doesn't ever happen again. I am going to make sure they regretted every curse. And I am going to make sure you are prepared for this tournament."