Author: Lucinda

Rated safe for anyone reading the early Harry Potter books.

Main character: Harry Potter.

Set in a divergent fifth year. May be considered to follow 'Aftermath of a Tournament', or not.

Anything recognizable from the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

PS-OS..PS-OS.. PS-OS..PS-OS.. PS-OS..PS-OS.. PS-OS..PS-OS..

Harry Potter sat in a chair, positioned in a darker corner of the Gryffindor common room. Last year had been a mess, with the Tournament and everything. Summer hadn't been much better, between the nightmares, the Dursleys, the nightmares, the awful articles in the Prophet, sneaking in his summer homework – and wasn't that as far from a normal school boy as he could imagine! – and the Dementors dropping by, almost eating him and his cousin, and being put on trial for daring to defend himself. This year was supposed to be better.

He wasn't really sure school was better this year. As arguments for 'better', quidditch was back after being suspended last year for the tournament, and they'd managed to fix the pitch. As a result of winning their first game, against Hufflepuff, Harry had started dating Ginny Weasley, who had replaced Angelina as a Chaser. Another plus, he'd had a number of people from all four houses actually ask him what had happened, and had at least given him a chance to talk before they left.

He'd told them most of the truth. Told them the Professor Moody at the third task was an imposter, had managed to kidnap him and Cedric, and they had been sent to a graveyard. How an accomplice there had killed Cedric and used him in something awful, what he in all his limited understanding could only assume had to be a Dark Ritual. Harry had clarified that by saying anything involving desecrating a grave, the accomplice cutting off his own hand, and taking blood from someone chained up and objecting HAD to be Dark as far as he was concerned. Quite a few people had looked pale and disturbed, one Hufflepuff had even turned rather green and nearly thrown up on the spot. How this Dark Ritual had changed something looking like a skinless baby-thing into a tall not-quite human thing which cast magic. Which called itself Lord Voldemort and had summoned masked figured it had called 'my loyal Death Eaters' and none of them had argued.

As an aside, he'd generally made a point to mention he wasn't quite sure as to what Voldemort had looked like before Halloween of '81, but wasn't it more important that the group of criminally inclined wizards were agreeing with the self-identification than determining how accurate it was? His listeners generally agreed, though some were too distressed to manage much coherence. One particularly timid Hufflepuff had actually fainted.

Harry didn't know if they believed him. Several had come back and asked for more details, most of which he was willing to answer. No, he wasn't sure where the graveyard had been. No, he had no idea what had already been in the giant cauldron, and refused to guess, besides that, considering his potions grades, he'd not be the best candidate for any sort of potions analysis. Yes, the accomplice had cast the Killing Curse at Cedric, who hadn't deserved such a fate. The thing which had emerged from the cauldron had used family names for the minions, but not first names, and Harry was quite willing to share the family names used. He also made a point of saying there was no time for any sort of Imperious to be applied after the nasty ritual.

Cho had even given him a quick kiss on the cheek and thanked him for bringing Cedric back to her before she'd started crying again. She'd spent about five minutes crying on his shoulder and had walked away with his handkerchief.

On the 'not better' side, he'd added a few more classes. His reason was the hope it would better prepare him for surviving to be an adult, and a few might help him with life on his own, if he lived that long. He'd signed up for quite a few 'quarter classes', which would be only about three months long, had no OWL or NEWT evaluation, and might not be required for many jobs. But he'd thought some sounded good – especially the course on household magic, which he hoped meant cleaning, mending, and some of the kitchen magic he'd seen Mrs. Weasley using. One was called Foreign Languages, and each week the basics of two non-English languages would be put into his mind and given time to soak in and stick – there were stacks of worksheets to be completed and turned in and would be a written and spoken test on all his new languages at the end of November. There was another he would take after the winter holidays called Minor Magical Healing, which sounded comparable to a muggle first aide course. And he'd added the condensed classes on Runes and Arithmancy for those who didn't plan on going into careers focusing on the skills, but wanted to gain at least a rough understanding. Which meant he had lots of homework.

Also on the 'not better' side was Defense. Or the class formerly known as Defense, now known as watch Umbridge treat them all like idiots. There would be no actual spell-casting in class, because there would never be an occasion where they would need to cast spells. Except their exams, of course, and Umbridge insisted a sufficient understanding of the theory would be enough. Any contact with a real threat meant they should call the Aurors and allow the professionals to handle everything. He'd been so stunned he hadn't been able to manage words, Dean had asked just how the future Aurors would learn to handle these things if they never actually used magic. She'd given him a detention 'for impertinence'. Another year of self-study for Defense.

The Daily Prophet was still slinging muck and insinuations at him. Nothing quite legally liable, but reading between the lines, they'd been insulting him all summer and were still at it now. His story was too unbelievable, too ominous, too unwelcome. He'd presented no proof to the paper. They thought he was caught up in some need for attention. And Harry knew it was unwelcome words, though he'd never had a chance to show proof or even give a more thorough talk to anyone in authority other than a few dazed words aimed at Fudge after the Third Task.

After a bit of thought, he'd decided that while this year's rumors were much better than last year's or second years, he didn't like them either. He'd been having quiet conversations with quite a few students in out of the way rooms and alcoves. Talks he didn't want to go into details about when asked over dinner. Mainly because Harry didn't want to bring up the Graveyard and Voldemort and Cedric dying and ruin his appetite or anyone else's. Except that somehow had become rumors about him having a variety of dates and quick liaisons all over the castle with a variety of people from differing houses and years. The fact some of those talks had been with boys hadn't slowed the rumors, and had finally made it clear to Harry the magical world had no large objection to same-sex couples as long as a child was still produced to inherit if there was anything significant to inherit. Malfoy would need an heir regardless of his preferred partners; Ron could be with anyone who would have him and nobody would bat an eye except perhaps his Mum. Not that Harry had any idea or desire to know what sort of partner Malfoy would want, and he'd heard far too much about what sort of woman Ron wanted. Some combination of amazing housewife, short order cook and big-breasted sex-pot. Harry could live the rest of his life without learning more about Ron Weasley's personal life.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about the Wizarding World's acceptance of same-sex couples yet. On the one hand, the part of him that rebelled against anything which would fit the Dursley view wanted to laugh and dance. Some of the most vicious rants from Uncle Vernon had been on the subject of queers and dykes, which he'd eventually figured out were very rude terms for men who preferred other men or women who preferred women. And as long as everything was voluntary and not too much of an age gap, he thought there were far better things to fuss over than how someone's chosen partner was put together. But he rather doubted he was so inclined, even if his dating experience was rather limited. He didn't find himself staring at boys the way he sometimes stared at pretty girls. He'd heard a lot of discussion on the idea of what boys were cute – thanks, Katie and Alicia – but he'd not really been impressed.

But he didn't like being implied to be having all these encounters which rumor suggested were filled with snogging and maybe more when he wasn't having any such encounters! His reputation was having all sorts of fun that he was missing out on, and he was a bit annoyed. It didn't help that he was feeling jealous of his reputation instead of a real person.

"Harry Potter! How could you!" Ginny's furious shriek showed that clearly, Mrs. Molly Weasley's howler voice wasn't as magically enhanced as some had hoped.

Harry blinked, looking at his angry girlfriend who had just stormed into the common room. Strong emotions made her eyes sparkle, and her cheeks flush, and she looked beautiful. "How could I what?"

"How could you snog that Ravenclaw waterfall Chang?" Ginny demanded.

Harry's jaw dropped, and he could only assume the rumors had struck again. "I never…"

Ginny's hand impacted his cheek with a loud crack. "Liar."

Something seemed to shatter inside Harry. Granted, he'd been hit harder. He might have a bruise but doubted the bone was broken or any teeth loosened. But that wasn't the point. It wasn't about the degree of physical damage she'd done to his face.

Ginny had slapped him because she'd heard a rumor. Slapped his face and called him a liar.

"We're done." Harry's voice was cold, and he felt as cold as when a Dementor stalked the area.

"What?" Ginny blinked at him, brows dipping in confusion. "Harry, you aren't making sense."

"My aunt is abusive, and more than once has hit me. Her husband is abusive and has frequently hit me and thrown me around. I don't know if he's hit my aunt or not. One of the things I've been clear on for a long time is that when I date, I never want to be abusive to my partner. No hitting them, no insulting them and what they do, no sniping little comments. And for even longer, I've been certain I never wanted to deal with that from any partner of mine. You hit me." Harry paused, trying to gather together his temper. It was trying to go from frozen shards of disbelief and pain to flames of outrage and anger. "You. Hit. Me. Because of a rumor you heard. Without asking me about what happened."

"Harry, I -" Ginny started to speak.

A motion of his hand, wand clutched in white knuckled grip, silenced Ginny. It was one of a very small number he could do silently. "No. You hit me, Ginny. Because of a rumor. I won't have that from someone I'm dating. Getting angry is one thing, hitting me is another. I won't date someone who would do that to me. We're done. You are no longer my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley."

With that said, Harry left the common room and retreated to his dorm.

He spent what felt like a long time sitting on his bed, trying to wrap his head around what had happened and wrestle his temper back under control. He hadn't been sure if he and Ginny would get married, or have a long future, but he'd been hoping to find out. Now he knew the answer was no. It didn't so much kill fully developed plans, but it tarnished his image of Ginny considerably.

"Are you sure you wanted to do that?" Hermione's voice came from the doorway.

Dean, Ron and Seamus were there as well, now slipping around Hermione to come into the room. None of them would quite look Harry in the eye.

Harry sighed, and then looked at them. "I can't accept someone acting like that Hermione. Let's try this the other way around. If Dean had hit Ginny when they were dating, Ron and the twins would be in favor of hexing him into a whimpering heap. Nobody would think that was okay for Dean to do to Ginny."

Ron and Hermione nodded while Dean insisted he would never hit his girlfriend.

"Ron's asked Lavender to go to Hogsmeade with him. If he got mad about something he heard, started to yell at Lavender and hit her, would anyone think that was okay?" Harry raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

Dean and Seamus offered Ron congratulations as Ron turned a flustered red. Hermione immediately shook her head, "Ron might get angry and yell, but I don't think he'd hit her, and nobody would think it was okay. Not anybody decent at least.

"Would it be okay if Lavender got mad and slapped him?" Harry pressed.

Hermione's teeth were worrying at her lip. Seamus snorted, "No. Why would that ever be a good thing? Let someone hit you once and they start thinking they can do it any time."

"I don't want anyone hitting me anytime or at any time. I'd be delighted to live the rest of my life without anyone trying to hit me," Harry sighed, fingertips touching his cheek where Ginny had slapped him. "I refuse to have someone I date thinking it's okay to hit me. Even if she is pretty, and good at quidditch. Even if I like her family. I won't date someone who hits me." Harry looked at the rest of them, "Not to mention she called me a liar. I don't like that either."

They were quite willing to admit none of them would like to be called a liar either.

Harry continued, "My aunt thinks she can get away with it because nobody has ever stopped her. Which is part of why I refuse to ever go back there again. And I refuse to let someone I date, someone who claims to like me if not love me try to do the same."

"But you have to, don't you? You're not an adult," Dean spoke slowly. "And I never hit Ginny when we dated, and I wouldn't hit Hannah."

"The one good thing about being forced into that Tournament last year is that the heads of three magical schools and officials from England and France have declared me of age. Which means I'm an adult and can choose where I live. It won't be Privet Drive. That isn't home, it's a nightmare. And now that I have another option I refuse to set foot in it again." Harry insisted.

"But how will you take care of yourself?" Seamus asked.

"Household Magic class this quarter, Minor Magical Healing next one," Harry countered.

They considered that for a few moments before deciding it would probably work. He still had close to three years of school left, so it would really only be over the summers anyhow. It wasn't like Harry was asking for anything unreasonable, just a place he felt safe, where his things would be safe, where he could eat and learn and not have anyone hurting him. For the person he was dating not to hit him, or the next person when he tried dating again.

Who wouldn't want those things for their life?

End Pottery Shard: One Strike.