Chapter XI: A Pride's Prejudice

Happiness, just as all other things in life, is transient. Harry's had a lifelong habit of not lasting very long and on that particular day it made no exceptions; it was in the corridors leading from the great hall that trouble reared its ugly head.

Two older students in red robes stepped out from an alcove to block the corridor, shoulder to shoulder with their arms crossed and wands out. From his experiences with Dudley's favourite sport, 'Harry hunting', Harry immediately expected more to cut them off from behind. A glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears - three more were there, blocking any straggling Gryffindors and his only other escape route. Most worrying was that all five had their house scarves wrapped about their lower faces so as not to be recognised. Hermione was still walking, so Harry grabbed her and pulled her back.

"What the- Harry?"

"Sorry but-"

"Ooh, looks like she went and got herself a friend," the largest of the two ahead interrupted, "how sweet. Or is she just threatening you Mr Potter? We can handle that if you need." The way he tapped his wand against his arm told Harry more than he wanted to know about how that offer would go.

Hermione took a half step back, her right hand dipping into her pocket, where it stayed. Harry thought about going for his wand too, but his hand was busy holding onto her, and he didn't see what good his wand would do him anyhow. Vermillious and lumos weren't duelling charms, but those were the only spells he had any hope of casting under pressure.

"No, she isn't. She's a friend," Harry asserted, sickened that anyone would even think she was threatening him. It was particularly infuriating coming from someone doing just that at that very moment.

"Weird choice of friends, Potter. Hanging out with the heir ain't a good look for a Gryffindor."

"She's a Gryffindor!" he protested, throwing his free hand up with frustration. "She isn't the heir!"

"Funny way of showing it, smearing it all on the wall in blood," the other before them - a girl - sneered. "Whose blood was that anyway? Kill one of your fellow muggles or just another cat?"

"I- I didn't," Hermione stammered fearfully, "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Bloody hell, hear that guys?" the girl gasped theatrically, like she was enjoying being so cruel. "She don't even think it's wrong to threaten us! How twisted is this bitch?"

"Leave her alone!" Harry cried, but his voice faltered and it came out strangled, more pleading than commanding as intended.

"No can do kiddo. Snake's gotta be taught a lesson, and if you're with her it sounds like you need some teaching too," the boy said, taking a step forward. Being closer made it obvious how much bigger than Harry he was.

Harry gulped. It wasn't the first time boys bigger than him had promised to 'teach him a lesson', but it was the first time they'd been holding wands. From what he knew of adult-level magic, they may as well have been carrying guns. Standing by Hermione was likely going to hurt; he could feel himself withdrawing in his mind in preparation. It always hurt less if it felt like it was happening to someone else.

"Harry," Hermione whispered to him, "you should-"

"What. The. Fuck!?" a new voice called. All heads whipped around to the source; Oliver Wood was pushing his way to the front of the small crowd bunched up behind the bullies bringing up the rear. "The hell are you idiots doing?"

"Defending our house honour, Oli, like you should be!"

"That's funny, cause from where I'm standing it looks like you're threatening my seeker?" Wood accused icily. He drew his wand and aimed it squarely at the boy.

"It's not him we're here for, but he's protecting her." The ringleader sounded like he was complaining.

Harry was feeling very thankful that he'd made the team as his captain stood ready to defend him. He wasn't going to relax yet, but it was looking like he and Hermione might get away unscathed. Wood met his eye, and his furrowed brow softened slightly.

"Harry," he said gently, "step away. Don't get caught up in all this."

And Hermione? What about her? Are you only here to protect your precious seeker? So much for Gryffindor chivalry. So much for your help.

"What? No way!" he shouted, releasing Hermione's arm and drawing his wand to level at the larger group. The reassuring warmth on his fingers rose to a searing heat as his anger channelled raw magic into the wand. If he'd known a violent spell, he would have cast it there and then. If he'd not spent his first week at Hogwarts learning to unconsciously contain his raw magic, he might have accidentally blasted them without a spell.

"Harry," Hermione said, unusually calmly, "do what he says."

"I'm not leaving you," he refused.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, this isn't the time for stupid heroics!" Hermione lambasted, lashing out like something inside her had just broken. "You don't stand a chance in a fight, so it's entirely illogical for you to get involved! Let them do whatever idiotic thing it is that they're planning, and if you want to help you can take me to the infirmary when they're done! At the end of the day they'll all get expelled and Pomfrey can fix me up! And... Besides..." she sniffed, coming down from the tirade, "I've survived worse situations than this. Although the troll was less ugly." - she raised her chin defiantly - "And smelled better."

Harry stared at his friend in wonder. In the face of danger it seemed she was more concerned for his welfare than her own, and she was brave enough to insult the bullies. Mental, but brave for sure. She stood haughty and proud, wand still not drawn - she had even removed her hand from her pocket, empty - and tapped her foot impatiently. Like she was bored of waiting for them to get on with it. It was only because he was so close that Harry could see the trembling of her jaw.

The girl who had accused Hermione of killing a muggle was becoming infuriated. Her face was bright red and her wand was pointed at them, shaking in her hand.

"Harry, come on," Oliver urged, beckoning to him.

Harry wanted to do as his captain said. He really did. The pain of being beaten was something he was very, very glad to have left behind at the Dursleys', and the idea that it had followed him to Hogwarts made his stomach turn. But as much as he wanted to run, he didn't. Instead he did something very stupid and very, very Gryffindor; he stopped thinking with his head, and let his heart take over. It roared its decision, screamed it as a battlecry, but when the word left his mouth it was hard and flat like ice.

"No."

The girl screamed, "petrificus totalis!" and Harry flinched, dreading the pain of whatever that spell might do. Hermione squealed. Oliver yelled something too, flicking his wand. A flash of sparkling blue light blossomed between Harry and the attacking girl, and her spell never connected.

"Cut it out!" Oliver barked, though she had already stopped to stare at him in disbelief.

"Why'd you do that?" the ringleader asked harshly of Oliver, placing a hand on his partner's arm to stop her casting again.

"Because that's Harry fucking Potter you just tried to curse!"

"Oh, can it Wood," the girl spat, "it was only petrificus. It's not him we're gonna hurt."

"And when he topples over and cracks his skull? You wanna be the one who killed the boy-who-lived?"

The girls eyes bugged out at that, and her wand arm lowered. She looked feverishly between Harry and Oliver, then turned on her partner.

"You idiot! What have you got me into?" she hissed, as if it was him who had cast the curse.

The leader ignored her to stare viciously at Harry, who met his gaze defiantly.

"Your fame won't protect you forever, wonder-boy. And you need to think about what kind of people you associate with. When you're ready to ditch this snake we'll forget this ever happened, but 'til then the both of you ain't welcome in the tower."

He span on his heel and dragged his partner down the corridor. The other three strode past, one shoulder checking Hermione so hard she fell to the floor. Harry's heart gave back the reins just in time for him to hold his tongue about that and focus on getting his friend to her feet.

"You're stirring a lot of shit for me, Potter," Oliver said, walking up to them. "If you get yourself put in the infirmary before a session I'll give your spot to the Weasley girl."

"She can bloody have it," Harry snapped, fuming at the boy who was willing to stand up for him but not his friend.

"Harry, no," Hermione sobbed, "please don't lose your spot because of me."

"The snake's right, Potter. What happens off the pitch should stay off the pitch."

"She's not... a... snake," Harry seethed.

"Whatever," Oliver scoffed. "I'll get your stuff brought out of the tower in one piece. There's an abandoned classroom a few doors down you can bunk in."

"Do you honestly think we'll be the ones getting evicted once McGonagall hears of this?" Hermione scathingly asked.

"I think if she hears about this, getting kicked out will be the least of your problems. You think those five are the only ones who want you gone?" Oliver's tone made it quite clear that he agreed with their stance when it came to Hermione.

"Piss off, Wood," Harry ordered. He was entirely done dealing with his senior housemates. He was done with the whole bloody day, actually; he just wanted to go crash in his bed and sleep for a week. Except it wouldn't be his bed he was sleeping in, apparently.

"Fine. See you at training," Wood said before walking away. The small crowd of spectators, all being Gryffindors, went with him, except for one girl.

"The girl waited until the others were out of sight and earshot, then spoke softly to Hermione. "I'll see if I can get your stuff out to you, 'Mione."

"Sally?" Hermione responded, "you don't think I'm the heir then?"

"You don't seem the type," Sally said, shrugging.

"Thank you. Try to get the books, I can do without the rest."

Sally shared a knowing smile with Harry as she said, "don't mention it. Seriously, if anyone asks tell them I stuck around to call you a slimy snake or something. Gotta dash. Good luck."

She took off after the other Gryffindors at a run, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the corridor.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, thinking he'd rather be the first to ask than to answer.

"No," Hermione replied abruptly, "No, I am not alright. I am not even a little bit alright. I would have to say that I am all not right." - She took an unnaturally deep breath, and Harry's mind idly made the observation that the size of her lungs explained how she could talk for so long at a time - "How about you?"

Being asked was as difficult as Harry feared. It was the sort of question he'd rather evade, but not if that meant disappointing his friend.

"I've had worse," he remarked dryly, not daring to say any more until he'd stopped shaking. At least it wasn't a lie.

Hermione snorted appreciatively. "As have I."

Harry decided with how badly his legs were shaking he should sit down, so he did. He drew his knees up to his chest like a shield and hugged them tight, wrapping his ankles in his robes against the draughts of a castle that felt far colder than it had the day before. His righteous anger blew away on that chilling wind.

"What do we do now?" he whined.

"Well," - Hermione slipped into her lecturing tone, and Harry was rather glad someone was taking charge - "first we need to decide whether we are going to tell McGonagall or not."

"You heard what Wood said… We can't tell anyone!"

"Yes I heard him, but seeing as he clearly did not have my best interests at heart I am not at all inclined to believe a single word that came out of his mouth. I will make the decision for myself, thank you very much," Hermione asserted, folding her arms in a huff.

Harry chose not to say anything for fear of rousing her temper any further. There was an edge to her that he was finding a bit scary; he wondered if she'd been that way all of the last year and whether that was fuelling everyone's willingness to believe she was the heir. That thought got angrily slapped down inside his head when it came too close to defending their actions.

"However, in this case," Hermione wavered, "in this case I fear he was right. Unless I can identify everyone who has it out for me, and guarantee that their punishments will serve to protect me in the future, the consequences could be exceedingly unpleasant."

"Us," Harry said.

"What?"

"Us. You said 'me'. It should be 'us'."

Hermione crouched down beside him and 'looked' him in the eye.

"Harry, I appreciate you sticking up for me, but it's me that they hate. You could walk up to the tower and tell them you've changed your mind and that would be the end of it for you. I can't… I can't say I would blame you if you did," she said sadly. Harry didn't like the despair in her voice; it didn't suit her one bit. He'd far rather face her indignant rage than this.

"Could," he grunted. He could go back to chatting with his dormmates; talking quidditch with Ginny who had almost forgiven him; waking to that glorious dawn light. The idea was very appealing, except that it made him want to vomit. "Won't."

Hermione thought for a moment, then gave one firm nod of her head.

"Right. So… Next thing is to figure out where we're going to sleep tonight, seeing as we can't… we can't…" she was breaking up as she spoke, and had to stop.

"Can't go to the dorms," Harry finished for her.

That seemed to shake her out of it enough to take a deep breath and continue.

"Yes, that. We could check out that unused classroom while we think of other ideas?"

"Aren't we not trusting Oliver?"

Hermione smacked her forehead and groaned, "ugh, I am not thinking straight. Of course we can't use the room he suggested, it could be jinxed in all sorts of ways by now. So we need somewhere else. Some place with a bed would be nice."

"Where are we going to find free beds in the castle?"

"Shh, let me think," Hermione snipped, pressing her fingers to her temples. It only took her a second to find her answer. "The infirmary!"

"That's brilliant… But don't you need to be, y'know, hurt to sleep in the infirmary?" asked, sincerely hoping he was mistaken. He didn't want to ruin the plan.

Hermione drew her wand and rolled it between her fingers ominously, threatening, "That can be arranged."

"Umm… No thanks?" Harry gulped. Maybe more than a bit scary.

"Oh, relax Harry," she giggled, stowing the wand, "I was joking."

Harry was amazed she could joke after what had just happened, but from the sudden change in her it must have helped. Must be worth a try, he thought, and so he cracked a joke himself.

"Oh. Could've fooled me; seems your sense of humour is as bad as your eyesight."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Too far?" Harry asked, cringing at the words he couldn't quite believe he'd just spoken.

"The only reason I'm not turning you into our ticket to the infirmary right now," Hermione imperiously told him, "is that that was kind of funny."

Harry sighed his relief. "It was, wasn't it?"

"Alright, don't get big headed on me. Save the self-congratulations for when you come up with a better idea than the infirmary."

"I thought the infirmary wouldn't work?"

"Yes, you did. I disagree. Madame Pomfrey is a medical professional, which means she is under a Hippocratic oath. The wizarding version is a little different, and worryingly lax in places, but she told me before that if I invoke it deliberately then she can't say anything to anyone except my legal guardian or in case of threat to a life."

"Okay…" Harry said, following her well enough but failing to see where she was going.

"Don't you see, Harry? We can tell Madame Pomfrey and she won't be able to reveal it to anybody else! She's the one that decides who sleeps in her infirmary, and I expect she'll accommodate us for tonight at the very least."

"Ok, that's properly brilliant," he admitted, jumping to his feet "let's go see her now!"

"Yes, let's," Hermione agreed.

The infirmary was a room half the size of the great hall, and it reeked of cleaning fluid. The smell reminded Harry of afternoons spent scrubbing a house from top to bottom, so he was not a fan of it. He wrinkled his nose at the precise moment the matron of the ward stepped out of her office to greet them, which earned him a disapproving look.

"May I help you?"

"Madame Pomfrey! Just the woman we need to see!" Hermione beamed, though to Harry it was obviously forced.

"Ms Granger, welcome. What is the nature of the ailment?"

"Ah. That's a little complicated. And of a highly personal nature, ma'am."

"Yes, yes, isn't it always, now what is it?" Pomfrey demanded.

"Right, well, you see…" Hermione drew herself up, then blurted out, "we got kicked out of Gryffindor tower because they all think I'm the heir and Harry defended me so they hate him too and we don't have anywhere to sleep but then I thought there are beds in the infirmary and I was hoping you would let us sleep here at least for tonight while we figure out something more permanent?"

"Well now," Pomfrey said, looking taken aback by the torrent of information, "that is a worrisome situation, but I should think this is a problem for your head of house, no?"

"We've been strongly discouraged from snitching," Hermione explained, to which Harry nodded his agreement.

"So… You feel you can't tell a member of faculty, but you want to invoke patient-doctor confidentiality and enlist my help?"

"Basically, yes. We're terribly sorry to put upon you like this, but we don't know what else to do," Hermione apologised, rocking on her heels and wringing her hands.

"We won't be any trouble," promised Harry, willing her to say yes. Between the pervasive smell and the matron's brusque attitude he was having doubts about their choice of refuge, but he had no better plans as of yet.

"I am not in the habit of trusting any utterance of those words, Mr Potter. Not from a student." - She turned to Hermione to continue - "there are two flaws in your plan I can identify already. The first is that you are attempting to invoke confidentiality when you are not patients of mine…"

Madame Pomfrey left the statement hanging to be answered. Hermione beat Harry to it by a way, which is to say she had an answer before he could even process the unspoken question.

"We've been through a traumatic experience, ma'am, and I think we would both benefit from the ministrations of a mind healer."

Hermione wasn't even trying to sell that lie; she spoke completely devoid of emotion like she was reading from a card. Madame Pomfrey apparently appreciated the unusual form of honesty as she smirked and replied:

"Yes, that does sound prudent Ms Granger. I would also recommend you stay for a further check-up in the morning."

"You'll help us?" Harry perked up.

"Not so fast, young man. There is another, more difficult issue. Namely, that of your legal guardian: Headmaster Dumbledore."

That was news to Harry. Big news. Why did no-one tell me about this? Isn't it the sort of thing I should know? The shock of the revelation left him in stunned silence.

"Dumbledore!?" Hermione exclaimed. "Dumbledore's your guardian? But that means… That means Madame Pomfrey has to tell him… Oh dear."

"Quite," Pomfrey agreed, before clarifying, "I am expected to inform him whenever you may require medical aid. Also, your current situation would not be covered by my oaths."

Harry felt a drop in the pit of his stomach.

"That does not mean," Pomfrey continued, "that I am required to seek him out with this exact information; only that I will not lie if asked about it specifically."

"But when you tell him I was here, he'll want to know what for," Harry predicted.

"He shall," she confirmed, with a glint in her eye. One Harry didn't like. "Tell me, Mr Potter, how is your stomach at this moment?"

"Umm… Kinda churny?" Harry responded as the question caught him off guard.

"Remain there, children. I shall be back momentarily." Pomfrey said, then disappeared back into her office.

"This went to crap, didn't it?" Harry mused.

"Language!" Hermione chided in a whisper.

The matron returned carrying a potion vial in one hand and a bucket in the other. She thrust both at Harry; he took them instinctively.

"Drink," she commanded, "for the stomach."

Harry swirled and studied the little vial curiously, as if he could identify a potion by sight. Then he figured he might as well, and downed the contents. Which turned out to be vile. So vile, in fact, that he was soon retching uncontrollably into the bucket.

"Swallow this," Pomfrey demanded as soon as he was done hurling, pushing a small stone into his palm. "It will help."

Harry glared at her. First she'd made him throw up, and now she expected him to swallow a rock which would have who knows what effect. He shook his head in refusal.

"Go on, Harry," Hermione advised, "that's just a bezoar."

Harry looked at the stone properly and saw that she was right. He plopped the curative into his mouth and gulped hard - it took three attempts to swallow but he succeeded, and within seconds his stomach was settling.

"The hell was that about?" he spluttered.

-"Language!"

"That, Mr Potter, was a student coming into my infirmary, complaining of a 'churny' stomach and subsequently vomiting. On examination I concluded that the vomiting was the result of a potion and as such administered a bezoar to good effect. After the student was unable to identify the potion they had imbibed I decided to keep them overnight. I allowed the friend who had brought them to me to stay the night as well, as is my prerogative. And that is the exact and entire collection of truths about your stay which I will tell your guardian should he ask."

"Madame Pomfrey," Hermione breathed in awe, "has anyone ever told you you're utterly brilliant?"

"Yes dear, although far too infrequently considering the amount of work I do in this job. Those who would tell you flattery gets you nowhere in my infirmary have likely never complimented me and meant it. Now, settle yourselves in the corner beds, and I expect not to hear a peep out of you unless it's urgent. I have real medical issues to address," Pomfrey dismissed them brusquely, though she was still grinning.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," Harry intoned.

"Oh, we need to go get our stuff!" Hermione reminded him.

"You can come and go as you wish before curfew, Ms Granger, but Mr Potter here is now signed in under observation," Madame Pomfrey said sternly.

"I'd… Rather not go alone," Hermione mumbled.

"Hmm… Understandable... So, I will be busy in my office for the next thirty minutes," the matron informed them, "with the door and internal blinds closed. I trust my patient will not do anything irresponsible during that time."

"Don't worry ma'am; he'll be with me the entire time," Hermione assured her. Harry was sure the two would have winked at each other were it possible.

"Excellent. I wish you a speedy recovery," was Madame Pomfrey's particular choice of parting words as she retreated into her office. As promised, the blinds dropped a moment later.

The trip to the tower was uneventful. Turning into the corridor outside Harry spotted Fred and George sitting on a pair of trunks.

"Heya Harrikins, 'Mione!" one shouted.

"Got something for ya Harry!" the other declared, slapping the trunk beneath him.

"And for you, Hermikins!" the first rapped his knuckles on his suitcase-seat.

"You got my stuff out?" she gushed, quickening her step to reach them.

"Did you doubt us?"

"I think she doubted us Fred."

"Such little faith she has, Fred."

"Oi!" she protested, "I didn't even know you were trying. Sa-someone else said they'd get it for me. How did you get it out of the girls' dorm?"

"We have our ways."

"Clandestine methods."

"For diabolical deeds."

"But for trunk retrieval we just ask Katie."

"She's a gem."

"Katie Bell?" Harry asked, recognising the name from quidditch practice. It would be nice to have another friend - ally? - on the team, if he was going to carry on with it that was.

"The very same."

"She's a gem."

"You said that already, brother."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Ahem!" Hermione coughed. "As much as we appreciate this, we do have to be going."

"Ooh, she's an eager one today," Fred noted.

"Must've found a cosy spot to shack up with Wonderboy."

"Gin-Gin's gonna be so jealous!"

"We are not shacking up!" Hermione hissed. "Nor anything else of the sort!"

"Hermione, we're very disappointed in you," one twin said with false disapproval.

"Extremely disappointed," his brother agreed.

"I said we're not doing anything!" Hermione asserted, her cheeks blushing lightly.

"Aye, we heard. That's why-"

"-we're so disappointed!"

Hermione let out a little growl that Harry could only have described as adorable, compared with her genuine anger earlier. The twins recoiled with gasps of feigned terror.

"Easy, little lioness."

"Yeah, don't hex the post-owl!"

The twins jumped up then and handed over both trunks. Hermione nearly fell over backwards taking hers; it looked to be far heavier than Harry's. Probably full of books.

"By the way, we added some extras in Harry's trunk."

"We'd have stuffed even more in Hermi's, but there wasn't any room-"

"-not round all those books."

Knew it.

"Oh, and we figured out who those bullies were in the corridor."

Harry didn't recall the twins being present for that, but it wasn't surprising that they'd heard about it. Trouble just didn't happen in Hogwarts without the resident pranksters being among the first to know. It was like they had eyes in every wall.

"Then, someone slipped a whole pot of itching powder into their bedsheets."

"No idea who, obviously."

"Could have been anyone really."

"Except us - we don't even own any itching powder."

"Not anymore we don't."

The pair shared a beaming grin and a high-five.

"But enough about those gits-"

"-and on a more serious note," the twin choked on the 's' word and grimaced like he'd killed something.

"-if you need anything, you let us know."

"Discreetly like."

"Thanks guys, really. I think we're good for tonight. We've found a bed - beds - for the night, and we should be getting back to it - them," Hermione blustered.

She was clearly accustomed to the chaos that was the twins - without such inuring, Harry's voice had abandoned him. He gave an awkward thumbs up which was returned with gusto and matching winks before the brothers slipped behind the fat lady's portrait.

The trip back to the infirmary was as uneventful as the outward journey, though made in higher spirits - even if the pair did leave a little more space between themselves after the twins' insinuations.

A/N

Raingirl: Nice to hear the intrigue is hooking you in, and thanks for the compliment :)
Firebird: There will certainly be some clandestine learning of offensive spells coming later; Hermione is not the sort to leave herself or others defenceless. Regaining her sight, however, is going to be a difficult and painful endeavour which I am as of yet not sure she will be prepared to undertake. My inspiration for writing her blind was another fanfic which I felt returned its blind protagonist's sight far too easily. I wanted to try to do the concept justice, which means taking it beyond the point to where I currently have solid plans. I'll keep your ideas in mind of course. :)

Writing Fred and George is so much fun. I set out writing this trying to learn to put more descriptions and emotions into dialogue scenes, but with those two simply throwing the spoken words out without respite feels more like them. It's a nice break from the high effort writing at least. As for my interpretation of Pomfrey... She's pretty nice when she isn't constantly dealing with students injured through their own idiocy. Not that canon Harry would know.

Thanks again to my readers, especially those following and favouriting, and as always... Sorry Hermione. :/