.

So far... Broken by the Dursleys' extreme cruelty, the bewildered Harry Potter is further traumatised by Hagrid's death in Diagon Alley. Only Hermione shows him kindness, but he's isolated in Hufflepuff. A shared cruel detention with Snape brings them closer together. Now read on...

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Chapter 3

The Depths Of Depravity

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The Envisioning of Envy

The next morning, Hermione tried in vain to help Harry transfigure his match into a needle, but the most he could ever achieve was a colourless drip or two that fell listlessly off the end of his wand like thin snot. Layer upon layer of guilt feelings associated with his freakishness had suppressed his magic to near Squib level. Even if the Dursleys had failed to beat the magic out of him, they had at least buried it under the weight of suffering within his troubled mind.

He fared better in Herbology where his background of digging, manuring, and weeding the Dursleys' garden made him less reluctant to deal with dragon poo than most other students. He'd handled worse. Much worse.

Quirrell, his Defence teacher, after scoring him worst ever, even at casting sparks, regarded him with dismissive contempt, and the most Harry ever got out of his lessons was a sharp pain in his forehead.

Midweek, Charms commenced with book theory; their teacher, Flitwick, explaining that it was first essential to understand the meaning of imposing magic upon objects. "Study the first chapter of your Standard Book of Spells, Grade One, then we shall discuss it and I will answer any questions."

Hermione had already read this chapter several times but nonetheless was on the third page once more before she noticed Harry to her left, was still near the start of the Chapter. In fact his finger was pressed upon the letter 'C' of the word 'Chapter, and as Hermione watched, there it remained. The shocking realisation dawned upon her.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered, "can't you even read? How have you been following your school timetable – no, don't tell me, you've been following the other Hufflepuffs, haven't you?"

Hermione's disappointment in Harry seemed infinitely more painful to him than that of the Dursleys. He hung his head and nodded shamefully. "followed Hannah's rope hair," he mouthed.

Hermione looked around the classroom. Everyone was studying or conferring quietly with their partners. Finally her eyes found– "The blonde girl with pigtails?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione stared at the young student, and a strange pang of envy crept through her heart. It was obvious to Hermione that Hannah would make a far better friend for Harry than herself. For one thing, she was much prettier than she could ever be, with neat, even teeth, and carefully controlled hair, braided and tidy. The girl's jaw was more delicate and her nose much more pert. In short, Hannah was fair in every way, whereas Hermione knew she herself was a dull mousy brown both in appearance and in character. Hermione's shoulders slumped so low that a knotty tress whipped across her face like the contempt of a lover's slap.

A curious resentment dug into the pit of her stomach as another possibility came to Hermione. "Is it true what they say about Hufflepuff?" she murmured dismally. "Everyone is friendly with everyone and they all share one big dormitory?"

Harry gasped. So that's where all the normal Hufflepuffs slept! How lucky he'd found a cupboard then, and could ignore and be ignored. With his imagination racing, he nodded absently; it all made sense now. His own smaller dorm must have been reserved for sissy freaks like himself. Certainly they remained silent while he was around.

Hermione groaned softly. In her mind's eye she could see the rows and rows of beds crammed closely together – they'd have to be wouldn't they! If Harry was following Hannah everywhere he'd certainly be sleeping next to her. Watching her put on her nightgown every night and... take it off the next morning! Ridiculous! Can't be!

But Hermione's reason and imagination had taken flight. The frowning child winced and shook her frizzy head, trying to dispel the vivid picture of Harry's new super-laser-sharp eyeballs popping out on stalks the better to leer greedily. But she couldn't shake away the vision. It played over and over: Harry transfixed and gawking; Hannah flaunting herself before him, swaying her hips and swinging her stupid pigtails as she flashed her nightgown up and down like a manic semaphore flag in a–

–"Hermione?" whispered Harry.

"WHAT!" she cried, slamming her book shut.

"Keep the noise down please," said Flitwick firmly. "You'll need a good grounding in this first chapter if you are to succeed with your Charms practicals."

Hermione cringed apologetically, not least towards Harry. What had come over her? Just because–

–She glanced sideways at the hopeless boy. His eyes were downcast and glistening, like a kicked puppy who'd been shouted at without understanding why. After all, it wasn't his fault he was a boy with wicked boy thoughts! And was forced to watch Hannah every– her heart melted. "Reading room," she said firmly. "We'll learn to read in a reading room."

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Innocence Uncovered

That evening they met in the smallest, remotest reading room the castle provided. The books were limited and appeared worn, grey, and dusty despite the daily endeavours of the elves to remember them. Torn periodicals and old newspapers also ended up buried here in this forgotten literary graveyard.

Reluctantly, Hermione began teaching Harry to read from a ragged copy of Witch Weekly, the cheap periodical containing the simplest expressions of the language she could think of. Learning letters, words, and sentence construction was a long and arduous process, but by the end of October, Harry was following her finger as she traced out each sentence for him to repeat after her:

"The ... new ... hat ... in ... Madam ... Malkin's ... is ... so..." intoned Harry, following Hermione's fingertip. The subtle pink fingernail fascinated him. He could not understand how the edge was so perfectly rounded and shaped – almost as if she'd smoothed it down by some unknown method after gnawing it away like he did his own. And the skin of her finger was a pale, gentle–

"–sweet, Harry, the new hat is sweet," said Hermione encouragingly.

"Sweet," repeated Harry in his usual whisper, and staring at her finger. "It is so sweet."

"That's right! Well done!" cried Hermione reaching out to scrabble through some other magazines. "Shall we try a newspaper now, or perhaps–"

–But Harry's gaze had been diverted by one word in a headline that Hermione had just partly revealed. It was a word he'd only ever known by sound before: MAC ... NAIR!. He stared at it, mouthing the spelling to be sure he'd not misunderstood.

Hermione hastily covered it up and reached for another copy of Witch Weekly. "Forget about it, Harry. I've forgiven you even if no one else has."

Harry glanced at her expression, then down again to his normal submissive pose. He felt badly enough about Hagrid being killed, but relieved that Hermione bore him no ill will despite his guilt.

"Hang on," she said suddenly. "How could you have read the signpost last summer if you couldn't–"

–She snatched at the Daily Prophet and quickly read the lead article once more before looking back at Harry. "Well?"

He shook his head, completely baffled as to what she was talking about.

"It says here: Harry Potter ran to the signpost then headed off in the direction of Knockturn Alley, luring the gentle giant to his doom. No doubt he was an accomplice of Macnair's, but the man they call 'The Butcher' has already received the Dementor's Kiss so we may never find out. Did you already know what the sign said?"

Harry whispered, "Never did."

"You never saw the sign? Then why did you–" She paused. "You've not even read this article have you? Of course you haven't." Again she fell silent for a few moments. "What actually happened, Harry?"

"scared – ran from owl with big nasty eyes – Hagrid called my name – lady caught me."

"Hagrid called out your name? Near Knockturn Alley! For Goodness sake, what was he thinking!" She gnawed on her lower lip, working it out. "How could you have run to signal Macnair if a woman caught you?"

"didn't"

"Harry, this is the official report published in what I'm sure is a reputable newspaper!" She put a hand on one hip. "You're not saying it's all lies are–"

"–What are you two doing up here!" demanded a voice from the doorway. It was Professor McGonagall. "Don't you know there's been a troll loose in the school!"

"A troll! ... In the school? Has it been–"

"–We've been worried sick! Fortunate indeed that the Weasley twins informed the staff you sometimes came up here! And yes, the troll has been disposed of, so the castle is safe once more."

Hermione blinked. How could those Gryffindors possibly know where she and Harry were? "Sorry, Professor, we left dinner early to do some extra study."

"On Halloween?" frowned McGonagall, then sighed in resignation. "Oh, well, if you've been studying I can hardly blame you for not hearing the announcement. All students were returned to their dormitories. I'll escort you both now. Follow me..."

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Naked Aggression

Harry's reading and writing, and even his speech had improved enormously by the end of December, though Hermione suspected he was sometimes pretending not to understand words. She had to repeat certain exercises which, at other times, he sailed through easily. Why he was delaying the completion of her tuition she could not fathom out, but she would not desert the boy now they were... Hermione twisted up her mouth in irritation; had she been foolish to assume they were now friends? Perhaps Harry was just glad to be helped by anyone, lost as he was in a sea of hostility.

Fortunately, the forgotten reading room had proved to be a treasure trove of books not available in the main library. Hermione had discovered an excellent book of rare potions and one of really useful Charms essays, both of which she studied avidly while Harry was writing out words and phrases he copied from her homework.

"It's almost lunchtime, Harry..."

"but..." breathed Harry timidly.

He still never raised his voice above a whisper. Perhaps he couldn't, Hermione thought. "It's Saturday, remember?" she said briskly, packing up her papers. "We can come back later. Why not take a book to read with... with... uumm..."

"Hannah? She doesn't talk to me anymore–"

"–What!" Hermione's tone was a mixture of disbelief, disgust – and a dash of delight.

"Not since that newspaper... that newspaper–"

"–report. Or you could use the word article for a news story." Hermione sniffed disdainfully. "Actually story would be better in this case because it was almost entirely fiction."

"...ever since that story in the Daily Prophet."

"Shame on Hannah! ... One more page then..."

Harry's eyes lit up. Hermione was his favourite – no, his only – listener and he pulled open his most-loved book: The Tales of Beedle the Bard. His whispered speech always provided an atmosphere of great secrecy, intimacy, and mystery to the girl:

"High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune."

"Once a year, between the hours of–"

"–How pathetic!" sneered a voice from the doorway. "You heard right, Goyle, this is where they–"

"–Malfoy!" spat Hermione, rising to her feet and reaching into her pocket.

"Oh, shut it, mudblood! Grab her wand, Goyle!"

"UH! UH!" cried Harry, leaping in front of the advancing Slytherin, who simply pushed him over onto the floor where he began whimpering.

"Slap him about a bit, Crabbe. Scarcely worth wasting even a hex on a crybaby."

"Stop! Leave him alone!" shouted Hermione, who was wrestling in the grip of Goyle's meaty fingers.

"Oh, dear, has someone kicked your puppy?" said Draco, turning to nudge Harry with his foot. "On your feet, Potter, I want to knock you down again."

Harry quickly scrambled up and stood obediently before Malfoy who stared at him in amazement. "The halfwit actually..." Malfoy looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Stand on one leg, Potter!"

"Uh, uh." Harry quickly complied.

Malfoy's eyes widened in even greater astonishment. "Now your other – no, both legs together."

"Uh," whimpered Harry. This was one of Dudley's favourite amusements from an early age. Down went the boy, badly cracking one knee.

Malfoy's jaw gaped wide. It took him a few seconds to recover. "Your wand, Potter. Give me your wand."

Harry dutifully handed it over.

Malfoy tossed it to Crabbe. "See if you can hex the mudblood with this. Might be useful blackmail."

Crabbe frowned then pointed. Goyle quickly pushed Hermione forward at arms length. The sting hit her in the stomach and she doubled-up screaming.

"Again," commanded Malfoy. "The only use for vermin is to hear them squeal."

"Help me, Harry, please!" cried Hermione.

"Stay where you are, Potter!" cried Malfoy.

Harry froze in mid-stride, aghast at what was happening. Crabbe hit Hermione several times with various painful hexes and jinxes until Hermione, unable to stand upright, sagged down, sobbing.

Malfoy turned back to Harry. "From now on you only obey me, Potter, is that clear?"

"Uh uh."

"I order you to speak! Do you understand you must only obey me and no one else!"

"yes," murmured Harry.

"Not good enough! You will address me as 'sir', and 'master'!"

"yes, sir. yes, master," whimpered Harry.

Malfoy began to laugh. Crabbe and Goyle joined in.

"Make him, dance, Draco!" smirked Goyle, who had hoisted Hermione onto her feet again to watch.

"Good one, Goyle. You heard him, Potter! Dance!"

Harry had no idea how to dance but he complied as best he could, swinging his feet about and prancing foolishly from side to side.

The Slytherins were shrieking with laughter. "Without your clothes, Potter. Get them off," sneered Draco. "Let's find out how stupid you really are."

Harry became almost paralysed with fear, but only for the moment, such was the grip of his obeisance. "yes, sir. yes, master." Slowly, with shaking fingers, he began to disrobe...

"NO!" sobbed Hermione.

"YES! All of them! And faster, Potter! And dance while you're undressing!"

Harry almost fell over while trying to remove his shoes.

"Too slow, idiot! ... Let me do it!" With a few vicious movements of Draco's wand, all of Harry's clothes vanished.

The room began to spin for poor Hermione. Dizzy from the spells and the shock of Harry's humiliation as, now totally naked, he cavorted clumsily but obediently as ordered. She staggered – but Goyle held her up.

"What's going on here!" thundered a voice from the doorway.

Hermione gasped, "Professor Snape! They–"

"–Be quiet, Granger. Suppose you tell me, Draco..."

"We discovered Potter exposing himself to Granger. He's gone mad, sir. When we tried to stop him he hexed her badly. Crabbe bravely disarmed him, and Goyle is helping Granger who naturally has been badly frightened and can hardly stand."

Hermione could hardly gasp. "That's n–not ... wh–what–"

–She was silenced with one contemptuous wave of Snape's hand.

The Potions Master's face darkened as Crabbe handed him Harry's wand so the teacher could check the last spells cast by it. "DETENTION, Potter! And you may even be expelled for this. Get back to your dorm immediately and, for pity's sake, get dressed! GO NOW!"

Hermione whimpered breathlessly, "B–But ... Entrance Hall ... crowded with ... for lunch!"

"SILENCE! I shall see he gets through safely – though I expect everyone to run a mile from this repulsive exhibitionist. Take care of her, Goyle."

Pushing the naked boy ahead of him, Snape departed.

Draco watched them go ... then turned back to Hermione. "Why'd Potter do what Snape ordered when I told him only to obey me?"

"I don't know..." whimpered Hermione. Goyle twisted her arm. She shrieked. "Well, can't you see? He's emotionally broken. He probably just does whatever he's told last! He's obviously been treated badly since he was a baby."

"Good! From now on, I aim to keep it that way."

"What about Granger, Draco?"

Draco sneered. "Well, since her valiant saviour so casually abandoned his Mudblood, and Snape ordered us to take care of her... I guess, we just have to obey him, right boys?"

"Yes, sir! Yes, Master!" mimicked Crabbe and Goyle in unison.

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Rogue Magic

Snape watched the bony, naked boy running frantically ahead with much satisfaction. Potter was finally getting what he deserved, and the Potions teacher could almost smell the arrogant brat's terror. Perhaps that swagger would finally be crushed out as they approached the top of the marble staircase and the tumult of excitedly chattering students reached his ears. But just as he was about to exult in triumph, a loud crack from a large stone urn at the side of the corridor caused him to whirl around, wand in hand. The sturdy ornament now had a long split almost cutting it in half.

"Who did that!" he demanded, annoyed that any student dared to blatantly use destructive magic in his presence.

The air began to whirl, and a deep, dull noise rumbled through the stone slabs underfoot, and out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a suit of armour toppling. He caught it with a hovering charm but the shrieks from below stairs told him he was missing Potter's final crushing humiliation.

Naked, Harry ran squealing down the steps and through the crowds in the Entrance Hall. He had to obey – had to get dressed – only then could he return to see if Hermione was safe. He himself deserved to suffer, but Hermione was innocent, so his hatred of Malfoy seethed and grew and exploded within him until he wished the Slytherin was utterly dead! But now he was surrounded by howls of laughter mixed with cries of revulsion. GIRLS! How he wished he still couldn't see every tiny contortion of their expressions of disgust! All pointing – one tripped him – he rolled over, trying to cover himself with his hands – someone pointed a wand – Harry's forearms became limp as dead fish – he used his elbows to scramble back to his feet – Professor McGonagall's voice raged – stumbling, sobbing, he felt he was bursting with shame, hate, fear, and total self-loathing – and all caused by MALFOY! Even the walls seemed to be shaking with his fury. And then. The final disgrace...

Just as he dived down the basement stairs into relative calm away from the howling wolves above, a single figure was ascending towards him: a figure with blonde hair and pigtails.

Shocked senseless, Hannah shrunk back from him as he brushed past – she sliding down the sidewall in a dead faint. He heard her tumble and had to stop. The girl lay strewn like a rag doll across several steps above him. The distraught boy felt compelled to help her – yet he was so exposed! – and he also needed to protect Hermione! And he'd been ordered to get dressed first and MUST obey!

There was no choice but try to lift the girl and carry her back to the Hufflepuff common room. But Harry Potter was as scrawny as an eight-year-old, and Hannah – though slender – was heavy in his arms which were still rubbery from the hexing he'd received in the Entrance Hall. Somehow he managed to half-drag, half-collapse, half-lift the limp figure along the endless Kitchen Corridor and into the Hufflepuff Basement, hoping someone might help her. But everyone had gone for lunch; the room was empty.

The boy was exhausted, He dragged Hannah partly onto a broad sofa in the empty common room, then, with a final effort, hooked one arm under her knees and swivelled most of the rest of the girl onto the seat. His weakened arm was trapped! With a shock he saw one blonde pigtail trailed across his bare shoulder. He'd never been this close to her before. Or any girl! EVER! His sharpened vision could see every hair, every curve of each braid – each single pore on her pale cheeks – the tip of her tongue as it protruded between parted lips!

Breath on his face jolted him back to action – she was alive! He tugged, trying to free his arm. Again. And again. Her eyes opened – Hannah screamed and writhed and wriggled – Harry came free and jumped back and up onto his feet – her mouth fell open in astonishment at the sight of his–

–She screamed hysterically and her eyes rolled up giddily in their sockets.

"sorry," whimpered Harry, and ran for the dormitory stair.

Through a haze, she watched him streak away, wondering if she were dreaming, then a dizzy swoon took her once more, and she knew no more.

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The Unspeakable Horror

When Harry finally rushed back up to the forgotten reading room, he was ready to collapse with exhaustion. "Hermione?" he croaked, near inaudibly.

"Go away!" her voice squeaked from behind the furthest bookshelf.

He approached cautiously. She was curled up in a ball in the corner, clothes badly torn and hugging herself. "Don't look at me! I can't bear it if you... please go away, Harry, I'm horrible, disgusting..."

His knees sagged him down to the floor beside her, wishing he could see her face. "I... I don't... not horrible, Hermione."

The poor girl looked utterly... broken. For one moment, Harry wondered if they'd – no they couldn't have! – impossible! – she was a girl! – to be forced to dance like he had been? NEVER! He wanted to reach out a hand to comfort her ... but wondered where on earth he could have felt such a strange– "What did they–"

"–Don't ask! Never speak of this again, ever! I don't want to see you anymore. Keep away from me!" She knew he must obey.

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Quaking

Harry knew now that Hermione must despise him for his cowardice! As he trudged despairingly back downstairs, he began to notice strange differences around the castle he'd not noticed during his dash of naked terror: splits in wooden panelling, statues out of kilter, whole stone blocks inched out from the walls here and there. And dust. Lots and lots of stone dust coating everything. A major disturbance had taken place; had there been an earthquake?

By the time he'd almost reached the corner of the first-floor corridor, he was nearly at a standstill, gazing about in all directions at each new rip in the carpet, and the fragments of masonry everywhere. It was a shock then, when Draco Malfoy almost collided with him. The Slytherin stared at Harry, hesitated as if he were going to speak, then suddenly hurried off in a new direction – but not before Harry noticed the vivid scratch on his neck. That proved it in Harry's mind; the Slytherins had used force, and Hermione had fought back!

"POTTER!" Professor McGonagall blocked the turn, larger than life. "How DARE you carry out such unspeakable– come with me. NOW!"

So that's why Malfoy had run off! He must have seen the Deputy Headmistress approaching and didn't want to get involved in any kind of confrontation.

Harry's thoughts were in a whirl as he was led along an unfamiliar route and up a spiral stair, where McGonagall knocked and entered as soon as invited. "Albus–"

"–Wonders will never cease! Three out of four Heads of House with complaints about a single student?" said Dumbledore.

Harry cringed into himself, head sunk low as it ought to be. His entire life had been filled with the injustice he deserved, but before him were really important people like the Headmaster, Professor Sprout, and Professor Snape, all glowering at him, with McGonagall pushing him forward from behind!

"Albus!" squeaked the breathless voice of Flitwick from the doorway. "Enormous damage throughout the castle! Whether accidental or– oh!"

"Make that four out of four," said the Headmaster solemnly.

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Obscure Power

"...And so, because scarcely ten days remain before Christmas," Dumbledore was saying, "my decision is that you, Mr Potter, will spend every night from now until the new year in detention, and consider that a lenient–"

"–Lenient!" cried Snape. "The brat deserves expulsion and a trial before the Wizengamot!"

"Now, now, Severus, the lad is only eleven years old. You can hardly–"

"–But the traumatised youngsters!" shrieked McGonagall. "Never have I–"

"–Miss Abbott will not be the same innocent child after this!" blustered Sprout. "She said the boy was squirming and wriggling naked all over her poor helpless–"

"–And the damage to the castle!" cried Flitwick. "Such power! What if he's a latent Obscurial! I'll be working with the elves all through the holidays to–"

"–I have great confidence in everyone's ability to smooth things over," said Dumbledore graciously. "The boy is here to learn, and if severe discipline is part of that process then so be it."

.

The Anguish of Guilt

If Harry had not already been emotionally broken by the Dursleys, then he certainly was by Hannah Abbot's unrelenting tearful anguish following his despicable mistreatment of her. It was so unfair on the poor girl. She was being forced to attend lessons in the same chamber as his freakishness and no classroom seating was extensive enough for the disturbed girl to distance herself adequately from the source of her torment. He wished – oh how he wished! – that he could be excused those lessons so that Hannah might gain some peace of mind.

Harry's own mind was in turmoil. He wanted to simply disappear just like every comforting, sensible thought that had abandoned his head. And if there had been anything left of his reason after that, then every shred was utterly destroyed by Hermione's revulsion at his presence. Certainly she avoided each part of the castle where he might be, and even skipped lessons which were common to them both. She might have been on the other side of the world, for Harry scarcely glimpsed her now.

Detentions and the Christmas break were a welcome penance from the pressure of his guilt, ruined only by his dread of the students' return in January...

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Vision at the Shrine

"It is with regret," began the Headmaster at the first dinner of the new year, "that I have to inform you that three of our students have fallen ill over the holidays. What began as mild stomach upsets escalated into more serious, and very painful intestinal disruptions, resulting in hospitalisation in St. Mungo's. Because of the tiniest possibility these might be the... side effect of an unusual burst of... accidental magic," – here Dumbledore glared over his half-moon spectacles at Harry – "all students and staff are required to suffer a full medical examination by Madam Pom–"

–He was drowned out by an enormous outcry from every side of the Great Hall. Children and adults were on their feet shouting their protests. Several minutes passed before the hubbub was subdued enough for the Headmaster to continue...

"This has proved necessary because of the unknown nature of the malady and the risk of... of... deterioration. That is all. Thank you."

Immediately he finished making the announcement, heads began to swivel about as students tried to see who was missing – but everyone at the Slytherin table already knew: it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle who were absent, and there was no doubt in their mind that the cause was NOT too much Christmas pudding.

The days that followed were a nightmare for the broken boy. If the aftermath of his Sorting had been a barrage of revulsion and hate, and if the result of his disgraceful, brazenly-naked romp through the school had doubled the outrage, then all that paled into insignificance compared to the extreme loathing now heaped upon him. He was unable to walk anywhere without being tripped, jinxed, hexed, pushed, or punched. Yellow lilies were often thrown at him, and his persecutors made it clear they were not given in love, though Harry had no idea that to a Magical they represented a cowardly death. The boy was in a daze. His final refuge – the cupboard where he slept at night – had been wrecked and spiked.

Seeking relief elsewhere, he spent the nights up in the forgotten reading room where he recited words from books and pretended that Hermione was there to praise his growing skill. Well done, Harry! she whispered in his mind, and Oh, you wrote that so neatly! In the far corner, behind the farthest bookshelf, he'd carefully placed every yellow lily he'd managed to gather as a memorial to Hermione's suffering. There he knelt, and if the poor boy had ever been taught to pray, why, then he would have prayed for forgiveness. Instead, he wept.

"Harry?"

The familiar voice was soft as the velvet night. Harry twisted around on one knee, heart breaking, not daring to believe who might be just around the bend, and yet...

It surely must be Hermione!

She approached the corner of the shelving very cautiously, twisting her fingers together nervously. "I'd heard they'd destroyed your... uumm... where you sleep. I wondered if I'd find you here in–"

As she came fully round the corner her eyes took in the heaps of yellow flowers, and understanding seized her emotions. "Oh, Harry!"

The girl was swift to kneel down with the boy and embrace him in a gentle hug. Never had Harry been held like this before, nor so tenderly. And by a girl in a nightgown! He shuddered deliciously and wondered if girls' clothing somehow magically transformed directly into night attire – because, of course, it was unthinkable that they ever undressed.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he murmured into her hair in his usual, near-inaudible whisper.

"Not your fault, Harry," she breathed back, "not at all."

"I deserve to suffer," he added, as if he'd not heard her.

She pulled back a little without letting go and gazed into his eyes. "Harry, listen to me, it was NOT your fault – it was... it was... mine."

"Yours?" He shook his head. How could that be? She was just trying to be... nice.

"That potions book I'd been reading was quite... dark." She paused, gathering herself to reveal what might result in her incarceration or even death if it were made public. "When I reached into my pocket that night, I wasn't retrieving my wand."

Harry wondered what she meant.

"I'd prepared a sachet of Maiden's Retribution, not realising how powerful..." She sniffled for a few moments before continuing. "I clawed into the paste to trap a little under my fingernails. At the first opportunity I scratched Goyle. They tried to take turns but... I clawed all three of them. They acted strangely... walked away without harming me.

"they... you weren't...?" Harry hugged her back and began to cry with relief that she'd not been made to dance; his burden of guilt had been very great indeed.

"Oh, Harry..." she breathed, rubbing his back.

She waited a long time before continuing, not wishing to break the magical moment with bad news. Finally, she braced herself. "But it was only after the Headmaster's announcement that I fully realised what I'd done. It's a cursed potion, you see: a slow-acting form of the entrail-expelling curse. I stupidly thought it was just a harmless purgative that would compel them to run to the bathroom. I should have known a curse could never be used as a mild healing spell..."

Harry frowned, looking puzzled.

"Well, don't you see, Harry? Day by day their intestines are gradually being exuded out through their pores, and nothing and no one can stop the process."

Horrified, Harry recoiled. "they're... dying?"

"One of the most agonising deaths imaginable."

"I wished Malfoy dead – still do. I'm glad they're all dying!"

"Oh, Harry..." She realised in that moment how utterly broken the boy really was. Somehow, she had to find a way to truly help him, to heal his mind and body, if such was even possible at all.

.

Exonerated

But for the rest of the spring term up until Easter, Harry Potter remained a hopeless case. He'd been too scared to mount his broom in flying lessons, he'd suffered painful headaches in several of Quirrell's Defence classes, ran squealing from Binns, the ghostly History Professor, failed to brew a single potion correctly, never cast a spell successfully in Transfiguration or Charms, and, despite his trowel and weeding skills, trembled uselessly several paces away from the more lively magical plants whenever they threatened to bite, sting, or otherwise maim him.

He continued to be reviled by other students, although Hannah Abbot had begun to regard him with something like pity, which Harry considered progress, even if she still wouldn't speak to him or even sit in his half of any classroom. Only faithful Hermione would be seen with him.

"Harry, you need to stand up to people. You don't have to obey anyone except teachers. I mean, what if someone told you to jump off the roof? You'd do it, wouldn't you?"

Harry bit his lip nervously and nodded. Dudley had done exactly that when he was nine years old, and only the compost heap had saved his life. He watched as she carefully showed him yet again how to produce a light in their Charms class, but all he could manage was a tiny glitter that blinked out almost immediately. Still, he looked hopefully at Hermione for a word of encouragement.

"That was really just a spark stuck on the end of your wand, Harry," she said glumly.

The disappointment in her tone crushed his heart. He really, really wanted to do magic for her, but how?

"You lack self-confidence, is all. You've always been dragged down, and everyone glaring and sneering at you doesn't help."

However, soon after the spring break there was astonishing news given out in the Daily Prophet delivered at breakfast. While Crabbe and Goyle had deteriorated into mad terrors and finally succumbed to death, Malfoy had clung on after receiving special treatment. His father, determined that someone should be accountable for his son's suffering, had demanded and authorised Draco's memories to be scanned by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement while he still had a few of his innards left to keep him alive.

But the evidence did not help the Malfoy cause at all: the memories revealed that Draco had mercilessly tormented and humiliated the mentally-disabled Harry Potter by vanishing all his clothes, thus forcing him to return naked through the school to his dormitory. The exposure hadn't been Potter's fault at all. The accidental, immature magic resulting from this severe emotional trauma had naturally rebound upon his vile persecutors, triggering an unknown form of curse. No other explanation appeared possible because it was well known at Hogwarts that Potter had never yet cast any spell with his wand, let alone such an advanced one.

The front-page photograph of Harry tearfully skipping jerkily about naked while Draco, Crabbe and Goyle clapped in time caused several Slytherins to burst out laughing – but they were alone. Most everyone else was disgusted by the excessive abuse, and shocked by the extreme cruelty against a feeble innocent. After this there was less directly aggressive action against Harry. Most students hung their heads as he passed by, while others at least curtailed their spite. Hannah almost sat opposite him at breakfast one morning, but lost her nerve at the final moment.

Hermione still felt a righteous obligation to support Harry any way that she could even if it was only with his reading and writing in their little book room.

"Can you help me with my spelling, Hermione?" whispered Harry, after a few days had passed.

She frowned at the greetings card he held out. "What... what is that?"

"made it from pictures in Witch's Weekly." he said proudly.

"But for who? It's a 'Thinking of you' card."

"Draco. I've been thinking about him a lot."

"But... but... that's not what..." She opened the card and gasped. "Did you draw this dagger?"

"and the little drops of blood round the edges – see? Is everything spelt right?"

Shocked to the core, Hermione softly read it out, hardly believing the words she was voicing: "I know what it's like to be in awful pain, completely helpless and without any hope and wishing you were dead. I'm glad you are suffering and dying, Draco. I hope it hurts ten times as much as you hurt other people. When..." –Hermione paused to compose herself – "When you die, people will be happy. You are wicked and will go to hell and suffer forever with missing guts and I hope they make you eat them over and over with strong vinegar. I think about you a lot now your life is coming to an end and your worse than a freak."

Silence.

"Hermione? Is it spelt right?"

"Harry, you can't..."

"Can't what, Hermione?"

She shook herself, astonished at her own feelings. "You can't spell your worse than a freak like that. You mean you are worse so it should be abbreviated to you–apostrophe–re so it's you're. Otherwise it's fine."

Harry nodded and managed to squeeze in the correction. "I hope it makes him feel really sick when he reads it."

As if in a trance, Hermione heard herself saying, "So do I, Harry, so do I."

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Reaching Out

At the end of June, Quirrell departed – some said there'd been a mishap in the third-floor corridor – and not too long after, the students poured eagerly onto the platform at Hogsmeade station, ready to board the Hogwarts Express.

The sun was bright, the atmosphere elevated, but Harry's head hung low. Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He knew her parents would be at King's Cross to welcome their daughter; would she even want them to see there was still a freak in the same carriage as herself? Would she even wish him goodbye?

"Have a nice holiday, Harry," whispered a timid voice from behind. He whirled around to see Hannah Abbot scurrying away, too scared to wait for his response. And why shouldn't she be? Harry thought, after she'd woken that day to find him naked and handling her so wickedly – he shuddered despite the warm weather. Few days passed when he didn't have nightmares about his humiliation before everyone, but his close physical contact with Hannah made that experience doubly shameful. What if he'd not–

"–Harry? I was hoping you'd have waited for me in the Entrance Hall. I had to read a letter from..." Hermione was expertly hovering her travel trunk behind her at ankle height, while the platform still bore the marks where Harry had dragged his through the dust. "What's wrong? I received an owl from my parents and..."

"Uh, uh..."

"Please speak to me, Harry. I'm sorry I'm a bit late but..."

"Uh..."

Hermione chewed on her lip. "I asked them if you could stay with us for the holidays. Would you like to? We could go for walks and ... and there's lots of events in London to enjoy – oh, you must come! Please say you will!"

Harry lifted his head in astonishment. "Me? At your home, you mean?"

"Yes, I thought you might want to... but it's alright if you–"

–Harry did something nobody could ever have imagined one year before; he reached out to Hermione with his arms extended forward as if to hug her. At full stretch his brash momentum failed him and the arms drooped. Shocked, he stood trembling. What had he been thinking? Then Hermione stepped forward to hold him tight, and he was sniffling with happiness.

Hermione smiled. Her face was all wet from his tears but she didn't mind. Summer was here at last! And she had a friend to stay with her!

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

Bigger chapter this week but I'm moving home next weekend so won't have internet for a day or two. No chance of another chapter for a week or so after that I guess, because I'll be busy setting up home.

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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