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So far... Broken by the Dursleys' extreme cruelty into obedience without question, the bewildered Harry Potter is further traumatised at Hogwarts. Only Hermione shows him kindness – though he's isolated in Hufflepuff. At the end of year one, she invites Harry home for summer, but, back at Hogwarts for year two, Dumbledore demands they keep apart. Now read on...

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Chapter 5

Coming Together

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Morsels of Hope

A dreadful week passed by during which, although Hermione risked glances in Harry's direction, such was his bond of servitude that the poor boy never dared look back. From a luxurious golden chair centred at the staff tables, the Headmaster shook his head sadly and, with a brush of magical fingers, plumped up several fat cushions to his greater comfort. Nobody appreciated the burden he had to endure of imposing necessary discipline for the greater good.

Hermione learned that she had never wept thus far in her life – not like she now did when alone, not to this unendurable extent. If that pain did not break her, she hoped the worst periods might make her stronger. At the best moments, the misery was only a dull pain in her heart that drove her to more vigorously search for a more secure meeting place where nobody could find her with Harry. The smart girl knew Harry often visited the kitchens after nobody at regular meals in the Great Hall had told him to eat, so there she patiently waited.

Late on the Saturday afternoon, she was completing her History homework on an unused flour rack because most of the tables were being used to prepare dinner. She glanced up from time to time as the door opened, but disappointment always dipped her head thereafter.

"Is young miss in want for anything?" asked a young elf, wringing hands with that form of troubled eagerness common to her kind.

"I've been hoping to meet Harry here; he can't be eating well if he–"

"–Harry Potter, miss?" said the elf in amazement. "Professor Sneveris is forbidding Harry Potter from–"

"–Professor Snape? Professor Snape has banned Harry from coming here? He might as well ban him from eating! You must do something. You must help Harry get food! And TELL him to eat!"

"We is, Miss," said the elf, squirming even more nervously. "We is passing master Harry small morsels in the corridors at every opportunity."

Hermione's shoulders relaxed their stiffness somewhat. She knew a 'small morsel' to a house-elf was probably a turkey leg and buttered rolls at least. She sighed to herself. "I wish there was somewhere I could speak to him without anyone finding us."

The elf's big eyes bulged happily. "Is the Come and Go Room, miss!"

"The what?"

"The Room of Requirement. Is a room you is only entering when you have real need of it. Sometimes there, sometimes not, but when it appears, is always meets your needs."

Hermione stared at the little elf in wonder. "Show me. And then ask – no, INSIST that Harry go there SECRETLY tonight after dinner. But do not mention me at all. And send food! Lots of morsels of food!"

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Harry's Den

Clipboard in hand, Hermione stared at the tapestry on the seventh floor corridor and wondered how the wizard Barnabas could be so barmy as to attempt to teach trolls to dance the ballet. A patter of sound caught her attention: footsteps! She squashed back into the shadows and held her breath.

A small figure crept around the corner and paused.

Hermione hissed softly but firmly between her teeth, "You MUST come here, Harry!"

With that insistence, the boy HAD to move forward, eyes widening as Hermione emerged into the light of a flickering wall torch. His eyes and mouth gaped wide but his voice was still a tiny whisper. "you swore, Hermione! to the Headmaster!"

"Word by duress, is worth–less," she said in a sing-song voice. "I've found us a secret meeting place, Harry! One where nobody can ever find us!"

Her excitement was infectious. Harry could scarcely believe what was taking place. This was the happiest–

"–Well, well, well!" came a voice from around the corner. "Looks like we've found us a couple of very serious rule-breakers!"

Harry squeaked and ran behind Hermione as two tall fourth-years stepped into the corridor. Only when the light caught their hair was its distinctive redness made clear.

"What do you think, George?" said one of them to the other, pounding a fist into the palm of the opposite hand.

"I think they are just the sort of people we target most, Fred!"

"W–Weasleys!" stammered Hermione. "Why don't you leave us alone!"

"Alone?" said George, "when we've come all this way to offer you an olive?"

"Branch, that is," said Fred. "And here it is..."

He held out a piece of parchment. For a few moments she could not make out what was drawn upon it...

"It's a map!"

George looked affronted. "Not just any map, young neophyte rule-breaker-in-training Granger. "This one shows exactly where everyone is – including you!"

He stabbed his finger down onto the map and Hermione could see little dots marked with Harry's and her names. "So that's how you knew we were in that reading room!"

"Exactly. And now it's yours. Use it well."

Hermione felt Harry tugging on her sleeve. "it's a trap, Hermione. Don't take it!"

She hesitated. Alarmed, Harry drew his wand for her to emulate and pointed to it, nodding his head at her as if to suggest she be ready to defend them both. Hermione wasn't so sure that would be necessary. "But why, uuh... George?"

"You and Harry here saved our sister from that cursed diary," said Fred. "We won't ever forget that. Anyway, we now know most of this castle's secrets, and your need is greater than ours." Fred grinned and added, "I couldn't have said it better myself, George."

"You just did, Fred," said George.

Tentatively, Hermione took the map. The twins explained how to use it, then bid them goodnight.

With the sound of their footsteps receding into the distance, Harry gestured eagerly at the map. "see if you can do 'mischief managed' like they said, Hermione."

Hermione drew in a quick breath as the marks and lines disappeared from the parchment. "You did the magic yourself, Harry! You did magic!"

A strange sensation had distracted Harry's mind, so he didn't understand what she'd meant for a few moments, then he realised he'd prodded the map with his wand. "it likes me..."

"The map?"

"Yes, can't you feel it?"

She shook her head, but began thinking furiously. "You keep it then. And see if you can open the Room, Harry! Just walk back and forth three times imagining what you need for us to meet secretly, and somewhere you can sleep at night."

As ever, he obeyed without question. He'd completed five passes, and Hermione was about to give up, when without warning, a faint door began to outline itself in the otherwise blank wall. It was scarcely noticeable, and there was no handle. Harry hesitated, but Hermione pushed inside, and he followed.

The chamber they had entered was a meagre closet lumbered with bare essentials only: a table, unmatched chairs, bookshelves, and a miserable blanket at their feet.

"No!" cried Hermione. "Surely you don't need to sleep on the floor?"

She crouched down to feel how hard it must be and discovered the blanket was covering a sunken mattress.

She shook her head, but Harry's eyes were unusually alight. He found the ultra-snug confines of the storeroom cosy and secure. He'd been given the safe, private den he'd wished for, and that no one could possibly get in but himself and Hermione – because that was his requirement. Something like happiness began to warm his frozen heart, and the mattress inched up very slightly revealing the top of a bed in the ground beneath. He was home!

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A Hopeless Quest

The following days and weeks established a routine. The couple would meet regularly to chat, study together, and complete their homework. Always Hermione struggled the longest, even when Harry, exhausted, had retired to his low berth.

The scholarly girl closed her weary eyes for a few moments, listening to him whimpering in his sleep, then pushed her book away before looking round. His bed had risen another inch above the carpet recently, but he was curled up on it, expression tight and with a film of sweat on his forehead. Did the poor boy not find any peace, even in sleep?

Ultimately, there was only one way to help him: she went back to her investigations. The book she'd been reading had vaguely referenced 'mental growth', but nothing useful had emerged except, perhaps, an abbreviated margin scribble: LiFE mUch beTTer! Whose life? Who had written that? The ink looked almost as ancient as the tattered book itself. Likely she'd never know, but perhaps she'd better try to find the–

"–UH! UH! UH!"

"Wake up, Harry, you're dreaming!" She pulled her dressing gown more tightly around herself then crept towards his sleeping, squirming form. There she observed that his deeply-creased forehead was shining with perspiration – what horror had caused such fear?

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Deathly Nightmare

Harry Potter stared at his skeletal baby hands, then his focus shifted through them to a very short wizard with small, watery eyes and a pointed rat-like snout crouching before him. When Harry finally spoke, his voice was high and cold. "You disappoint me, Wormtail. I was already fully aware of the boy's weak-minded impotence. He is no threat at all, thanks to that meddling old fool. No matter, another enemy was referenced in the Prophecy whose blood can serve me just as well, so your... special abilities may still be of assistance. Dispose of Quirrell's stinking corpse, then bring me the son of Frank Longbottom. I must end his life! Only then might you redeem yourself, and I? – I shall rise victorious once more.

His forehead felt it would burst with the pain. He was being shaken. Someone was screaming...

"Harry! HARRY!"

His eyes blinked open. His pyjamas were soaked in icy sweat. The bed covers were twisted round him and it seemed his scar would–

"–Harry!"

Hermione was standing over him looking extremely frightened. He clutched his head in his hands; the pain was blinding him ... he rolled right over and dry-retched towards the floor beyond his mattress.

"You were yelling and shrieking, Harry. I didn't know what to– was it a nightmare?"

"must warn Neville!" The weakened boy struggled to get up.

"Harry, wait, was it just a bad dream? Don't tell anyone! They'll think..."

"must warn..."

"It's four in the morning. You won't get into the Gryffindor Tower. Wait until breakfast."

"teacher..."

"Who? Dumbledore? McGonagall? I don't trust them anymore. And Professor Flitwick could only ask them for me – he can't interfere directly in Gryffindor."

"you warn him, Hermione." He revealed the contents of his dream to her then, how an evil baby was planning to murder Neville.

She shook her head. "I'll try to speak to Neville, but... Harry, evil babies and rotting corpses are the stuff of nightmares; he won't take me seriously." She saw alarm expand in his eyes, and relented. "I'll do my best."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Harry subsided then, and sank back onto his sunken bed, exhausted. Hermione cleansed the dampness from his brow and throat then cooled him with her wand. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring in his soft voice, "Why am I bad, Hermione? Can't I ever be... happy?" His eyes flickered open briefly. "Can you make me happy?"

She choked up without answer, and could only watch as he sagged back forlornly into some kind of dismal half-sleep. Hermione found herself weeping.

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Murderous Intent

Their breakfast plan to warn Neville did not proceed as intended. No sooner had Hermione braced herself to risk McGonagall's indignation by walking to the Gryffindor table, than a small figure stumbled and struggled in through the doorway of the Great Hall, heading directly towards Neville – it was Harry!

Half-risen, Hermione froze, then sank back down again; if she were seen anywhere near him then she would be expelled, and he would suffer even more greatly without her. All chatter faded away as everyone's attention swivelled towards the broken child. Neville looked up, startled to see him approaching so directly. Despite Harry's weak voice, his first word was clearly heard in the silence that had blanketed the huge chamber:

"run!"

For several moments, nobody moved – Harry was drawing his wand – Neville's eyes were widening in alarm – gasps and cries obscured Harry's next whispered words:

"avada kedavra."

"What did he say?"

"Is he trying to prank Longbottom with sparks?"

And sparks there were! More than Harry had ever cast! Many-coloured, they drifted harmlessly away before he turned and fled, throwing away his wand as he did so.

"FIVE points from Hufflepuff for disturbing our meal!" cried McGonagall. "Potter, you will take your seat and eat your breakfast this minute!"

Harry swerved from his route towards the exit and sprinted to the Hufflepuff table where he began wolfing down food as fast as he was able. After half a minute his eyes were watering and his face was flushed with the exertion.

Hannah Abbott stared at Harry's table manners. He'd drank porridge directly from his bowl without pausing to breathe, and now he was stuffing toast into his mouth faster than he could swallow. She'd hoped a friendship might have formed between them, but the boy acted so strangely! Other Hufflepuffs kept their distance because she'd even spoken to him. There was even talk – cruelly within her hearing – that something more had taken place while she'd been alone with the naked youngster. Had she consented? Encouraged him? Had she even–

–She shook her head, and her pigtails swung, catching Harry's attention. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up – then shyly away just as quickly. He continued eating normally now. What was she to make of him? There was no forgetting the terrible scars on his body that she'd seen that day. Who had done that to him? Was that what had caused him to behave so oddly?

Hannah sniffled a little, then looked around furtively to see who might be watching, before quietly continuing with her own meal.

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The Sort-ofs

Harry Potter felt almost ill as he followed Hannah Abbot's pigtails towards the greenhouses for their Herbology class. As ordered by McGonagall, he'd tried in vain to consume all his breakfast in the space of one minute, and now his stomach was rebelling. From behind, a hand fell on his shoulder and he cringed in alarm.

"You dropped your wand, Harry." It was Neville.

Confused, and a little fearfully, Harry took it. "uh – uh."

"Nobody heard – but I heard," continued Neville. "Were you intending to kill me or just bluffing? Why did you want me to run, Harry? Why scare me like that? I thought we were sort of... friends. I mean, you helped find Trevor on the train and... I help you a bit in Herbology."

Harry's jaw dropped, and he stopped walking. He was a sort of friend? A shiver of delight passed over him. Sometimes he'd pretended Hermione was his friend even though it made no sense. But a sort of friend? Perhaps Hermione was a sort of too! Perhaps freaks could have sort–ofs!

"Get a move on!" several Gryffindors jostled from behind. Up ahead, Hannah had slowed down too. Did she know Harry relied on her pigtails to guide him to classes?

Neville and Harry resumed their journey. Could he trust Neville with his biggest secret? Surely one could trust a sort-of?

"meet seventh floor?"

Neville blinked. "When?"

"half past seven?"

Neville nodded.

Hannah was looking back at them strangely. Had she heard? She was biting her lip which Harry knew meant worry. Was she a sort-of too! Daringly, he moved forward and whispered in her ear...

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The Evil Baby

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Harry smiled as the map drew itself upon his parchment. This was the one little bit of magic he was able to achieve repeatedly and he was proud of it. He tilted the sheet slightly so he could inspect it while remaining in the shadows. THREE figures were heading in his direction: one a Ravenclaw, one a Gryffindor, and one a Hufflepuff! And they might all be sort-ofs!

Neville was first round the corner, squinting towards the dark end of the corridor where Harry lurked. Hannah arrived almost immediately after, followed by Hermione. They all stared at one another, Hermione with a hurt, huffy expression of one who had been betrayed, Harry's one of seeking approval. Finally, she nodded.

Neville was quick to ask, "Why'd you try to kill me, Harry?"

"What!" Hannah's and Hermione's cries almost synchronised.

Hermione demanded, "Why'd you – no, wait... Harry, who ordered you to kill Neville?" She turned to explain to the other two. "He's been heavily conditioned to do as he's told; he can't help it."

"me," said Harry, in a very tiny voice. "I told me. I am the evil baby."

Gaping, Hermione recovered first.

"We'd all better go inside."

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Saving Neville

Inside the Room of Requirement, Hermione waited a few moments, expecting more seats to appear. But nothing had changed except Harry's bed was now almost a foot out of the ground! She gestured to Hannah and Neville to sit at the little table while Harry perched on his bed. After only a short hesitation, Hermione joined him, glaring possessively at Hannah. The Hufflepuff bitch with her prim-but-flaunty pigtails might have seen Harry naked, but so had everyone else. And she'd seen him first! But what if–

"–Hermione?" Harry said tentatively.

"Uuh... right. uumm... Harry had this dream, you see..." She described the nightmare as Harry had told it to her.

"perhaps it's Mr Macnair haunting me ... heard him kill Hagrid with his wand ... except I'm the evil baby who wants to kill Neville. "

Hermione shook her head. "In the dream, Harry. You're not really that... thing."

"He might be a seer," said Neville. "Gran says some people see the future in their dreams. What if Harry's nightmare foretold You-know-who might be reborn as an evil baby? Perhaps already has?"

Hannah shuddered. "Neville's right. We have to take it seriously." She'd spoken without thinking. She was talking with a group! And she'd said Neville's name aloud! And he a brave Gryffindor! Flushing, she chanced a glance sideways to try to see his expression. His profile showed nervous courage, his jaw was firm, and his eyes flashed with–

–Neville was nodding vigorously. "But what can we do? Gran might not want to know anything that..."

"...that Harry Potter said." Hermione nodded. "We understand, Neville. It's up to us."

From her bag she pulled out the book of Charms essays, she'd 'borrowed' from the reading room. A previous reader had torn out the 'do not remove' page so alleviating her guilt. "Ah, thought so... 'the Portus charm can bewitch any object to transport you to safety'. But it's incredibly difficult... and totally illegal outside Ministry approval!" Her large teeth scraped worriedly over and over her lower lip.

"but Neville might die, Hermione," urged Harry.

She continued chewing her lip. "I'll work on it. No promises. I think this is even beyond seventh-year level. Goodness, but if I could..."

Harry could see the challenge in her eyes, and knew she would succeed. His sort-of friend could do anything. Anything!

They both felt the mattress rise up another inch.

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Little Progress

The months passed by more smoothly for Harry Potter. Hermione had ordered him to always eat as much as he wished at mealtimes no matter what anyone else said. Though continuing to be soft-spoken, he could now speak more often above a whisper, and his magic, despite remaining feeble, was improving. He could cast sparks, and even a faint light.

"Work on it, Harry," Hermione would urge him. "It'll grow brighter."

Nothing can lift a boy's heart more than the encouragement of a girl, and Harry would have done anything she wished even if it had not been a command. Yet Hermione had thrown herself into reckless extra study without progress. The Portus charm eluded her, and her endeavours into mental strengthening yielded only a few eccentric-sounding wizards and witches with ridiculous names who'd dabbled in the field: Ingrid The Incorrigible Dirigible, Ulthrax The Terrible, and Sally Mander who'd convinced herself she was an amphibian, and had been swallowed by a pike while attempting to swim beneath the still waters of a millpond.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath then let it out slowly as she leaned back in her seat in the Ravenclaw common room. She never remained long here other than to give a show of doing homework. A wintry night sky glinted through the frosted windowpane, so she stood up, stretched her legs, and wandered over to take a look. Christmas was almost upon them, but there'd been no sign of snow. She shivered anyway – perhaps caused by the cold air sinking from the icy glass.

She looked around; other students were huddled in groups while she herself was isolated, as was normal unless someone was desperate for help with their prep – oh yes, then they'd talk to her! The only Ravenclaw to speak freely to Hermione was a first-year with straggly blonde hair, but that girl's conversations were strange – though not reserved, even hostile, like so many others. To think I actually wished to be in this House! She made a show of gathering up her library books then headed out. But it was not the library towards which she was headed.

"Anything yet?" said Neville, as they joined up, heading to the Room of Requirement.

She shook her head. "I'm beginning to think the school library has nothing practical about the Portus charm and I can hardly ask Professor Flitwick."

Neville frowned thoughtfully. "Gran will be serving on the Wizengamot over the holidays; I'll ask if I can go with her. The Ministry reference books are second to none."

Hermione stared after him as he entered the Room of Requirement ahead of her; Neville was becoming a very good friend indeed.

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

A guest reviewer pointed out that this fic is not really a parody (which is imitation, usually exaggerated for comic effect.) I've done more searching but I can't find any word for fiction that exaggerates but NOT for comic effect. Yes, there is light humour in my story but it's not fundamental. It's extreme yes, but the original Harry Potter books were already caricaturesque (Snape, Dursleys, etc.) I've just pushed it further. So I must leave it to others to define. It's serious exaggeration for interest and entertainment.

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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