~*Harry Potter and the Second War*~

Hm, bored, bored, bored. The same bored that eventually Harry won't be by the end of this chapter, I hope. Thank you all of you reviewers! I read your reviews when I try to think of how much worse my story could get. And you know, it's getting there. Let's add some good ol' mystery to this hopeless plot.

One more thing before I let you read: THANK YOU TO THOSE 3 PEOPLE WHO HAVE MY STORY ON THEIR FAVORITES LIST AND REVIEWED AS WELL!! You're too kind, really.

Funny Part of Book Five: *I'll put one here as soon as my brother gives me back my Book 5! He's reading it... unless you can remember the cough drop part and pretend its here*

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Chapter 4- A Danger to Himself

Harry stumbled as the Portkey landed him on the stone floor outside of the Fat Lady's portrait. The cup that had transported him was once more a cup, and he hadn't even had time to say good-bye to Lupin.

Not, of course, that saying good-bye to him would have made him feel any better.

Lupin was now alone, and the last survivior of the Marauders, if you considered Pettigrew as good as dead anyway. He probably did have a few things to take his mind off the losses of all three of his friends, talking with Dumbledore and all. Harry straightened up, never slacking his grip on the cup. He turned to the Fat Lady. "Eye of newt."

"Odd," she muttered as her portrait swung open to reveal the empty Gryffindor common room. "I thought school isn't in session for another month."

Harry found a chair near the fireplace and sat down in it. He had nothing to do but wait. After what felt like an hour of staring at the wall, he headed over to the Portrait Hole. He gave it a casual push, but it didn't move.

"What the –" Harry started to say.

"Dumbledore's orders, dear," said the Fat Lady on the other side of the portrait. "You're not to leave the common room until he comes and tells me you can. Now, if he asks where I am, I'll be visiting my friend Victoria on the fourth floor."

He tried pushing against the back of the portrait again. When even banging against it with his whole body wasn't enough to open the way out, he realized he was locked inside the common room. Growling, he turned away. He began to think quickly. It's for my own protection, isn't it? Dumbledore thinks the only way for me to be safe is to trap me somewhere!

He decided, after glaring at the trophy cabinets and portraits of various esteemed Gryffindors, to take a look at his dormitory. Halfway to the stairs, he heard a familiar voice from one of the walls.

"So he is dead."

Harry turned around. In a frame that was meant to have Salina the Water Sorceress sitting in a pearl-encrusted shell throne stood Phineas Nigellus. His crafty Slytherin look contrasted with the peaceful and courageous faces of the rest of the paintings. The other paintings did not say anything, however, as Nigellus was once a Headmaster.

"Yes. He fell through – through a veiled archway in the Department of Mysteries." Harry could finish that whole sentence only because there was nobody else around for him to be nervous of. He was in a terrible mood, but he was still grieving, in case the letters he had received recently were not from Sirius at all.

"Let me tell you, you conceited youth, that Sirius Orion Black was the last of one of the noblest lineages of pureblooded wizards and witches. And though Albus Dumbledore claims responsibility for the death of my great-great-grandson, I find the blame to be on you."

"Look, Phineas, I really –"

"You may want to look after yourself. I assume that keeping yourself locked in a room is some form of protection. . . . but is it for your safety, or everyone else's?" Before Harry could make a decent comeback, the sinister old Headmaster had disappeared. He had raised a good question, however. Who was Dumbledore trying to protect?

As if meant to tempt him, the Portrait Hole opened. Harry strongly suspected Phineas Nigellus of opening it, but didn't touch it. Instead, he stood near it and listened for footsteps. He could hear at least one person rapidly approaching the common room.

"I know that this is completely pointless," said Snape in a very angry tone of voice. "It's as though he wants to keep suffering. If he meant to learn Occlumency properly, he would have actually listened to me last year. I don't feel like bothering with him. He's a danger to himself and anyone he decides to associate with."

Harry could hear another voice too soft to understand. It just enraged Snape more, apparently. "Now you ask me to check where he is? I refuse to be the babysitter of an insolent, arrogant child like Potter! If he decided not to follow your orders, then consider him dead!"

Harry took a sharp intake in breath and began to back away from the Portrait Hole. The argument Snape was having with an unseen Dumbledore was starting to touch a nerve in the Potions teacher. "This is not a grudge against James Potter! You know perfectly well why I switched sides before, well, before the Dark Lord tried to kill his only known competition."

Harry jumped into the nearest chair and put on a look of intense boredom. His heart was in his throat now. Was Snape joking about Harry being "competition"? The thought had been much more reasonable four years ago, when he first discovered his ability to speak Parseltongue, snake language. He tried to calm down as much as possible, because he knew Snape would probably come in on Dumbledore's orders.

"Potter!" Snape barked from near the Portrait Hole. "Come here!"

Harry jumped up and walked back to where Snape was waiting impatiently out in the seventh floor corridor. He had carefully made sure that his face was devoid of expression and his tone flat before getting anywhere near his irked teacher. "What?"

"I just want to remind you. Occlumency lessons tomorrow. 7 o'clock sharp in my office." As he turned away, the greasy-haired Professor gave Harry another look. "You'll be free to roam the castle tomorrow, if you're wondering how to get there."

Harry nodded blankly, trying not to breathe too fast in front of his teacher. Snape was extremely unpleasant to Harry all the time, especially when he was high-strung or suspicious. As soon as the Portrait Hole shut and locked again, Harry was alone with his even more furious thoughts.

Who was being protected by Harry's quarantine... himself, or everyone else?

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There are officially more italics in this chapter than any of the others... isn't that weird?

I just realized that I always rate my stories PG-13.... hm. Maybe it's cause I keep thinking there's gonna be something PG-13 in it, but then there isn't... should I put real swearing in?

IDEA ALERT! See below...

Review Poll of the chapter (this means that it would be interactive to a certain degree if you review): Should The Amazing Snorkack add real swear words in her story, or just forget it? Review and we will see what happens! (I want at least 10 signed poll ballots before I make a decision)