**Hooray!! At last it's up, the third chapter!

Ok, so you're wondering how Harry ended up in the paper? Well, you are right, that sort of thing happens everyday which is awful of course, but now and again certain stories hit the press that shock the people, such as the case of poor Sarah Payne a few years ago.

Harry made the front page mostly because he was fifteen, and most kids are meant to be able to take care of themselves by then, and most of the children it happens to by then are much younger. Also the fact that he could at any time have done something about it, but didn't, was considered unnatural.

Please Please Please read my new fic! It's original fiction but you'll love it if you like fantasy. It's called: Phillippe and Araya

Disclaimer: Take a second to think about it. J K Rowling is not thirteen, nor does she have to do homework. I am also broke, so please don't sue me! **

Questions. Piling in on him from all directions. Even from inside him, where the small part of him that made him Harry was wondering.

Where had they come from? One minute he had been staring into Dudley's leering face as he raised the heavy stick that had already broken Harry's arm, and then the shocked face of a middle-aged Muggle man.

He'd managed to stay conscious while they got him into the ambulance. Somehow, they already knew his name, but they kept asking him questions, two men and two women, while another man took notes, whispering: "keep him talking, keep him talking!"

He must have passed out eventually. The next thing he knew, he was lying on a soft bed in a hospital, complete with pillows and duvet, and more people were asking him to stand up so they could take pictures.

What for? Wondered Harry. Just in case I kick the bucket all of a sudden?

Only then had they patched him up and put his arm in a cast. None of the doctors were a stitch on Madam Pomfrey.

He'd gone through with the photographs, even though he hated cameras and they made him take his shirt off, simply because he was too tired and in pain to push them away.

But they weren't going to get anything else from him.

He hadn't told them what had happened.

He wouldn't tell them where he lived.

No one was going to find out. Unless…

Unless…

"Unless what, Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"Harry?"

"Hmm... hmm.. hmmm?"

"Hum and ha all you like Harry, there's plenty of time."

"Do you think he's waking up?"

"What do I know? Call in one of those crazy Muggle nurses."

"Sirius!"

"Well, I don't blame them. I'd be crazy too if I worked here."

"You are crazy Sirius."

Sirius… I know that name…

"Hermione, what are you going to say to him when he wakes up?"

"How do you mean?"

"You practically saved his life."

"And? He's saved ours loads of times before. Maybe it's time I returned the favour."

That voice is so familiar…

"Wha'? Wurr am I?"

"Harry!"

"S… Sirius?"

"Yeah, Harry. Hermione's here too."

Harry blinked. He was lying on his back on something soft and he could have sworn his eyes were open. There were two large, blurry shapes above him. He supposed they could be human faces…

"Here," said one of the blurry shapes with Hermione's voice.

Harry felt the familiar metal shape of his glasses being set onto his nose. They only enhanced the vision in one of his eyes, but from what he could see, both Hermione and Sirius were looking very worried. Sirius most of all. And there was something else about him… was it fear? Or anger?

"I dreamed loads of people… and they were taking pictures…"

"You're in a Muggle hospital Harry. The pictures were for hospital records but somehow they leaked out to the press…"

Harry groaned. "And that's how you knew I was here, right?"

Sirius chuckled grimly. Were there tears in his eyes?

"Remus found a paper. I gave him a black eye when he tried to stop me charging out after those…" he paused for lack of a word suitable enough. "He managed to convince me you were more important. Well, I knew you were anyway, I was only thinking that I ought to… I mean…" and stopped again because he was simply tying himself up in knots.

Harry shifted his head as far as it would go without hurting, and looked at Hermione.

"What happened?"

"You tell us," said Hermione. She looked a little angry now. "Harry, he was going to kill you!"

Oh damn.

"Hermione, you haven't – "

"I told them everything. But more happened after didn't it? Your arm can't have been broken before, because your cousin and that other boy were holding onto you. And before… how long has this been going on for?"

Harry closed his eyes and ignored the question. Before anyone could prompt him he asked suddenly,

"How did you know that was Dudley?" he remembered Hermione's words.

You wouldn't. He's your own flesh and blood.

"From your description," said Hermione simply. The way she said it somehow made Harry think that she had only just managed to convince herself of how she had known.

There was no point in hiding what had happened with Hermione. They already knew. Great.

"He wouldn't really have killed me," said Harry, not meeting either of their eye's. "He was just really afraid of you, was all. And you needn't have cursed the others. I was fine on my own, really."

"Dragon dung. He cut your neck."

That was true. Sirius hissed as Harry raised a hand slowly to his throat and felt the mark that had hardened overnight.

At that moment there was a knock on the door. There were two doors, Harry realised, but before he had time to fathom questions like 'why aren't I in a proper ward?' Sirius had transformed into the huge black dog and was hiding under the bed.

Harry groaned again when the door opened and Dumbledore entered his room. Behind him was a portly doctor in a white coat and black trousers.

Harry wasn't in a very good position to see anything lower than waist height, so his usual plan of staring at the floor would not work. He stared at the ceiling instead.

"So we are agreed," Dumbledore was saying to the Doctor. Suddenly, Harry didn't think he could be a doctor. Doctor's on TV and the one he had seen when he'd sprained his ankle at school wore stethoscopes. Plus, he just didn't look the doctory sort of person.

They were usually cheerful, weren't they? But this man was frowning. But then again, loads of people frowned around Harry when he was flat out in a hospital bed.

And now Harry was very confused, and settled his attention on trying not to look at him, but look at the interesting pattern of white and white stripes on the hospital ceiling.

"He'll stay at school for the remainder of the summer and I send anymore information to this address," said the not-quite-a-doctor in a monotonous voice of someone who was under influence to say it.

Harry didn't think it was a spell, just awe at being in the presence of his headmaster, who could be very awe-inspiring when he put his mind to it.

"Yes indeed," said Dumbledore.

"And you confirm that a Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley are responsible for these injuries?"

"And their son!" put in Hermione. "Don't you dare forget him!"

Grunning nodded. "Ah, I see Harry is awake," he said jovially. "Your picture's in every household in England, young man. Nasty eye you've got there," he remarked, nodding at a spot just above Harry's view.

Harry raised his hand, and realised immediately why half his vision was blurred. The left lens of his glasses was missing. 

Remember to duck the stick when in comes round, you don't want your other arm broken. Whack! Whoops, not quick enough. There's another pair of glasses to add to the endless list of things Dudley's always breaking.

"It's honestly not that bad…" Harry tried.

Hermione jumped up and said something that she would never normally allowed Ron to say in public. "Harry, your arm was broken!"

"Dudley got a bit overexcited."

"He was threatening me with killing you! That's illegal!"

"Give it up miss," said the not-quite-a-doctor man. "He's not telling." He turned to Dumbledore. "I suppose you'll update me if he comes clean? It is rather hard to construct a full trial without the witness."

"But of course, Mr. Grunning," said the Headmaster.

The man ran fingers through tousled hair. "Vernon Dursley eh… my brother sponsors his company, you know, great carpenter, my brother, I'm sure Mr. Dursley will be very excited to hear about that…"

"And very talkative too, I should imagine," said Dumbledore. "Hermione, your mother's waiting."

It was a dismissal, albeit a polite one. "Goodbye Harry. I'll see you when term starts. See you in a week." And she was gone, with a distressed look over her shoulder as she exited through the opposite door.

As Dumbledore extended a hand towards him, Harry realised he was fully clothed in what appeared to be hospital sweatshirt and trousers. They reeked of disinfectant. Harry supposed his other clothes must have been blood soiled.

He let Dumbledore drag him to his feet. He shook a little, but remained standing. He managed a weak smile. "Right then," said Dumbledore. "No need to see us out, Mr. Grunning, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."

Grunning left with an awkward "thanks," and Sirius crawled out from under the bed.

Dumbledore pulled out a glasses case from his deep robe pocket. It was shaped to fit exactly the outline of his half-moon spectacles.

"This will get us back to Hogwarts."

Harry looked at the object. It had to be a Portkey.

"Both of us," Harry said.

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."

Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. "You – you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears: then his face split in a grin.

"You're on," he said. "Come here."

He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp towards the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held out a hand over one of the Cup's gleaming handles.

"On three, right?" said Harry. "One – two – three –"

He and Cedric both grasped a handle.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup: it was pulling him onwards, in a howl of wind and swirling colour, Cedric at his side…

"Are you sure?" Harry asked tentatively, as he placed a finger over the case.

Sirius grunted as he transformed and touched the thing as well, not meeting Harry's eyes. Harry barely had time to hear him say, "You'll have to trust us on that one," before…

Professor McGonagall was extremely worried. Just three hours ago, Albus had come tearing down the stairs, calling that he'd be gone for a few hours and that this would explain everything. He'd shoved a Muggle newspaper into her astonished hand.

Her breakfast hadn't tasted of anything after that. She hadn't moved from the great Hall yet, even after the plates and crockery had been magically cleared.

She sat in her seat at the teacher's table reading the front-page article over and over again. She had known it had been a mistake to give Harry to those people! Why hadn't she warned Dumbledore properly…?

And now there was nothing she could do. Nothing, just sit and wait for Albus to come back, hopefully with Harry in tow.

She found herself suddenly remembering the other teachers' reactions to the article.

Professor Sinistra burst into tears when she saw the front page as Professor McGonagall thumped it down before her. Minerva sat down slowly in her seat, watching.

Sinistra passed the paper to Flitwick, who almost dropped it in shock.

"That's a Muggle newspaper," remarked Severus Snape the Potions Master dryly, staring disgustedly at the prone image of Michael Owen on the last sports page.

"Just look!" squeaked Flitwick, throwing the paper at him.

Snape's eyes widened as he saw the headline and the picture of Harry, scarred and malnourished, a black eye rising on his face, holding his left arm as if fractured, or broken.

No one could read Snape's expression. He just looked blank as her passed the paper, rather reluctantly, to Hagrid, who held out his hand for it.

Hagrid sat still, staring. He began to shake with sorrow and fury as he clutched at the thing, looking flimsy in his huge hands.

"What is it?" asked that new witch, Wendy Little. She placed a friendly hand on his arm as Professor Sprout teased out the paper from his sausage-like fingers. 

"Those ---" Hagrid spoke a word that made Professor McGonagall frown, even if she didn't blame him. "How dare they? As if that poor boy hasn't been through enough!"

"Let me see, Professor," said Professor Little, taking the paper from Professor Sprout. She stared open mouthed at what she saw.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered. "That's Harry Potter…"

Suddenly Minerva heard a loud three knocks on the castle door, and loud barking. She leaped out of her seat as if electrified.

She rushed ahead of Filch, who always seemed to turn up at times like this, to wrench the door open.

"Goodness Minerva," said Professor Dumbledore. "Do be careful!"

He was holding Harry upright by the arm that wasn't in a cast and sling. Harry looked exhausted, and that massive dog that kept popping up everywhere was standing as close as it could get to him. He was thin and pale, limping, and one of the lenses in his glasses was missing.

"In, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore.

"What is this, an interrogation?" muttered Harry, but he let Sirius lead him into the entrance hall.

This reminded him of something.

"Professor – all my Hogwarts things, Hedwig-"

"Someone will be collecting them in time," said Dumbledore. "To the hospital wing, young man."

"What for?" said Harry. "I've just spent a whole night in hospital…"

"You don't really expect to be stuck in that thing for six weeks?"

Harry was about to say that Muggle children did, all the time, when McGonagall took Dumbledore's place on his left side, and all three of them helped him up the stairs to the domain of Madam Pomfrey.

She almost exploded when she saw Harry, and he sighed. He should have known she'd notice, even if no one else did.

"Potter! When was the last time you ate? Quick now!"

Harry sank into a chair. "I can't remember."

"Oh yes you can Potter. A full meal… When?"

Harry decided not to tell her about the apples. Then he'd be branded a thief as well as a pathetic boy-hero.

"A week, then." Madam Pomfrey drew in her breath sharply. "What was it?"

"I don't know! It's not important!"

"I rather think it is, Harry," said Dumbledore from behind him, quietly. Harry took a deep breath.

"Er… bread. No wait! I remember! It was Dudley's lunch! I fished it out-"

He stopped. Madam Pomfrey was visibly shaking with fury. She whipped out her wand and tapped Harry's arm beneath the sling. The cast fell away in pieces and Harry could move his fingers again.

"Right then," said Albus Dumbledore, with a nervous glance at Madam Pomfrey. "I'll be in my office when he's done, Poppy."

McGonagall and the black dog followed the Headmaster out of the Hospital Wing door.

"A week? Leftovers, a week ago? It's a wonder you're not being sick as we speak."

"I was sick at first," said Harry calmly. Somehow it was easier to talk to the matron than Dumbledore, Sirius, or even Hermione. "But I sort of – got used to it. And I think they gave me something at the hospital…"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and bustled off into her office.

"I don't know, Potter," she said when she emerged, two seconds later. "Seems to me you're in here more than other pupil ever at this school. But one," she added, pouring a thick, green potion into a goblet. It looked disgusting.

"Who?" said Harry, curious as to who could possibly get into as much trouble as he did. He felt he already knew though. "My dad, right?"

"Not quite," said Madam Pomfrey. "Although he was in here a lot. In my opinion, the only ones who should be called Quidditch legends are those who never get hurt. No, the young man I'm thinking of was in your exact position once, Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Drink that, and then you can join the Headmaster."

Harry eyed the green sludge warily. It was almost an exact replica to the stuff he had whacked Crabbe and Goyle with his third year.

"What is it?"

"It is a nutrition potion. You're not going anywhere until you've taken it. Make sure you eat properly after it though, because another dose will get you addicted, and you won't be able to eat anything else."

Harry thought he might rather be doomed to the hospital wing for life, but he picked up the goblet and downed the potion as fast as he could. It tasted like mud, too.

"Fancy a game of chess, Ron?"

"No thanks, I'm reading."

"You know what Ron? I reckon Hermione's rubbed off on you. You haven't stopped reading that blessed book since she visited. What is it anyway?"

Fred made a grab for it, but Ron held it up out of his reach, letting George promptly pluck it out of his hands.

He looked at the front cover. "Intentional and Unintentional Magical Ties," he read. "What a mouthful."

"What do you want to read that for?" asked Fred.

"Oh, leave off, you two," said Molly Weasley from her armchair. "I think it's good that Ron is finally studying."

The twins sniggered. "It's interesting, all right?" said Ron, hotly, grabbing the book back.

"According to this, Harry is only alive because of what is called a…" he flicked through the pages, "a sacrificial tie, the strongest of which being one's own life for the one they love. Class: unintentional."

"What's the difference, then?" said George, annoyingly. Ron didn't notice.

"The difference is that an intentional tie is made when…" more flicking of pages. "When it is agreed by two or more people that a tie is to be established. This is done in advance and in preparation for what lies ahead."  

Molly looked up from her knitting. Ron could see what looked suspiciously like a maroon sleeve poking out from her bag. "I'm pleased for you, dear," she said. "If there's a test on Magical ties this year I'll expect you to…"

But an owl soared in through the window as she spoke. It was Hermione's owl, Madeline. Ron caught the letter it dropped and began to read.

Harry walked along the familiar halls of Hogwarts. It was a nice feeling to be home at last.  He thought of Hogwarts as his home. He was only away from it for six weeks of the year anyway.

He now looked almost like a normal boy. The bruise around his eye had faded, as had the small cuts from the glass of his glasses, which were fully repaired at last. It was a relief to be able to see properly.

Madam Pomfrey had seen that blasted newspaper, worst luck. She had made him show her his back. There wasn't anything she could do about the old scars, but she made the new welts feel less sore. It almost erased the memories of Uncle Vernon's belt.

His leg working, his arm fully healed, and with a pleasant full feeling inside him as if he'd just eaten a huge meal, he made his way to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the flight of moving stairs that led to Dumbledore's office.

"Cockroach Cluster?"

It didn't move.

"Sherbet Lemon."

Nothing.

"Ah." Sometimes Harry thought Dumbledore must keep changing the password to give other people fun while trying to guess it.

"Right. Blood flavoured Lolly Pops. Fizzing whizzbees. Canary crèmes. Oh, yeah, like that would –"

The gargoyle sprang aside. Hmm. Harry wondered how Professor Dumbledore had found out about those.

The staircase took Harry up to the old oak door, and he stayed outside for a moment, listening to the frantic conversation happening inside.

"Dumbledore, we can't just –"

"Have to do something –"

"Poor kid, all on his own with them –"

"Y' gotta do somethin' Professor Dumbledore!"

"Please! Will you all just stay calm! "

The room fell quiet, and the floorboards under Harry's feet squeaked just a bit.

"Don't be a stranger, Harry," came Professor Dumbledore's voice again.

Trying his best to smile, Harry walked into the room. The whole of the teaching staff were there, (apart from Snape) including a woman Harry had never seen before, whom he supposed must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Better?" asked Dumbledore. Harry nodded.

"Good. Do sit down." Harry sat down in a vacated seat next to Sirius, who was curled up on the rug beside the fire with one eye open. He looked a little thinner too, Harry thought.

"As for the rest of you," said Dumbledore with a flash of his baby blue eyes. "Scat. This is not the time."

"But, sir –" said Professor Sinistra, who looked like she'd been crying. But then, Professor Sinistra was a weepy sort of person anyway.

"I will see you all, later," said Dumbledore firmly. "Wendy, stay here, if you please."

They all filed slowly out of the room, with the exception of the stranger woman, and Hagrid, who paused on his way out to give Harry a hug. Harry felt tears come to his own eyes when he saw them shining in his friend's beetle black ones.

"I missed you, Hagrid," he said.

Hagrid only nodded, and ran out of the door after tiny Professor Flitwick. 

"Harry," said Dumbledore when everyone had left. "This is Professor Little. She will be tutoring you in Defence and Attack until and after term starts.

Both adults smiled when they saw Harry's face light up. "Really?"

"Really," said Professor Little. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"And you, Professor," said Harry.

"Tell you what," said Little, with a grin. "Call me Wendy when we're alone, right? I can't stick all this Professor business. I don't know what your mother would have said if I told her I was a Professor." She let forth a tinkley laugh.

"You knew my mum?"

"Best friends at Hogwarts," said Wendy, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll start right now, until your stuff gets here, right Professor?"

"By all means," said Professor Dumbledore, smiling as Wendy led Harry out of the office.

Sirius stood up and whined after them. Harry gave him a wave, Wendy didn't even look up.

As soon as they had left, Sirius Black the human appeared in Dumbledore's office.

"Why did you have to hire her, Dumbledore?"

"Come now, Sirius."

"She knows everything about me. She'll guess it's me after a while."

"Which is precisely why you must not stay at Hogwarts."

Sirius looked up sharply. "But – Harry…"

"Harry is safe now. If you are willing, if you are ready, I have a mission for you."

He explained it. Sirius' eye's lit up in much the same way as Harry's had when he had learned about his tutoring. The Dursleys could wait for now. There were bigger fish to fry.

"Is this it?"

"Yep, that's the lot."

"What, a school trunk, a few piles of clothes, a pillowcase and an… owl, did you say?"

"Yeah, it's in the front room."

"Well…" the sergeant searched for something to say to the impertinent young officer. "Well, what's in the pillowcase?"

"Er… a couple of letters, birthday cards, quill and ink, Sarge."

"A quill?"

"Er… Yeah Sarge. Oh, and this." The young officer held out a tattered old book. "I think it's a diary, Sarge. Only I can't understand a flippin' word it says. S'like another language."

The Sergeant took the book from the officer and opened it at a random page. He couldn't understand it either.

The writing was strange, curly symbols, that looked as if they had been drawn rather than written.

It made no sense! Tired and annoyed, the Sergeant stuffed the diary back into the pillowcase.

"They're no good to us. Might as well give to the man when he comes."

Professor Dumbledore picked up the pillowcase and took out a tattered old book. He whispered an apology to Harry as he opened it, but then his eyes widened. It was in no language he recognised. It wasn't even in an alphabet he recognised!

Hurriedly he put the book into the bottom drawer of his desk, to be fathomed at a later date. He only hoped Harry wouldn't notice it was missing. Despite his calm appearance, Dumbledore cared more than many people about what had happened to Harry over the summer.

**There. At last, it is there. Whew.

Here be thanks:

VampireLover, Dark Whispers, Illustrious Sorrow (I can't work out whether that was a complement or not), Gabriella (that's true) Lady Python (that's dangerous, talking to computers), littleginblossom, Lei Dumbledore, lil lupin (see top), black panther, Kim, Bobbie (know what you mean there), das (see top) Lucerito-del-alba, Lupin's Niece AJ, goddess of insanity and pauru, ratgirl, 

Katherine: Man you're fast! What do you do, check every ten seconds whether I've updated? Oh well! You are right, I need to consider Voldie…

Summersun: Sorry I didn't go into too much detail about Sirius' reaction, there will be more when Remus enters the story properly. Thanks for reviewing, and yeah, there are a lot of people who hate me for my cliffhangers.

Lady FoxFire: ahem. MY Harry torture? Twist? Well, yeah, I guess you could say that. I haven't seen it anywhere else. But neither have I seen anything like your fic before either! (Ewwwww…) I really grossed all my friends out with quotes, I can tell you. They won't leave me alone about it now.

Sky Chief: Who gave whom a glow? Yeah, I like doing Hermione; she gives you so many options. And… that's why I do AN's! Nothing better than annoyed reviewers… no? OK, I didn't do any this chapter. But sometimes… there are things you just have to say!!!  (jk)!

Pie: I try to stay clear of memory charms. They confuse things. Er.. can't think of anything I haven't said in my email… oh well. I know about mini cliff-hangers! Muahahahahaha!

Bumblebee Bucy: You know what? I reckon you must be the most well known non-Harry writer in the category. Your name is like on every thanks list! Well, I have been working my way through your favourites list… (he he)

Hypfan: see top. Hey! I'm British and I don't talk like that! God, you're on the net till one in the morning? That's harsh, that is. Do you ever get out? (jk)! Really liked your review, keep reading please!