Harry woke in the hospital wing with people crowding around his bed.
"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Hermione agitatedly.
"I-I think so, but . . . Katie? What happened to the match? Do we get a replay? What was the final score? Who — "
"What do you mean, mate?" asked Ron, "we won! The Snitch flew up your shirt as you fell! Harry, you should have seen that Edison's face when he realized you caught it! He pushed you off your broom, you know,"
"Yeah?" asked Harry. But it did make sense, he thought. Now that he thought, he realized that he had to have been pushed off; brooms didn't suddenly stop flying and let their riders fly off the edge.
The rest of the team talked with him for a bit, and then left, leaving in their wake a load of sweets and drinks. As Harry moved his hand toward them, Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, came out of her office and knocked his hand away.
"You need rest, dear, not chocolate." She scolded sharply. Harry rolled his eyes as she turned away.
Harry left the hospital wing that evening and joined Ron and Hermione for dinner.
"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione immediately.
"Good as new," answered Harry untruthfully. His scar was aching again, but Harry knew that Ron and Hermione would just wave it away as old, regular news if he told them.
As they entered the Great Hall, Ron muttered something to Hermione and they both wandered off somewhere else. Harry didn't mind too much; the truth was that he was getting the same angry feeling he had become accustomed to last year, that he wanted to be alone and not talk to anyone.
Harry suddenly didn't feel hungry. He turned around abruptly and left the Great Hall to take a walk outside. Then he remembered that it was past seven already, and students weren't allowed outside anymore.
Anger welled up in him, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and try calming down. He needed a walk outside, maybe a talk with Hagrid. He hadn't visited him by himself all term yet.
Harry ran up into his dormitory. He was back in a few minuets with his invisibility cloak. Harry threw it on and opened the door quietly. He walked out of the entrance hall invisibly and proceeded outside without any difficulties.
As Harry stepped outside he gave a sigh of relief; finally he was alone with nobody to talk to and bother him. He trudged along until he arrived at Hagrid's hut. The sight of it led to another sigh of relief. Everything here was peaceful and tranquil and soothing to Harry's troubled mind.
He lay on his back thinking about Quidditch for a few minutes and then got up and knocked on Hagrid's door. Nobody answered. Harry put his ear next to the door listening for sounds of Fang, Hagrid's dog, or perhaps Hagrid himself, but — nothing.
Harry slumped back dejectedly; he had been so looking forward to speaking to Hagrid, and now it was taken from him. Harry pulled out his wand, wishing there was a spell to calm his temper. Of course, he had not learned any of them, if there were any, and in his anger, sparks shot out of the tip of his wand, scaring away several birds and a rabbit.
Harry didn't bother to put back on the invisibility cloak, instead, folded it halfhazardly and tucked it under his robes. He slumped down the path and started heavily back to the school. The last thing he wanted right now was a long talk with anyone else but Hagrid.
"Hey, it's Potter, and he's alone."
It was Malfoy. Harry clenched his teeth and tried to block out his ears to stem the flow of his anger, which was almost at boiling point. If Malfoy makes one comment, just one, thought Harry savagely, I'm going to kill him!
"Where are your friends, Potter?" asked Malfoy. Harry ignored him.
"Silent treatment, eh, Potter? What's wrong, can't open your mouth without your chums behind you, is that it?"
Harry snapped. Before he knew it he had his wand out and jabbed it hard in Malfoy's direction. A jet of light shot out of the tip of Harry's wand and arced over to Malfoy. He dived out of the way just in time and pulled out his wand.
"Nearum Statica!" yelled Malfoy. Harry ducked under it by inches, the force of the curse making the hairs on his neck stand on end as it roared over him.
"Furnunculus!" yelled Harry, using his favorite spell.
Malfoy ducked and the spell hit Crabbe in the chest. He doubled over and threw up his robes to hide his face, which Harry saw was getting covered in fungus.
Malfoy straightened up and yelled, "Incendia Spheria!"
An orb of bright green light emerged from Malfoy's wand, getting bigger and bigger. Harry turned and ran, as he heard and explosion behind him. He turned around in spite of himself and saw in horror that a globe of light had blown out of Malfoy's wand and was burning away all the grass around him.
Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and yelled, "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"
Malfoy dodged one bolt of red light, but the Stunner hit him in the face. He keeled over and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Goyle turned and ran into the castle, leaving Harry to the spoils of his victory against Malfoy. But Harry let out a yell of rage and smashed his foot against the ground in anger.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work because Goyle suddenly reappeared with Snape at his side. Snape took out his wand, muttered, "Ennervate," and replaced it inside his voluminous black robes.
"Well, well, Potter," whispered Snape, turning to Harry, "attacking a student, wandering well past Dumbledore's curfew, so I think, maybe fifty points from Gryffindor, and two weeks of detention would do you a world of good, Potter.
"You will come to my office tonight for your detention, and I must tell you, that if I had my way," said Snape, leering closer and closer to Harry until he could smell his rancid breath, "you would be on the train home within the morning.
"Unfortunately for me," he said, straightening up sharply. "The rules of Hogwarts do not allow me to expel you, but mark my words, Potter . . . if you misbehave like this again, I give you my word that I will ensure that you are expelled. Don't forget about tonight, Potter." He said, leaving Harry in a worse temper than before.
Harry turned inside and dragged himself to the Gryffindor Common Room.
As he walked inside, Ron and Hermione hailed him jovially.
"Harry, come — "
"Don't talk to me," said Harry shortly.
"Okay," said Hermione, "we only wanted to — "
"Don't talk to me, I said!" snapped Harry.
"Harry, mate, what's wro — "
"SHUT UP, I SAID!" Harry roared. "Can't you see I don't want to talk right now!
"Whoa, Harry, we only — "
Ron broke off, staring at Harry in terror. Hermione was shaking silently with tears pouring down her eyes; Harry had taken his wand out in a shaking hand, and was pointing it in their direction, his breathing fast and shallow, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"OH, YEAH!" shouted Harry, "YOU ONLY WHAT? HUH!"
Ron mouthed something, but no sound escaped his lips. Hermione was sobbing and shaking violently.
"Harry," began Hermione shakily, "we-we only w-wanted you to-to calm dow—"
"WELL I WON'T, AND SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU, OR I'LL HURT YOU! I MEAN IT, RON!" He roared at Ron, who opened his mouth again.
"O-Okay," said Ron, "but I —"
It was too late. Harry jabbed his wand violently at Ron and he was thrown against the wall. He let out a "Uuungh," of pain and stopped moving. Hermione screamed in terror and fled the common room.
Harry looked up for a second at Hermione's retreating back and put his wand back in his robes. He looked at Ron, at his still body, and the realization of what he had just done suddenly hit him over the head like a piece of lead. That's it, Harry thought, the end of our friendship. How could he have done that? How could he have just attacked Ron and Hermione— his two best friends? How?
Harry simply dropped to the floor and began crying. He picked up Ron's head and cradled it in his lap as tears poured from his brilliant green eyes and his sobs filled the common room.
"Don't cry, Harry," said a voice softly from behind him. "Please don't, Harry."
Harry turned around sharply and found himself staring into the soft brown eyes of Emma Bowman.
"You're a powerful wizard, Harry," she said softly, "just don't lose your temper like that. Please, Harry, y-you're the most powerful wizard I've ever seen. I mean it, Harry. You weren't responsible for that. Everybody loses their temper, and people who have been touched by the Dark Side lose it more often than others. Harry, you were touched by an evil fifteen years ago, and again the past few years.
"You are the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. You have to, yes, I do know, and don't ask me how I do, but I know that you're the one who has to defeat Voldemort." She said quietly.
Harry looked at her again, the tears in his eyes drying rapidly. He looked at Emma for a few moments, and said, in a voice throbbing with emotion and meaning, "Thank you, Emma,"
She nodded her head and hobbled slowly up the stairs on her ruined foot. Harry was overcome with pity.
"Emma," he called, "come here and let me see your foot. I know a bit about healing. Please, you can't go on like that, Emma, let me just have a quick look."
Harry remembered studying this type of thing in elementary school. He remembered that this kind of thing came from shock usually, and he definitely knew how to deal with that.
"Emma," Harry asked quietly, "could I ask you a private question?"
She nodded.
"Did you ever have any major problems or shocks beside the one you were cured from?"
She looked at him for a moment and then asked, "How did you know?"
"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.
"I meant that I did have a shock, if you could call it that. My parents were divorced for many years. . . twelve, I think. I can hardly remember my father. He moved out when I was four, and I was brought up by my mother.
"One day I found something extremely valuable, and I brought it home to show my mother. I came home to find that our house had been broken into. The whole place had been destroyed. I ran around the ruined house, screaming for my mother.
"At last I found her. . . but she was-was, she was stabbed in the back by a- a big knife. As I looked at her she whispered something, and then. . . and then she-she — "
"Died," Harry put in, in an extremely low, sad voice.
"Y-Yes. I found out who it was though. Someone with," her voice suddenly became stronger and her eyes glowed passionately, "the initials D. E. They had left it on the wall in glowing green."
"I know who that is also, Emma. The Death Eaters."
She nodded. "I know exactly which one it was, too — Lucius Malfoy. The father of that pig, Draco. . . .
"After this happened, my father came over and told me shortly that I was going to an orphanage, and that he-he was happy Mom had finally died . . .
"That night I had my first mental problem. I woke up in the middle of the night screaming for my mother, and I had hallucinations until morning, when I was brought to Saint Mungo's.
"I was put in a closed ward, and I was there for five years. I had really strong treatment and therapy, and thankfully it went away, except for my foot. . . ."
She lapsed into silence, and Harry could not remember ever feeling more sympathy and sorrow for anyone than he did right now.
"I shouldn't have asked you this, Emma," he said softly.
"No," she said, "I needed to tell someone, someone like you, wh-who would understand me." She looked at Ron, still lying unconscious on Harry's lap, and looked up at Harry.
"He'll be all right," she said. She turned yet again and walked back up the stairs.
* * *
"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Hermione agitatedly.
"I-I think so, but . . . Katie? What happened to the match? Do we get a replay? What was the final score? Who — "
"What do you mean, mate?" asked Ron, "we won! The Snitch flew up your shirt as you fell! Harry, you should have seen that Edison's face when he realized you caught it! He pushed you off your broom, you know,"
"Yeah?" asked Harry. But it did make sense, he thought. Now that he thought, he realized that he had to have been pushed off; brooms didn't suddenly stop flying and let their riders fly off the edge.
The rest of the team talked with him for a bit, and then left, leaving in their wake a load of sweets and drinks. As Harry moved his hand toward them, Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse, came out of her office and knocked his hand away.
"You need rest, dear, not chocolate." She scolded sharply. Harry rolled his eyes as she turned away.
Harry left the hospital wing that evening and joined Ron and Hermione for dinner.
"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione immediately.
"Good as new," answered Harry untruthfully. His scar was aching again, but Harry knew that Ron and Hermione would just wave it away as old, regular news if he told them.
As they entered the Great Hall, Ron muttered something to Hermione and they both wandered off somewhere else. Harry didn't mind too much; the truth was that he was getting the same angry feeling he had become accustomed to last year, that he wanted to be alone and not talk to anyone.
Harry suddenly didn't feel hungry. He turned around abruptly and left the Great Hall to take a walk outside. Then he remembered that it was past seven already, and students weren't allowed outside anymore.
Anger welled up in him, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and try calming down. He needed a walk outside, maybe a talk with Hagrid. He hadn't visited him by himself all term yet.
Harry ran up into his dormitory. He was back in a few minuets with his invisibility cloak. Harry threw it on and opened the door quietly. He walked out of the entrance hall invisibly and proceeded outside without any difficulties.
As Harry stepped outside he gave a sigh of relief; finally he was alone with nobody to talk to and bother him. He trudged along until he arrived at Hagrid's hut. The sight of it led to another sigh of relief. Everything here was peaceful and tranquil and soothing to Harry's troubled mind.
He lay on his back thinking about Quidditch for a few minutes and then got up and knocked on Hagrid's door. Nobody answered. Harry put his ear next to the door listening for sounds of Fang, Hagrid's dog, or perhaps Hagrid himself, but — nothing.
Harry slumped back dejectedly; he had been so looking forward to speaking to Hagrid, and now it was taken from him. Harry pulled out his wand, wishing there was a spell to calm his temper. Of course, he had not learned any of them, if there were any, and in his anger, sparks shot out of the tip of his wand, scaring away several birds and a rabbit.
Harry didn't bother to put back on the invisibility cloak, instead, folded it halfhazardly and tucked it under his robes. He slumped down the path and started heavily back to the school. The last thing he wanted right now was a long talk with anyone else but Hagrid.
"Hey, it's Potter, and he's alone."
It was Malfoy. Harry clenched his teeth and tried to block out his ears to stem the flow of his anger, which was almost at boiling point. If Malfoy makes one comment, just one, thought Harry savagely, I'm going to kill him!
"Where are your friends, Potter?" asked Malfoy. Harry ignored him.
"Silent treatment, eh, Potter? What's wrong, can't open your mouth without your chums behind you, is that it?"
Harry snapped. Before he knew it he had his wand out and jabbed it hard in Malfoy's direction. A jet of light shot out of the tip of Harry's wand and arced over to Malfoy. He dived out of the way just in time and pulled out his wand.
"Nearum Statica!" yelled Malfoy. Harry ducked under it by inches, the force of the curse making the hairs on his neck stand on end as it roared over him.
"Furnunculus!" yelled Harry, using his favorite spell.
Malfoy ducked and the spell hit Crabbe in the chest. He doubled over and threw up his robes to hide his face, which Harry saw was getting covered in fungus.
Malfoy straightened up and yelled, "Incendia Spheria!"
An orb of bright green light emerged from Malfoy's wand, getting bigger and bigger. Harry turned and ran, as he heard and explosion behind him. He turned around in spite of himself and saw in horror that a globe of light had blown out of Malfoy's wand and was burning away all the grass around him.
Harry pointed his wand at Malfoy and yelled, "Expelliarmus! Stupefy!"
Malfoy dodged one bolt of red light, but the Stunner hit him in the face. He keeled over and fell to the ground, unconscious.
Goyle turned and ran into the castle, leaving Harry to the spoils of his victory against Malfoy. But Harry let out a yell of rage and smashed his foot against the ground in anger.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but it didn't work because Goyle suddenly reappeared with Snape at his side. Snape took out his wand, muttered, "Ennervate," and replaced it inside his voluminous black robes.
"Well, well, Potter," whispered Snape, turning to Harry, "attacking a student, wandering well past Dumbledore's curfew, so I think, maybe fifty points from Gryffindor, and two weeks of detention would do you a world of good, Potter.
"You will come to my office tonight for your detention, and I must tell you, that if I had my way," said Snape, leering closer and closer to Harry until he could smell his rancid breath, "you would be on the train home within the morning.
"Unfortunately for me," he said, straightening up sharply. "The rules of Hogwarts do not allow me to expel you, but mark my words, Potter . . . if you misbehave like this again, I give you my word that I will ensure that you are expelled. Don't forget about tonight, Potter." He said, leaving Harry in a worse temper than before.
Harry turned inside and dragged himself to the Gryffindor Common Room.
As he walked inside, Ron and Hermione hailed him jovially.
"Harry, come — "
"Don't talk to me," said Harry shortly.
"Okay," said Hermione, "we only wanted to — "
"Don't talk to me, I said!" snapped Harry.
"Harry, mate, what's wro — "
"SHUT UP, I SAID!" Harry roared. "Can't you see I don't want to talk right now!
"Whoa, Harry, we only — "
Ron broke off, staring at Harry in terror. Hermione was shaking silently with tears pouring down her eyes; Harry had taken his wand out in a shaking hand, and was pointing it in their direction, his breathing fast and shallow, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"OH, YEAH!" shouted Harry, "YOU ONLY WHAT? HUH!"
Ron mouthed something, but no sound escaped his lips. Hermione was sobbing and shaking violently.
"Harry," began Hermione shakily, "we-we only w-wanted you to-to calm dow—"
"WELL I WON'T, AND SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU, OR I'LL HURT YOU! I MEAN IT, RON!" He roared at Ron, who opened his mouth again.
"O-Okay," said Ron, "but I —"
It was too late. Harry jabbed his wand violently at Ron and he was thrown against the wall. He let out a "Uuungh," of pain and stopped moving. Hermione screamed in terror and fled the common room.
Harry looked up for a second at Hermione's retreating back and put his wand back in his robes. He looked at Ron, at his still body, and the realization of what he had just done suddenly hit him over the head like a piece of lead. That's it, Harry thought, the end of our friendship. How could he have done that? How could he have just attacked Ron and Hermione— his two best friends? How?
Harry simply dropped to the floor and began crying. He picked up Ron's head and cradled it in his lap as tears poured from his brilliant green eyes and his sobs filled the common room.
"Don't cry, Harry," said a voice softly from behind him. "Please don't, Harry."
Harry turned around sharply and found himself staring into the soft brown eyes of Emma Bowman.
"You're a powerful wizard, Harry," she said softly, "just don't lose your temper like that. Please, Harry, y-you're the most powerful wizard I've ever seen. I mean it, Harry. You weren't responsible for that. Everybody loses their temper, and people who have been touched by the Dark Side lose it more often than others. Harry, you were touched by an evil fifteen years ago, and again the past few years.
"You are the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. You have to, yes, I do know, and don't ask me how I do, but I know that you're the one who has to defeat Voldemort." She said quietly.
Harry looked at her again, the tears in his eyes drying rapidly. He looked at Emma for a few moments, and said, in a voice throbbing with emotion and meaning, "Thank you, Emma,"
She nodded her head and hobbled slowly up the stairs on her ruined foot. Harry was overcome with pity.
"Emma," he called, "come here and let me see your foot. I know a bit about healing. Please, you can't go on like that, Emma, let me just have a quick look."
Harry remembered studying this type of thing in elementary school. He remembered that this kind of thing came from shock usually, and he definitely knew how to deal with that.
"Emma," Harry asked quietly, "could I ask you a private question?"
She nodded.
"Did you ever have any major problems or shocks beside the one you were cured from?"
She looked at him for a moment and then asked, "How did you know?"
"What d'you mean?" asked Harry.
"I meant that I did have a shock, if you could call it that. My parents were divorced for many years. . . twelve, I think. I can hardly remember my father. He moved out when I was four, and I was brought up by my mother.
"One day I found something extremely valuable, and I brought it home to show my mother. I came home to find that our house had been broken into. The whole place had been destroyed. I ran around the ruined house, screaming for my mother.
"At last I found her. . . but she was-was, she was stabbed in the back by a- a big knife. As I looked at her she whispered something, and then. . . and then she-she — "
"Died," Harry put in, in an extremely low, sad voice.
"Y-Yes. I found out who it was though. Someone with," her voice suddenly became stronger and her eyes glowed passionately, "the initials D. E. They had left it on the wall in glowing green."
"I know who that is also, Emma. The Death Eaters."
She nodded. "I know exactly which one it was, too — Lucius Malfoy. The father of that pig, Draco. . . .
"After this happened, my father came over and told me shortly that I was going to an orphanage, and that he-he was happy Mom had finally died . . .
"That night I had my first mental problem. I woke up in the middle of the night screaming for my mother, and I had hallucinations until morning, when I was brought to Saint Mungo's.
"I was put in a closed ward, and I was there for five years. I had really strong treatment and therapy, and thankfully it went away, except for my foot. . . ."
She lapsed into silence, and Harry could not remember ever feeling more sympathy and sorrow for anyone than he did right now.
"I shouldn't have asked you this, Emma," he said softly.
"No," she said, "I needed to tell someone, someone like you, wh-who would understand me." She looked at Ron, still lying unconscious on Harry's lap, and looked up at Harry.
"He'll be all right," she said. She turned yet again and walked back up the stairs.
* * *