A/N: Another chapter! I'm actually writing on chapter 16 right now. Looks like this'll be 17 plus epilogue, unless 16 babbles on and I'm forced to cut it down. Is this different enough from the book to come from the AU beginning?

Chapter Twelve: The Day After

At breakfast the next morning, Malfoy and Harry were sporting complimentary bruises. The rumors had already run through the mill. Several seventh year Gryffindors congratulated Harry for besting Malfoy in a full wizard's duel. A few Hufflepuffs wanted to know whether Malfoy and Harry had been wrestling manticores or crocodiles. And Percy frowned. "I know I asked you not to tell me… but however did you manage to get Malfoy involved in stopping my brother?"

Ron and Neville were busy comparing League Quidditch scores, so Harry had no qualms about answering right there. "I was saving your brother from a detention for smuggling -"

"No," Percy said quickly, holding up a hand. "I've changed my mind. I do not want to hear it." He backed away from the table and scuttled off.

"What's with him?" Ron asked.

Harry merely shrugged.

The best point of the morning came only a few minutes later. An eagle owl swooped down with the morning post and dropped a red envelope in front of Draco Malfoy. Ron sniggered, and Neville let out a gasp. "Malfoy's got a Howler!" Ron yelped.

"Howler?" Hermione leaned over to Harry. "What's that?"

Harry bit back a grin. "It is - quite something. Listen."

"No, don't listen!" Neville said. "It's horrible." All along the table, students were plugging their ears. At the Head Table, even Dumbledore could be seen pulling the brim of his hat down. Harry covered his ears and waited, ignoring Hermione's confused questions.

The roar that filled the Great Hall was undoubtedly Mrs. Malfoy. "DRACO VESPASIAN MALFOY, YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO BOTH OUR NAMES, DUELING WITH A PROFESSOR'S SON LIKE A COMMON MUGGLE! IT WOULD DO YOU GOOD TO REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE! WITH POSITION AND MONEY COME GREAT RESPONSIBILITY, AND YOU ARE LIVING UP TO NONE OF IT - JUST WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER HEARS ABOUT THIS! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN EXPELLED!"

A poof of smoke rose slowly from the Slytherin table, and Malfoy's head sunk out of sight. At Harry's side, Hermione was rubbing her ears. "That was horrible! Why did it stop?"

"Lit itself on fire," Neville explained. "At least he opened it right off. It's always worse when you wait - my Gran sent me one at my old school, and it burnt up two of my textbooks!"

"At least you didn't get one," Ron said to Harry.

Harry's relief was short lived. Just as soon as the furor over Malfoy's Howler was dying down, Papa swept toward his end of the table. Neville cowered down in his seat and Ron looked away as Papa towered over the lot of them. Harry was sure the entire hall quieted down to hear Papa speak. "We need to talk, Harry. Now."

His shoulders slumped, Harry followed Papa out into the hall. At least the other students wouldn't hear his humiliation. Papa closed the doors. "I'm very disappointed in you. You should know better than to wander around in the dark."

"It's school. It's safe," Harry said, refusing to meet his father's gaze.

Papa reached out and pulled Harry's chin up until he was forced to look at him. "There are dark things crawling around here at night. Very dark things. Dark things that may, if I'm right, be after you. To destroy you."

Harry shivered at the deadly-earnest grimness in Papa's eyes. "But - why are they after me? I am just a student."

"I can't tell you everything. Not yet. You're not ready." Papa sighed. "Soon, Herodos, I promise… but right now, you're safer not knowing."

Harry thought back to the three-headed dog. "Is it about Fluffy, and whatever he is guarding?"

Papa stepped back, his scowl turning even darker. "You're not supposed to know about any of that."

"Well? Is it?" Harry crossed his arms.

Papa mirrored his posture. "Perhaps. But, whatever it is, you can avoid it by staying in groups and being careful outside of your dormitory. Don't ever go off alone, Harry, promise me that. Not even with a professor. Promise me."

"I promise," Harry whispered. "I will stay in the dormitory after curfew."

"Good." Papa nodded decisively. "Now, go on. Classes start soon. I'll not have you late to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You might need it more than you'd expect." With that cryptic message, Papa stalked off.

Harry rejoined the other Gryffindors before class, but kept Papa's advice in mind. Whatever was lurking, it had to be terrible, if it could scare Papa into submission. Terrible indeed.

------

Harry paused in front of the door to the Defense classroom. It should've been his favourite class, what with Uncle Re teaching, but he always got headaches when he was in the classroom. None had been as bad as the first time, when he needed to be taken to the infirmary, but all were enough to make him dread the lesson.

Hermione tugged on his sleeve. "C'mon, Harry. Professor Lupin will be angry if we're late."

But it wasn't Uncle Re, of course. Last night had been the full moon, and Uncle Re was likely sleeping off the pain of his transformation in the Infirmary. Instead, the room was clogged with the smell of garlic, and Professor Quirrell lurked in front of the blackboard.

"Open your t-textbooks t-to the p-page Professor Lup-pin left off on. He is ill." Hermione's eyes narrowed as Quirrell spoke. Harry supposed he'd have to have a conversation with her - of course she'd figure out the secret behind Uncle Re's mysterious illnesses. "T-today, we will be t-talking about v-v-vampires," Quirrell continued. He quaked with terror as he spoke of the demonic beings.

Sitting beside Neville, Ron raised his hand. "Professor, one of my brothers told me that you'd been to Romania, and were attacked by a vampire there. And that the vampire is still out to get you. But… my brother lives in Romania, and he's never seen a vampire."

Quirrell's eyes narrowed. "Well, Weasley - I was resp-ponding t-to a call for help f-from the Dark F-forest. It was th-this summer, in fact. What I f-found… I d-don't like to t-talk about it." Quirrell turned to the board and started scribbling out notes.

Hermione, Ron, and Neville all bent to their notebooks, copying everything that Quirrell wrote, but Harry's hand went to his forehead. The headache was starting, again - and this time, it seemed to be nearly as bad as the first time.

Papa was worried about Romania, too. So was Granpa. Darker things than vampires lurked there… and Harry knew of only one thing Darker than a vampire.

He wondered what had happened to the Boy Who Lived.

------

Harry needed Hermione's help to stagger out of class. He didn't have any of the notes - the pain kept spiking whenever he tried to copy whatever Quirrell was writing. Hermione, of course, had a theory. "You must be allergic to garlic. That whole room reeks of it, even when Professor Quirrell isn't teaching class. And, you don't have these problems elsewhere, that I've noticed."

Harry shook his head. "I have eaten garlic. It didn't kill me." Though, now that they were away from the classroom, his head seemed to be clearing up.

Neville reached over and pinched Harry's arm. Harry shot him a glare, but Neville only shrugged. "You sure you're not a dhampir? You're kind of pale, and so's your dad…"

"I have seen Papa in the daylight," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "He eats food. He does not drink blood."

"Well, according to legend, some vampires can walk in the daylight," Hermione offered.

"Quirrell did seem pretty excited to talk about dhampirs," Ron added thoughtfully. "And Fred and George always did call Snape a bat…"

Harry rolled his eyes again. "This is not funny. I don't know why my head hurts, and I do not like it." He reached up and scratched the particularly itchy patch on his forehead. "It did not happen before I came to school. Maybe… maybe I am allergic to something here."

"Maybe," Ron said, looking doubtful. "Let's go. It's Herbology."

------

All too soon, classes had ended, and it was time for detention. Professor McGonagall collected Harry and Malfoy from their house tables at the end of dinner. "You'll be serving detention with Professor Lupin this evening. He requested that you wear old clothes, as you may be getting a bit dirty. Go back to your Houses, change, and be in the professor's office in twenty minutes." Levelling a glare at all of the students nearby, as if to use the offending pair as some sort of example, she stormed off.

Malfoy sneered and headed toward the staircases down to the dungeons. The others caught up to Harry. "What do you have to do?" Hermione asked, voice hushed.

Harry shrugged. "I must change into work clothes. Perhaps he needs help capturing a creature for a practical lesson?"

"That would be fun, Harry, not detention," Neville pointed out. "At least you don't have detention with Filch. One of the seventh years told me he threatened to chain them in the dungeons."

"That's illegal!" Hermione exclaimed. "He couldn't do that!"

"Illegal in the Muggle world, maybe. Some Durmstrang students got caned last year, it was all over the Daily Prophet," Ron shuddered. "I've heard Headmaster Dumbledore won't let him, though."

Harry shrugged. "It is my uncle. It is detention, yes, but Uncle Re would not do anything too terrible." Or, so he hoped.

Hermione headed to her own dormitory once they got back to the Gryffindor Common Room, and Neville stayed behind to write an essay. Ron followed Harry up to their room. "Thanks for doing this for us, mate," he said, looking awkwardly at his feet while Harry rummaged through his trunk for his old school uniform. The sleeves would be short, but he wouldn't need that again. "We all really appreciate it. Me especially. I mean, the whole dragon thing - that was Hagrid's fault, but he just gets carried away sometimes."

Harry snorted. "Carried away? That was a dragon. It would have killed him, eventually."

"He thought it was cute. He said he'd always wanted to own a dragon." Ron rolled his eyes. "Here, I'll walk you to detention."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. Downstairs, a few people stared oddly at the Greek lettering on his shirt, but he ignored them. He waited until they were out of the Common Room and away from prying ears before he continued the conversation about the night before. "Where did Hagrid get the dragon?"

Ron sighed. "Took me a while to pry that out of him, I'll have you know. He drinks down at one of the seedier pubs in Hogsmeade. My brother Charlie tried to get in when he was old enough, but they sent him away."

"He looked too young?" Harry asked, confused.

"No… looked too Gryffindor." Ron shuddered. "Let Dina in though, that Slytherin friend of his. She'd never go back. Told him it was all Dark Wizards and darker corner to hide in. But Hagrid drinks down there. Told me he was playing cards with a bloke. Hagrid won, and the guy gave him a dragon egg. He hatched it in the fireplace, then."

Harry thought that sounded particularly seedy. "He won it in a card game? Who was the other player?"

Ron shrugged. "Hagrid didn't know him. He wore a cloak, and wouldn't tell his name."

"And Hagrid wanted this dragon for a pet? He is… he is…" Harry sighed. "Papa said he is daft. I think he may be right."

"He didn't mean anyone harm," Ron protested. "The dragon wasn't going to be a pet, either. Hagrid said he was going to use him to guard something. He thought Norbert would be scarier than Fluffy… Don't know what Fluffy is, but it sounds like a cat, maybe. Something harmless."

Harry let out a laugh. "Fluffy is a giant three-headed dog."

"Oh," Ron gulped. "Well… Norbert'd be scarier, I guess… Do you know what they're guarding?"

He paused only a moment before giving all their information to Ron. "Do you remember the break-in at Gringotts, the first week of school? They were after whatever it is Fluffy is guarding now… in the room at the end of the off-limits hallway."

"And you haven't been trying to figure out what it is?" Ron looked appalled. "What if the robbers try to get in here?"

"Then they will need to get past Fluffy, and whatever else is protecting it." Harry shrugged. "I would like to know what it is… I wonder what Flamel has to do with it."

Ron frowned. "Flamel?" He looked thoughtful.

"He is friends with Granpa - er, Headmaster Dumbledore, and was mentioned in connection with the robbery. I think… I think maybe it belonged to him?"

"Flamel…" Ron's eyes suddenly widened. "I remember that name! Hagrid mentioned him, a few weeks ago. I met him for tea. He said he'd just got back from talking to Flamel. I asked him who Flamel was, but he wouldn't answer me. He went kinda crazy, made me promise not to mention the name ever again. Thought he might have something to do with You-Know-Who, though if Hagrid was talking to him, that wouldn't make sense. It seemed familiar then… still does."

Harry nodded his agreement. "To Hermione and myself as well. She has read most of the books in the library, I think, trying to find his name."

"Did she try looking him up in connection to the Headmaster? Since, they were friends, you said?"

"I… no," Harry muttered, feeling stupid. "We should have thought of that ages ago."

Ron shrugged. "Well, I've got to finish my Astronomy essay, but I'll talk to Hermione. Maybe we can find the bloke, yet." They stopped, in front of the door to Professor Lupin's office. "I'm off, mate. Thanks, again. Say… Seamus said he saw you digging through a whole load of Chocolate Frogs. They're my favourite candy, and Mum doesn't really send us care packages and all… and now that we're friends, I was wondering if, er…"

"Take a frog," Harry grinned. "Take for Hermione and Neville, too. If you get Merlin or Harry Potter, though, I need the cards, yet."

"Yeah, me too," Ron muttered. "But - if we do, they're yours! Thanks, mate!" Ron hurried off, leaving Harry standing in front of the door alone.

With a sigh, Harry knocked. It was time to face his doom.