Chapter Seven

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Harry should have expected Ron to come up at lunchtime, but somehow he hadn't. Somehow he had completely forgotten for a moment where he was. Which was why there was no time to hide the blood or even the broken bit of Sirius's mirror he had used. He was aware of nothing until he heard Ron swear at the door.

Harry jerked his head up to look at his friend from where he sat on his bed, and automatically pressed his wounded forearm to his chest.

"Fuck," Ron said again. "Harry, what did you do?"

Harry couldn't answer. He didn't know himself. He had simply been attracted to the sharpness in the shards of glass that had scattered after he broke the mirror.

Ron didn't wait. He grabbed hold of Harry's left arm and pried it away from Harry's chest. He wiped the blood off with his sleeve and revealed several long, shallow gashes across the pale skin.

"You did this to yourself," said Ron quietly. Harry felt a sudden sting on his arm and realized a tear had fallen from Ron's face right onto one of his cuts.

"Fuck," Ron repeated. "FUCK!" He dropped Harry's arm and punched the bedpost. The bed shook.

There was silence for a minute. Ron stood gripping the bed post, shaking, with his back towards Harry. Harry sat motionless, hardly breathing.

Then they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and Hermione entered.

"What's all the noise-" she stopped short when she caught sight of Harry. His arm was clutched at his chest again, but there was blood dripping down.

Hermione looked at Ron, then back to Harry again. She came over to Harry and held out her hand. "Let's have a look, then, Luv," she said gently.

Harry didn't move, so she sat beside him and took hold of the injured arm herself. He let her take it, turning away as she examined the damage he had done. He noticed Ron watching with a strange expression on his face.

"You'll be okay," she said. "Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey, then."

"No!" Harry came to life. He pulled away from Hermione and jumped up, clutching his arm once more. "No, you can't. You can't tell them."

"Harry," said Hermione calmly. "You need to get that looked after."

"No." He shook his head. "No, I won't go."

"It's not a choice," said Hermione. "I'm telling you, you're going."

"NO!" He was breathing very quickly, his face hot. "You don't understand!"

"What don't we understand?" said Hermione.

Harry turned to face the wall. He leaned his forehead against it.

"Harry?" she said. "Harry, talk to me or I'll call Professor McGonagall right now!"

"Shut up, Hermione," said Ron. "Just shut up."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. All he had done was to draw a piece of glass across his skin...

Silence filled the dormitory for the next minutes, broken only by the sounds of Ron's stifled weeping.

"He's bleeding," said Hermione finally. "We can't just leave him here."

"He's not going to come," said Ron.

"I know. I'm going to get Madame Pomfrey myself. See if you can wrap it up, stop the bleeding."

Harry ground his teeth. He didn't want the bleeding to stop, he didn't want Madame Pomfrey up here, and he certainly didn't want Ron trying to bandage him up.

"Wait," he said.

He heard Hermione pause on her way to the door.

"If she comes up here," Harry continued slowly, "then everyone will know."

"So," said Hermione, "it's either that or come with us now."

Harry took a deep breath. "Fine. I'll come."

He stepped away from the wall. Hermione took his arm and steered him towards the door.

"Ron?' she said. Ron was still standing by the bed. He wiped his face on his sleeve and followed.

As they passed through the common room, Harry hid his left arm in his robes and tried to look normal. Several people asked if he was okay. Hermione told them Harry was just a bit queasy.

In the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey came bustling over at once.

"I was wondering when I would see you here, Mr. Potter. What is it this time?"

Hermione forced Harry's arm out and showed the nurse the gashes along it.

Madame Pomfrey's face hardened. "I see," she said.

"Can you help him?" asked Ron from Harry's other side.

"There is a procedure," she said. "This isn't, after all, uncommon among students. Here, Mr. Potter, why don't you have a seat?"

He sat, as she commanded, on the first bed. The nurse examined the cuts more closely, then called to an assistant to bring her some basic potions.

Harry had never heard of Madame Pomfrey having an assistant before, and he looked up curiously as she approached, carrying a prepared tray of potions and bandages. What he saw made him want to run.

It was Cho Chang. She looked at him and her eyes widened. Then she took in the whole scene and almost dropped the tray.

"Miss Chang," said Madame Pomfrey, "This should be some good practice for you, just some shallow abrasions. Take care of it, will you? I have to go and contact Mr. Potter's head of house."

"What?" cried Harry. "No! You can't!" Panicked, he looked at his friends. Ron looked horrified, Hermione resigned.

"I'm afraid I have to, Mr. Potter," said Madame Pomfrey. "It's standard procedure. She will handle your case from here on out."

"But- can't you make an exception?" said Harry, "I mean, I'm- If the papers hear about this-"

"All the more reason Professor McGonagall should be notified." And with that, Madame Pomfrey bustled away again, pulling the curtains closed around the group so that anyone walking into the hospital wing wouldn't be confronted with The Boy Who Lived in the midst of recovery from what could be construed as a suicide attempt.

Cho took Madame Pomfrey's seat by Harry's bed, and took his arm.

"Harry..." she whispered. "God. I knew you'd take it hard when we broke up, but I didn't think you'd try to kill yourself!"

Harry tried to wrest away his arm from her grasp.

Ron looked like he wanted to slap her. "What?" he hissed, "You think everything's about you, don't you? What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be off shagging someone or something?"

Cho looked hurt. "I'm training to be a healer," she said. "And Pomfrey might need help this year, with the war."

"I didn't try to kill myself," Harry muttered, as Cho poured a stinging potion on his arm. The cuts started to heal. Cho then wiped off the remaining blood with warm water, and wrapped his whole forearm in bandages, as the area would be particularly sensitive for the next few days.

There was silence until Madame Pomfrey came back with Professor McGonagall.

"I would like to speak with Potter alone, please," said McGonagall. The others fled under her stern gaze.

Harry didn't look at her.

"Harry," she said. Harry didn't think she'd ever used his given name before. "Harry, I'm not going to ask you for reasons, I'm just going to tell you what I tell every student brought to me with this- it's a slippery slope you're heading down, and it's not fun. Nor is it glamorous or special or romantic, and in the end you're only hurting those who care about you. That's what I tell everyone, Harry. And for you I'd like to add my disappointment that you have so little respect for the life that your parents and Godfather died for. I expect better from you." And then she was gone.

Ron and Hermione came back in through the curtains. Hermione sat down heavily in the chair by the bed, and Ron stood awkwardly.

Hermione sighed and began to fish about in her pocket.

"So, you want to tell us what's going on?" she asked.

Harry was about to reply, but then she took from her pocket, of all things, a cigarette.

"What, now you smoke?" he said, astonished.

"How do you think I get through all the work I do?" said Hermione. "I usually only have one a week, but..." She trailed off as she flicked the fag in the air and the tip began to glow. "I charmed them myself," she explained at Harry's look.

"What are they?" asked Ron.

"It's like a pipe," said Hermione, "but rolled up in paper instead." She inhaled and let the smoke slowly out of the corner of her mouth.

"It's weird," said Ron.

"Can I have one?" asked Harry.

Hermione took another from her pocket, lit it, and handed it to him.

Harry took a drag, and when he didn't cough, Hermione said, "You've smoked before, then?"

"I stole a pack when I was ten and learned to smoke before Aunt Petunia took them for herself. God, I forgot how good they were."

"So, what was this about, anyways?" asked Hermione, gesturing towards his arm.

Harry stood abruptly.

"You have to talk to us," said Ron.

"No," said Harry, "I really don't. You just don't understand, either of you."

"Harry, we're your friends," said Hermione.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, right."

"Harry!"

"Come on," said Ron, "We care about you a lot, Harry. We've been good to you. You could at least admit that."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry. You're right. I just... I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Just let us help you," said Hermione, "alright?"

Harry nodded absently, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

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Lunch was almost over by the time the three friends got back to the Great Hall, but Hermione and Ron made Harry sit down and eat all the same.

Ginny and Lucia were sitting together, complaining about boys. They looked up when Harry sat across from them, Ron and Hermione on either side.

"Heard you were sick," said Ginny.

"I'll live," said Harry.

"Yes, but how long?" Ginny replied.

Harry stared at her. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"'Mione," said Lucia, "You weren't at breakfast this morning so I picked up your Prophet for you." She handed the paper over, as Hermione blushed, having skipped breakfast due to an urgent "talk" with Ron, who had after all been irresistible in his Quidditch robes.

Taking the newspaper, Hermione glanced down. It was folded over so the back page showed. What Hermione saw in the corner made her feel faint. She calmly folded it over, however, and excused herself with a significant look at Ron. She knew Harry would think it odd that they were leaving at such a time. He would no doubt know that something else was going on. But she also knew that he would be glad for their absence, and so wouldn't make a fuss over it.

Once safely in the entrance hall, Hermione held up the newspaper for Ron to see. "They've printed his address," she whispered.

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The back page of the Prophet was dedicated to a sort of "ask Mssr. Knowledge" format. People usually wrote in with questions like "How does the muggle post work?"; "What's a good spell for keeping the neighbor's cat out of my garden?"; and "What's the traditional gift for the hundred-and-third wedding anniversary?" But this time, someone had asked where The Boy Who Lived actually did his Living.

"Bloody fools!" Hermione said for the thousandth time that afternoon, bringing her fist down against the arm of her chair in the common room. "How many people- how many- had to be completely utterly abysmally stupid for this to happen? Let's see, there was the git who wrote the letter, the prat that screens the letters, the bugger who replies to the letters, the idiot who approved it, the editor-in-chief, and probably about a dozen copy editors.... My God, what were they thinking?"

"Hermione, calm down," said Ginny. "You don't what You-Know-Who'll do; for all you know he already knew where Harry lives. Besides, Harry's not even there most of the time."

"That's precisely the point," said Hermione, "and he'll be there even less once it's been blitzed."

"Been what? Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"It's his family. There's always a magical bond between blood relatives, and I'd think Harry's should be even stronger, considering the spell his mother put on him when she died for him."

"She did what, now?" said Ginny.

"She doesn't know, remember," said Ron to Hermione.

"That's why I'm trying to explain it," said Hermione irritably. "Ginny, Harry survived Voldemort's curse because his mother died to save him. That's powerful magic, of the old sort. And now Harry lives with his mother's sister. She should have some protective power as well. You see?"

Ginny nodded. "But... Is that the only reason Harry survived? I always thought it was him."

Hermione glanced at Ginny quizzically. "Well, no one's sure, of course..."

"Never mind," said Ginny, shaking her head. "I'm just being stupid."

"So when do you reckon we tell Harry?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," said Hermione heavily. "Not now, though." She glanced involuntarily towards the spiral staircase. They had charged Neville with watching Harry in the dormitory while they discussed the new development.

"There're some other things as well," said Hermione after a moment. "You know- things we need to talk about without him."

"Yes," said Ron sarcastically, "Because it's been so difficult lately to get him out of our hair."

"Well," said Hermione, "after this, we'll have to practically follow him around, won't we?"

"It won't help," said Ginny. "I told you this might happen, remember? I told you to be careful and watch him."

"We've been trying to watch him," said Ron hotly, "but he makes it so bleeding difficult just to be around him."

"That's the point," said Ginny. "When he starts avoiding you, that's when you get worried! You should have reached out to him before. Now it's too late."

"What d'you mean it's too late?" Hermione demanded.

"I mean he hates you now," said Ginny.

There was silence for a moment.

"Ginny," Ron said. "You can't assume that Harry's going to be exactly like you were when you were slicing and dicing. For one thing, he's about four years older than you were, and well, the situation is just completely different."

"Fine," said Ginny. "But if I were you, I'd leave him up to Lucia."

"What?" said Ron.

"That's the other thing," said Hermione. "Well, one of them. He's been hanging around with her an awful lot lately."

"She is a Gryffindor," said Ginny, "and they get on so well together."

"No, they don't," said Ron.

"They do, though," said Hermione. "They're like twins or something. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were in love."

"In love!" said Ron. "She's a Malfoy."

"Yes," said Hermione. "That's the thing."

"But she's a Gryffindor," said Ginny again, "and she seems really nice."

"I agree with you there," said Hermione, "and I've never seen two people take to each other as quickly as Harry and Lucia. But we can't ignore the fact that her father's tried to kill Harry several times."

"Only twice," said Ginny, grinning.

The others didn't seem to find it funny.

"If he's confiding in her," said Hermione, "that could be a problem. He really shouldn't be confiding in anyone new at the moment, it's just too risky. And with her family... I mean, even if she does hate them, suppose they get information out of her anyways?"

"Okay," said Ginny, "but what are we going to do about it? If you try to tell Harry to stay away from her, or some such nonsense, it'll only push him closer to her. And however says it to him might be injured in the process."

"That's true," Hermione agreed.

"I think we should just be nice to him," said Ron. "He'll come around."

"Are you implying I've been mean to him?" said Hermione indignantly.

"No," said Ron, "But you have been harsh on him. No harsher than he deserves," Ron added at the look on her face, "but maybe we should just go easy on him for a while."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows what he needs?"

"I do," said Ginny quietly.

Ron and Hermione pretended they hadn't heard.

"Item number two," said Hermione, changing the subject, "is the leak. How did Harry's address and schedule get to the papers?"

"The Ministry's got the address," said Ron. "They must have given it out."

Hermione shook her head in disgust. "But why would they do that? I know Fudge is an idiot, but you'd think even he would know better."

"Maybe he's sick of Harry and wants him out of the way," said Ron half-heartedly.

"It didn't have to come from the Ministry," said Ginny. "It could have come from inside Hogwarts. The school knows where Harry lives. And Umbridge was Headmaster last year."

"She shouldn't have had access to the records, though," said Hermione. "She couldn't get into the Head's office, remember? And anyway, that just takes us back to the Ministry again."

Ginny shrugged.

"Maybe," said Ron, "they released it for some reason last year when they hated Harry. Maybe the Prophet had it on file and just pulled it out."

"Maybe," said Hermione.

"What's item number three?" asked Ginny.

"That would be Snape," said Hermione. "Has your mum said anything about it?"

"No," said Ginny, "her letter was just the usual about house-keeping and such."

Ron frowned. "I didn't know she'd written us."

"Oh, yeah," said Ginny. "I wrote her the first day, and forgot to tell you."

"Anyway," said Hermione, "I don't suppose it's really any of our business, but I think he was injured. Which means there was some sort of scuffle or another. I just hope everyone's okay."

"We'd have heard about it if they weren't, would we?" said Ron, sounding worried.

"At this point, I don't know," said Hermione. "I don't think we can be sure of much of anything."