DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Over the next couple of weeks, the mood around Hogwarts returned to normal, though only very slowly. There were many more hushed conversations, and Harry heard Cedric Diggory mentioned more times than he had been throughout all of last year.
The D.A. meetings seemed to take on a slightly different feeling as well. As a whole, the members were a little more eager to learn anything that might protect them. There were a number of new members, including a pair of young Slytherins who were brought in by Blaise Zabini. They were apparently not well liked by some of their house-mates, and didn't want to end up like Crabbe.
The other students were a little less trusting. It wasn't like his second year, but many of the students had started to avoid him when they could. Mostly it was just the students who he barely knew to begin with. No one had openly accused him of doing anything to Celeste or Crabbe or Justin, since there were always plenty of people who could say they'd seen him during the time of the attacks. Instead, people seemed to treat him as if he was simply bad luck.
The one person who seemed unaffected by all of this was Professor Snape. He'd been treating Harry horribly ever since Kingsley Shacklebolt had talked with him. He'd been glaring at when he saw him around the castle, and Harry was convinced that Snape had been following him more than once.
Nearly two weeks after Halloween, Harry was still waking up early. He had simply accepted the nightmares as a part of sleeping, but he didn't enjoy sleeping in as much as he had before. On Wednesdays, he would go down to breakfast early so he could spend the morning looking over the chapter for Potions, and this day had started the same as the week before, at least until Ron joined him.
"Snape's looking for you, mate," Ron announced groggily as he sat down next to Harry. "I told him where you were. I hope it's not a problem." Harry shook his head. There really wasn't any reason for Snape to care where he was. Ron reached for some sausages and kept explaining. "I wanted to tell him to piss off, but he seemed to think you were sneaking about the castle. I figured it would be better to show him what a git he was."
Harry just shook his head. It was a bad sign. Wednesdays were never his best days. Ending the day with Snape never made for very cheery evenings. If Snape was already in a poor mood, it certainly wouldn't make things any easier.
That day Snape entered the classroom in an even worse mood than Ron had told Harry to expect. He scowled more than he ever did, and he seemed to glare at Harry with more disgust than he had for quite some time.
He spent the first part of the class period orally quizzing the class on the pair of restoration potions they were to make that day. Harry seemed to get more questions asked of him than any other student, and he felt they were purposefully the most difficult questions Snape was asking.
However, again and again, Harry kept getting the questions correct, even if they weren't the exact words Snape wanted. The professor critiqued every answer making whatever corrections he could, but with every answer he seemed to get more an more annoyed.
Snape wasn't the only one in class getting upset. Harry felt quite harassed by all the questions, and was beginning to wonder if it might have been better to intentionally give the wrong answer to one of the questions. Before he could get the chance, however, Snape threw open one of his cabinets and walked out of the room, telling all the students that he expected the first potion complete in only twenty minutes.
Everyone rushed to the cabinet, trying to make sure that they wouldn't be the target of Snape's foul mood when he came around to check their progress on the potion.
Harry and Hermione worked as feverishly as the rest of the class, but Harry had already looked this potion over twice, and between the two of them, they barely needed the instructions at all.
When Snape returned from his office, Harry and Hermione had already finished the potion, and Harry was busy crushing up a pile of roots for the more complex second potion. When Snape saw what he was doing, he stopped berating a pair of Hufflepuffs and strode over to where Harry and Hermione were working.
"Can you not even follow simple instructions, Potter?" Snape said with smooth malice. "I clearly said that you should start with the instructions on page one-hundred eighty-two. That will be five points from Gryffindor."
Hermione stopped stirring the cauldron of crimson liquid in front of her, and looked at Harry in shock. Harry was equally confused.
"Excuse me, sir," he said in an even voice, trying not to let his anger show, "but we've already finished that one. The cauldron is over there."
Harry pointed to a small cauldron of silvery liquid that was giving off wisps of faint blue vapor. It was looked almost identical to the picture in the textbook. Snape however, seemed to see more differences than Harry could.
"I see," he sneered. "You were so assured of your perfection, that you decided to show off by starting the next potion." Harry shook his head in frustration. He was certain that Snape would have been just as angry if he hadn't finished the potion. There was nothing he could do, but his annoyance at the constant attacks was getting to be too much.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape continued as he circled around the table to stand directly in front of Harry. "What is your purpose for being in my class?"
"I need it if I want to become—" Harry stopped short. He wasn't sure he wanted Snape to know about his plans to become an Auror.
"Yes?" Snape prompted.
"It's required for the career I've chosen."
"Really," Snape replied with a malevolent gleam in his eyes. "I didn't realize you could make a career out of ignoring rules and authority. Please tell us what use you might have for Advanced Potions. Perhaps you could write an essay on how you plan on using your knowledge from this class to aid you in living off your undeserved fame?"
Harry put down the large mallet he had been using to crush the roots and opened his mouth to speak. At the last moment, he felt a sharp but light kick to his ankle. He turned to see Hermione giving him a warning look.
"No? Is there some other nobler profession which might require your hopeless potion-making skills?"
"I"m going to be an Auror," Harry blurted out, no longer caring who knew or what Snape might do about it. The news seemed to catch Snape by surprise for a second. The moment quickly passed and Harry watched the anger growing behind Snape's eyes.
"Of course. I should have guessed. An appropriate choice for the Great Harry Potter. I suspect you'll be excellent at taking credit for the work of all the other Aurors. Of course you'd never even make it a year without everyone else to do the hard work for you."
"I've managed well enough so far," Harry shot back, knowing it wasn't helping.
"You were lucky."
"At least I was on the right side."
Of all the things Harry could have said to Severus Snape, this was perhaps the worst choice. The effect of the words was immediate. Students around the room dropped ladles and knives to stare at Harry. Snape's face emptied of all color as he stared intently at Harry.
"You... How— How dare..." Snape shouted. "The day you become an Auror will be the last day I spend here!"
"Well at least Hogwarts will finally get a decent Potions Professor!" Harry shouted back.
Snape's wand was out in a second, and the potion disappeared in a flash. The second potion vanished a moment later.
"We shall see, won't we?" Snape said, seething with rage. "Out! All of you! Leave NOW!"
"Now, I do think Snape was being quite unfair," Hermione said as the students walked away from the Potions classroom, "but I think you might have handled that a little better."
"I figured that part out, thanks." Harry frowned and adjusted his bag on his back.
Most of the students gave Harry somewhat sympathetic looks. However, some of them seemed much less forgiving of the fact that they had worked so long for nothing, not to mention the reminder of why their professor had been in a bad mood for months.
"He doesn't even need a job," he heard one Ravenclaw say to Theodore Nott, "I swear he's just here to be difficult. Why else would he take the class? Everyone knows he and Snape hate each other."
Harry wondered how many other students had been thinking the same thing and how many of them ignored it simply because they didn't like Snape, either. It wasn't really a new situation to Harry. He'd almost grown accustomed to people talking about him behind his back. If all they were saying this time was that he hated Snape and was purposefully trying to annoy him, he could deal with it.
Harry tried to ignore it and enjoy dinner, but out of the corners of his eyes he saw people looking at him, and he caught little bits of conversation floating across the Great Hall. More people were talking about what had happened between him and Snape. Harry glanced worriedly at the empty seats where Snape, Dumbledore and McGonagall would have been sitting had they been at the meal.
It wasn't abnormal for professors to be absent from a meal, but Harry felt a particular sense of foreboding at the sight of all three of their chairs empty. It barely came as a surprise when he heard the voice from behind him.
"Please come with me Mr. Potter," McGonagall announced. "You will be given food later."
Ron winced and glared over at the Slytherin table. Harry turned to see what had caught his attention and saw Draco Malfoy looking smug while Crabbe and Goyle laughed openly.
"Never mind them, Potter," McGonagall ordered. "We'll be going to my office. I'm certain you know the way."
Harry fumed as he walked the length of the tables toward the door. What was he supposed to do? Snape spent every class period needling and harassing him. If he fought back, he lost points for Gryffindor and ended up serving detentions. If he didn't, he got lower marks on his (and Hermione's) work, and only allowed the treatment to continue.
When he reached Professor McGonagall's office he tried to tell her just that. He related a dozen different occurrences from the past months, talking as quickly as he could, hoping that something he'd say would convince her to think twice about whatever Snape might have said.
"That's enough," McGonagall said, stopping him. "I am not unfamiliar with what has been happening in your Advanced Potions class."
"You're not?" Harry replied. What was he here for? Was he still going to be punished for standing up for himself?
"No, I am not. However, that will not change the fact that you have detention to serve."
"Detention?" Harry felt the familiar throb of anger in his head. "Why? What did I do? The potion was fine. I answered all of his questions. He had decided before I even walked in the room that I would leave with detention. What was I supposed to do?"
"I don't know, Potter, but I'm certain that implying your professor was a Death Eater was not your best course of action."
"Wasn't he?" Harry replied rebelliously.
"That information should not be shared so freely," McGonagall scolded. "Few people have access to that knowledge, and it is in your best interest to keep that secret. Had you not done that, I might have been able to convince the Headmaster that you had been wrongly punished —and wrongly treated. As it stands, you have a night of detention to serve."
Harry tried to complain. He knew that a night of detention with Snape would only make things worse. One night would become two, and every detention he served would only sour Snape's mood for the next class.
"I quite agree, and so did Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall interrupted. "And so, against the wishes of Severus Snape, you will serve detention with me, immediately."
Harry didn't have much of a choice, and it was a much better option than serving detention with Snape. A house elf (but not Dobby) popped in to drop off a plate of sandwiches and some juice while Harry cleaned up the Transfiguration classroom. Whatever the last class had been doing, it must have been a very interesting lesson.
It took Harry some time and his mood declined the more cleaning he did. Snape's stupid grudge had put him here. Maybe Harry's father had been a prat, but there wasn't anything Harry could do about that. It was unfair. Harry never had a chance. Snape had despised him from the first moment he saw him.
From behind him, Harry heard someone enter the room. He tossed the last broken goblet into the sack in his hand and turned to see who it was. The sack hit the floor with a series of dull ringing tones. In the doorway stood Severus Snape with a look of brooding anger.
"Is there something I can help you with, Professor Snape?" McGonagall asked quickly.
"I was on my way back from an errand, and I thought I would make sure that Potter wasn't causing any trouble."
"I can assure you he is not." McGonagall's lips were pale and pressed together tightly as she walked over to him. "If there isn't anything else—"
"There is."
"Very well then, Harry, I believe you've done an acceptable job. You may leave so long as you return directly to your common room." McGonagall flicked her wand and the sack of goblets flew to her desk. Harry walked for the door, trying to avoid looking at Snape. He couldn't tell if the throbbing in his head came from his forehead or the muscles in his jaw which seemed to be trying to pulverize his own teeth.
"Wouldn't it be appropriate for Mr. Potter to apologize for his... insubordination?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," McGonagall said curtly.
"Perhaps he would behave better if he was made to apologize for all of his arrogant, insulting behavior."
"He's served his detention," McGonagall continued as she slowly put herself between Harry and Snape. "I'd much rather he—"
"I'm sorry."
Snape and McGonagall both turned to stare at Harry. He ignored the twinge in his scar and stalked toward a very surprised Severus Snape.
"I'm sorry that the potion was made so well. I'm sorry that I answered all your questions correctly. I'm sorry that I'd get better marks than any of the Slytherins if you'd treat me fairly."
Snape was shaking with rage. "You get the marks you deserve!"
"I'm sorry that you were never as good as my father. I'm sorry that you failed at being a Death Eater. I'm sorry that you failed at being a good spy, and that you've failed at it again."
"Potter!" McGonagall shouted. "Go to your common room immediately!"
Harry charged past both of them, his anger boiling inside him. He strode down to the end of the hall, turned a corner and barreled into Clarence Stafford, knocking him off balance and making him fall to the floor.
"Potter?" he said as he got back on his feet. "What's going on? We heard shouting."
"Well, you missed it," Harry said testily and walked on without looking back. He heard echoes of an argument between Snape and McGonagall. Feeling drained and numb, he walked toward Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to forget the whole day. He watched another pair of Aurors run past him.
Maybe the other students weren't so far from the truth. He really didn't want to be in Potions, but he'd never be an Auror if he wasn't. He didn't want to cause problems, but he did. Now McGonagall and Snape were fighting. Perhaps Snape and Dumbledore had been arguing earlier. It seemed that he caused conflict and danger wherever he went.
When he got to the common room, he headed straight for the stairs. A number of students near the door greeted him. Ron called out from the couch, questioning what he'd been doing for the past three hours. Hermione, sitting next to him, gave him a worried look from over her Arithmancy book. Harry ignored them all. As he reached the first step, he heard loud footsteps coming down from the girls' dormitories.
"Harry!"
He paused on the third step. It had been Ginny's voice. He wanted to ignore her like the rest, but his feet had already betrayed him, and a moment later he was back on the first step, looking into Ginny's concerned eyes.
"Was it detention with Snape?" she asked quietly.
"No. McGonagall," he answered, "but Snape stopped by to demand an apology. It didn't go well."
"More detention?"
"Not yet."
Ginny took a step closer, conscious of the number of people watching them. "Are you okay? You look... pale."
"I'm fine," Harry said flatly.
"Do you want to go find a book to read, or..."
"I can't. I'm to stay in the Tower. It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed."
"You're what?" Ron asked as he walked toward Harry. "It's a bit early, isn't it?"
"I don't plan on sleeping." Harry turned and briefly caught Ginny's eyes. They looked worried. He felt instantly guilty. For an instant his expression changed to one of apology, before it disappeared as he turned again and headed up the stairs. As he walked, he heard Ron talking at the foot of the stairs.
"Rough day, I guess," he mumbled. "He ignored me completely. I wonder why he stopped for you."
Harry didn't want to even think about trying to answer that question at the moment, so he climbed the stairs, pulled off his robes, got into his pajamas, and pulled the bed curtains around his bed. He'd ignored Ron and Hermione, and even Snape, but at the moment the throbbing in his scar refused to be ignored. He couldn't help thinking something terribly important was about to happen.
Harry awoke quite tired the next day. He'd been honest with Ron, and while everyone had assumed he was sleeping, he'd been lying awake trying to close off his mind and make the pain go away. It didn't work, so the sleep he did get was short and restless.
He was awake before anyone else in his dormitory, so he quietly stepped out, cleaned up and waited by the fire in the common room for any of his friends to come down for breakfast. It took longer than he expected, but eventually Ron climbed down, straightening his Robes. He said nothing about the previous night, and seemed content to talk about the latest Quidditch matches while they waited for Hermione.
When she came down with Ginny, the four of them walked calmly off to the Great Hall. Only Hermione had a bag with her, since neither Harry nor Ron had any class until Care of Magical Creatures later in the day. Upon reaching the Great Hall, they were greeted by Draco Malfoy glaring at Harry with gleeful malice.
"Get out of our way, Malfoy," Ron said as they walked up to him.
"You've done it this time, Potter," Malfoy said quietly. Harry groaned, thinking of what he'd said to Snape the night before.
"Done what?" Ron asked.
"Oh, I'm sure you know what he did. You probably helped him."
"Helped me?" Harry asked. "How could they have helped me? All I did was tell Snape the truth. I don't need them to help me, and they didn't even know I was serving detention."
Draco just smiled. "That's right, Potter. Just act innocent. Dumbledore still might believe you."
"Come on, Harry," Ron said as he pulled Harry into the Great Hall and toward Gryffindor's table. When they got to the table, Ron picked some seats at the far end of the table near the head table where many of the Professors were already eating. He sat across from Harry. Hermione sat next to him, leaving Ginny to stand awkwardly before sitting down next to Harry.
"What was that about?" Ron whispered.
Harry frowned and poured himself some milk. "Like I told Ginny last night, Snape stopped by when I was finishing my detention. He acted like himself, and I said some things I shouldn't have."
"Again?" Hermione moaned as she spread preserves over her toast.
"I don't much care anymore, Hermione."
Hermione frowned at the tone of his voice, but seemed more thoughtful than offended. "If that was what Malfoy was talking about, then why did he think we helped you?"
"Who knows how Malfoy's mind works," Ron interjected. "He blames us for everything that doesn't go his way."
Harry tried to ignore the whole episode, but it played in the back of his mind. He went about his breakfast, trying to forget about the previous day. He'd almost succeeded when his relaxation was shattered by a voice from behind him.
"This is it, Potter," Severus Snape said in a harsh whisper. "You'll be expelled for this. Not even Dumbledore can protect you this time."
Before Harry could turn and ask what he might be talking about, Snape had already walked off and was striding quickly toward the head table where Dumbledore had been calmly enjoying a number of cups of tea. He immediately started talking very emphatically with the Headmaster. A moment later, McGonagall stood and walked around the table to stand next to Snape and join the argument.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" Ron asked.
"No," Ginny answered. "It's certainly about Harry though, and Snape isn't looking any happier." She turned and gave Harry a weak smile. "That's probably a good sign for you."
Harry watched passively. It felt bizarre. He knew that some part of his future was being argued and decided only thirty feet away from him, but he had no idea what had caused it. Snape's voice was getting loud enough that Ginny and the rest of them could catch various words. He'd mentioned something about the previous night. And something about a scar. Could he have known that Harry's scar was hurting and that he'd said nothing? Was that serious enough to have him expelled?
"You want proof?" Snape said loudly. Conversation across the room died down as more people tried to listen in. "Is that all it will take?"
Snape leaned forward, and said something to Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at Snape, then glanced quickly at Harry. His face betrayed no emotion, but he looked away as soon as his eyes met Harry's.
"What are they talking about?" Ron asked. "This isn't just about Harry telling off Snape, is it?"
"No," Ginny responded in a serious tone. "No, it's something more than that. Something happened last night."
"It could only be Potter. It must be," Snape continued arguing. "Who else could have done it? Who else would want to?" Dumbledore said something in a much quieter voice that seemed to only make Snape more angry.
"You!" Snape shouted, pointing at one of the second-year Gryffindors. "Was Potter in the common room last night?"
"Only for a minute," the boy said in a trembling voice. "He went straight to bed. I didn't seem him at all after that."
"Of course not," Snape sneered. "Of course no one would have seen him after that." Snape turned to glare at Dumbledore expectantly. Dumbledore however, was staring at Harry with a look of confusion across his face.
"Mr. Potter. I'm afraid I need to speak with you when you have finished your breakfast. I'm sure you'll have time to make your next class." Dumbledore immediately stood up and walked out through a side door, followed by Professor Snape.
Harry didn't have much of an appetite any more. Ginny was right. Something had happened last night. Snape must know something about it, and he obviously thought Harry had some part in it. Harry pushed away his plate.
"Well, I'm not hungry anymore, so I may as well figure out what Snape is on about." He stood up and took one last gulp of water to wet his dry throat.
"Good luck, Harry," Ginny said quietly.
Harry found the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office waiting for him. It sprung aside lightly as he approached, and Harry trudged up the stairs to the Headmaster's office.
"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Do you know why you are here?"
"No, sir."
"Harry, I have never forced you to tell me the truth. I do possess the ability to try," he said with serious nod. "I am no fool. I know you have not always been truthful with me, but I must impress upon you just how serious of a matter this is."
Harry felt his heart beating faster. Dumbledore's voice seemed to fade a little, as his mind raced to try and figure out what might be happening.
"Have you done anything recently that should be brought to my attention? Something to any of the students or staff?"
Harry racked his mind trying to think of what Dumbledore might have been talking about. There had been the incident at Halloween, but he couldn't think of anything else. "Well, I did... say some things to Professor Snape last night as I left my detention, but Professor McGonagall was there and she—"
"—has already spoken to me about that," Dumbledore interrupted. "I was thinking of something different."
"Like what? A prank?"
Dumbledore paused and stared intently at Harry. "Perhaps, but this prank is very serious. If the person responsible does not come forward, I don't know that I can protect him or her from a most severe punishment." Dumbledore looked into Harry's eyes intently. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
"I don't know what this is about, sir," Harry responded honestly.
"Snape reported to me that just this morning, Argus Filch found a book that Madam Pince reported missing from the library in September. The title of that book is A Study of Permanent Magical Maladies. It has a fairly large chapter on curse scars."
Harry's eyes opened at hearing this news. There was a book that might explain why his scar behaved as it did. He ignored the rest of what his Headmaster had said, and followed his curiosity.
"Does it explain how they work? Does it mention them being used to share... er... dreams?"
"No, Harry," Dumbledore answered impatiently, "I don't believe it does. But it does describe how they might be created."
Harry's shoulders sagged. "Oh. I already know how mine was created."
"I was not talking about your scar."
"You mean Crabbe and Justin? You think they were curse scars?"
"There is little doubt," Dumbledore said with a nod.
"And you think they were some sort of prank?" Suddenly, his mind made the connection that Dumbledore had been hinting at. The air around him seemed to chill and Harry's expression hardened. "You think they were pranks by me."
"The lost book was found under your bed this morning. I didn't approve it, but Professor Snape asked Mr. Filch to search your dormitory."
"I see." Harry felt the same anger from last night welling up from his stomach. Somehow, Voldemort had done this. He was trying to get Harry blamed for the attacks on Crabbe and Justin. It was just like the summer holidays, only now even Dumbledore was starting to suspect him.
Harry looked into Dumbledore's eyes and felt only cold indifference. He was only here to be some tool in Dumbledore's war, and yet he didn't even trust Harry. With a nod, Harry stood up and started walking out of the room.
"Harry, stop," Dumbledore said firmly. "If you leave, I do not think I will be able to protect you."
"What made you think you ever could?" Harry replied bitterly. "I saw them attacked. I don't know who did it. It was like the others. I never saw the marks on the floor or the barrier, and I never saw Crabbe or Justin marked. I never chose to have this happen to me. There's nothing I can do to stop it. No one seems to be able to decide if I'm here to save them, or kill them. No matter what I say, no one believes me, and no matter what happens, no one tells me what's going on. If that's what your protection has given me, then maybe I'm better off without it."
"Please, Harry, sit down."
"They are only the first two attacks, you know," Harry continued. "It'll be just like the holidays. It will happen again and again, and I'll be forced to watch while everyone blames me for either causing it or not stopping it."
"Pardon me," Dumbledore said quickly, "but why do you say these were the first two attacks?"
"Because these aren't like the attacks over the summer," Harry replied sharply. "I've been trying to explain that to everyone. They're different. Weaker, but more... direct." Harry didn't want or know how to explain how the visions were different.
However, it didn't seem to matter. Dumbledore relaxed a little, and Harry imagined that he saw the familiar twinkle in his eye as a small smile crept onto his face.
"Harry, there have been five attacks since the start of the term."
"Including Celeste, then?"
"No, Harry. There have been five people attacked and marked."
"Five?" Harry mind reeled with the news. Five attacks. He'd missed three of them. Why had he missed any? Had he missed any attacks over the summer? "Five attacks at Hogwarts?" he asked, hoping he'd misunderstood Dumbledore.
"The first was Millicent Bullstrode. The second and third were Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Finch-Fletchley. There have been two others."
"One was last night," Harry finished for him.
"That is correct. Have you seen anything, or had any dreams?"
"Just the attacks on Crabbe and Justin, but last night my scar was hurting and I didn't sleep well. Who were the other two?"
"I'd rather not say right now," Dumbledore replied. "Please understand! This is for your own protection. I'm afraid Professor Snape desires stronger proof of your innocence than even my word. Your lack of knowledge will go quite a ways to provide that. What about this book?"
The Headmaster turned and pulled a large worn book from the shelf behind him and placed it on his desk. The book looked like it had been used as a Bludger for some part of its life, but Harry could still make out an illustration of a man with a painful looking horn protruding from his forehead and gold letters spelling out: A Study of Permanent Magical Maladies.
"I've never seen it before," Harry answered honestly.
"Are you certain?"
"Well it's not like I often browse the Restricted Section for fun, but you might want to check if Hermione's seen it around."
"I'm certain she's never seen it either," Dumbledore said as he slipped the book back into a drawer in his desk. "There are books at Hogwarts that are even more difficult to obtain than those in the Restricted Section." Dumbledore paused for a moment while staring at Harry. "I believe you are being honest about your innocence, though your skill in Occlumency is impressive. However, I do know you are not telling me everything."
"Are you?" Harry countered.
Dumbledore didn't answer, but simply smiled kindly at Harry. He stood up, and walked over to a shelf of his bizarre silver instruments, one of which was spinning wildly in the morning sun.
"I am afraid that Voldemort has a supporter inside Hogwarts."
"Well, that's a relief. It didn't make much sense for me to have dreams about Aurors attacking students," Harry added sarcastically.
"Indeed," Dumbledore replied with a slight frown. "This is terribly serious, Harry. "I trust you will tell me immediately should you learn of any more attacks."
"Of course. Why shouldn't I tell the Order everything I know? They've never kept me in the dark."
As Harry walked back to Gryffindor Tower he felt slightly bad about speaking to Dumbledore as he had. It was a passing guilt, though, and he had forgotten it completely when he walked into his dormitory to find all his things tossed about haphazardly.
Filch must have searched it shortly after Harry left for breakfast. Not much time had passed since Harry had left and when Snape had shown up in the Great Hall. There would have hardly been enough time for anyone to plant the book in the room. Either Filch was lying and had the book with him the whole time, or it must have been in the room for some time.
Getting down on his knees, Harry peered under his bed where Dumbledore said it had been. In the dim light he saw something odd in the corner between his bed and and bed stand. There was a rectangle of space with less dust than the surrounding area, and leading to it was a broken line of faint paw prints.
The book must have been there for some time before Mrs. Norris had found it. Someone must have placed it there some time ago, but how long? Had it been there when Justin was attacked?
There was a soft crack from within the room, and Harry jumped to his feet, with his wand already in his hand and pointed in the direction of the sound. Standing on his bed was a very surprised house elf.
"Dobby? What are you doing here?"
"Cleaning up, sir," squeaked Dobby. "Please don't be angry at Dobby. Dobby is terribly ashamed. Dobby will be cleaning up immediately. It's only fair, sir."
"I'm not angry at you, Dobby," Harry said as he put his wand back in his pocket. "Snape set Filch on the room. It wasn't your—" Harry paused a moment and had second thoughts. "It wasn't your fault, was it?"
"No, sir!" Dobby said, waving his hands wildly. "Dobby did his best sir. Harry Potter freed Dobby, and Dobby will never forget. Dobby does his best to take extra care of Harry Potter and all of his property. Dobby wanted to stop him from taking it, sir, but no one else cares what house elves say. Only Harry Potter."
"Hold on," Harry said, as he realized what Dobby had said. "What did you say about 'my property'? Did you... Did you know about the book?" he asked, pointing to the spot he'd just been looking.
"Of course, sir," Dobby answered. "The other elves were going to return terrible book to the Librarian, but Dobby stopped them. Dobby returned it to its place, and kept it a secret. None of the elves were to touch it."
Harry ran his hand through his hair and tried to stay calm. Dobby had known about the book the whole time. He'd unknowingly made sure that Harry would eventually get in trouble. Harry kept repeating It's not Dobby's fault, It's not Dobby's fault over and over in his mind.
"Er, Dobby," Harry said in as cheery a voice as he could muster.
"Yes, sir," Dobby returned, equally cheery.
"Do you remember when the other elves first found it?"
Dobby looked a little confused, but didn't ask any questions. "Dobby first heard elves talking about the dangerous book... the night after Harry Potter first left Hogwarts to visit the village."
"The day Justin was attacked?" Harry blurted.
"Yes, sir. Dobby figured Harry Potter had purchased it at the village. Dobby can find another copy, if Harry Potter wishes."
"No thanks, Dobby," Harry said. He said goodbye to the house elf, leaving him to clean up the mess of Harry's part of the dormitory. It really hadn't been Dobby's fault, but Harry wished Dobby would have at least told him about the book.
He walked back down to the common room where a number of older students were studying and playing games until their next classes. Harry sat in a quiet corner searching through his Charms text for anything that might come in useful. After what Dumbledore had said and the revelation of how long the book had been hiding under his bed made Harry feel positive that some Death Eater had actually made it into Hogwarts Castle.
That was what the D.A and Aurors were for, weren't they? Harry realized that Dumbledore must have expected something like this to happen. If Dumbledore had some idea for how to deal with it, he hadn't told Harry. If Harry told everyone they'd either think he was lying, or they'd think everyone was a Death Eater. He needed advice, and so instead of thinking about it any longer, he forced himself to concentrate on finding new spells to practice with the D.A. while he waited for his next class. After paging through a hundred pages or more, he stood up and made his way to the door. Care of Magical Creatures would be starting soon, and he wanted to be early.
Harry watched Ron and Hermione walk out the front door of the castle, laughing and enjoying themselves. He felt bad, knowing that he was about to put an end to that, but he also knew they would want to know about what he had to say.
"Harry!" Ron shouted as he spotted Harry waiting for them. "What did Dumbledore say? Hermione and I can talk to him, if it would help."
"You don't need to," Harry replied easily. "He doesn't think I had any part of it."
"That's great, Harry, but what did Snape think you were a part of?" Hermione asked.
"That's what I needed to talk to you about," Harry answered. The three of them walked slowly toward Hagrid's cabin and Harry told them as much as he could remember of what Dumbledore had said, and everything he learned about the book in his room."
"Five?" Hermione exclaimed. "But you only saw two of them."
"Well, something must have happened to get Snape hacked off at him again this morning," Ron said. "The way Malfoy talked about it, it was more than just Harry's apology. If there were five attacks, then I'd say one of them was last night."
"And Snape was the target," Hermione added.
"That makes sense," Harry agreed. "Crabbe was attacked after he broke my arm. Justin was attacked after he accused me of attacking Crabbe. Millicent was attacked after you hurt your hand—" Hermione's eyes widened at hearing this, Harry had left that out at first "—and now Snape after he and I fought after my detention."
"Of course! They all have a mark, right? Well, I'll bet that Millicent's is on her hand, just like Crabbe's is on his arm. She wore gloves to detention to cover it up, and Snape was upset because he was certain you did it."
"Well, I don't think this is going to change his mind," Ron added. "But where do you suppose his is? He was just arguing with Harry and you can't really give someone a scar on their mouth, can you?"
"I have no idea, but I know how to find out." Ron and Hermione gave him curious looks. "Zabini and Greengrass. If Malfoy knows about it, then they'll be able to give us details soon enough. We'll want to make sure they don't believe Snape, too."
"We should call a D.A. meeting," Hermione suggested.
"Not tonight. It's too soon. Everyone will get suspicious. Make it tomorrow at the earliest, but see if you can get word to the Council that they should meet an hour before the meeting. There is something they need to know."
Ron gave an annoyed grunt. "Can you tell me now, since I'm not allowed in your special meetings?"
"Oh, right. Everything about this, the attacks themselves, the book, and the visions, they point to one conclusion—"
"The Death Eaters have gotten into Hogwarts," Hermione finished.
"How'd they get past the Aurors?" Ron asked. "How do they avoid the Map? Isn't it more likely that Malfoy and his goons are doing this?"
"Malfoy could never figure out how to get into Gryffindor Tower," Harry said in a lower voice. They weren't far from Hagrid's hut, and the number of students around them was slowly increasing.
"And it takes more than one to attack Justin and hide the book under Harry's bed while we're all out," Hermione whispered.
"Still here, Potter?" Malfoy shouted from behind Harry. "Dumbledore still covering all your little mistakes?"
"That's quite enough, now, Mr. Malfoy!" Hagrid called out over the rest of the students. "Gather around, I've got something new to show you." Harry ignored Malfoy and tried to pay attention to the class. However he couldn't keep his mind off what Hermione had said. She'd been right. There had to be more than one Death Eater. Harry's eyes scanned the edge of the forest, looking for black robes.