Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry, Ron, Hermione or anything else you might recognise. No money made, no copyright infringement intended.
Warnings: This might be considered slightly AU
Summary: Someone is following Harry, he is sure of it. Or is the constant pressure of fighting Voldemort and preparing for the second challenge of the Triwizard Tournament finally taking its toll on his sanity?
Inspired by a certain scenefrom the GoF-movie.
Subtle Hints
Harry had finally lost his mind, he was sure of it. Being the Boy-Who-Lived and the second Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, he was used to people whispering behind his back, but lately, he seemed to have developed something close to persecution mania. Even when he was alone in a room, he would hear silent giggling or feel a strange sensation in his neck as if someone was watching him…just like now.
Deciding to ignore it for now, Harry washed his hands and quickly left the bathroom. He definitely did not want to explain to Snape that he was late for Potions because he had the feeling that someone was watching him on the toilette.
'The famous Harry Potter…can't even use a bathroom without the support of his fan club…'
No, he would rather try to avoid that particular conversation with Snape, or any conversation with Snape, for that matter. Too bad he needed excellent grades in Potions if he really wanted to become an auror, like Professor Moody had suggested.
Potions was not quite as bad as usual. Harry had managed to arrive just in time. The class was supposed to brew a potion against hair-loss and even though, as Ron had pointed out, one against greasy hair might have been more useful for a certain teacher, the lesson was going rather well. The potion was difficult to brew, which gave Snape lots of opportunities to criticise the Gryffindors and take some house points away from them. Needless to say, Snape's mood had rarely been better.
Harry was fairly certain he would be forced to try his potion at the end of the lesson. Sure that he did not need even more hair on his head or anywhere else, he was working with more concentration than usual. After adding exactly three and a half legs of an exceptionally hairy spider, he was watching his cauldron expectantly. If he had worked correctly, the steam should turn green.
Snape was coming closer to have a look at his potion when Harry suddenly gasped in shock.
'Ron…'
'Potter, as much as I can understand how shocking it must be for you to actually not ruin a potion for a change, this is no excuse for disturbing my lesson. Fife points from Gryffindor.'
Looking at his cauldron in surprise, Harry saw that Snape was right. The steam had indeed turned a light shade of green, indicating that the potion was ready. How odd, he could have sworn that a few seconds ago it had been…
'Pink! Your steam turned pink and…'
'…and was suddenly shaped like a heart, yes.' Harry was getting annoyed. Hermione was looking at him as if she would run off and call either Dumbledore or someone from St. Mungos any second, while Ron was desperately trying –and failing miserably- not to laugh. Some of his thoughts must have been visible on his face, because Hermione continued in a gentler voice.
'Harry, look, it's not like we don't believe you. We do, don't we Ron?'
'Um…sure.'
'But you must admit it does seem quite unlikely that that the steam of your potion suddenly changed into a pink heart and back for no reason. I mean, the tournament must be really hard for you and then there's that awful Skeeter-woman spreading lies about you…maybe you should just try to relax and get more sleep…'
'Hermione, I'm not imagining things.'
'What if one of the Slytherins has put something into Harry's potion while he wasn't looking?' Apparently, Ron had finally managed to stop laughing. His comment earned him a thankful look from Harry, who was beginning to think he might not have lost his mind completely…yet.
Hermione also seemed to agree. 'They might have planned on getting you into trouble with Snape or something.'
Harry nodded. 'Pansy Parkinson was working quite close to me and it definitely sounds like something she would do.'
Harry thanked all gods he knew that Snape had not noticed anything. The heart would surely have reminded him of Rita Skeeter's latest article, in which she accused Hermione of cheating on Harry with Victor Krum and he could certainly live without even more rumours about his love-live.
By the time he was ready to go to bed, Harry had completely convinced himself that Ron's theory about the steam-incident had to be correct. Then he felt it again. Someone was watching him. Quickly getting out of the shower, he searched the boy's bathroom but found that he was completely alone. Relaxing slightly, he decided to go to bed. Harry had made it halfway through the room when he noticed the big heart someone had drawn on one of the still steamed-up mirrors.
At about the same time, an angry scream could be heard in the girls' showers.
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Things only got worse during the next day. After someone had drenched all of her clothes in the sink while she was showering, Hermione had been angry. When she had discovered an unusually large slug at the bottom of her glass of pumpkin-juice during breakfast, she was really furious.
'This is too much. We need to find the person who is responsible for this... if I ever find out who it was, I'll...'
Looking at her face, Harry decided it would be best to let her talk until she had calmed down. Ron, apparently, had not come to that wise decision.
'So, do you think we should tell McGonagall or...'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ron! What are we supposed to tell her? That Harry thinks he is being followed by some invisible stranger? She'll think he's finally lost it. Or maybe that someone splashed water on my clothes? Great, she'd surely find that extremely shocking. Come on, use your brain, for Merlin's sake! There must be a way to find out.'
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Harry had spent most of the morning trying to stop his two best friends from killing each other. When it was time for lunch, his mood was little better than Hermione's. Perhaps that was the reason why he was not particularly happy to see that someone had written his name (framed with lots of hearts) all over the walls of the common room... or maybe it was the fact that everyone was giggling and staring at him when he entered the room. One might think he should be used to it by now, being the Boy-Who-Lived, one of Hogwarts' champions, etc., but it still served to annoy Harry like nothing else.
It didn't really help either that even Ron and Hermione were struggling -and failing- to suppress their laughter. Well, at least they had stopped fighting.
This was quickly turning into one of the worst Saturdays Harry could remember, including the weekends at the Dursley's.
'Well, well, it seems like the famous Harry Potter has a secret admirer. Or, perhaps, you believe this to be a good way to attract even more attention? Ten points from Gryffindor, I think.'
This was definitely the worst Saturday in his life. 'But Professor, I honestly don't know who did this.' Then something else occurred to him. 'What are you doing in the Gryffindor common room? Where is Professor McGonagall?'
Snape looked at him evilly, obviously enjoying the situation. 'I was under the impression that I did not need your permission to move through the castle. Professor McGonagall has been called to London and will be staying there for the next four weeks. Until she returns, I will be be performing her duties as head of Gryffindor. As for your punishment, I will inform you when I have found something suitable.'
'Punishment! What...'
'Your punishment for damaging Hogwarts property and being unbearably rude while talking to a teacher. Good evening, Mr Potter.'
With that, Snape waved his wand to make the letters on the wall disappear, turned around and left before anyone had a chance to say anything.
Ron looked as if both Christmas and his birthday had been cancelled, Hermione obviously did not feel much better and Harry decided that he should have stayed in bed.
When they had finally recovered from their shock, the Gryffindors started discussing all the possible evils Snape would certainly come up with during four weeks as head of their house. Many had looked at Fred and George for an idea to get rid of him, but for once, the twins were just as helpless as everyone else. It was past midnight when the common room was finally empty, except for Harry, Ron and Hermione.
'Well, at least nobody is talking about that message.'
Harry knew Ron was trying to be comforting, and forced himself to laugh 'Sure, I guess I should thank good old Snape for that. What?'
The last question was directed at Hermione, who was staring at Harry with a grin on her face. 'You know Harry, I think he is right.'
'Who?'
'Snape, of course. You do have a secret admirer. That would explain everything: your pink steam, the feeling that someone is following you, everything. And girls can also go to the boys' showers.'
Ron was doubting her conclusion. 'But how come nobody ever saw her?'
'Don't be stupid. If Harry has an invisibility cloak, why shouldn't someone else have one, too?'
'But what about your clothes?'
'Well, I guess if that person is a fan of Rita Skeeter, she might simply be jealous of Hermione.' Although he did not particularly like the idea, Harry had to admit that this theory actually made sense. 'And unless Voldemort has suddenly decided to radically change his methods and kill me with his love, Hermione's theory is the only logical explanation.'
'Seems to make sense,' Ron said slowly. Then a grin very similar to Hermione's spread over his face. 'So, any idea who it could be?'
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Chewing absentmindedly on a piece of toast, Harry let his eyes wander through the Great Hall. He still had no idea who might actually like him that much. As far as he could see, no one was looking at him with particular interest. He had almost provoked another fight earlier this morning when he had suggested that Ginny might be responsible for all of this. Ron had been insulted at the mere thought and he had to admit that it did seem rather unlikely. Ginny had had a crush on him the year before, but she was too sensible for doing such a stupid thing as painting the walls of their common room. Apart from that, she got along well with Hermione and would certainly not have drenched her clothes and, as Hermione pointed out, Ginny certainly did not have an invisibility cloak.
Harry was distracted from his thoughts when a note was dropped on his plate.
Your detention will start
tonight at 09.00 o'clock.
Come to my office; don't
bother to bring your wand.
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Harry had enough. He was tired, dirty and his back was hurting. He still couldn't believe that Snape had actually asked him to clean all toilets in the whole school, without using magic, of course.
'Since you obviously enjoy causing chaos, you should learn how to clean as well, don't you think so?' It had been hard to restrain himself from punching Snape at that moment. That would certainly have wiped the self-satisfied smile from his face. But, then again, he should probably be glad that Snape didn't watch films featuring muggle-military, otherwise he would surely have wanted Harry to work with his toothbrush.
By now, it was quite late and Harry was in a hurry to get done before Snape came back. He could certainly do without another detention. Luckily, there was only one toilet left to clean.
Harry paused a moment before he, somewhat tentatively, entered Moaning Myrtle's toilet, hoping against hope that she would not be there. He shuddered when he remembered the last time he had spoken to Myrtle... while taking a bath. If I'm lucky, she's gone spying on Cedric again.
But when during the last two days had he ever been lucky? Harry had barely closed the door when someone flung herself at him, or rather through him, making his stomach turn to ice.
'Oh Harry, I knew you would eventually come to me!' Myrtle exclaimed happily. Since she looked like she would jump at him again any moment, Harry was slowly moving backwards, away from the ghost. However, she did not seem to get the hint and was now following him, smiling brightly.
This was odd. Even though Myrtle's mood had not been as bad as usual when he had last seen her, but he could not remember that she had ever been smiling. She was called Moaning Myrtle for a reason, after all.
'Um, Myrtle?'
'Yes, Harry?' If possible, her smile grew even wider and Harry could have sworn that she had just batted her eyelashes at him. A disturbing idea began to grow in his mind.
'Why are you so... cheerful?' he asked suspiciously,'and what do you mean you knew I would come?'
'Oh, I knew you would figure it out, you are so smart.' Yes, Moaning Myrtle was definitely batting her eyelashes at him. 'Well, to be honest, I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you, but I knew you must have felt the magic during our last meeting and you are here now, so it doesn't matter anymore anyway...'
While talking, Myrtle was coming closer and closer. Harry was trying to decide what was scarier -a lovesick ghost girl or a furious Potions Master. Completely unaware of his panicked state, Myrtle continued talking.
'...and then I thought I should just tell you, but I didn't know if you would return my feelings. So I asked Peeves and...'
'Peeves?'
'Oh yes, he has been so much help and I really think he is misunderstood. You know, people love to tease those that are a little different, I should know. But I was talking about us. So, Peeves thought it would be better to drop some subtle hints and see how you reacted.' At this, she stopped to smile at Harry again.
'So, this was all Peeves' idea?' Harry asked. Slowly, things started to make sense. 'It was also he, who drenched Hermione's clothes, wasn't it?'
At the mentioning of Hermione's name, Myrtle's face grew angry. 'Yes, of course. I couldn't let her hurt you like that, could I? Don't worry Harry, Peeves has told me everything about how she has been cheating on you. From now on, I will be there for you.'
Only the wall prevented Harry from moving any further away as he was trying to find a way gentle to tell Myrtle that he was actually not that thrilled to at the thought of dating a hysterical ghost girl, who spent most of her time crying in a toilet.
'Myrtle... look, I mean I am... um...'
'Yes?' Myrtle was now looking at him expectantly.
'Um... I really like you and all, but...'
Myrtle sobbed, 'You don't love me! I knew the hearts on the wall were too much, it's all my fault.'
'No,' Harry quickly said, 'the hearts were really great. It was... er... really special. The thing is... I... I think that it just wouldn't work out. I mean, you are so much older than me.'
Clearly, this was not the wisest thing to say and did nothing to stop Myrtle's sobs. 'You think I am too old? I am not young and pretty enough for you, is that what you are saying? Go on, just tell me, it's not like you are hurting anyone important. Tell me straight to the face that I am ugly.' By now, Myrtle was screaming. 'Oh, and I thought you were different! I even brought some food for you; I thought we could have a little romantic picnic on the floor, but since that won't happen...'
Harry watched in horror as she lifted a basket full of food and began to throw its contents on the floor and against the walls. Soon, the whole room was covered in butterbeer, sandwiches and fruits.
'Stop it!'
'Leave me alone, I hate you!' With one final sob, Myrtle disappeared.
Harry sighed in relieve. Considering that he had been talking to Myrtle, this had not turned out too bad.
'Well, Mr Potter, I hope you have an explanation for this mess. Otherwise, I would have to take even more points from Gryffindor and we wouldn't want that, would we?'
Harry did not need to turn around to know that Snape was already scheduling his future detentions.
The End