Disclaimer: See Chapter I

Also, I'd like to thank those of you who have taken some time to read and review my work (you know who you are). Your kind words have been felt and hope the wait hasn't been too long for this next installment as I'm trying to update my work every three chapters or roughly once every ten days. One final bit of thanks to the Harry Potter Lexicon that is quite the resource for anything Harry Potter related. Please note that this work should now be considered AU since Bk V has hit the streets.

Chapter XVI: The Three

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room slightly subdued, rather sore, and very tired since it was close to midnight. Put simply, the Auror training they had had him undergo was…Fucking rough, Harry thought to himself. They had spent almost five hours training him in curses and hexes he had never heard of before.

At first, they had started out easy, practicing simple spells: Stupefy, Expelliarmius, Impedimentia. From there, they had started work on various body locks, such as Petrificus Totalus, and counter curses. Harry found the review quite simple as he had had to do the same thing the last month he spent at his uncle's, and the fact that the primary focus of his wand less magic training had been counter curses worked much to his favor. As a result, he was able to fire a curse while casting a counter curse simultaneously. After they judged him competent, they wheeled forth a hanging skeleton, a tray holding a piece of beef, and a live rat.

Alex had shown three spells that had Harry wondering why he had never seen them used before. There was Destructus, a spell that targeted anything be it bone or ligament, causing it to explode into very small pieces. Another spell had been Pyrio, a spell causing whatever it targeted to light on fire. Number three had been a spell Ripperus Laceratus, a spell, that depending on it was used, caused multiple lacerations on the flesh of the target. All three were in a higher category on the Restricted List of curses, and were just below the Unforgiveables. All three had been demonstrated on the skeleton, the meat, and the rat. Harry, who had killed before, nevertheless found it intimidating watching a rat burn. Alex had had to kill it using the Killing Curse, and they had practiced for almost three hours, using pretty much everything short of the Avada Kadavra.

Shortly afterwards they released Harry, after warning him that he wasn't to share his knowledge with his peers without their permission. Marching through the deserted halls of Hogwarts, Harry had wanted nothing more then to wash, change into a set of pajamas and sleep for the next four hours, which was when the early morning briefing would be held. Yet Harry found this wasn't the case, as Hermione and Ron were waiting for him as he entered the Common Room.

"Where were you, Harry?"

"I was with Alex, Figg, and Moody. Don't ask doing what as they'll have my ass if I tell them."

Hermione looked as though she was going to ask something, but Ron held her back. Harry sighed, "Look, I'm sorry, but that's what my orders are."

Ron shrugged, "It's all right, Harry. Just that we were wondering what was happening to you."

"Yeah, if this is the way it will be all year, then the exhaustion will kill you."

Harry, desperate to change two very uncomfortable topics, asked Ron, "What's tomorrow's schedule look like, Ron?"

Ron shrugged, "Defense against the Dark Arts in the Morning, then Herbology, and finally Care of Magical Creatures. Both with the Hufflepuffs."


Thanking him, Harry said goodnight to them, and went upstairs where he, in a zombie like state, showered and changed into a set of pajamas he had bought over the summer. Afterwards, he climbed into bed, and passed out.

                        *          *          *

Reddish eyes glared at him, then a bolt of green.

Cho Chang yelling at him, "It was your fault, you killed him!" Followed by another bolt of green.

Malfoy grinning, "You let the pretty fool die, tisk tisk."

One final bolt and a long spiral down into the all-enveloping darkness that Harry could feel had no return.

Harry awoke suddenly, drenched in sweat and shaking. It was the same feeling he had had after combat, with the fear and raw adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the shakes that followed, leaving one without a single erg of energy left in you. Grasping along, he opened his school trunk and pulled out his flask, unscrewed, and took a long pull of the grog he had left in it. Within a minute, it was empty and Harry tossed it back into his trunk. The shakes and sweat, while still happening, had at least slowed down after almost a half pint of the rum and water Harry had left in the flask.

Glancing at the clock mounted on one of the walls in the dorm, Harry saw it was three in the morning. He had had barely three hours of sleep, and felt restless enough that he decided to go and wash up early. Maybe the steam will let me sleep a little, Harry thought to himself as he spoke the password (Mulberry) and entered. Stripping down to his shorts, he spent about an hour knocking off calisthenetics before filling up the swimming pool sized tub with water and swimming for another hour. Since everyone in the castle usually awoke around six to seven and classes started around eight, Harry was in no real rush and allowed the hot water to soothe him. Dozing off for a moment, Harry daydreamed of the more pleasant times he had had at Meg's, with its drinking and debauchery. The thought made him smile as he could once again picture the headlines in the Daily Prophet, "Harry Potter: Sexual Degenerate"

Yet even as he was enjoying the relaxing sensation of hot water, and perfumed bubbles, Harry had a prickly sensation at the back of his head. The same kind of feeling he had had back in Wales that had probably saved his life. Shaking his head, Harry thought to himself, snap out of it, Harry! Who the hell would want to take you out in the middle of male Prefects' washroom! It was then Harry remembered the other time he had been in the Prefects' bathroom, and he smiled to himself.

Lying back against the side of the tub, he moved a few bubbles to cover himself decently, and called out cheerfully, "Got an eyeful, Myrtle?" Hearing a slight, tinkling laughter, Harry watched as the ghostly form of a thin, rather sad-faced girl wearing a Hogwarts school uniform come floating out of one of the sinks. "Well, you seem to be coming back here more often, don't you Harry? And less shy too it seems." Harry, who was quite comfortable with being naked (after losing his shyness from almost a month's worth of  'exploration' with the warm young women of Meg's) smiled, "Why of course, your company alone is worth it. Speaking of which, you seem to be happier then you normally are?" Myrtle, called Moaning Myrtle because her usual haunting grounds were one of the girl's bathrooms, smiled and replied, "I took a trip to France, a nice place called Toulouse and met a ghost only a century and a half older then me, but he died young and he was seems nice." Harry smiled; as Myrtle smiling and talking somewhat cheerfully was better then her crying.

"He has a name?"

"Rifleman Ned Hathway of the Royal American Rifles."

Harry listened as Myrtle told of the wonderful younger ghost she had met during her trip, and then was surprised as she asked shyly, "Do you think I'm beautiful, Harry?" Harry replied, "Well, let's say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Don't cry!" Harry held up a hand as he saw the look on her face. She replied, "Then name at least one thing truly beautiful about me!"

"Your voice. The sound of your laughter is truly unique and quite wondrous to behold. Especially since this is the first time I've heard it."

This seemed to brighten her up, and Harry had a wild thought, why the hell not? The twins will think it spectacular and she needs something to cheer her up, and I owe her for a bit of help she gave me last year.

"Tell you what, if they have a dance or ball this year, I'll have this friend of mine you would like take you. How's that sound?'

"Why can't you?"

"I was appointed Student Head of Hogwarts Security, and wouldn't be able to treat you right. But, I have a friend whom I'll introduce to you when the time is right. You'll like him."

Myrtle seemed happy, and soon left as she said she had agreed to help testify on Nearly Headless Nick's behalf as he prepared for yet another attempt to join the headless hunt. As soon as she left, Harry rinsed off, shaved, slapped on some deodorant, and changed into a clean set of underwear and school robes (sweater in Gryffindor trim, house tie, white shirt, black trousers, and the actual robes which resembled something a judge wore). Dropping his dirty laundry off at a basket he kept in under his bed, he grabbed his school bag and headed off towards the Command Post the goblin had set up on the first floor. Entering, he was greeted by nods from the goblin and dwarf technicians manning the various stations and headed towards the table wear Snape, Alex, Figg, Moody, Bladvak, Ironhammer, and Dumbledore were sitting.

After greeting them, Snape wordlessly passed over a newspaper Harry recognized as the Daily Prophet. Harry looked at the headline, and sighed. It read: Death at Triwizard Tournament! Ministry inquiry pending as foul play involving Boy-Who-Lived possibility. Reading the details, Harry saw that Fudge had placed the inquiry into the hands of Diggory, with his second in command as Percy Weasley. Looking over at Dumbledore, he asked, "I presume they'll want to question me. When, sir?"

Dumbledore replied, "I don't know, as this is the first I have heard of it. Should they contact me, you'll be the first to know."

Alex looked over at Moody, and said, "Assassination." Moody and Figg nodded, whilst Snape kept his silence. Harry was confused as he asked, "Assassination?"

Alex explained, "Assassination comes in two forms: physical, and character. The ministry, particularly under Fudge, has made much use of the latter whenever they find it convenient, though the former has been used on occasion by our side as well." Pausing, Alex looked at the front page of the paper before continuing, "The last thing Fudge wants is for news of the Dark Lord's return to come out, though personally I think even if it did the reaction would be one where everyone's divided over the fact he has returned or not. Anyhow, Fudge and his minions will do everything in their power to bury the truth, and the easiest way to do that is to discredit and bury you."

Staring hard at Harry, Alex finished, "In other words, expect knives in the back not just from the enemy, but from some of your 'friends' lad."

                        *          *          *

After a rather boring briefing (Snape had nothing to new to report as he hadn't been called since two days before school started), Harry walked out to the Great Hall with his book bag slung over a shoulder and hoping for some breakfast. While he had expected something like this to happen, Harry still felt as though someone had socked him in the gut once again. Outwardly, he knew he looked emotionless, but inwardly he was steaming. I am not even old enough to fucking drive a goddamn car, and yet they consider me capable enough of murdering Diggory! Harry knew that this feeling wasn't just by Fudge and his supporters, but also within the school as one day back had shown him just how bad things were. True, he had been expecting the Slytherins to take things personal, and even expected somewhat Hufflepuff house to treat him coldly, but things had gone far, far worse. While it was too early to tell, Hufflepuff house, with who Gryffindor were usually on good relations, appeared to be cold and distant to Harry, and seemed to be cooperating with the Slytherins in making him miserable. The same held true for Ravenclaw.

 Still in thought, Harry sat down at the table across from Doc Detibedeux, again the first at the table. This time, Doc was eating a plate of fried eggs (sunny side up), ham, fried potatoes, and bread with a plate of plums and nectarines next to him. Doc looked up as Harry sat down, and asked, "Ya read the paper?" Harry, seeing that Doc had a copy in front of him, nodded and replied, "Yeah, but please wait until Hermione and Ron get here. Last damn thing I want is to have to keep explaining this again and again." Doc looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and handed him a goblet of coffee.

"Here, you look like shit and this should patch you up." Harry took a sip and almost choked. Seeing the expression on his face, Doc grinned, "I take it you never had GI coffee?" Harry shook his head, and moved it aside, and asked, "So, Ron tell you guys when practice starts?" Doc and Harry started talking about the upcoming Quidditch season, and were soon joined by Ron and Hermione, who as soon as they sat down asked Harry about the newspaper article. Harry, expecting this, filled them in as best as he could, which wasn't much. Hermione asked, "Have you talked to Sirius about this?" Harry shook his head, "Last they told me what they were doing, I was told it would be a long time before they could answer, so I'll be pretty much on my own throughout the year. Well, except for you guys." Ron snorted, "Yeah, only if Hermione won't squeal on us seeing as how she is a Prefect now." Harry knowing that an argument was about to break out for who knew how long merely sighed, and tried to eat, for he had a strange feeling he was going to need his strength later on.

                        *          *          *

After breakfast (Ron and Hermione's argument had eventually died out) Harry walked with the rest of the Gryffindors to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom. Professor Ramius was standing by her desk with a slight smile on her face. As soon as everyone was seated and the bell rang, she spoke, "Good morning" and proceeded to take roll. After that was done, she opened the class textbook (Defending Yourself against the Dark Arts: Year Five) and spoke, "Now, I read the report the Headmaster gave me in regards to your education. The reading alone is quite interesting. Four teachers in four years, to include one who was possessed by the Dark Lord, another who was a lying braggart, a werewolf, and your last one was a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion. Interesting indeed." She paused, and looked over them all, "Now, your education in regards to common dark creatures has been quite good, as well as your previous year here was quite well done in regards to curses. However," Ramius looked at them closely, "your education for your fifth year, advanced dark creatures, has not been quite successful as advanced dark curses and the defense against them was scheduled for this year. So," she clapped her hands, "name several of the more advanced ones, please."

"Werewolves" Seamus Finnegan answered.

"Giants" Parvati Patil spoke next to her friend Lavender Brown

"Vampires" Hermione Granger had answered.

Harry raised his hand, "Dementors." Even though it had been almost two years since he had had a run-in with a Dementor, he still remembered the time he had almost had the Dementor's Kiss placed on him.

Professor Ramius had been writing down the answers, and looked up as no more hands were raised. She arched an eyebrow, "No more?" Everyone shook their heads. She replied, "Good, those are the four advanced dark creatures, though during the course of our studies we will be examining goblins, elves, and dwarves. Does anyone know why?" Harry raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"All of the ones you have mentioned have a means of intelligence and cunning. Almost human-like."

"Very interesting observation, Mr. Potter. Yes, it is for the reason of intelligence that those creatures are considered advanced over grinddylows, boggarts, and the like. The latter three are studied for elves, goblins, and dwarves are all-magical, and have gone dark from time to time. Now, open your book to…" She ordered them to open their books to the first half, which had a review of the previous year's materials. For the rest of the period, she reviewed the simple creatures that they had gone over the first three years at Hogwarts, and then moved on with an overall view of the seven non-human creatures. Harry, who had spent the last month in a far more rigorous environment learning how to kill and maim, as well to defend against, the creatures being lectured.

Ramius was quite talented though, and five minutes before the class ended, she spoke. "Class, before you leave for your next class, I have a quick announcement to make. The Headmaster, following the advice of myself, and several other staff members, has decided that there should be an organized series of school social events." She smiled, "Also known as balls or dances." There was a great murmur amongst the class. "The first one shall be on the Saturday before Halloween, whilst the second shall be the Yule Ball be during the Christmas season. Hogwarts's final one shall be sometime in the spring or summer, probably sometime after the OWL tests and NEWTs. Good day, and I hope you are anticipating the Halloween Ball that is approaching."

Harry looked over at Ron, and both of them muttered, "FUCK!!!"

                        *          *          *

Harry spent the rest of the day wondering how he was going to sort out his life. On one hand, he still had the crush on Cho Chang (one which, if anything, had gotten worse over time and 'exploration'), yet Harry was enough of a realist to know that his coming home alive, while Diggory had come back a corpse, would hang over anything he did in this school for a very long time.

Indeed, for a while after the Tournament, he had had the hope that maybe the school body (excluding the Slytherins, he knew anything he did was just ammunition for them) would treat him fairly, but over the summer had realized that was just wishful thinking. No, while he thought he knew a few people would hold him responsible, it was just that he wasn't expecting the sheer hostility that prevailed from Hufflepuff house in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Indeed, he had to remind himself that these weren't Slytherins, the way they acted around him was enough to make him want to cry, or to lash out in anger.

Professor Sprout had gone from fairly friendly to become Snape the way he currently was: cold, distant, but professional. Hagrid was the exact opposite, welcoming Harry back heartily as he began with a review of various magical creatures. Apparently, the threat of the OWLs had even made Hagrid develop an orthodox lesson plan.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry held back as they were eager to talk to Hagrid. Harry asked," So, how was your summer, Hagrid?" Hagrid looked at him, and smiled, "Very well…relaxing I suppose you could say. Saw a bit of France thanks to Olymp I mean Madame Maxinne." Hermione was quite impatient, "What about your mission to visit the giants?" Hagrid looked uncomfortable, "Well, er, I don't know what you're talking about Hermione. Even if such an event did happen, I couldn't tell you about it, not even Harry over there." Hermione looked frustrated, but Harry cut her off, "All right, Hagrid, we'll stop by for tea some time. That all right?" Quickly, Ron and Harry waved goodbye as they led Hermione away.

As soon as they were out of site, Hermione exploded, "Why the hell did you drag me out of there!"  Harry looked at her, but Ron beat him to telling her. "Simple, Hagrid's doing his job. If he told us, it could very well spread and whatever is happening with the giants would be for naught." Harry said also, "It's a simple rule, Hermione. The less any of us know, the less we will tell should anything happen to us." Both Ron and Hermione looked at him askew, and Harry decided now was not the time to be pleasant.

"Hermione, with the ways things are happening, anything could happen. And since you're friends with me, if you're not riding in the death seat you're pretty damn close to it." Harry said the last with a bit of an edge to his voice and had to stop as he could just feel himself almost losing it. Those assholes are getting to me more then I can believe, Harry realized.

Ron and Hermione didn't say anything and together they walked to the Great Hall in a restrained silence and ran into Neville, who seemed unusually silent.

Not that Harry noticed much beyond a wondering, Wonder what's got him so damn blue, it isn't as though the whole fucking school is nigh against him!

                        *          *          *

The next several weeks were spent tougher, colder, and longer. Class work was far more demanding as Harry cynically thought the teachers wanted to cram a last scrap of information into their heads. Alex and Professor Ramius were excellent teachers, and Harry was quite comfortable academically, even in the area of Potions as Snape, while still pushing them hard, was no longer going out of his way to antagonize and generally humiliate the denizens of Gryffindor house, no doubt due to the rather calming influence of his own daughter..

Security wise things were quite quiet. Quidditch practice had begun and Harry had spent a few hours watching them at practice. His initial thoughts on Ron had proven to be on the dime as he knew just how to handle himself under pressure, and definitely knew his Quidditch tactics. The fact he had the all-important skill of a leader (to listen to those subordinates with more experience then him in Quidditch) was a bonus.

Snape, beyond informing them that Voldemort was taking his revenge on his closet followers, was doing surprisingly little. Harry wasn't sure if he found the lack of activity comforting or more worrisome.

The newspaper attacks on him had become subdued, and Harry was quite surprised that no one had mentioned his appointment as Student Head of Hogwarts Security. It could only mean Fudge was cracking down on any news of Harry while he and his pet Diggory did their own investigation. Again, mixed feelings.

The Dueling and Defense with Muggle Weapons Clubs had started under the tutelage of Alex, Snape, and Professor Flitwick, whom Harry had been surprised to learn was one of only a baker's dozen worth of people who had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class twice, both times for valor. Harry found it refreshing, and indeed somewhat therapeutic to grapple in unarmed combat, fling curses and hexes at people his age in mock duels (he routinely found himself sparring against the three teachers), and fire a few hundred rounds of through his Browning and the other weaponry Alex had arranged at the rifle and pistol range near the edge of the Forbidden Forest (Alex and Billy Fish had set it up within a few days of arriving at Hogwarts).

Indeed, the smells of burnt cordite, WD-40 bore cleaner, and lubricant was almost comforting to Harry as he grew increasingly reclusive. The school was divided into two camps: those who believed Dumbledore that Voldemort had returned, and that Harry was sane, and those who believed the Headmaster was mad and was covering up for Harry's madness. There was a subcategory of this last group who devoutly believed Harry had snuffed Diggory to gain glory. At times, Harry had had to restrain himself from drawing his wand and cursing them. Or using the dagger he had strapped to his left wrist. Or any of the numerable weapons he had at his disposal.

Harry one day thought during dinner in the Great Hall. If I never knew of magic, I probably would have been counting the days this year so that as soon as I hit sixteen I could go sign my name on the dotted line and joined the Army.

The life is rather appealing…Want to drink? Open a few brews. Want a woman? Find the nearest brothel and beg, borrow or steal the cash for it. Angry at the barkeep? Stitch the place up and damn the consequences. Simple things really, not like this goddamn fucking…

Harry's inner revelry was broken as he heard Doc ask him a question. Shaking his head, he asked, "What was that Doc?" Doc grinned, "You get a date yet, Harry?" Harry looked at him in confusion for a moment before he remembered that the Halloween Feast and Ball was only about less then a week away. The whole school had the same kind of charged atmosphere that had been present when the Yule Ball occurred, but Harry had been too busy with study, his duties, training, and the task of propping up Ron, who seemed to be only a thread away from losing it all as he led the Quidditch team in practice.

"No, you?"

"Nah, I gave my word to my Headmaster that I won't rock the bed so to speak whilst I'm over here. So, I'll just wait until I find someone who doesn't look she can go and…

Harry just had a lightning bolt of an idea, and broached it to Doc. Doc heard him out, and looked thoughtful for a moment, before replying. "I must admit the idea has merit to it, and the girl sounds intriguing. Not to mention the ruckus it would cause. Where did you say I can meet her again?" "Second floor, and…" Harry gave him the directions just as Hermione and Ron sat at the table. The two of them seemed to be arguing (again), this time over some assignment, but Harry wasn't exactly paying attention. He had found it calmed his temper to 'zone' out whenever he heard them.

Glancing around, he caught the eye of Cho, and looked at her. Her face seemed distant, almost expressionless. They looked at each other for a few moments, and Harry awkwardly waved to her. Cho smiled slightly, and waved back. Harry decided it was time then to talk with Cho, to see if his crush was just that, a childish crush, or something else, something worth pursuing.

Waiting patiently, Harry watched, as it looked like Cho was about to leave, and then saw her get up and go with the usual gang of her followers. Oh fuck it! Who dares wins, Harry my lad! Harry thought to himself. "I'll see you later", Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione and got up and left after Cho.

Walking into the hallway, he saw them chatting away and walking towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. Harry called out, "Cho!" The whole gang turned to look at him coldly, and Harry didn't want to lose the moment.

"May I have a word with you for a moment, Cho? In private, please?"

Cho spoke, "Sure," and told her friends she would see them later. Harry and Cho walked down the hall and outside of the castle to the paved walk to the Quidditch pitch. Stopping near a fountain Harry spotted, he looked at Cho and said, "Cho, you know that the Halloween Ball is within a few days from now. I wish to ask you to come with me." Cho looked at him, her lips slightly open. Harry continued, realizing that this had probably been a futile idea. "I know you and Cedric Diggory were…close, and I understand if you have no wish to go with someone…such as myself." Every syllable he said hurt him, as Harry thought to himself, You thought she wanted to go out with the man who saw her boyfriend, or friend or whatever get iced? You fucking stupid or something? Fucking dolt!

Harry turned and was about to leave, when Cho spoke, "Tell me…" Turning, Harry saw Cho ask in a quiet voice, "Tell me how Cedric died." Harry sighed, and minced no words, telling her honestly of everything that had happened after they had the cup. "He went out quick, and since he didn't know what was happening I don't think he felt any pain." Cho looked down, and asked the question Harry had been dreading the most. "Harry did you want him to die?" Harry knew the only answer he could live with himself with would have to be an honest one.

"Dead? I don't really know. Was I jealous of him for besting me at Quidditch, popularity, and…taking you to the ball? Yes. Did I wish him ill? Yes. Was I thinking ill of him when I thought he was about to beat me to the cup? Yes."

Harry paused and looked at the starry sky above him. There were only a few clouds above, looking like bits of dirty gray lint in the darkness. He looked Cho in the eyes. "Did I really, truly wish him to die? No. I am only human, and when you are jealous of someone, well, you think things to yourself that you normally keep buried. Since you asked, I felt I owed you an honest answer, and that is what I have given you. I can only hope you, don't think less of me as a result of it." Cho was silent, and it looked like her eyes were watering. Harry knew what he wanted to do, but didn't wish to offend her by taking her into his arms.

Cho answered, "No, Harry, thank you for your honesty. You are a good man." She got up, and looked at him. Her right hand came out and caressed the scar on his forehead. Harry stood still, savoring the feel of her fingernail as it slowly traced the lightning bolt. "So was Cedric, Harry." With that, Cho raised the hand that had been caressing his scar, and slapped him across the face.

Harry was stunned, the blow stinging across his cheek as though someone had slammed a cloth of heated pins onto his cheek. Cho was slowly leaking tears down her face. "He was a good man. Both of you are good men." She turned away from him for a moment, and looked at him, "That is the problem, Harry, since…" Cho looked as though she were going to break down.

"It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you."

Harry felt a roaring in his brain, and then the odd jazzy melody he remembered off a muggle movie he had once seen called Pulp something or another. The music was called Comanche or similar, and Harry found himself listening to the song as it played in the jukebox of his mind.

As if it were someone else speaking, Harry heard himself say, "I know, and there are times I wish it was just so. Good night, Miss Cho Chang." He turned and walked away from her, leaving Cho behind him. For a time, Harry didn't know how long, he walked, his mind repeating the words Cho had said to him to the background of the damn music. It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you.

It should have been you.

His mind felt drained, emptied, and inside he felt as though a chunk of lead was in him. It wasn't until he heard laughter did he realize he had walked out of the Hogwarts grounds, and was in the town of Hogsmeade. Harry thought of running back to Hogwarts, and then thought, fuck it. He had been told that the damned badge he wore (he was carrying it in his pocket at the moment) gave him access at any time he pleased to the town, and he intended on using it. At the moment, he wanted a strong drink, a good smoke, and (if he could find one) a good whore. Personally, he figured if got the first of the three he probably couldn't care less.

Yet, if he were to be seen 'hitting the ville' as he had heard Doc Detibedeux call it, Harry knew his damn predicament ensured that the whole goddamn wizarding world of Great Britain, Northern Ireland, and probably the whole of Europe and the world would see the headline: Boy Who Lived Caught Dead Drunk and propositioning Prostitute in a Hogsmeade Alley! The last goddamn thing he needed was to be caught with one hand on a liquor bottle and the other up the skirt of a tavern wench.

So, Harry turned and walked back towards the Castle. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was only ten thirty, and he went up to the Gryffindor common room.

Since there was an eleven o'clock curfew in place, the place was unusually full, though he didn't see anyone he particularly knew or felt like talking to. Indeed the only person he knew first-hand was Neville who was sitting by the fireplace and staring at it and appeared to be thinking deeply. Since he appeared as occupied as Harry, Harry grabbed the seat across from Neville and sat down. Neville looked over at him, "Hey Harry."

"Hey, Nev."

"What happened to you?"

"I asked out Cho, and she told me off and then some. You?"

"Let's just say I made a deal with the devil."

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but asked anyways. "Want to talk about it?"

Neville was quiet for a second and then looked at him. "Tomorrow, something will happen that will either make this year for me, or ruin it completely." He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I relieve you, Harry from the promise I had you make on your birthday."

Harry nodded, though he wondered just what the hell Neville was playing at. Neville asked him, "Want to talk of what happened to you?" Just as Harry was about to answer, Ron and Hermione sat down in the remaining chairs near them. Hermione asked as soon as she sat down, "Harry, where did you go after dinner?"

"Yeah, we were looking all over for you."

Harry contemplated what he was going to say for a moment before deciding honesty with his friends would probably save him trouble down the road. "I asked out Cho to the Halloween ball. She asked about how Cedric bought it, I told her." Harry looked into the fire. "She then slapped me, and gave the opinion which apparently the rest of the whole damn school outside of Gryffindor shares."

Softly, almost whispering, Harry repeated the words that were haunting him.

" 'It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you.'"

Ron swore. Hermione looked aghast. Neville was shaking his head, and muttering foul obscenities.

Harry felt the urge then to go for a walk, and got up and left the Common Room.

"Where are you going?" This was Hermione asking, a note of concern high in her voice.

Harry looked back at her, and his friend Ron and Neville. "I'm going to inform my uncle that I'll be going to the ball alone. He needs to know, you see, so that the security details for the event won't allow your average gang of Death Eaters to arrive and kill anyone. Oh wait, the Death Eaters don't exist and the only threat out there is me."

Harry almost spat that out, and regretted it as part of him realized venting his spleen on those he was closet to wouldn't help a damn. Yet, Harry looked down, embarrassed at his outbreak, and left. Walking swiftly, Harry paced the deserted hallways of the school before making his way to the History of Magic classroom, where he knew his uncle would be working. Not bothering to knock, he opened to see Billy Fish, his uncle, Moody, and Figg sitting on desks having tea and sandwiches, and all were surprised to see him.

"Anything wrong Harry?" Alex's magical swiveled towards him while he sipped a cup of tea.

"Nothing, sir. I just wanted to inform you I'll be going to the ball alone, and as such wish to work the crowd, plainclothes and all."

Mrs. Figg looked worried, but Alex beat her to it. "Are you sure of this? If you are having any difficulties finding a date, I can arrange for an escort of your choice from Meg's?" Harry was tempted for half a second, as it had been a long time since he had last had that itch truly scratched, but shook his head. "Nothing of the sort, sir. Just doing my duty." The last came out bitterly, and Harry quickly covered it by saying, "Good evening, sirs, ma'am." With that, Harry turned, opened the door, and left.

Again, Harry dallied and spent the better part of an hour continuing to walk the hallways of the school. Mostly, it was spent emptying his mind, or rather trying to of the venomous rage that was seeping through his veins. It was so goddamn unfair that the rest of the school treated him as though he were a fucking leper. He hadn't wanted Cedric to truly die, he hadn't wanted to become famous, hadn't wanted to be the one to watch Diggory get hit by the killing curse and fall, dead before he hit the goddamn dirt. Harry damn well didn't want to be the one who resurrected Voldemort, and Harry hadn't wanted to be the one to bring back Diggory's lifeless fucking body with him. Perhaps if it would have been better for all concerned if he had been killed out there, and buried under a pile of shit…

These thoughts were interrupted as he made his way up and passed a female's lavatory, and heard two voices. One distinctly male, the other definitely a female one, and Harry stopped to listen carefully.

"Why did you call me here, Neville?"

"Honey, I have to tell you something before tomorrow."

"Oh, have you found another date, my dear?"

"No, no, you're the one for me, it's just that I…"

There was the sound of a heavy sigh, and Harry knew who was talking in a flash. Only one person he knew of had the kind of accent Katrina Snape had, and Harry could tell the accent for the man was from the west counties. Neville came from Lancashire, and had such an accent. Harry, while he had no real wish to eavesdrop, nevertheless stood his ground, and listened in the shadows. I shouldn't be doing this, he's a good mate who saved your ass back in Wales!

"What is it, Neville?"

"Your father, well, he knows about you and I. He took me aside after lunch today and told me he won't stand in the way…us. There is one condition though…"

"Which is?"

Neville sighed, and replied, "He said I am not to tell you in order for his promise to be held up. I have the sneaky suspicion though that the worst parts of me will be brought to light, and that…"

"You think I'll hate you for it."

Harry could tell that Katrina was speaking gently, softly.

"Yes, and that is why I want to tell you of the only two secrets I haven't told you. Two, that I want you to know of for I owe it to you."

Neville breathed deeply, "My two secrets are quite simple: I have killed people, three to be precise, to save a friend, and I…"

"Go on, Neville."

"Before I met you, I enjoyed time with several prostitutes. My uncle felt I should become a man, and he had a friend of his arrange it for me in London. I was protected and everything, but…yes that is the most embarrassing secret I have."

Harry, and Neville too undoubtedly, were surprised by what happened next: Katrina laughed.

"Neville, this was before you met me. Do you think I truly care for what you did before that?"

There was silence as Harry supposed Neville was answering by nodding or shaking his head.

"Neville, listen, I love you, and nothing will change that. No matter what you have done before. The man I know, is right here, and I know you love me."

"Thank you, Kat. I love you too, ever since that day at King's Cross. When you were asking the muggle conductor where Platform Nine and three quarters was at, and didn't…"

Harry decided to leave then and there as he heard them laughing and generally talking pleasantly, the tension obviously broken and gone. Part of him was envious that Neville had found something to cherish (not to mention ashamed of himself for his eavesdropping on the two), but Harry was quite glad for him, and decided that he was going to help him out if Snape tried anything.

Despite this though, Harry couldn't help but keep thinking of his conversation with Cho, and after he washed and went to bed that night (it was close to midnight by the time he finished his walk, and everyone had gone to bed, including his friends Ron and Hermione), the words still rang in his mind, and he could still feel the slap across his face.

It should have been you, Harry, it should have been you.